* * *
Sitting down without being invited was one thing—but the way she crossed her long legs looked entirely out of place for an ordinary sandwich shop.
It would’ve been more fitting in a smoky jazz bar on a dark city street.
But the woman didn’t seem to care, her smile never leaving her face.
“You might know something.”
“Me?”
She pointed playfully at Ben, her black-polished nails gleaming.
Both Irina and Ben looked puzzled by the sudden turn of events, but the red-haired woman narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him.
Her ample chest rested on the table in a clearly flirtatious motion, making Ben frown.
“It says right here—Central City Division 8, Ben Plaskun. So your name’s Ben? A guide, huh? What’s your rank? A?”
The way she licked her lips was disturbing—somewhere between familiar and unsettling.
But before Irina could finish sorting through her thoughts, Ben answered:
“No. I am a guide, but my rank is F.”
“Ah. F.”
The woman leaned back in her seat and let the word drop lightly.
But her eyes turned cold. Her arms folded across her chest and her smile stiffened—gone was the vibrant energy from earlier.
“Seriously? You were pouring your heart out to an F-ranked guide?”
“…So you’re… a guide.”
How pathetic, Irina Sheril.
No matter how desperate you were for someone to talk to, how could you be so reckless?
Letting your emotions run wild and spilling your guts to someone you didn’t even know—and a guide, no less.
The man who abandoned her had been a guide too—she’d never forgotten that for a second.
But now, realizing what she’d done, Irina felt a wave of nausea rise from her gut.
He had been far too complacent.
The people around him didn’t understand him—how could a total stranger possibly do so?
And the fact that even his own guide had abandoned him, living a life of ease with another esper, made things all the more unbearable.
‘I’m suffering like this, and that man gets to live comfortably, as if nothing happened.’
The tears that had momentarily stopped welled up again, burning at the corners of his eyes.
Even though he was a mental-type esper known for excellent emotional regulation, it was starting to feel like a meltdown wasn’t far off.
The thought that he might need a guide to prevent it, even though the very idea of one repulsed him, was an unbearable contradiction.
‘Why do I have to suffer like this? Why do I have to be in pain?’
Because he was an esper?
‘Was that really the only reason?’
“Why do espers even need guides…?”
A bitter sigh escaped from Irina Sheril’s lips, revealing the pitiful state of his heart.
He hated everything.
The entire world seemed despicable. He wished everyone could be as miserable as he was.
And more than anyone, he wanted the man who had trampled his love to become the most miserable person in existence.
“My, my… What a delightful surprise. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in ages.”
The red-haired woman’s once dull eyes now gleamed with interest at Irina’s words.
Her pupils sparkled so brightly that they clearly reflected Irina’s face.
It was just a lament, nothing more, but she smiled like it was music to her ears and leaned in again, closing the distance between them.
“Exactly. None of it matters. In the end, the world’s a lonely place. And if you take yourself out of the equation, what’s even left?”
There was conviction in her voice—unshakable and saturated with belief.
It was so absolute that there wasn’t even the slightest crack to slip through, and it drew Irina Sheril in.
That unyielding certainty, the kind that couldn’t be swayed, was something to envy.
“I think I could help you, you know. What do you say?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
As if to block the outstretched hand Irina had been staring at, Ben Plaskun stepped in between them.
“Who are you?”
Ben’s green eyes were filled with caution as he looked at the woman.
Come to think of it, neither of them knew her name.
Irina suddenly realized how dangerously close she’d come to nodding along with a complete stranger.
She saw the red-haired woman scan Ben Plaskun up and down as if assessing him.
Then, she withdrew her hand and gave a little huff on her palm, as though brushing away something dirty.
“Ah, you’re right. I’m—”
Rrrrrrr—!
A sharp ringtone cut through the tension before she could finish.
The atmosphere turned even colder with the sudden sound.
“Maybe you should take that?”
She tilted her head with a sly smile and pointed to Ben’s jacket pocket.
He hesitated, clearly unwilling to break eye contact, but the insistent ringing forced him to retrieve his phone.
He checked the caller, looking conflicted, then gave a curt response.
“…Excuse me for a moment.”
He stepped away to take the call but kept glancing their way, clearly uneasy.
Meanwhile, the woman—unbothered by the interruption—lightly touched her lips with a finger and suddenly grasped Irina’s hand.
“We’re not done talking, are we?”
Her scarlet lips whispered something sinister.
The voice was so faint it almost didn’t register—only the shape of her lips etched itself into Irina Sheril’s vision.
And before he could reply—
His entire body was yanked forward, and the world shifted.
“……!”
In the blink of an eye, they were no longer in the crowded sandwich shop, but an empty, isolated lot.
It was about a 20-minute walk from the Central Branch where Irina worked—so out of the way that no one usually came here.
But before he could feel relieved at the familiar setting, he realized something else: the woman before him possessed a truly extraordinary ability.
Teleportation.
A power so rare that even within ‘Integra’, it would be highly prized.
Irina wasn’t a researcher, but he at least knew how exceptional it was to be able to teleport not just oneself, but someone else along with you.
“…Who are you?”
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Name’s Roilnia.”
She let go of his hand and gave a playful little wave.
“I’m… Irina Sheril. Are you with Integra?”
“Didn’t ask for your name, did I? And Integra? That’s a boring guess, Irina. But that’s not what matters right now. Isn’t the real issue that man who abandoned you?”
Roilnia pulled a cigarette from her coat pocket, lit it, and sat back casually on a nearby bench.
She smoked with a calmness that felt almost surreal.
Irina stared at her for a moment, then turned to the curling wisps of gray smoke in the air and finally spoke.
“…You’re right. That doesn’t really matter. Everything just hurts. That man, the people around me who don’t understand… You won’t understand me either, will you? If I weren’t an esper, would things have been different?”
“You’re talking nonsense. Whether people understand you or not doesn’t matter much, Irina. You’re special because you’re an esper. Why would you want to become something as ordinary as everyone else?”
He thought the smoke would be acrid, but as it filled his lungs, it wasn’t so unpleasant.
On the contrary, the tears that had been threatening to spill calmed, and his emotions leveled.
‘Whether she’s with Integra or not—what difference does it make now?’
All that was left in his heart was hatred, resentment, and lingering affection for the man who had tossed him aside like garbage.
Irina Sheril sat beside her as if in a trance, pouring out everything that had festered inside.
For some reason, it felt easy—natural—to bare even the ugliest parts of himself to this woman he’d just met.
Was it because she was an esper too?
Because she said she could help?
“Don’t you hate it? That man, and everyone else—they’re all laughing and living their lives while you’re here in pain. Isn’t it maddening? Don’t you want them to feel what you’ve felt?”
“I do. I hate them all. I wish they could be abandoned like me—feel exactly how much I’ve suffered. But what can I even do?”
Maybe it was because Roilnia had recognized something in him—his tangled mess of emotions, his refusal to be understood.
Maybe that’s why he felt seen for the first time.
Still, he was a mess.
Even if he saw that man tomorrow, he’d just be laughing and chatting with his guide… and Irina knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.
“You’re more useful than you think. At the very least, you’re not as helpless as the rest.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m a kind person. But this time, I’ll make an exception. It’s not often you find someone who really gets it, right? And the cost? It’s simple. Just do what you’re best at. Whatever that may be, our goals… are quite aligned. Isn’t this what they call a win-win?”
It felt like being offered the poisoned apple by a witch.
He knew it was dangerous, that there was venom hidden beneath the sugar-sweet offer—but he didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers.
All he could think about was the sweet taste of revenge.
* * *
