Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C8

Chapter 8

Before long, Lee Taeon returned with a neatly stacked few sheets of clean A4 paper. The sharp irritation I had seen in his eyes earlier was completely gone as he sat down and looked at me, yet somehow a strange stab of unease prickled in the corner of my heart.

“First, we will strictly separate professional and personal matters.”

Lee Taeon tapped the paper gently with his pen as he spoke. I tentatively offered a suggestion.

“How about adding a clause underneath that states indifference toward each other’s private lives?”

He nodded silently.

The letters forming on the once-blank sheet were as neat and disciplined as their author. I almost joked about how disciplined his handwriting was—maybe he could start a font business—but stopped myself.

Suppressing the urge to speak, I quietly watched the paper fill slowly. It was simply a clear summary of what we had already discussed, so there was not much to write.

Most of what I wanted was covered in the phrase: “Indifference toward each other’s private lives.”

After agreeing to each take a copy once we returned to the dormitory, we went over the clauses for the last time.

1. Strict separation of professional and personal conduct.

• No interference or interest in each other’s private matters, and the utmost sincerity and impartiality must be shown in performing official duties.

1. All physical contact relating to guiding is strictly forbidden.

2. Lee Taeon will be solely responsible for cleaning and managing shared spaces on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

3. If, for unavoidable reasons, any of the above must be breached, it shall be done only with prior agreement…

Et cetera, and so forth.

“Anything else to add?”
“No, this seems just right.”

I half-considered adding a clause about refraining from sarcastic remarks dredging up past matters, but even I found that too transparent and petty.

Hoping my expression betrayed nothing, I glanced at him. Lee Taeon gave a slight nod.

“We don’t have inkpads or seals on hand, so let’s just sign.”
“Okay.”

I filled in the handwritten signature lines and passed the paper back to him.

Lee Taeon collected the document, slipping it into a clear folder before tucking it away in a large sports bag. A swirl of complex emotions tightened in my chest as I watched the pact disappear from view.

“I’ll get up first, then.”

Without hesitation, Lee Taeon drained the remainder of his latte and stood.

I rose instinctively but stopped myself awkwardly. After a brief moment of fumbling, I returned to my seat, pretending to be unfazed. I sensed his gaze on me, tinged with disdain. Nothing could have been more humiliating.

Still, I pulled my chair close and pressed myself firmly to the table. Passing beside me, Lee Taeon spoke briefly.

“I’ll stop by the pool across the street, spend some time nearby, and be home around eight.”
“…Ah.”

His meaning was clear: don’t hang around here where we might run into each other. His considerate gesture of sharing his plans felt oddly touching.

Before I could reply, he added,

“Well then, Ji Yunseong, let’s not get along from now on.”

The chill in his voice stabbed my neck like a cold wind. I turned to respond a moment too late—he had already vanished into the distance. The door opened and closed quietly behind him.

The café remained noisy, but only my seat was silent.

“…”

I didn’t even have the energy for muttering. Not only my strength but my spirit felt completely drained.

I needed guiding too.

Such a frivolous thought made me choke back tears.

A wet ring left by a cup sat on the table. I stared at it for a long while before rubbing it away with my hand.

Lee Taeon truly meant it when he said we would strictly separate work and personal life. He was so consistent and genuine it was almost remarkable.

My rational side praised Lee Taeon as an exceptional man, while the emotional side—responsible for much of my life—condemned him as the unfortunate wretch he was.

After the weekend, Lee Taeon and I officially started our duties as a pair, though we reported separately—and Lee Taeon was the first to arrive at the workplace.

Our new home was Field Response Team 1. Teams like this were composed solely of paired guides and Espers.

Considering all the branch offices used the same organizational structure and team names, my assignment was basically the Seoul branch of the National Disaster Response Bureau’s Land Safety Administration’s Field Response Team 1—only “Seoul” changed to “Gyeonggi” for Lee Taeon. His move was, at most, a transfer to Team 1.

Since every team member had already gone out for morning training, the first place I visited wasn’t the team office but the Field Response Chief’s office.

“The chief here is Jang Yuseok. I can’t say about Seoul, but it’s not overly strict around here. It’s a little unusual for an S-class guide to be so involved in field work, but such talented people are always welcome.”

The chief was a retired field guide, his face harboring the weary exhaustion familiar to desk workers everywhere.

Soon after introductions, I was given a detailed tour of the Gyeonggi headquarters.

My reliable guide was none other than Lee Taeon. This was due solely to the chief’s order: “Taeon, since you’re the partner and know the place well, take charge of the tour.” An honor I accepted gratefully.

What surprised me was Lee Taeon’s attitude.

Unlike my expectation that he would give a cursory, irresponsible overview—pointing out east and west and leaving the rest to me—he enthusiastically covered every detail with remarkable care, as if born for the mission of impressively guiding newcomers around the Gyeonggi office.

Those words about not getting along felt almost distant now.

“The elevator to the basement requires passing through security on the first floor. There’s no direct route from underground to ground levels for security reasons; all transfers happen on the first floor.”
“The scanners we just passed through are state-of-the-art—only a year old—and so reliable they’re going to be installed in Incheon Airport’s new Terminal 4 next year. The branch chief had a hard time getting them first for Gyeonggi.”
“There are eight basement floors. Though only twice the count of the above ground, the area is larger. Floors six to eight are research facilities, where even we have restricted access without prior permission. Let’s start by touring the training areas.”
“The equipment there displays about two kilograms extra in weight, so if something feels off, adjust accordingly.”

His courteous, sensible attitude was such that I half-wondered if my shameful past had somehow been wiped away overnight—and along with it, Lee Taeon’s memory of it.

“If someone’s carefully helping you, can you stop daydreaming and pay attention?”

Had I not heard those words, I might have truly believed my absurd fantasy.

After touring floors one through five—including training and amenities—until lunchtime, Lee Taeon took me to the team office. Then he thrust me toward the new colleagues awaiting there, vanished quickly, saying he had other business.

The “professional” Lee Taeon who had carried me like a beloved pet guide only moments earlier had utterly vanished. What replaced him was chillingly cold.

That professional side’s diligence was a huge betrayal to the part of me that had melted for him. Though, of course, that’s a lie—I never truly softened.

Lunch was with newly acquainted guides Jeong Yunhwa and Esper Shin Eunchae. The menu was pork cutlet.

They said this restaurant, Roje, was very popular and hurried me along because the dish might sell out quickly—and indeed, ours was the last plate that day.

After our meal, we headed to a nearby café to pass the remaining time. I, as usual, ordered a café latte.

The café was comfortably cool and pleasantly quiet. As soon as we sat, Jeong Yunhwa smiled with contentment before casually speaking.

“You can’t imagine how surprised I was when I heard Lee Taeon came back from a long business trip and got paired.”
“Oh right, right. Everyone joked that after going down to Jeonnam for that trip, he must have come back a new man after mountain meditation.”
“He said he’d work solo forever, but changed his mind in just three months after the trip. Life’s full of surprises.”
“But did you know he was a bit strange even before going on that trip?”

With Yunhwa’s words, her partner Shin Eunchae chimed in. Long trip? Jeonnam? Meditation? Strange before it all? The topic was head-scratching enough to provoke a random question.

“Wait, long trip? The three months in Jeonnam, right?”
“Yes, yes. Oh, Yunseong, that’s why you said your pairing with Lee Taeon was completed only with paperwork.”

I nodded at Shin Eunchae’s words. In fact, our pairing had been finalized only on paper.

Usually, guides and Espers had to complete in-person procedures to forge a partnership. They needed to interact directly, try guiding each other, and talk to ensure they could confidently work well together.

Though officially termed a “partner meeting,” inside the department those get-togethers were often called “introductions” or “blind dates” because of their particular nature.

But Lee Taeon and I had unusually completed the pairing solely through paperwork, without meeting face-to-face. The excuse was the distance between Seoul and Jeonnam, but the real reason was his extreme busyness. It was rare, but not unheard of.