Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C24

Chapter 24

“Oh, Mr. Taeon, hello! You just got here?”
“I arrived earlier, but stopped by the break room on the way. Guide Ji Yunseong, you should cool your cheeks with this.”

Taeon’s voice carried no warmth at all as his eyes flicked briefly over my face.
“Looks pretty red, right?” Yoonhwa laughed.

But I was too stunned to move my stiff tongue, glancing between the cold water bottle in my hand and the man beside me. This? For me? Why?

“T-thank you…”

His fingers tapped the bottle twice, urging me to take it properly. Snapping out of my daze, I quickly set my soda down and reached for the bottle he offered. The chill was so sharp it bit into my palm.

“…”

For a moment, he simply stared at me with his usual unreadable gaze. Then he nodded faintly toward Yoonhwa in a perfunctory gesture before turning and walking off without another word.

A silence like the aftermath of a sudden gust of wind followed.

“Still, he must’ve been worried. You are his partner, after all.”

Her teasing tone made me glance down dumbly at the bottle in my hand. It was frozen solid, not melting anytime soon.

“If you used this brick of ice as a weapon, the evidence would melt before they found it…”
“Eh?”
“N-nothing.”

The absurdity of the situation short-circuited my brain for a few seconds. I tried to cover it up with a weak laugh and licked my lips to moisten them.

This kind of… attention from Taeon was the first of its kind. Sure, he’d helped me plenty at work, but that was different—professional assistance, never personal thoughtfulness. This was wholly unexpected.

“Cold…” I murmured softly, rolling the bottle along the back of my neck. My free hand felt along my forehead and cheek, the chill radiating pleasantly.

“I was a bit worried, but I guess I can relax now,” Yoonhwa said.
“Worried?”
“Yeah. Taeon’s been kind of stiff with you, hasn’t he? He always feels… formal, like he’s fixated on maintaining distance. That’d fit in a regular company, but the Center’s different—especially Team 1.”
“That’s true…”

At the Center, relationships between ability users were encouraged, not discouraged—especially between partners. High resonance rates, shared empathy… it was natural. Most pairs eventually grew close, and many even married.

But Taeon and I… well.

“A bit of distance isn’t all bad.”
“You two haven’t eaten together once in over a month.”
“That’s just because our eating habits are too different.”

A lie. Odds were we actually had similar tastes. We just didn’t want to share a table—that was all.

“Anyway,” she continued, “given how he acted today, maybe he’s trying to show a change. He’s been solo so long he probably forgot how to treat a partner. He’s a bit… rigid. Must’ve been tough for you, Yunseong.”
“Tough? Not really. If I were the type to sulk over that, I’d be begging for attention, not working with him.”

I forced a laugh, half-joking. That hopeful thought I’d once had—maybe this partnership can last—felt like something from a lifetime ago.

“Honestly, a few of us Guides were quietly worried.”
At her conspiratorial whisper, I could only laugh awkwardly. Of course everyone knew our pairing was strictly business.

Still, no one mentioned it outright—interfering with another team’s dynamic was considered rude, and on the surface, at least, we functioned well enough.

“There are definitely teams like yours. A little formal, not over-familiar—it prevents certain… complications.”
“Exactly.”
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get along—”
“It’s fine, Yoonhwa.”

If every partner pair at the Center were chummy or romantic, this wouldn’t be an abilities division—it’d be some matchmaking camp.

I smiled lightly, setting the bottle down. Even if inside, everything’s rotting.

If anyone saw how we acted in private—at the dorm, for instance—they’d probably gasp. And if they knew why, they’d probably faint.

〈You came in late today…〉
〈And that matters because?〉
〈Mr. Lee? You’re here. I brought some fruit—would you like…〉
〈No. Don’t bother me.〉
〈If you’re so efficient, why even need a partner Guide? Why switch from solo? Change of heart?〉
〈Weren’t you the one who said we should stay out of each other’s personal lives? Didn’t expect you to forget that.〉
〈Are you brushing my hand on purpose now? Think being friendly suddenly changes anything? Couldn’t get the brother, so now you’re trying the cousin?〉

At first, I’d still tried speaking to him a few times after that. Two, maybe three.
Looking back, it must have annoyed the hell out of him. Maybe he’d been holding back his irritation until it finally exploded.

If that were the case, his recent act of… kindness made perfect sense. Despite already apologizing twice, maybe words hadn’t felt sufficient. Maybe that frozen bottle had been an attempt to show sincerity through action.

I shouldn’t have felt down about that—yet I did. And the fact that I didn’t even know why made it worse. The bottle in my hand still held its biting chill, a coldness I didn’t entirely mind. The cool relief only made the rest of me feel heavier.

“Alright, Team 1—everyone here?” The team leader’s booming voice saved me from the awkward silence, bursting through the waiting room door. “We’ll wrap today’s session indoors. You’ve got an hour to shower and change. Meet in the AV room.”

The room buzzed as everyone got up, cheering faintly at the idea of air conditioning.

“Yunseong, you’re not heading out?”
“Ah—soon. I’ll go once the crowd clears. You guys go ahead.”

I waved vaguely at my colleagues, flashing a grin toward the worried-eyed Yoonhwa. “I’ll see you there.”

The bustle faded quickly. The few stragglers, myself included, exchanged weary looks before starting to move, too.
No sign of Taeon. He must’ve left already. His water bottle sat alone on the nearby table.

I considered taking it—then left it there.

He’s an infuriating man.
That was the final conclusion after the last few days.

Annoying—yes. In every sense.

“Do we really need to use this method?”
“I told you we’d try multiple approaches.”
“I don’t like this one. Let’s try something else.”
“And if this one’s the right one? You don’t like this, don’t like that—do you even remember how many times you’ve objected? Please don’t tell me you’d rather just stick with the standard guiding process, after I already said that won’t work.”
“This one makes me uncomfortable.”
“Again? How, exactly?”
“More intense than usual guiding. Stronger in degree.”
“All you ever feel during guiding is comfort, right?”
“That’s why I dislike it.”

“…”

I leaned back in my chair, smacking my forehead with a hollow laugh.
“Ha… ha.”

Utterly ridiculous, and somehow, infuriatingly consistent.

Fine. He was an aggravating human being. I repeated it like a mantra.

I could excuse him snapping at me that night—it had been partly my fault. I’d overstepped asking personal stuff.

I could also excuse how he’d acted totally normal the next day—professionally detached, by the book. Our contract even stated clearly: Strict separation between personal and professional boundaries. It was textbook example of compliance.

And yet—handing me that frozen water bottle? That one, I couldn’t explain away so easily. But I’d chalked it up to an act of apology instead.

Whatever the reason—it definitely wasn’t emotional warmth. He wasn’t that type. Maybe he’d just thought my flushed, overheated face looked near death and intervened out of pragmatic concern.

Fine. Fair enough.

But now?

“Are you playing with me?”

Four times. He’d rejected my attempts to re-trigger sensory sharing four different times—each time with flimsy excuses that barely held up logically.

What the hell was this?

He said nothing.

“I’m exhausted,” I muttered, pressing my fingers to my brow. Each syllable was deliberate—sharp enough to cut.

Even then, he stayed silent, arms crossed, reclining slightly so the curve of his throat stood out. The sight made me want to slap a palm right across it.

One minute passed. Then two. Maybe more.
The only sound in the guiding room was the soft hum of the air purifier.