Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C5

Chapter 5

“You know that our resonance rate is at eighty-eight percent, right, Ji Yunseong?”
“Of course. That’s quite an exceptional figure, isn’t it?”

Eighty-eight percent. The average rarely exceeded fifty, and even among pairs who had worked together for ten years, it was uncommon to surpass ninety. Our resonance rate placed us solidly in the upper tier—especially remarkable considering that we had never met before. Even I, upon first seeing the number, had been so bewildered that I requested confirmation twice.

Moreover, considering the human and material resources normally required to elevate an ordinary team’s resonance to this degree, it was natural that the Center would have put its full effort into securing the pairing….

“…Don’t tell me.”
“At least you’re not completely oblivious.”

Lee Taeon gave a slight shrug before continuing.
“If I just wanted to say I dislike you and be done with it, I’d have met you, thrown water in your face, and left. Truth be told, I’m not exactly delighted about this pairing either. But if I had to put it precisely, it’s not that I won’t break it—it’s that I can’t.”

“Hold on, isn’t a pairing impossible to formalize if either of the participants rejects it outright?”
“You think I haven’t tried?”

He would have—of course he would’ve. His voice grew heavier, and my heart sank with it. It seems ominous intuitions really are seldom wrong.

The source of an Esper’s power was their mental energy, while the role of a guide was to attune to that mind and restore the stamina that was consumed. The resonance rate was a numerical measure of that synchronicity between them.

The resonance rate was directly proportional to guiding efficiency and inversely proportional to the guide’s burden index. It could be raised through mutual training and communication, though that required immense time and effort.

In short, the higher the base resonance, the less cost and effort it took for a pair to reach optimal functionality. With even minimal training, they could achieve maximum efficiency—a pairing of superb cost-effectiveness.

That said, pairings were only ever formed by mutual consent. There was no coercion; if either party refused, the pairing would be invalidated. Of course, once the team was officially bound, the story changed somewhat—but still, this was an age that prized human rights and autonomy.

“That doesn’t make sense… You really did submit a formal rejection?”

I regretted the reflexive question the instant it left my mouth—but I couldn’t take it back. My cheeks burned.

“Who exactly are you doubting here? Charming. If you’re so convinced, why don’t you try rejecting it yourself?”

Sure enough, Lee Taeon’s face hardened with irritation. His glare carried open disdain.

I spoke again, cautiously, trying to gauge his mood.
“If both of us refuse, they can’t possibly overlook the seriousness of the issue… right? I’ll call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll work out.”
“You sound rather confident.”
“Well… it’s just that continuing to see you every day is a bit… uncomfortable.”
“Oh, you think it isn’t for me?”

He let out a harsh laugh, face twisting faintly. A dull ache tightened in my chest. Frustration and humiliation welled up, yet I had no will to argue.

All I could do was stare down at my feet, fidgeting with my toes like a child. His sharp gaze felt as though it were piercing through the top of my head.

Eventually, it was Taeon who turned his head away. The soft click of his tongue told me he hadn’t looked aside to spare me—but because he was fed up.

“Anyway, Mr. Lee Taeon,” I said politely to his turned back. “This will be our first and last time meeting, then. It’s already late, so I’ll stay the night and take care of things tomorrow as I mentioned.”

I grabbed my suitcase, turned, and started toward my room.

“Well, we’ll see. Even if you go straight to the Minister, it won’t change a thing.”

A sharp, mocking laugh. Reflexively, I looked back at him. That beautifully handsome face twisted into a crooked smirk. God, he really was too good-looking for his own good. When our eyes met, he waved lightly.

“You’ll see soon enough. As long as you behave admirably, I’ll be more than satisfied, Mr. Ji Yunseong.”

Before I could think of a reply, he had already turned and walked away, his long strides making swift work of the distance.

By the time I recovered enough to speak, he had disappeared behind his door.

…In conclusion, everything I’d done to annul the pairing was a complete waste, and my naïve hope that I would never have to see that man’s face again ended in ashes.

—Good work, Guide Ji Yunseong.

The Director ended the call with a faint, polite smile in his voice. The glowing phone screen reflected the ruinous twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds that had crushed my final defenses.

“Twelve minutes… unbelievable… ha.”

It had all started this morning, the day after my lovely first encounter with Lee Taeon. On a precious weekend morning, I had swallowed my embarrassment and called the pairing department—only to be transferred, to my growing horror, directly to the Head of the National Disaster Response Bureau himself.

Was that even allowed? Could a mere guide call and speak to the Bureau Director without prior notice? The moment that question crossed my mind, my unease solidified into certainty. I could still hear Taeon’s voice echoing, saying even a ministry-level appeal would be useless. Clearly, his words had come from experience.

“I’ve heard what you had to say, Guide Ji,” the Director had said mildly. “But giving up before you’ve even tried seems a hasty decision, doesn’t it?”
“But, sir, there’s an old saying—don’t climb trees you can’t reach—”
“Let’s see. Your resonance rate is eighty-eight percent, correct? At that level, I’d say you’re already near the top of that metaphorical tree. Just a little more effort, hm?”
“Director… with all due respect… my compatibility with Esper Lee Taeon is such that, if this were a marriage, it would qualify as grounds for divorce.”
“Guide Ji, you managed to handle difficulties with your previous partner professionally and ended things positively, didn’t you? You set a fine example for others.”
“Sir! I hesitated to bring up something so personal, but… Esper Lee happens to look almost identical to a delinquent who traumatized me when I was younger—so I have some very unpleasant associations—”
“You’re aware there’s a free counseling center within the department, aren’t you? Gyeonggi has some excellent therapists. And if you need more help, we can refer you to an external trauma center. You know what they say—after rain, the ground hardens.”

And with that, the exhausting verbal duel ended in my utter defeat. Twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds—it was all it took. A formidable opponent indeed.

Perhaps if I’d told the full truth, things might have gone differently. But I hadn’t—partly because I wasn’t shameless enough for that, and mostly because I refused to drag Tae-young hyung’s name into this miserable mess.

In the end, the Center’s stance was simple: they couldn’t afford to abandon the jackpot that was our eighty-eight percent resonance.

“All right, Guide Ji,” the Director had concluded cheerily, “one year. Complete the mandatory one-year partnership, and we’ll reassign you afterward.”

That was the only concession I managed to wring out of the call.

Encouraging as it sounded, whether the Director—or the Center, for that matter—would still honor that promise a year later was anyone’s guess. The prospect hung over me like a thundercloud. At this rate, I’d end up actually visiting that free counseling center—and soon.

“Ah, damn it. Who else can I blame? It’s my own damn fault for being pathetic.”

I rested my head on the table, watching condensation slide down the glass. My latte, ordered only to wet my throat, was barely touched. My mood was a swamp.

We could have started well, Taeon and I.

With a resonance that high, maybe we’d have actually gotten along. Perhaps he would’ve reached out to reconcile, suggesting we work together amicably without resentment. Perhaps I would’ve believed that, finally, I’d found a partner with whom I could truly belong.

The numbers had fooled me into expecting some kind of grand connection—a soulmate, a best partner. Such childish optimism.

If only I hadn’t ruined everything back then, maybe we really could’ve had that.

“Ahhh…”

A groan escaped before I could hold it back, and the sound was embarrassingly loud. The people at the next table shot me a brief, startled glance. My ears burned.

Feigning composure, I straightened my back, scrubbed my face roughly with my hands, and leaned against my chin, gazing out the window.

The weather was disgustingly bright.

Being the weekend, it was perfect for a stroll, but—

“You’ll see soon enough. As long as you behave admirably, I’ll be more than satisfied, Mr. Ji Yunseong.”

Remembering those words made my chest tighten. I was going to have to see him again—back at the dorm, tonight. And in the days ahead. How was I supposed to perform missions beside him? What expression, what composure was I meant to wear?

Pretending to be professionally cordial with someone you privately despise—a tolerable evil, but one you never want to repeat. Never again.

But what worried me most wasn’t the emotional strain. It was the potential real-life consequences—ostracism, exclusion, those little miseries that make daily life unbearable.

Taeon, if he had any decency, wouldn’t sabotage me publicly for personal reasons. But minor disadvantages? Petty retributions? I’d be naïve not to expect them.

After all, just as I’d spent years at the Seoul branch, Taeon had been based in Gyeonggi for seven years straight. A long-term veteran like him would have endless ways to make life difficult for a newly arrived outsider.

“Maybe I should’ve just stayed in Seoul.”

Anyway, I’d have to talk to him properly tonight. Distasteful or not, we were stuck together for a year—please, just one year—and it would be better to establish boundaries from the start.

Things like physical contact—hugging or hand-holding—for guiding purposes needed to be clarified too.

But even as I thought that, the image of myself embracing Lee Taeon or brushing cheeks with him flickered against my mind. My stomach churned violently. Irritation followed right after. My fist slammed the table before I caught myself, trembling with tension.

At times like this, it was best to move around mindlessly, exhaust the body, and drive out unwanted thoughts.

The weather was fine, after all—perhaps I’d walk slowly through the nearby shops once I’d calmed myself a little. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Forming such a plan, I sank deeper into my chair. The café was filled with gentle background noise; warm sunlight spilled over the table, painting a tranquil scene.

My heart, however, remained heavy.