Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C7

Chapter 7

Whether I spoke or not, Lee Taeon quietly sipped from his drink, wetting his throat.

Come to think of it, the bastard had ordered a café latte too… No, better not dwell on it any further. Steadying my ragged breath, I leaned back against the chair’s cushion.

“Anyway, they only asked us to complete the mandatory one-year pairing period. What did you make of that when Lee Taeon said it?”
“I felt the same.”
“Good. So whether we like it or not, we’re stuck together for a year.”

The moment I finished speaking, he faintly frowned—not that anyone would think him agreeable.

“So, I think we should set some boundaries between us. What’s your opinion?”

Counting my points in my mind, I unfolded one hand and stretched out my fingers. The instant Lee Taeon glanced at my open palm, he twitched his five fingers briefly. His brow immediately crumpled, as though he’d seen something revolting. Ha.

“Boundaries?”
“Yes. Starting with the basics, like who cleans the shared spaces. Also, how we conduct ourselves publicly—that sort of professional boundary. It’s fine to look like we’re not on good terms in front of others, but it can’t interfere with our work. Then there’s how often physical guiding contact should happen.”

Counting down the fingers on one hand, I continued. Lee Taeon crossed his arms and gazed at the table, thoughtfully considering my words.

Deciding to grant him time to answer properly, I examined his face patiently.

Exhaling slowly, his bangs fell ever so slightly, brushing the crease between his neat brows. His lowered eyes cast long shadows of eyelashes across his cheek, the length remarkable.

His lips were closed, unmoving, and his muscular forearms—accentuated by his folded arms—formed clean, sharp lines. The thick folds created by his arm position pressed into his black cotton T-shirt… No, I wasn’t looking on purpose. Hastily, I lifted my gaze.

Pretending not to notice, I looked up to the ceiling—and Lee Taeon spoke.

“Let’s keep it simple. Neither you nor I have any feelings for the other, so let’s get rid of all unnecessary things. Let’s agree to keep personal and professional strictly separate. Of course, no prying into private matters, and no unwanted physical contact. I’ll clean the shared space three times a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Just don’t make a mess.”

“…Huh?”

Such an extraordinary offer? I had naturally expected the personal and professional to be kept separate, but what followed was completely unexpected. In fact, I’d been quietly dreading exactly this element.

Cleaning was a terrifying time bomb—neglect it for even a moment, and disaster loomed. Hearing that Lee Taeon would take it all on struck a sudden pang of conscience.

“Still, don’t you hate being stuck with all the cleaning? We could split it up.”
“I don’t like anyone disturbing the order I create.”

His cold, dismissive response arrived. Well, some people were like that. Yet here he was, volunteering to do the hard work himself. He clearly found it unbearable to have others touch what he’d arranged.

Suddenly, I recalled his earlier words about not tolerating things he disliked. And I remembered how I had snapped back at his justifiable rudeness.

Our shared traits revealed at the most inconvenient times only seemed to make the gap between us wider and colder.

“Fine, that sounds good. Honestly, I doubt I’ll use the kitchen or living room much anyway. But what about physical guiding contact?”

“An eighty-eight percent resonance rate doesn’t require much physical guiding contact.”

That made sense. We wouldn’t know exact guiding efficiency until actually guiding, but clearly, our resonance was high enough to manage without physical contact. After all, physical guiding was just one way to maximize efficiency.

As I was about to accept this, Lee Taeon suddenly challenged me.

“Does that disappoint you?”
“Disappoint me about what?”
“Physical guiding contact.”
“There’s nothing to be disappointed about.”
“Oh, really? I thought you brought it up because you were obsessed with kissing.”
“W-what…?”

His attack came out of nowhere, and I was so startled I couldn’t even respond.

Lee Taeon seemed pleased to have silenced me, or maybe he found it amusing.

After hesitating, I managed a sluggish excuse.
“Not at all… I was just thinking of a very ordinary approach. Like hugging or holding hands. Even though it’s light skinship, I think it’s a bit much for someone you dislike.”

Exactly. The most basic physical guiding is a simple embrace or handshake, maintaining close contact for at least a minute. It’s not something you can do casually with someone uncomfortable.

Though, as Lee Taeon had mentioned, kissing was technically a form of guiding, but it wasn’t typical, and certainly not what I was considering.

Lee Taeon had deliberately thrown that topic out to tease, but in this regard, I was proud and shamelessly honest.

“Then what did you think about that got you talking about kissing first, Lee Taeon? You beast.”
“You’re hardly in a position to criticize, considering you acted like a beast.”
“…”

My sharp retort, intended to needle him, was cruelly deflected back by accusations about my past mistakes. It left me feeling utterly diminished—as if I were shrinking down to nothing.

“No, I still think calling you a beast is too harsh…”
“Fine, I’ll apologize to beasts by calling you a pervert. A pervert who kisses a passed-out fiancé without permission.”

I should have stayed silent.

“Why do you keep attacking people’s weaknesses, Lee Taeon?”
“To attack with weaknesses, of course. Why would I use strengths?”

…That’s more praise than offense.

Even if I called him a disgustingly kind and considerate guy, he’d just mutter and end up complimenting me.

I lost to Lee Taeon again. Though the outcome was inevitable, frustration and sorrow burned inside me. I even hated myself for feeling that way.

“Just wait. I’ll find your weakness and shake you up.”
“Yeah, go ahead and try.”

Lee Taeon treated my stubbornness like a child’s tantrum, dismissing it with amusement.

I stared at him silently, pursing my lips in displeasure before snapping,

“You really have a weird personality.”
“Sounds like something I should say to you. Do you realize you’re acting all brazenly, after all this? It’s shameless.”
“…No, I’m reflecting on my actions.”

I quickly averted my eyes at his cold glare. I hadn’t realized I had the bad habit of blathering nonsense whenever anxious or guilty—it seemed I was discovering new flaws in my nature.

I truly was reflecting. However, Lee Taeon didn’t seem to believe me. My attitude had been too poor.

Belief or not, I honestly regretted my past. Otherwise, why would every recollection feel like an axe crashing down on my head?

Trying to ease my conscience, I mumbled,

“So, you want to skip physical guiding entirely?”
“For heaven’s sake, yes.”
“Anyway, what I want is clear: strict separation between personal and professional. That, I can handle.”
“Oh really? I don’t trust you one bit.”
“I was terrible with my fourth partner too, but work was fine.”
“…Ah.”

Lee Taeon’s face grew arrogantly smug. “Figures,” it seemed to say openly with that expression.

I regretted telling him that useless detail in my temper. But the water was already spilled. In truth, it wasn’t a deep secret, anyway. I straightened up, forcing myself calm.

“I never neglect my partner Esper. If you like, I’ll even sign a pact. Lee Taeon, you’re the one who started with ill will toward me in the first place…”
“Personal feelings are personal feelings. I’m not someone who recklessly lets petty emotions sway me when lives are at stake. Fine, we’ll sign a pact.”

Lee Taeon fired his words sharply, wearing the toughest, most serious expression I’d ever seen on him.

He was stiff and tense, displeased that I’d judged him so cavalierly.

I caught a faint instinctive sense of having touched his irksome spot—or something close to it.

“Okay, let’s write the pact. Do you have pen and paper?”
“I’ve got a pen, but no paper… I’ll ask at the counter.”

Without hesitation, Lee Taeon sprang into action. The loud scraping of his chair against the floor rang clearly. His swiftly receding silhouette drew my eyes, though I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the uneasy feeling that I had stirred something wrong.