Pretending to Be the Lover of an Esper C37

Chapter 37

“Phew.”

I let out a short breath and fanned my sun-warmed face with my hand, tapping my shoulders a few times to shake off the creeping fatigue.

Beside me, Taeon was in the middle of taking a long swig from an energy drink. As his head tilted back, his throat stretched into clear view, the line of it moving with each swallow.

“….”

I watched longer than I should have, a tangle of feelings coiling inside me, before tearing my gaze away. My mouth tasted bitter.

“Tired?”

Right on cue, he spoke up. Instead of answering with some bland “No” or “Not really,” I just gave a short shake of my head.

“It’s been over a week, so it’d be strange if you weren’t. You should really work on your stamina—”
“I said I’m fine. Enough with the stamina talk.”

What exactly did he think that little shake meant? I shot him a sidelong glare and reached for my water bottle, condensation slicking my hand as I lifted it. The coolness was a welcome contrast against my skin.

“How’s your load rate?”

A faint curve touched his lips, as if to say he’d only been teasing. That low, quiet laugh made my heart jolt before I could stop it. To hide my reaction, I glanced at my smartwatch: 14.3%.

“Fourteen point three. Well within the safe zone. You? How’s your surge risk and wave instability?”
“Hm… Still within safety range myself. Nothing to worry about.”

He checked his own metrics, then took another swallow of the drink. Relief mixed uneasily with a weird ripple of nervousness.

A week already.

It had been just over seven days since the Wave began. As I’d already told him, it still wasn’t that exhausting. Monster appearances weren’t as frequent as expected. After a flurry of reports midweek, our sector had quieted down—just the two of us were enough to cover it.

Since the toxic flyingfish incident, Daebudo had stayed quiet. Two exterminations in Incheon, one at Sorae Port. Today it was a small Grade 3 stag-horn shark near Jebu Island—solitary, low-level, quick kill.

We’d been making good use of the sensory sharing “switch” we’d found, deploying it in every fight. Four times now, six total counting earlier. Taeon seemed used to it; he no longer visibly lit up the way he had before. But the feeling itself clearly hadn’t faded—just gone underground.

It was the most uncomfortable thing: missing that softened version of him, yet also relieved there were fewer chances for my feelings to deepen.

And there was one more thing I couldn’t ignore.

“I’ll do one more site check. You rest. Once I’m done, we’ll head back.”

His voice was still warmed by that gentler tone—it hadn’t changed once. He neither crossed the invisible line between us nor retreated from it.

“Haa… Okay.”

I found a patch of shade and sat heavily. The sunlight bouncing off the water had superheated my cheeks and brow as if I’d been running a fever.

Watching his back recede, I had the sudden urge to snap—Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? It would’ve been the sixth time I’d wondered it.

Maybe he was just diligently sticking to the terms of the contract: keep work and personal separate. That harmless rationalization came next—the fourth time.

“…Makes sense.”

I murmured it to myself and nodded. The third tidy little conclusion I’d drawn so far. Work is work. Personal is personal. We’d agreed on the separation. Maybe refusing my guiding back then had just made him recommit to that boundary. Reasonably speaking, that was the best explanation.

Evidence was easy enough: He was kinder than before, yes—but never beyond that border. Our “small talk,” such as it was, stayed purely work-related. No deep conversations in Songdo either.

“Most of all…”

I pressed the now-empty bottle, heavy with ice, against my cheek and thought back to last night. Daebudo. The flyingfish. To be exact—later that night.

‘Mr. Lee, you asleep…? Coming in.’

I’d whispered it as I pushed the door open.

What I saw: Taeon reclining without even a mat under him, a single pillow jammed behind his neck. Eyes closed, leaning against the stacked bedding, perfectly still.

I froze. …It was the first time I’d seen him sleeping from this close. A strange excitement prickled all the way down to my toes. I tiptoed forward, already preparing the excuse that I hadn’t wanted to wake him.

Watching outright felt too creepy, so I pretended to fuss with my bedding on the opposite side while stealing glances.

Dressed in something more casual, limbs sprawled lazily, his body somehow looked even more solid and long. Like he belonged to a different species entirely.

His legs were crossed at the ankles; his bare feet—bigger than I’d imagined—showed the clean lines of bone across the tops, veins raised like ridges.

Arms folded tight across his chest, shirt fabric stretched taut over muscle. I still maintain that one day, he owes every shirt he’s destroyed an apology.

A tablet and phone lay beside his thigh—probably fell asleep mid-use and hadn’t planned to stay out long. And yet… he looked deeply asleep.

God, he’s beautiful.

I didn’t dare think it loud enough to wake him, but I stared openly now, the pretense forgotten.

I’m screwed.

I’d admitted as much the moment I first met him—but after our rocky start, I’d done my best to ignore it. Still, there was no denying it anymore: He was exactly my type.

Forget killing the feeling—it only made my pulse pound harder. I wanted to punch myself in the face but settled for swatting my blanket.

Flustered, I quickly spread my bedding against the far wall—the maximum distance from him.

Right. The lights.

I wanted nothing more than to pass out and forget this whole mess. But the overhead light was still too bright. I sidled over toward the switch, only to pause and glance back at him.

He’s an Esper—he’s fine.

Even so—sleeping in that position for hours? Maybe he’d wake with a stiff neck or shoulder. Just thinking of sleeping comfortably while he stayed twisted like that felt wrong.

I decided I’d nudge him awake, just enough to suggest lying down properly.

Taeon…

I reached to tap his shoulder—

“Mm.”

A low sound, his brows twitching faintly, shifting his upper body in a small, restless squirm.

God help me.

Even that tiny movement was painfully endearing—unlike his usual self, so quietly vulnerable it made my stomach tighten.

This was dangerous. I was already out of shame and running low on self-control.

“Taeon. Mr. Lee.”

“…What.”

His eyes opened slowly, the look in them blurred with sleep. He glanced down at the shoulder I’d touched, then up to meet my face.

For a moment, his narrowing gaze held a flicker of honest irritation and disdain. Not because I’d woken him—but because it was me.

“You looked uncomfortable. I thought you should lie down properly.”
“…Ah.”

I pulled my hand back and stepped away, while he pressed his fingers to his brow, trying to chase away the drowsiness. I think he said something—but I don’t remember what.

“I’m going to sleep first.”

Blurting it almost like a shout, I dove under my blanket—forgetting, completely, to turn off the light.

In the end, nothing had changed. He still disliked me. He still hid it. And I still played along politely, staying on my side of the line he’d drawn.

Like a paper boat drifting in place on a calm lake—peaceful enough, at least for him.

As long as the exterminations go well, that’s all that matters.

I took a sip from the melted ice water and looked out at the distant ocean. Sea air carried its briny tang on the wind. I wanted a shower.

I was wiping at my sticky arms when I heard the now-familiar sound of approaching boots.

“All done. Let’s head back.”
“Ah—yes.”

One long stride and he was in front of me, the sun at his back. Even in the bright light, not a shadow touched his face. Unlucky for me.

Too visible.

His already smooth features looked even sharper—skin fresh, not a drop of sweat, fringe falling just so, dark brows drawn over expressionless lips.

But I knew how that face could change. I’d seen it bloom into something warm and bright as sunlight, like a flower opening.

Why did you smile like that then?

The impulse to ask rose again, and again I crushed it. He hadn’t smiled for me. He’d been pleased his plan had worked. I knew that. I knew.

I stood, gathered my things, and followed him. The walk back to Songdo did nothing to ease the dull weight in my chest.