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Chapter 22
Only now did Jiseo feel like she was starting to understand the kind of man Baek Dohyeok was. If he acted kindly to someone he’d just met, he’d probably be cursed—his market cap wiped out or his limbs rotting away.
Without a shred of fear, Jiseo stepped in front of Baek Dohyeok, shielding him from the S-rank esper.
If Kwon Yul so much as twitched a finger, Baek Dohyeok and Lim Jiseo would be reduced to something less than the ants they’d just been watching. Of course, Kwon Yul would never do something like that to a guide—but still, with the atmosphere turning tense, Jiseo hurried to mediate.
“Ah, today’s the Vice President’s first time out in the field, so I think he’s a bit tense. Esper Kwon Yul—did you need something?”
“Oh—earlier, that liquid-type monster. Jiseo, you suppressed it at the start, right? The tactical team wants to do a brief interview while the details are still fresh.”
Jiseo nodded, about to thank him for passing the message along, when that ill-mannered jerk butted in again.
“You sent an S-rank esper personally just to say that?”
“I heard someone was looking for Jiseo, and I knew where she was.”
Kwon Yul smiled gently. Combined with his light-colored hair and clear complexion, it almost created the illusion of a halo behind him. Jiseo squeezed her eyes shut. Even among S-ranks, Kwon Yul’s “S” was definitely for saint. Meanwhile, Baek Dohyeok managed to live just fine despite being this utterly ill-mannered. Capitalism, what a world.
“Um, I was in the middle of talking with the Vice President. I’ll come right over. Thanks for letting me know, Esper Kwon Yul.”
“Okay, Jiseo. But when are we going to eat together?”
Seeing Kwon Yul hesitate on the spot as if his promise to treat her to seonji-guk hadn’t been an empty one, Jiseo thought that even with her lack of social awareness, this was awkward. Baek Dohyeok was clearly hitting on her, and just as clearly didn’t like Kwon Yul. Making dinner plans right here felt… dangerous.
Whether dangerous for Kwon Yul or for herself, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she decided this situation needed to be shut down quickly.
“Food! Food is for mealtimes. And this isn’t mealtime right now, is it? I’ll—contact you.”
“But you don’t have my personal contact information, Jiseo.”
“Oh, there are ways. Then we’ll be going now.”
As she pushed Baek Dohyeok’s back—while he openly glared at Kwon Yul—Jiseo felt like someone trying to stop a chihuahua that didn’t know its place from picking a fight with a gentle retriever.
Dohyeok, please. Just this once. Let it go.
It wasn’t that Baek Dohyeok was physically small compared to Kwon Yul, but with such a clear difference in power, Jiseo couldn’t understand what he was relying on to keep that glare fixed. She clicked her tongue, twisting her neck all the way around to watch him being pushed along, still bristling with defiance.
Clueless, Kwon Yul remained standing there, smiling—truly like a kind golden retriever.
They’d walked a bit into the busy area where headquarters staff were sorting and transporting gate by-products and cores when Baek Dohyeok finally spoke.
“Are you close with Kwon Yul?”
“No.”
“Then why are you talking about eating together?”
“You weren’t close to me either when you asked me to eat.”
“……”
Jiseo’s blunt reply didn’t quite leave Baek Dohyeok speechless—unfortunately, a mouth like his never stayed shut.
“I asked because I wanted to get close.”
“So I guess Esper Kwon Yul wants to get close to you too.”
“Why?”
At that, Jiseo rolled her eyes. There was no reason for Kwon Yul to want to be close to her. Baek Dohyeok, maybe—but her? No.
“Who knows.”
When Jiseo added casually that she needed to head over to the tactical team, Baek Dohyeok hurriedly tacked something on.
“You’re not coming to work tomorrow, right? Then let’s have lunch tomorrow.”
“I’m basically on standby near home—it’s sort of remote work.”
“It’s not far from your place. If you come tomorrow, I’ll tell you where we met.”
For a moment, Jiseo wondered if she’d ever told him where she lived—then remembered he’d once walked her to the subway station. She nodded. She really was curious.
“Okay. Where are we eating?”
“The GU convenience store across from Choi Byeong-su’s Math Academy.”
“…What?”
She stared at him, baffled. He’d asked her to lunch, and now he was telling her to come to a convenience store in front of some cram school? Dohyeok kindly added an explanation—but it only clarified the location. It didn’t answer the fundamental question. Was there some famous restaurant around there?
“Alright. What time tomorrow?”
“I’ll send you the time and place again.”
Apparently pleased that she’d agreed so readily, Dohyeok smiled brightly and nodded for her to go.
Man… if only he’d use half of that face on the other S-rank espers.
After finishing a brief inquiry with the tactical team, Jiseo headed back toward the tent as preparations for withdrawal were underway. Her state of mind felt like someone calmly climbing into a grave someone else had dug, folding their hands neatly over their chest.
And that “someone else” was, of course, Baek Dohyeok.
There were already so many titles and labels attached to his name it was impossible to count them all. Getting caught in the middle of rumors alongside him was the last thing she wanted.
Guides were already scarce.
Dozens of people had witnessed—live—an S-rank guide, a rain-in-a-drought kind of existence, tearfully pressing his lips to a C-rank esper who delivered fried chicken when there were no gate deployments.
By tomorrow morning, even the part-timer at the lobby café—the one who sold over-extracted, bitter coffee—would know about it. In her “long and thin” civil servant career, the “thin” part was already ruined. At the very least, she needed to stop the nails from being hammered into the coffin lid.
“Baek Dohyeok is actually my elementary school friend. It was just briefly before I transferred, but I only realized recently too.”
The tent was packed with people dragging their feet, desperate to hear even one more word about what had just happened.
So Jiseo had no choice but to explain. Whether Baek Dohyeok really was her elementary school classmate hadn’t been conclusively proven, and it was still unclear why he was making such a fuss about having seen her—but this was enough to make it clear that they weren’t bonded partners or lovers.
With so many superhumanly enhanced people practically pricking up their ears, there was no need to grab a mic and make an announcement.
Those who’d stopped their work to listen to Jiseo’s explanation wore expressions of “Yeah, that figures,” and dispersed back to their tasks. Of course, not everyone was convinced.
“He was bawling and shoved his hand straight under your clothes like this. If that’s an elementary school friend, then I have no friends.”
Among the unconvinced was Choi Minhyuk—on the same team and utterly unhelpful. That muscle-bound oaf might’ve had a brain made of muscle too. Jiseo felt frustrated with his thoughtlessness, but seeing nearby espers nodding along, she pressed her lips together before answering.
“You just don’t have friends, Minhyuk. And you’re a guide—if your elementary school friend was bleeding, would you not help? Wow, that’s cold, Choi Minhyuk.”
“No, I do have friends?”
Apparently more offended at being thought of as a loner than at having his character questioned, Minhyuk shook his head vigorously.
“Then why do you always ask us to hang out during holidays and vacations?”
“That’s because when I go home my siblings—no, why am I even explaining this? Anyway! You didn’t even act like you knew him during that training observation before.”
“It was the first time since I transferred, so we were both unsure. When he hit my car, I was like, ‘Oh?’ and after looking longer, I kind of recognized him. Like, ‘Oh? I went to the same math academy as Vice President Baek Dohyeok! We ate cup noodles at the convenience store! Shared hot bars! Oh? We did all that!’”
Once she’d decided Baek Dohyeok was an elementary school classmate, the lies flowed effortlessly. She figured she’d just have to sync stories with him tomorrow.
“Wow, unni, I’m so jealous. You were that close with Guide Baek Dohyeok? But—he’s a chaebol, right? And you still went to the same academy and convenience store together? That’s amazing.”
But that lie almost immediately faced exposure thanks to Hayeon.
It wasn’t sarcasm—just an innocent question. And a sharp one. As Jiseo froze, Junho swooped in, having just finished a team leader–level report.
“Working-class experience. It was working-class experience.”
Nice one, Kim Junho!
Hayeon blinked her innocent eyes and nodded. Minhyuk muttered, “Oh, I see,” then tried to lift the foldable bed Hayeon and Jungyun were sitting on without folding it first—earning a scolding from Junho.
Jiseo let out a quiet sigh of relief. Really—why did a man who wasn’t even supposed to be guiding an A-rank gate come all the way here and make such a scene…?
…Did he come to see me?
Jiseo had been caught by “what if” too many times to ignore it now. She had to consider every possibility.
Including the possibility that Baek Dohyeok had been watching her for a long time—and might even like her quite a bit.
But when? Where? How? Why?
During school, Jiseo had poured everything into entrance exams. In college, it was job hunting. After employment, she’d fought monsters—literally risking her life—as a breadwinner hero. A dreamless youth born from the marriage of a global economic crisis and mass youth unemployment.
Her life record was a straight sprint toward one goal: a “secure government job.”
Granted, it was ironic that all that studying led not to becoming a Grade 5 or even Grade 7 civil servant, but to awakening as an esper while eating seaweed soup…
In any case, there hadn’t been a single noteworthy romantic relationship anywhere along her path, so the current situation left her completely flustered.
If you believed her sister Yeonseo, this was a “high-rank guide, rich, handsome, tall—total jackpot” situation, but…
You had to have eaten meat before to know how to eat meat. You had to have experienced a hint of romance to recognize it.
When, where, and why did Baek Dohyeok…
She couldn’t even finish the thought—come to like me. Admitting that possibility felt too awkward, too unfamiliar.
It was just… shy and strange. That kind of feeling.
