Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C25

Chapter 25

“Mr. Lee Taeon.”
In the end, I spoke first. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded eerily low—drained and grim. His sharply defined profile turned toward me, as if he’d been waiting.

“You’re aware that when a Guide adjusts guiding energy thread by thread, it takes a severe toll on their physical strength, right?”
If you don’t know that by now, hand back your seven-year Esper license.

“I’m aware.”
“We also had training this morning, remember?”
“…Yes.”
“And you do know that, aside from our ability, Guides are just ordinary people—physically and physiologically no different from anyone else.”

That was common knowledge, something he couldn’t have possibly not known.
His reply came slow, subdued—almost hesitant, though surely not from guilt.

“And you must also know,” I continued, “that if an Esper rejects guiding—mentally, psychically—the backlash lands entirely on the Guide, correct?”

The second I finished speaking, a dull, fleeting throb pierced my head.

“Mr. Lee, I’m dead tired right now. So tell me—why are you suddenly being so uncooperative?”

“…”

No answer. I gripped the armrest so tightly the leather creaked under my palm. Then I inhaled deeply, exhaled harder—the kind of sigh that could cave in soft ground.

In the end, I caved first. My jaw clenched and loosened before I asked, half resigned, half pleading,
“Was it really that bad?”

His confused gaze flickered toward me.
“I asked if it bothered you that much. When I asked you that question.”
“That’s…”
“Like I told you before, I never thought that topic had anything to do with your private life. Still, it was careless of me to treat it so lightly. I apologize again. It was overstepping.”
“Guide Ji.”
“I get it—you probably find it hard to have any good feelings toward me. I know. I earned that.”

Maybe the physical exhaustion made it worse, but with every word my voice grew hoarser and quicker, hands trembling slightly. Damn it—I was angry, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

“So you figured—‘Why bother being civil to this bastard,’ huh?”

My shoulders ached, each breath scratching through my throat.

“Still, we agreed not to let our personal issues affect work, didn’t we?”
“Yes…” He sounded strained, like forcing the words out hurt.

I didn’t even have the energy left to look at him—just stared downward, exhaling through clenched teeth.

We’d both agreed to track down the sensory sharing trigger. Had he only gone along for form’s sake, humoring me out of obligation? Maybe he’d had no intention of trying at all. I didn’t want to believe that—but doubt had already taken root.

“The more exhausted a Guide gets, the worse the quality of guiding becomes. Which means higher load rates too. It hurts both of us. What, you think your blessed physiology makes you untouchable?”

After playing hot and cold endlessly, driving me crazy, now he was wearing me down physically too. The frustration that had built up subconsciously burst like a dam.

“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Today, I….”

He took a careful breath, hesitating too long—whether because it was hard to say or simply because he didn’t want to say it to me, I couldn’t tell.
At least if he’d snapped at me, like before—I just can’t stand you—I could’ve accepted that.

“…I’m sorry. I really wasn’t in good shape today. I ended up taking it out on you, it seems.”
“Not in good shape…”

From a man built like a tank, that sounded laughable. I could’ve sneered—but didn’t. There was no point.

“So, my guiding feels so comfortable that it disgusts you when you’re not at your best. That’s what you’re saying?”
“…Yes.”

I already knew it, but somehow it stung worse hearing it aloud.
I rubbed my face with a cold hand, drawing a long breath.
“Just today, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve looked miserable all week. Haven’t you? And I’m pretty sure it has something to do with me.”

I’d noticed it since the building-collapse simulation training—the stiff mood, the restlessness. I wasn’t about to claim full responsibility, but I was part of it, at least.

But he said nothing.
That silence itself was the answer.

I felt sick—stripped raw, humiliated.
“Damn it…!”

My voice cracked, rising without permission, sharp as a whip.
“If you’ve got a problem with me, just say it! Tell me what I did! What the hell did I do to piss you off this time—”

I was shaking now, hands trembling, pulse slamming against my ears. The heat behind my eyes threatened to spill over. It felt like my chest was splitting open.

Maybe it hurt more than I’d realized. Maybe his contempt had cut deeper than it should have.

“…Forget it. This is pointless. We should just rest—both of us.”

I couldn’t stay there another second. I was scared of saying something I couldn’t take back.

Thud.

Taeon’s hand closed suddenly around my wrist—not tightly, but enough to startle me. He flinched and released almost instantly, as if burned by his own impulse.

I followed his motion with dull eyes—his open palms twitched, flexed again. He knew he’d messed up.

But I didn’t even have the strength left to call him out. I was just… done.
“Guide Ji.”
“I’m tired, Mr. Lee. Adjusting energy manually takes focus and stamina, and you rejected it four times today. On top of training outside under the sun all morning, that’s everything I’ve got. My head’s pounding thanks to your resistance. I think I’m entitled to rest this weekend.”

He’d knocked down every stone in the stack I’d tried to build—again and again. Whether he realized it or not, it bordered on mockery.
An Esper deliberately rejecting guiding repeatedly could even be considered workplace harassment—a hostile act.

Given our unusual arrangement, I wasn’t about to file complaints. But right now, I didn’t want to think about him at all.

“I’m leaving.”

I gathered my things and stood. Beyond the wide window, the sunset bled red across the sky like an open wound.
“See you Monday.”

When the body’s exhausted, the mind follows. When the mind’s depleted, it stops thinking and starts reacting.
Without waiting for a reply, I stepped out and slammed the door behind me—hard. The echo shook down the empty corridor.

“If you’re going to act like a bastard, then stop pretending otherwise.”

How stupid I’d been—to think, even for a moment, that his small gestures meant anything.

[Sorry. Gonna be late. Slept in.]
[All good. Take your time.]

A faint headache lingered when I finally opened my eyes—two hours past when I should’ve woken up.

No matter how fast I moved, I was already going to be late. My vision swam as I fumbled my phone, sent a message, and collapsed back onto the pillow.

“Uuughghh…”

The noise that came out of my throat hardly sounded human—something between a dying animal and a groan of despair.

“Get up… Ji Yunseong… Shower. You need a shower.”

I’d come home after that blowup with Taeon, collapsed after barely changing clothes, and passed out cold. My body had been too heavy, my limbs like lead.

“Lee Taeon, that goddamn bastard.”

Resentment rose naturally. I hadn’t even noticed when he came back—if he’d come back at all. Not that I cared.

The one mercy was that my recurring headache had vanished.

Either way, I had to get up.
I forced a deep breath and pushed myself off the mattress, muscles aching in protest. My wrists and arms complained from sudden movement, but I kept muttering—It’ll feel better once you’re up.

When I finally stepped into the bathroom, I didn’t bother waiting for the water to warm. The cold spray hit me head to toe, shocking my skin and clearing the fog from my head.

I got ready fast. Stepping into the hallway, I glanced instinctively toward the room across from mine—his room. Silence.
By the door lay only my shoes, half-kicked aside.

Whether he was inside, outside, or halfway across town, I didn’t care.
I just hoped—no matter what—I wouldn’t have to see him.