Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C33

Chapter 33

“Mr. Lee Taeon, do you remember? The second time we experienced sensory sharing.”
“Why… ah. Yes, I remember.”
“How about we try that again—like when you precisely severed the wire linked from the circuit to the sensor that day.”
“That only worked because we were sharing sensory perception. Right now, cutting the neural signals of three thousand fish simultaneously… I can’t guarantee I could succeed. I’d probably kill less than half before failing.”
“Then don’t be so precise about it this time. Just scorch their insides clean, without damaging the outer scales.”
“The main concern is the toxin, then?”
“What’s this—sensory sharing? You two were doing that? No wonder your resonance rate’s so high. You’re lucky.”

I nodded at both Taeon and Seongwoo-hyung. With power like Taeon’s, there was a chance he could burn away most of the flyingfish’s venom before it contaminated the water.

“It’s worth trying, but it would still be tricky. Each fish’s mass, scale thickness, internal fluids—they all differ slightly. Every variable would have to be factored in,” he explained.

Frying the entire swarm at once with raw firepower would be easy. But the real obstacle wasn’t strength—it was control, plus the surrounding environment.

Four years ago, he’d been fighting monsters near an open beach—no buildings, no people—allowing him to unleash his power freely.
This time, he had a power plant and a coastal road right behind him. A misfire could blow half the region sky-high.

And if he spiked his output too suddenly, mental overload followed inevitably. Like trying to twitch the wheel of a car moving two hundred kilometers an hour—one wrong flick, and you crash.
I knew that; so did both Espers here.

“No plan B?”
“This is plan B.”

I answered sheepishly, earning a pair of dubious stares.

“Then what exactly is your plan?”

Truthfully, I didn’t know if it would work. But doing nothing wasn’t an option.
Feigning calm, I shrugged at Taeon, whose expression was still doubtful.

“I think we should try sensory sharing again.”
“The thing that’s failed every single time?”
“I’ve thought of something new—something we haven’t tried yet. If that doesn’t work either, then I guess we leave it to fate one more time.”

He huffed a small laugh—not mockery, more resignation. As if to say, well, what choice do we have.
Still not quite his usual self, but close.

“And this new method?”
“You’ll see once we start.”

We hadn’t found the switch during our last session before the alert. But this time felt… different.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a single, previously forgotten method remained unexplored. That’s all we could hang onto now.

“And if it works, we’ll have a better tactic for next time?” Seongwoo asked.

I glanced briefly at Taeon before answering.
“If it succeeds, we’ll be able to make a perfect electric roast with zero collateral damage.”

Whether by frying their insides or cutting nervous signals directly, we would eliminate the threat without polluting the sea—or the plant.

Taeon didn’t argue. He wasn’t doubtful anymore either. He was confident—at least, as long as sensory sharing succeeded.

Our eyes met for a long moment. His were far above mine, gleaming faintly with anticipation.

“If it fails, we move on to plan B. Got it,” Seongwoo said, stretching his arms overhead. The motion made it clear he fully expected Plan A to flop. Understandable—our previous attempts had all failed miserably, and even I wasn’t entirely convinced it’d work now.

“Fine, but at least wish us luck—holy hell, that wind’s strong!”

The three of us, minus the monitoring officer, stepped outside to the uppermost ledge of the building—where the air-conditioning units and fuse boxes clustered together.
Only a waist-high concrete wall stood between us and the open sky.

The gale roared fiercely, flaring against our ears until even the radio earpieces crackled. Below us, the earth and sea stretched dizzyingly far down—a good thing neither of us feared heights.

“Anyway, hurry it up,” Seongwoo said. “I need to be ready. I’ll start from that end, yeah?”

He scanned the embankment along the seawall, picking out large, manageable rocks—the kind he could lift telekinetically and later use as barriers.

“Wish us luck, would you? If this works, your job gets easier too.”

Our plan was straightforward—borderline suicidal, but straightforward:

1. I would initiate guiding and attempt sensory sharing with Taeon. If successful, he’d incinerate the swarm. 
2. If not, he’d fry them the conventional way—while Seongwoo built a barrier from seawall stones to contain potential toxin spread. 

The venom would corrode the rocks eventually, but something was better than nothing.

“Real seat-of-the-pants strategy, huh.”

Saying it aloud made it sound even more hopeless. Most extermination missions were like this anyway—trial, improvisation, hope for the best. That didn’t make it any less nerve-racking.

“That’s just how real work goes,” Seongwoo said with a knowing grin. “Bang at it till it works, come up with fixes after. Every industry’s the same. Don’t stress.”

He’d worked normal jobs before joining the Center, so I figured it counted as veteran advice.

Taeon, meanwhile, stood silent, gaze fixed on the swarm below. His face betrayed neither fear nor tension—only that same unflinching focus, smooth and unreadable as stone.

I found myself wondering—what was going through his mind right now?

“All right,” I said, inhaling once. “Starting the guiding.”

We didn’t know when the wind would shift, so if sensory sharing failed, we’d move straight into Plan B. Either way, the swarm had to be struck before it took flight.

Please work. Please…

I exhaled and extended my hand, sending guiding energy toward him.

Gradually it spread outward, rippling wide like a calm pool disturbed by a breath of wind. Normally by now, I’d have covered his entire body in a single blanket-like sheet of energy.

Not this time.

Knowing the nature of his ‘unique constitution,’ I’d devised a more delicate approach. Instead of spreading broad energy, I sharpened the threads, entwining them deliberately around his frequency—poking, weaving, nudging the current until his wavelength shifted or synced.

It had never once worked. Not through brute force, nor coaxing. But there was one method we hadn’t tried—something I’d once forgotten entirely.
And now I realized it might actually stand a chance.

“Haah…”

My guiding wrapped him in a thinner, more flexible flow than usual—similar to the standard technique, but with one crucial difference: I stopped. I held the energy still, hovering just short of immersion.

Like knocking gently on a door. Just once—and waiting.

〈Then wait a bit. Let him come out on his own and make the choice again.〉
〈At this rate, we’re just waiting for them to fall into our laps. Got any other ideas?〉

Yeonwoo’s and Seongwoo’s earlier remarks flashed simultaneously through my head, merging into the answer I’d been seeking.

I had to guide him into reaching me first.

Not pressing in; not forcing connection—but inviting it. A subtle, insolent kind of patience.

The slower motion of my energy—perhaps aided by the mild, detached calm in my thoughts—created the smallest still point. A hesitation.

And into that moment of quiet, his pulse, his power flowed first.
His wavelength wrapped itself around mine.

That instant—
That was our switch.

I felt it. It clicked. A quiet, perfect recognition.

“…!”

Taeon drew in a sharp breath.

His fingers flexed once, his gaze locking onto mine—eyes bright with something halfway between focus and thrill. There was an undercurrent of stormlight there, flickering beneath lowered lashes. I looked away quickly.

The wind howled too loud to catch any sound, yet I swore I heard his exhale—slow, content.

And then I felt the shift—the trembling weight of the shared connection spring into place. The sensation engulfed me, strange yet achingly familiar.

Just like that, the two of us breathed together.

“Ha.”

A short, incredulous laugh escaped me. I turned—and found him smiling. A deep, vivid grin.

It worked.

We’d done it.

Footnotes:

• 감각 공유 — “Sensory sharing”; a temporary state of psychic synchronization between Esper and Guide allowing the Guide to perceive what the Esper feels and enhance control. 

맹독 날치 — “Toxic Flyingfish,” a marine-type monster species whose venom grows exponentially when compounded.