🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 28
With Jiseo excluded, the members of Blue Team 2 had pushed their desks against both walls, clearing the center of the room, and were filming a dance challenge to the latest hit song by the hottest idol group these days—Stellatina. Following Choi Minhyuk’s lead, they danced in sync. And of course, Minhyuk had claimed the center position.
Why on earth did the higher-ups assign individual desks to Esper bastards, anyway?
They should’ve just given them lockers and laid down floorboards like the military—it would’ve been perfect.
Jiseo frowned at the scene, which she could never quite get used to no matter how many times she saw it, and greeted them.
“Hello, everyone.”
Hayeon, who turned around mid-dance at Jiseo’s greeting, beamed brightly.
“Unni! Hello!”
“Hey, Hayeon. Hi. Hey—Choi Minhyuk, you filmed me, didn’t you? Delete it.”
After greeting Hayeon warmly—who looked just like a real idol with her voluminous curly hair braided into twin pigtails—Jiseo spoke in a completely different tone to Minhyuk. Junho, who had rolled up the sleeves of his T-shirt under the pretense of filming to show off his unnecessarily broad shoulders, clicked his tongue at Jiseo.
“Im Jiseo, I told you to come early! This is a team activity, and you can’t even cooperate—hey, I didn’t mess up even once just now!”
“We’re a group of special ability users assigned to Gate suppression missions, not an influencer trainee group.”
“No, hyung. You messed up the ‘go crazy, go crazy’ part and the ‘only you can reconstruct me’ part.”
When both Jiseo and Minhyuk pointed it out at the same time, Junho grumbled and lifted the phone he’d been using to film.
“These are my teammates, I swear. Hey, Choi Gomteng. What do you mean I messed up?”
As Minhyuk and Junho stood side by side, rewinding the video and bickering, Jiseo watched them with exasperation—then met Hayeon’s smiling gaze. Jiseo lightly nodded toward the two men, and Hayeon, catching the meaning, kindly explained it to Jiseo, who was hopelessly out of touch with trends.
“It’s Stellatina— all four of them are Espers. Duty-exempt Espers. They were already a hot topic before debut because it’s an idol group made up entirely of Espers, and their new song became a huge hit. The choreography challenge is trending, and because of the song, a lot of Espers are filming it too.”
“Duty-exempt Espers” referred to Espers with ability assessment ranks below D. Making up nearly half of all awakened individuals, they were deemed unfit for combat and exempted from Gate deployment duty. Of course, they still had to be registered with the state, and if they used their abilities to harm society or commit crimes, they faced harsher punishment.
Having abilities didn’t mean they could use them freely. Without a rare guide or a special bond, E- and F-rank awakened individuals were no different from ordinary people.
Stellatina, however, was a special case—their agency’s CEO was a guide. She was a middle-aged woman who had achieved massive success in the entertainment industry, and she also provided regular guiding support, so Jiseo knew her well.
Through her work as a guide, the CEO had naturally built connections not only with individual Espers and awakened people, but also with insiders across regional awakened management branches. Using that network, she gathered low-ranked awakened girls with outstanding looks and talent and formed a girl group—and it became a smash hit. Though useless in combat, they showcased an entirely new level of idol performance by using flashy fireworks-like effects and airtime that far exceeded what non-awakened people could achieve.
On top of that, their latest release, You’re My Only Guide, exploded in popularity with lyrics that likened a girl’s fluttering first love to an Esper’s feelings for her guide, combined with addictive hooks, difficult choreography, and dazzling supernatural effects.
It wasn’t just ordinary people—even among Espers, videos showcasing flashy effects using their abilities were going viral.
“…My only guide? That sounds ridiculously cheesy…”
“It’s not cheesy at all! It’s super romantic!”
Junho yelped like a cat whose treat had been stolen. It was hard to believe such a shrill, indignant sound came from a tall, well-built adult man. As Jiseo stared at him incredulously, Minhyuk hurried to explain.
“Jeongyun noona is a Maristella.”
“What’s that?”
“Stellatina’s fan club name.”
“Ah…”
Jiseo squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a phantom migraine—something that should never happen to an Esper whose stability was well within the safe range.
Realizing why Junho, not Minhyuk, had insisted on filming this made the group chat notice seem even more ridiculous in hindsight.
Kim Junho had really lost his mind.
How far was he planning to sell out his teammates for love?
Should I report this as workplace harassment to the Labor Office, or submit an anonymous tip to HR?
“So, unni, do it too!”
“Huh?”
Hayeon clasped Jiseo’s hands tightly with her small ones and looked up at her with sparkling eyes.
Unable to push away Hayeon—whom she adored like a little sister—Jiseo felt a pot-lid-sized hand land on her shoulder.
“Come on, Im Ji. Please. You’re the only one among us who’s actually useful for something like this.”
“No, I—I don’t want to. What about Hayeon?”
“Are you insane? If Hayeon, with her lack of fine control, does a laser show and brings down an aircraft or wrecks the building, are you going to take responsibility?”
“…Why would that be my responsibility? We just shouldn’t film it in the first place.”
“No! You know Kim Hyun-oh, right? The electric discharge guy who got transferred to the Gyeongsang branch because we were short-handed. He filmed this and posted it, and the views went crazy. Guide Jeongyun watched it more than ten times just yesterday.”
“Oh yeah? And there’s a guarantee we’ll get tons of views too?”
“Of course! On the hook part—when it’s all icy—you freeze us all solid, then shatter the ice like crash!”
“You’re seriously insane, Kim Junho.”
As Jiseo waved the towel she’d been using to wipe sweat in a clear “don’t come closer” gesture, Minhyuk—second to none in his love for cleanliness—quickly shoved Junho forward as a shield to avoid getting splashed.
“Doesn’t it sound good, though? Do we have CG skills? Do we have money? All we’ve got is you, Im Ji.”
“Team leader, you’ve got plenty of money. Leave me out of it.”
At that, Hayeon grabbed Jiseo around the waist, lifted her slightly, and rocked her back and forth.
“Unniii…”
Jiseo realized then—it seemed she was the only one who felt this was an abuse of authority and hierarchy. Minhyuk, who constantly claimed he’d have been an idol if he hadn’t awakened, still regularly filmed dance videos and uploaded them to social media. Of course, the “would’ve been” part was entirely Minhyuk’s own opinion. Junho and Jiseo agreed it was fortunate Minhyuk had awakened before becoming an eternal audition failure.
Giving up his dream because of awakening, my ass… He found his calling because he awakened. At least he can use awakening as an excuse—that’s what they call an honorable death.
And then there was Hayeon, a bona fide Gen MZ kid who’d grown up immersed in Reels and Shorts since she was old enough to remember.
To Hayeon, challenge videos were just a kind of game you filmed when friends got together, and she looked at Jiseo with eyes even wider than usual.
Of course, Jiseo had no intention of meeting those expectations.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Jiseo, don’t go! You’re dressed perfectly for dancing! We need you for the numbers! Jiseo! Jiseo noona! Ms. Jiseo! If you don’t want to freeze us, just scatter some ice shards!”
Junho sprinted to the door faster than Jiseo’s eyes could track and spread his arms to block her path. Jiseo exaggeratedly twisted her body to slip past him.
“Hey, how about actually training?!”
“We will! If you film this!”
“Our team is doomed.”
Ignoring Junho’s desperate calls, Jiseo briskly escaped the den of love-struck fools and influencer hopefuls.
The problem was that, appearances aside, they were passionate—and good—at their actual jobs.
Otherwise, she’d have requested a team transfer ages ago.
Hard to believe as it was, Junho had been a special forces soldier before awakening.
He never said exactly what missions he’d carried out, citing confidentiality, but there were rumors that if he were allowed to use his primary weapon—a knife—he could even subdue an A-rank enhancement-type Esper.
Love is terrifying.
The reason Junho tried so hard to impress Guide Jeongyun yet could never land a decisive blow was that Jeongyun’s feelings were hard to read—her expression rarely changed.
But Jiseo knew well that, despite appearances, Jeongyun found Blue Team 2 utterly adorable.
They were close in age, and because Jiseo didn’t form abnormal attachments to guides, Jeongyun had once coaxed her into secretly having beers together behind the team’s backs. Once she’d had a little to drink, Jeongyun always said the same thing.
“Blue Team 2 is so cute… so cute. Really cute…”
“Me too?”
“Jiseo… you’re more cool than cute.”
“Thank you.”
Thinking about it, it made sense.
How could a guide not feel intoxicated watching hulking men who could lift cars with bare hands, a former special forces soldier who looked perfectly normal when his mouth was shut, and a girl who could punch through a 5cm-thick reinforced metal plate with one finger—all helplessly flustered and obedient at her every gesture? She’d heard that some guides were like that, after all—those who reveled in controlling Espers through guiding.
“But… they’re cute, and at the same time, kind of scary.”
“Scary how?”
Jiseo tensed at Jeongyun’s words. Had the team ever shown threatening behavior toward her? She couldn’t recall anything like that. Or had someone crossed a boundary with personal contact?
As Jiseo rapidly ran through her memories, Jeongyun broke into a shy grin.
