Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C26

 Chapter 26

“Yunseong, over here!”

As soon as I walked into the café and started scanning the interior, a familiar voice called out from a corner seat, accompanied by a raised hand.
I weaved between tables and hurried straight over.

“You made it.”
“Yeah. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of time—no afternoon appointments yet.”

His easy smile still carried that unchanging boyish charm. Even approaching his late twenties, the traces of youthful roundness hadn’t left his face.
It had been a few months since we’d met, but Cha Yeonwoo was the same as ever. He pushed a fresh cup of iced latte toward me—the ice hadn’t melted at all.

“Ordered it ahead for you.”
“Thanks, thanks.”
“So, I heard you had training yesterday. Aren’t you exhausted? You’re not overworking yourself, right?”

At those words, my chest sank slightly.

〈This one doesn’t feel good.〉
〈Again? In what way exactly?〉
〈It’s stronger… worse than usual guiding.〉
〈Comfort’s the only thing you ever feel from guiding.〉
〈That’s exactly why I dislike it.〉

The echoes of yesterday’s argument with Taeon came flooding back. But I forced a calm smile—no sense burdening an old friend with that.

“It’s fine. If I were really worn out, I would’ve texted to cancel.”
“Well, if you say so…”
“Come on—we barely get the chance. You were too busy to see me when I transferred up here, you were busy again after that, and you said you’d be busy for months more.”

Yeonwoo smiled, stirring his drink thoughtfully. The clinking ice made a soft sound as it swirled.
“That’s true. Honestly, I’m technically working even now.”
“You poor thing. Working weekends and traveling for business? At least you’re getting paid well, right?”
“Who doesn’t work weekends these days? You’ve done plenty of field hours yourself. Still—since the job’s in Gyeonggi, at least we got to meet. And after this round, I’ll finally get to breathe for a while. Oh, and yes—the pay is good. I owe you lunch next time.”

He grinned lazily. At least the money part sounded good—I was glad for that.

Yeonwoo wasn’t an Esper or a Guide but a regular staff engineer at the Seoul branch of the Center. He dealt with infrastructure—equipment like energy-detection tools and calibration devices.

“I heard you guys are getting the latest models out here?”
“Yeah. Hardly anyone’s used them yet. They just came out, and they can measure Esper frequencies even more precisely—within a tiny decimal range—”

As he spoke, animated and technical, my focus drifted. I’d forgotten how easily his explanations triggered my mild science allergy. My brain simply refused to process numbers bigger than a lunch bill.

“So when the internal sensors detect energy instability, the system automatically—oh, hang on. Gotta take this call.”

Mid-monologue, Yeonwoo pulled out his phone. I waved him off graciously.

He returned moments later with a slightly conflicted expression.

“Uh, Yunseong, the staff who’s supposed to escort me arrived early—about an hour ahead of schedule.”
“An hour? That’s fine—we weren’t planning to stay long anyway.”
“Then maybe I’ll just have them meet me here?”

The ‘staff’ he mentioned had to be a representative from my branch, Gyeonggi division. I wasn’t sure if that was appropriate, but Yeonwoo caught the hesitation immediately.

“It’s fine. We were supposed to meet outside the Center, but they said they’d come wherever I wanted to.”
“Still feels a bit impolite.”
“Nah, they insisted. Said I could pick the place.”

Whoever they were, they sounded remarkably considerate. I felt a flicker of gratitude toward the nameless stranger.

“So,” Yeonwoo said, putting his phone down, “how are things for you lately? Getting along with your partner all right? No territorial drama?”

There it was—the question I’d been hoping to avoid. Figures.
What was I supposed to say? There wasn’t much to tell—and less I wanted to.

The truth of things between me and Taeon wasn’t something I cared to share, especially not with a close friend. How did you even explain a partnership that started wrong because of your own screw-up?

“…Things aren’t great?”

Yeonwoo caught on instantly. He’d always been good at reading my face. Normally, I’d have brushed it off with some witty comment, but after yesterday’s fallout, I couldn’t muster it.

“No hazing or anything,” I said with a weak laugh. “Everyone’s nice enough. My partner and I just… I don’t know. We don’t click. Not bad, not good—just off.”
“It’s only been a month.”
“I started falling apart with him after one month, too.”
“With who—oh.”

Realization dawned a heartbeat late. Yeonwoo’s expression faltered. The fact that I’d even mentioned that man—him—clearly surprised him.

“So it’s that bad?”

I didn’t answer. A quiet, heavy pause filled the air. As I traced condensation around my glass rim, words slipped out like an idle sigh.

“I think I was too forward. You know how I am—I always jump in too fast, act friendly before people even decide if they want that.”

〈Why switch from solo to a partner team? Change of heart?〉

In hindsight, that was it—the exact mistake.
I shouldn’t have asked that question. Shouldn’t have let myself think our distance had closed even slightly—shouldn’t have mistaken a moment’s softness for progress.

Regret gnawed quietly in my chest. I felt foolish.

“Come on, don’t say that. You’re supposed to spend years working side by side with your partner, not pretending to be strangers. He’s the weird one for shoving you away, not you for reaching out. Don’t overthink it.”

Yeonwoo waved his hand dismissively, voice full of conviction. The sincerity eased something inside me, even if only a little.

“That guy, honestly,” he continued. “It’s on him. Partners are meant to cooperate. Who cares what petty mood he’s in.”
“I… did mess up, though. My first impression wasn’t great.”

Hearing him badmouth Taeon for my sake made guilt prick unexpectedly at my conscience—though barely.

“So what? Since when do first impressions define everything? Remember your last partner—you said he seemed great at first, right? And look how that turned out. People can change. If they can go from good to bad, they can go from bad to good too.”

He wasn’t wrong. I just doubted Taeon would ever feel the same.

“Still, I acted pretty awful back then. If you’d seen it, you’d have hated me, too.”

Somehow, the roles had flipped—me defending, him condemning. And before I realized it, I’d even hinted at the cause. Not that he seemed interested enough to dig deeper, thankfully.

After a few exchanges, Yeonwoo seemed to put the pieces together and spoke with gentler resolve.

“Look, reaching out matters—but sometimes what matters more is whether the other person reaches back. That’s how understanding works both ways.”
“But what if he doesn’t want me to? What if I’m just forcing it on him?”
“Then give him space. Wait. Make him want to come out of his walls. Meanwhile, you focus on showing your best side. Let him decide on his own terms.”

Guide him to step forward himself, he said—guide. The word hit me like a spark. Something clicked then, a sudden idea flashing across my mind.

“Yunseong?”
“It’s nothing. Just remembered something, that’s all.”

A split-second thought, gone before I could shape it—but worth holding on to. Maybe later.

“Anyway, thanks. I feel better just talking about it. Sorry for turning this whole meetup into my therapy session.”
“Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for. Just promise me this time you’ll stick with your partner longer than usual.”

He said it teasingly, but I heard the concern underneath. My record spoke for itself—I never seemed to keep a pairing for long.

Not for lack of effort either. Circumstance always intervened: a pregnancy; someone leaving to care for aging parents; a marriage; an overseas transfer. Each time, my partner had to go.

Well—except Baek Woohyun. That one was its own kind of disaster.
And now, another exception had entered the list—except this mess was squarely my fault.

“Enough gloomy talk, huh? Give me some good news for once.”
“Wasn’t this already good news compared to usual?”
“Then at least make it entertaining.”

We laughed, steering the conversation to lighter nonsense—trivial work stories, mutual friends, casual gossip. For a little while, the heaviness finally lifted.