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Chapter 16
Director Choi Youngmuk cleared his throat uncomfortably. He could have easily used his authority to pressure Lim Jiseo, but he wasn’t the type to operate that way. The reason Jiseo was here was probably entirely due to Baek Dohyeok’s wishes.
“Even if you don’t want to announce it publicly, that’s fine. Just… let me be the one to handle the guiding.”
Jiseo swallowed the question “Why…?” that hovered on her lips. She had already asked countless times but never received a clear answer. The responses were always the same, repetitive. There didn’t seem to be any other reason, and even if there were, it wasn’t her concern.
It made more sense to her to think that the higher-ups were simply annoyed that a C-rank Esper like her had the audacity to reject someone like Baek Dohyeok.
So Jiseo’s answer, though tinged with self-deprecation, was sincere:
“Fine. Well, it’s not like I’ll wear out…”
Her tone flattened the weight of guiding—the sacrifices, the empathy, humanity’s survival—all reduced to a shrug. Only the Director seemed taken aback by this. Choi Youngmuk’s suspicion deepened when he realized that this wording had come from Jiseo herself.
After a mostly perfunctory exchange of words, the Director discreetly addressed Dohyeok:
“Guide Baek Dohyeok, I’d like to speak with Esper Lim Jiseo a bit more.”
“Yes, Director. I’ll see you again next time. Ah, and regarding the MOU, I’ll send the official document soon.”
“Very well.”
Dohyeok smiled coolly and gave a graceful nod. Once he left, the Director tapped the table irritably, prompting Jiseo to straighten her posture.
“Hey, Lim Jiseo. What’s your relationship with Baek Dohyeok? Did you do something wrong?”
“Eh? Ah…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say “nothing.” Not that she had actually done anything wrong—the incident was just that: an incident, not a crime.
“If it’s not that, then what is it? That guy acts all awkward, like we’re selling you off. He refuses any other Esper, even when they say it’s fine if he won’t accept them. Damn it. I want to see what happens if I tell him to guide some Esper he hates later.”
“I’m not being sold off, it’s not like that.”
The Director, despite some graying hair, still crossed his legs firmly and frowned. He was clever but not a bureaucrat. He understood the importance and value of guides better than anyone. From the start, he hadn’t thought this arrangement would be bad for Jiseo. If anything, he considered it a privilege. Jiseo knew that.
“It’s strange to keep pressuring someone who’s already agreed. Did he confess to you, and you rejected him?”
Regret shadowed Jiseo’s face. If only I knew why it had to go this far…
“Eh? No, of course not.”
“Ugh, it’s frustrating. Ha… I’m a Director, shouldn’t even be saying this to you…”
After speaking, he rubbed his face with a hand as big as a pot lid.
“Ha… I never thought I’d have to say this to an Esper. If you really don’t want it… just pretend it’s an accident, pick a time he won’t notice, and hit him. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll quit on his own.”
It was absurd advice, yet Jiseo answered promptly:
“Yes.”
An Esper wouldn’t normally do such a thing to a guide. It wasn’t about superpowers versus ordinary humans; it was simply that Espers couldn’t bring themselves to treat their guides that way. They cherished them too much, loved them too much, wanted to be loved in return.
Even knowing this, it seemed Dohyeok’s repeated insistence on Jiseo—despite her rejection—bothered the Director.
Honestly, any other Esper would have felt like they’d hit the jackpot.
In any case, Jiseo was grateful to the Director. He wasn’t seriously suggesting she strike Dohyeok, and he couldn’t be, but seeing someone in such a high position—the Director of the largest branch in the metropolitan area—suggest she hit an S-rank guide, she realized she wasn’t the only one annoyed by that perfect man.
With all his background and authority, he didn’t push her to grovel. And yet, here he was, subtly advising her to hit a top-tier S-rank guide. Jiseo left the office feeling strangely light-hearted.
As if on cue, Dohyeok was already waiting, leaning against the wall as she turned the corner. Today he wore a casual t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual expensive suit, looking slightly younger—just a 29-year-old Baek Dohyeok.
Not the untouchable LS Innotech vice president exuding a barrier of distance, but the Dohyeok who wanted jokbal (pig’s feet) but found it too much to eat alone.
Of course, the reason 29-year-old Dohyeok had no one to share jokbal with was probably because he was a jerk, Jiseo guessed.
“Jiseo.”
“Yes, Vice President.”
“You’re not angry.”
“You speak as if you want me to be.”
“I don’t, but I expected it. Since I’m acting clingy like this.”
“You already know, I wasn’t pretending not to notice.”
Dohyeok smiled softly, fully aware of Jiseo’s prickly mood.
“Still, I’m glad you accepted.”
Her slightly unexpected reply earned only a simple nod from Jiseo. Dohyeok looked genuinely happy, a pure expression of contentment rather than smug satisfaction, which left her feeling drained. She simply brushed past him.
“Jiseo.”
He followed quickly, his long legs closing the distance easily. Jiseo neither sped up nor tried to evade him; she was just heading to the office assigned to Blue Team 2, and he came along unilaterally.
“Shall we get coffee?”
“No, I have morning appointments.”
“Then after your schedule.”
Dohyeok stopped in his tracks as she paused. Jiseo’s calm, rounded eyes shifted subtly—a sign that was not good. She exhaled, letting her loose hair slide through her fingers.
“Vice President, you’re too busy for guiding, right? I also have my schedule. Entering the gate isn’t the end. And I’ll call for guiding only when I need it. Understood?”
“Yes, Jiseo.”
Even when she spoke sharply, Dohyeok answered politely, then chuckled to himself, seemingly amused.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I laughed because you said you’d call me when necessary.”
Jiseo exhaled through her slightly parted lips, stunned. Why did he have to be happy about that? Her gaze stayed fixed on his dog-like smile, feeling both drained and bewildered.
“And we still have something to discuss.”
Dohyeok pulled a twice-folded piece of paper from his pocket, letting it flutter. It was familiar, filled with foreign text and a sea of zeroes. Jiseo bit her lip.
The “gentle dog” act was a lie.
Anyway, it was Jiseo’s shift as part of the weekly standby. She couldn’t go to a café with the perfect view, curated music, and rich coffee aroma like Dohyeok wanted. Instead, they settled in the lobby café, frequently visited by staff, Espers, and guides. Dohyeok didn’t look pleased.
Even as Jiseo offered to buy the drinks, he still insisted on carrying his iced Americano and her grapefruit ade himself.
Jiseo felt a subtle, lowly satisfaction. She had never considered herself mischievous, but the idea that this man could not act on his usual whims because of her—it gave her a tiny sense of revenge.
“It’s cheap and tasty.”
Sipping her grapefruit soda with syrup, she deliberately complimented it. Dohyeok’s expression darkened slightly—perhaps offended by the word “cheap,” Jiseo guessed.
He sipped his coffee and frowned, which was understandable. The café’s coffee was awful; people only drank it when they desperately needed caffeine, otherwise opting for non-coffee drinks like Jiseo’s. She ignored him pretending not to notice him rinsing his mouth with water.
“Why won’t you tell me your account number?”
Dohyeok, still focused on masking the harsh taste of over-extracted coffee, stared at her. Did he really need to ask that? She suspected he was pretending.
“It was actually a last resort. Only if I couldn’t win over your heart with radiation guiding alone.”
“Oh, with money? That’s surprisingly… underhanded.”
“I tend to use all available methods.”
Jiseo frowned, tasting both the tangy grapefruit and the lowly intention behind his words.
“What if I had refused?”
“I hadn’t thought that far, but I could have gotten even more… ruthless if necessary.”
A smile formed on Dohyeok’s lips—a familiar smile, slightly different from his “gentle dog” persona. People were already glancing their way.
