Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C9

Chapter 9

“So, what do you mean when you say Lee Taeon was strange?”
“Well, um… you know, a few months ago there was a large-scale operation in northern Gyeonggi?”
“The red army ants?”
“Yes, that one. More than half of the Espers and guides in the branch were deployed for that mission. Lee Taeon was there too. There was a bit of a problem in the middle, but it wasn’t serious… and it ended well. These days, casualty-free exterminations are quite common. Still, after a big operation, the Espers and guides get extremely exhausted. Suddenly, though, the upper-ups ordered Lee Taeon on a business trip to Jeonnam.”

Shin Eunchae tapped the table lightly, visibly excited. Being an Esper herself, she seemed to feel the injustice Lee Taeon suffered even more deeply.

Even as a guide, I found the treatment baffling. Thinking in corporate terms, it was like sending a key employee on a business trip immediately after completing a major project. I listened earnestly, my expression serious as Shin Eunchae continued.

“At that time, Lee Taeon was on Team 2. He was still solo—partnerless. And there was chaos over it. No matter how strong S-class Espers are regarding stamina and recovery, sending someone out on a trip so soon was unheard of, especially without a partner guide. People worried that if he lost control, he’d be in trouble…”

She paused to clear her throat.

“I was solo until the year before last, so I was once on the same team with Lee Taeon. Naturally, I was worried—wanted to run to him and ask if he was okay or whether to report this unfair treatment. But he said he was fine. Not just as a formality, but genuinely fine. He even said there was no need to object and that leaving soon was a relief. His sincerity was so obvious. Sure enough, he left a week earlier than planned.”

Shin Eunchae recalled that Lee Taeon’s face then looked like someone in customer service utterly disillusioned with humanity.

“Honestly, I suspected it was more like convalescence than a business trip. You know how Jeonnam is, right? One of the monster hotspots. Who goes there to recuperate?”

“So really, he was called to a monster extermination mission and dragged off, but wanted to leave quickly?”

If not a severe workaholic… no, even if he wanted to, there’s no way the Center would allow such a thing. Especially for a solo S-class Esper without a partner guide.

Although the Center could assign standing guides to provide guiding support, nothing compares to having a partner who is there twenty-four hours a day.

To prevent mental breakdown and resulting berserk episodes caused by excessive mental strain, solo Espers are strictly monitored and managed by the Center—especially S-class ones.

That was why the Center encouraged pairing for senior Espers. One dedicated partner providing constant guiding was both more efficient and safer than standing guides providing intermittent support.

But instead of managing him properly, they sent him on a long trip? A strange sense of unease crept over me.

“Yes, it really was odd. He suddenly left on that trip, didn’t contact anyone, then returned after three months saying he was transferring to Team 1!”

“There was a big fuss, everyone asking who this was—and joking if he’d been brainwashed.”

Remembering the incident, I smiled at Shin Eunchae and Jeong Yunhwa, but inside, chaos reigned.

If Lee Taeon had actually been reluctant to become a partner Esper and instead stayed solo until after his Jeonnam trip—or during it, if he requested the change—that would explain why our contract was only in writing. His trip was the reason.

A troubling corner of my heart tightened. Pairing guides and Espers prioritized matching within the same branch. The process took at least two days for approval, sometimes up to a week depending on schedules.

Matching between branches only occurred if there were no suitable matching candidates locally or if the resonance rate was severely low.

Lee Taeon and I were paired in just four days—an unusually short period. At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it, but now it was clear this was faster than average.

Maybe he hastily switched and applied to become a partner Esper, triggering a transfer from Gyeonggi to Seoul. But…

“Did you perhaps… in the Gyeonggi branch—”
“Yes?”
“No, never mind.”

I swallowed the question about whether there was literally no suitable guide in Gyeonggi for pairing with Lee Taeon. The probability was simply too low to accept.

Lee Taeon’s first partner guide with an eighty-eight percent resonance rate was assigned in the Seoul branch. Coincidence? Fate? Or something else…

An odd, uneasy feeling washed over me.

A vague, prickling sensation beneath my skin lingered, impossible to pinpoint, yet persistently uncomfortable. But solving this curiosity did not seem imminent.

Instead, pushing the strange unease aside, I focused on other topics—like monster activity reports in Jeonnam.

Why had Lee Taeon insisted on going to Jeonnam?

I responded casually to the shifting conversation, probing the uncomfortable curiosity deeper.

No matter how hard I searched my memory, I had never heard of a monster in Jeonnam dangerous enough to warrant housing an S-class Esper from another branch for three months.

Despite my anxieties and uneasy feelings, doubts about how Lee Taeon became a partner Esper soon faded.

While something felt off, there was no grand conspiracy or secret. More accurately, the reality was that I was too busy and overwhelmed to pay attention to minor details.

After our first day of work, Lee Taeon and I were immediately exempted from all duties and began an intensive month-long training period. No light desk tasks or brief field jobs—instead, simply an endless stretch of training.

At first glance, it seemed like he was receiving extraordinary favoritism, but in truth, the Center’s strong intention was to bring us up to the coordination level of veteran pairs within a month.

The training was brutal. There is no other way to describe it. I sometimes felt like sending the Center an anonymous suspicious package, as if warning them about trusting just the resonance rate to manage an untested pair.

I couldn’t believe only a week had passed.

Even worse, Lee Taeon showed no sign of strain, which somehow annoyed me.

Lucky or not, starting in the second week, we began full-scale simulated combat training.

Over five days, twice indoors and twice outdoors, with one day of physical training in between. Having been pushed hard for the previous week, the physical challenge wasn’t as difficult as expected. Humans are adaptable creatures, after all.

“Thirty minutes. Think you can manage it?”

On the final Monday morning, we met in the underground training chamber. Lee Taeon had set up the entire arena and asked if I could sustain guiding efforts for thirty minutes of simulated combat.

“An S-class guide capable of simultaneously guiding seven senior Espers can’t last thirty minutes?”

I answered confidently, but he barely reacted, ordering me to bring my weapons. Slightly embarrassed…

Lee Taeon’s challenge wasn’t particularly difficult. I took one pistol and one rifle—loaded with paint rounds—and entered the safe zone lightly armed.

He was already inside, checking his gloves meticulously, glancing at me. His only weapon was the pistol holstered at his waist.

As an Esper, he probably found carrying lots of firearms cumbersome, but clad in tight-fitting black half-sleeve shirt, gloves, monochrome military pants, and combat boots, he looked more like a spy with multiple cover identities or a secret special forces operator than a government official.

His appearance was undeniably striking. His muscles, well-pumped from the recent grueling training, seemed angrier than usual.

I rubbed my arm and stomach lightly. People often said I had a long, lean build, but never fragile, though standing next to Lee Taeon, I looked comparatively small. Damn it. I felt a sudden pang of frustration.

“Guide Ji Yunseong.”

While quietly cursing him, Lee Taeon suddenly spoke. I barely kept myself from jumping and met his gaze nonchalantly. He nodded as if to acknowledge my understanding, and I nodded back.

—Training will begin shortly. Personnel not participating, please move outside the safety line. Ten, nine, eight…

As the announcement ended and thick barriers slid noisily down within the safety zone, I shook off my limbs lightly and began radiating guiding energy toward Lee Taeon.

The energy spread slowly, like a pooling puddle extending its reach, soon reaching his body. The gentle infusion soon enveloped him entirely, like a curtain.

It was precisely at that moment that I sensed a peculiar, unfamiliar sensation.