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I had to stop in my tracks because Kang Juha came to a dead halt.

“I don’t understand why an Esper needs a guide.”

“Well, that’s because when an Esper uses their special abilities, their guiding is consumed, and guides are the only ones who can internally generate that guiding within their bodies.”

“…”

Kang Juha shut his mouth tight, and at that moment, Juyoung’s voice echoed in my head.

—Team Leader, I think you’re being a bit clueless right now.

Clueless about what? As I looked back at Juyoung, Kang Juha looked back at him at the same time.

Juyoung was about to say something to me, but the moment his eyes met Kang Juha’s, he forced an awkward smile. He then stared at a distant mountain, muttering to himself, “The weather is nice today…”

“…What?”

Kang Juha glared at Juyoung, who was desperately avoiding him, for a moment before speaking.

“Does that person really have to be here?”

Juyoung, who was pretending to be distracted, flinched violently.

Sometimes he’s stupid, and he can be arrogant and pathetic.

“Yes. He is my secretary.”

Still, he was a necessary presence.

Kang Juha smacked his lips as if disappointed by my answer, but he didn’t say anything more about it.

I didn’t realize it, but Kang Juha had a much better appetite than I expected. He eagerly accepted and ate whatever I gave him, and he wasn’t a picky eater at all.

In other words, Kang Juha was quite a rewarding person to feed.

Compared to how much I love delicious food, my portion size is on the smaller side, so I’ve always felt a lingering regret that others couldn’t understand about not being able to eat much.

Until now, I had been vicariously fulfilling that through Juyoung, but Juyoung is more of a dessert person than a meal person. Since he prefers sweets, it was always slightly insufficient to gain perfect satisfaction…

“Is it delicious?”

But now, a being had appeared who fulfilled that perfectly. I should have recognized it from the moment he craved chocolate even while in an irrational state. Kang Juha eats a lot, and he eats heartily.

“Yes.”

Thanks to that, I unintentionally ended up eating three square meals a day right along with him.

Originally, I skipped breakfast, had lunch with Juyoung or occasionally with Director Shin, and for dinner, I usually just had a protein bar or something similar only on days I was truly hungry.

Doing this job involves so many stomach-turning things that my appetite naturally vanished. Instead, being soaked in fatigue made my desire for sleep stronger. So, if I had time to eat something, I thought it was better to use that time to sleep.

If you were to ask why on earth I chose allowing delivery food over a salary increase…

Honestly, the reason isn’t that rational. Unlike me, Juyoung—who is a B-class Esper—is relatively free to use vacation time or go out. He goes out often, and every time he did, he would praise how the world outside the Center was overflowing with delicious things, so I was just a bit curious.

Since I entered the Center at fifteen, I’ve lived locked inside for more than half my life. They say even mountains and rivers change in ten years. There was no way I could remember the taste of outside food I ate fifteen years ago.

Juyoung brought in portable snacks after getting entry permits, but bringing in actual meals was impossible.

Furthermore, why is there so much trendy stuff with outside food? The things Juyoung talked about being delicious were all things I’d never heard of, so there was a limit to my imagination.

Above all, there was a part of me that felt spiteful that Park Juyoung alone was enjoying such luxury.

I had once forcibly transferred the taste of food by reading his memories, but the feeling was quite unpleasant. It felt like licking delicious air.

Anyway, the talk of a salary increase comes up every year. I already have more than enough money in my bank account, but my body is tied to the Center. Since I didn’t have any family outside to spend the money for me, I just asked to let me eat delivery food as it came.

To briefly describe the situation at the time:

‘Please let me go outside.’

‘No.’

‘Then let me transfer to an overseas center.’

‘No.’

‘Give me a three-year vacation.’

‘No.’

‘You say no to everything. Then at least let me eat delivery food or something. I’m sure you’ll say no to this too, but…’

‘Fine.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I said fine. Is that enough?’

Of course, the actual procedures and arguments were much longer and more annoying.

I remembered Juyoung and I bursting into laughter when he delivered the news that the negotiation was successful, saying, “This actually worked?”

I threw it out as half-serious and half-joking, but regardless, I think making that a condition back then was a very wise move and ranks in the TOP 10 best things I’ve done in my life.

In reality, it was a condition I put forward because Juyoung was being annoying, but it was quite ironic that Juyoung was the one seeing the most benefit after the deal was closed…

Now, that ranking has changed. The one seeing the most benefit from that condition now is Kang Juha.

“Did you say you entered the Center when you were eight years old…”

Kang Juha, who was chewing a large spoonful of beef tartare bibimbap that filled his mouth, tilted his head.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing. If there’s something you want to eat, tell Juyoung—no, Secretary Park.”

Kang Juha dislikes it when I call Secretary Park “Juyoung.” Every time I do, he makes sharp, triangular eyes. Of course, not toward me, but toward Park Juyoung.

I didn’t think much of it, but Juyoung begged me, saying something like Hong Gil-dong’s father—pleading with me not to call him Juyoung—so I felt sorry for him and agreed.

“How is your condition lately?”

“I’m happy because I’m with Teacher all day.”

“…Not that. Like if you have any pain, or if you remember anything.”

“Should I?”

“No.”

Kang Juha had a peculiar habit. Whenever he heard a question like now, he would first check which answer was the “correct” one. It was as if the set answer was more important than his own thoughts or opinions.

It felt like he was worried he might disappoint me with a single word.

I couldn’t judge everything based on fragments, but it wasn’t hard to guess what kind of life Kang Juha had lived.

“I don’t think there’s anything right now.”

“Okay. Please tell me if something comes up later.”

Since it was just a routine check, I was going to move on casually, but Kang Juha even put down the spoon he was holding and looked at me with anxious eyes.

“By any chance.”

“Yes.”

“If I have pain or remember something, do I have to go back there?”

There?

I wondered for a moment where “there” was that Kang Juha was referring to, and soon realized it was the special treatment room.

I hadn’t realized it because he hadn’t shown it, but I figured the space called the special treatment room hadn’t planted very positive memories for Kang Juha either. Well, who would like such a gloomy and cold space? If I were lying there, I’d surely forget whether I was a living person or a dead one.

“If Esper Kang Juha experiences a rampage or a corresponding emergency, you might have to go back to the special treatment room. But just because you have pain or remember something right now doesn’t mean you’ll be sent there.”

Only then did Kang Juha’s expression relax slightly.

“So if any changes occur, don’t hide them and please tell me. That way, Esper Kang Juha can recover faster. And I can help too.”

There was nothing worse than a patient having distrust in their treatment environment. If Kang Juha hid his condition because he was afraid of being confined in the special treatment room again, I had a duty to resolve that anxiety.

To provide as much trust as possible, I waited for Kang Juha to respond with a gentle smile.

“Then, can’t I sleep at Teacher’s house tonight?”

“Pardon?”

It was such an unexpected thing to say that I asked back stupidly.

Conversations usually have a context, but for heaven’s sake… I’m asking if he has any pain, and suddenly he’s coming to my house to sleep.

Thinking I had misheard him, Kang Juha said it once more, very clearly and in a bright voice.

“Can’t I sleep at Teacher’s house tonight?”

No, it’s not that I didn’t hear you, which is why I asked.

Kang Juha’s eyes were sparkling with subtle anticipation as he looked at me.

“Why so suddenly?”

For now, I was curious what kind of thought process made the story jump like that.

“My dormitory is too big and wide… and dark.”

Kang Juha’s following answer was even more flustering.

Naturally, since he was an S-class Esper and a national hero, they wouldn’t have given him a shabby dormitory. That house Kang Juha described as too big, wide, and dark is probably the dream house of every Esper in this Center.

“If it’s too dark, how about trying to turn on the lights?”

“I can’t sleep if the lights are on.”

No, then that means it has to be dark for you to sleep. So why is the darkness a problem? Am I the only one not understanding this right now?

Kang Juha’s expression darkened instantly. Only then did I realize what he was trying to say.

This is a type of trauma. Something about a memory that was erased from Kang Juha’s conscious mind but was deeply engraved into his brain.

“When I’m in a dark place alone… I’m scared.”

Having said that, Kang Juha lowered his gaze and bit his lower lip.

How absurd it was for the words “I’m scared” to come from an S-class combat-type Esper. Kang Juha, who must have lived without fearing a single thing in the world, and who must have learned how to never show a weakness to anyone, was confessing his fear.

“Since when? Was it like that when you were in the special treatment room too?”

“…Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“…”

Kang Juha remained silent, but the answer had already been given.

“Let’s go to my house together.”

We’ve slept together with bars between us before, so what’s the big deal about sleeping together.

I used a four-person dormitory with other Espers during my academy days too. Having one more person in my house wouldn’t be a big problem.

“Instead, my house is a bit far. It’s in the exact opposite direction of your house, Mr. Kang Juha.”

“That’s okay.”

“If you have any luggage you need, I think it’s better to go grab it now.”

“That’s okay.”

Kang Juha stared only at me while giving the same robotic answer. He looked like someone who wanted to burst out of that house this very instant. He seemed to have no lingering attachment whatsoever to his own home. Even though he must have lived there for nearly ten years.

Actually, if you think about it, am I similar?

I was calling it “home,” but in reality, it was nothing more than a dormitory concept provided at the national level. Since it was within the Center grounds, it naturally couldn’t be private property. It was a kind of long-term rental housing.

If time passed and I retired and had to leave that house, it felt as though I would have no regrets, no sadness, and no lingering attachments.

Thinking that way felt a bit funny. Did we even have a home to begin with?

“Then I’ll just finish up what I’m doing, so let’s head home together.”

“Yes.”

Kang Juha’s expression brightened noticeably.

Whenever he is true to his emotions like now, I feel strange for no reason. Because no one else in the Center acts that way. Not even my secretary Juyoung, nor the guide Yu Seonjae who seems cheerful and bright in every situation. They were all just pretending to be “like that.”

I wasn’t blaming them for that being bad. Naturally, humans are dualistic, and I was that kind of person too. And that way is more advantageous for survival.

In that sense, Kang Juha was currently a being that would be easy to tear apart anywhere he was placed. He was wearing an outer shell so fragile that it would scar with just a little scratching.

It might be fine for now, but soon he’ll have to train and go out to the field… What if he’s looked down upon by other guys?

Sigh, I’ll have to teach him those things one by one, too.

My to-do list has grown again.