IMPRINT 33

“Yes.”

“No wonder you look so refreshed. I’ll wash up and be out in a bit, so go ahead and watch TV or something in the living room.”

“There’s a TV?”

“Yes. Though only the Center broadcasts come through.”

There was a private broadcasting station within the Center. It had several channels of its own, but most were news channels and nothing particularly useful.

Recently, they had started airing things like music shows with idols or dramas. They weren’t connected to external broadcasting stations; instead, the Center received video files and played them, so people said the content was a bit outdated compared to the outside world.

Even so, since I spent all my time in here, I couldn’t distinguish between what was trendy and what was past its prime. Occasionally, if I stumbled upon a drama or a song that Juyoung had been making a fuss about being popular outside, I would take a look. With the mindset of ‘let’s see just how great this actually is.’

I often wondered why people made such a scene over something like this, but watching myself stare at ‘something like this’ all day long led me to a stupid realization.

To be honest, since it was entirely someone else’s story, I didn’t know if I empathized with it or found it fun, but it was funny because it was so absurd. I’d think to myself that there really are all sorts of people in the world. It was fascinating to see them wailing and making a mess over nothing but love.

Once, I asked Juyoung, “They can just break up. Why are they engaging in that war of attrition?” I wonder what he said to me then.

Ah, right. “I feel sorry for you, who doesn’t know the coolness of love!” he had said.

After receiving my look of sheer contempt, he belatedly added that he was just imitating a line from an animation, but if that kind of thing was the ‘coolness of love,’ I think I’d be perfectly fine living my whole life without ever knowing it.

As I stepped out of the bathroom while thwack thwack shaking the water from my hair, an unidentifiable sound like music drifted in from the living room.

Thinking he might be watching an old music broadcast, I went over to check.

“…What are you doing?”

“Morning gymnastics.”

He was following along with the morning health gymnastics aired by the Center—the very ones I had been convinced absolutely no one actually watched.

“My goodness. To think there was actually someone who watched that. No, to think there was someone who followed along.”

It was surprising enough that he was watching it, but the sight of him standing in the middle of the living room mimicking the movements on the TV exactly… Even seeing it with my own eyes, I was so flabbergasted I could hardly believe it.

“You come and do it too, Teacher.”

“Eh? Me? I should?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I have to dry my hair.”

“Your stamina is weak, Teacher.”

“…”

“You haven’t exercised once since entering the Center, right?”

“…”

It hurts… It hurts so much…

“You can’t die from overwork. I don’t want you becoming an evil spirit, Teacher.”

“I won’t. I’ll attain Buddhahood immediately upon dying. Since I’ll be leaving without any lingering attachments…”

“Teacher.”

“I truly have no lingering attachments to this life.”

I wondered what the point of having attachments even was. That’s only for people who have dreams and hopes…

“You told me not to die, though.”

“No, well, that’s…”

I had no words. It was something I had offered as a promise without thinking while chasing the trajectory of his life.

Even I thought I was being incredibly contradictory. Telling someone else not to die, while I had no attachments to this life.

“I also hope that you don’t die, Teacher.”

“…”

“So, can’t you please have a little attachment?”

It was a ridiculous thought, but Kang Juha’s gaze was so desperate that I couldn’t bring myself to say no. It held a light more sorrowful than back when he was submerged in deep trauma begging to be saved—no, rather, more than when he was begging to be killed.

Why?

What am I to him…

“…Let’s do the gymnastics.”

Instead of answering that I would, I began to awkwardly rotate my shoulders.

On the TV screen, a gymnastics video with terrible picture quality and color—so bad I couldn’t even guess when it was filmed—was playing, and I followed along with the gymnastics in unnatural movements for the first time in nearly ten years.

Comparing it to my body back in the Academy days, I could feel with my entire being that my current body was a mess.

This movement is a torso rotation? Not a full-body twist? Or maybe something like ‘experiencing the greatness of gravity with your whole body’?

“Huff, puff… Is, is this right?”

By the time we reached the latter half and were jogging in place, my stamina was already depleted. On the other hand, Kang Juha beside me hadn’t shed a single drop of sweat, nor had his breathing faltered once.

“Teacher, I don’t know if it’s okay for me to say this.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“Are you really an S-class Esper?”

“I told you not to say it.”

“…”

“Even without you saying it, whew… I am also having very large doubts about my own existence right now. I think I need to request a rank reassessment.”

Even if I hadn’t exercised, does it make sense for an S-class Esper’s body to be this ruined? To be this short of breath?

Back in the Academy days, I felt like I could easily run ten laps around the playground. I had no idea what on earth had happened to my body in the meantime.

“It’s because Mr. Kang Juha is young.”

“…There’s only a four-year difference between us.”

“Exactly. Do you know how many meals four years’ worth is?”

“Why are you talking like an old man?”

“And why do you, Mr. Kang Juha, keep hitting people with your words?”

I’d noticed it since he made those comments about parents before, but he seemed to have a talent for unintentionally hurting people.

“…Let’s just have breakfast and go to work.”

The matter of recovering Kang Juha’s memories was suspended indefinitely. It wasn’t a decision made with his own input, but one reached through an agreement between me and the Director.

As a result, a picture was naturally painted where I continued to be stuck with Kang Juha. After all, my position as the person in charge remained the same.

“But strangely, it feels like we don’t have much to do lately?”

It was true that the work distribution had been reorganized while I took exclusive charge of Kang Juha, and it was true that I had stepped back into a managerial role, leaving behind the days of working directly on the ground… Even so, I don’t think I’ve ever been this idle since entering the National Security Bureau.

“Is it just my imagination?”

“It’s not your imagination. There really is no work. Because the performance of the Center’s Esper units is a mess.”

“Ah.”

Right, that was it.

The Information Team’s work mostly consisted of investigation and recording. Since those tasks could only proceed after a certain incident had occurred first, the team was essentially closer to one that moved on a project basis.

And while those projects could be crimes or other incidents, as is usually the case, the main task of the Republic of Korea Center was Gate disposal.

However, according to international peace treaties, one couldn’t just recklessly enter a Gate just because one appeared. One had to obtain the authority to enter the Gate. To put it simply, it was similar to winning a contract.

Currently, the ‘International Gate Response Committee,’ an organization under the Allied Forces, oversees everything related to Gates. They precisely predict the timing and scale of Gate appearances to prepare for them, and immediately upon a Gate’s appearance, they summon an Allied subjugation team to suppress it.

Each country’s Center submits a list of personnel to participate in the subjugation team, but it wasn’t a case where everyone who wanted to go could; instead, it was a format where personnel were selected through various screenings.

In other words, Gate subjugation is a matter of national honor and a means of proving national power. Not only that, but the number of times a country was selected for the subjugation team during the year directly reflected its national standing within the Allied Forces.

While wearing the peaceful mask of ‘Allied Forces,’ an invisible, fierce competition for dominance was taking place within.

Naturally, the Korea Center was no exception. When Kang Juha was there, its name was always on the list for the subjugation team as if it were a given, but in the past six months of his absence, there were only two cases where an Esper belonging to the Republic of Korea Center was joined to the subjugation team.

Even those were cases where they were large-scale Gates where selection was virtually meaningless, and everyone who submitted a list ended up participating in the subjugation.

In short, from the 4th quarter of last year to the 1st quarter of this year, the Center had been in a situation where it failed to produce any noteworthy results.

Within the Allied Forces, which operated strictly on meritocracy, the existence of South Korea was being pushed further and further into the background. It was no different from the International Gate Response Committee, also known as the IGRC, judging that the Republic of Korea Center’s Esper units were of no utility value without Kang Juha.

Foreign media referred to that period of absence as ‘Missing—Alpha.’ When translated into Korean, it meant ‘Lost Leader.’ Before the announcement of Kang Juha’s return, many cold critiques were posted, stating that if a new leader, an Alpha, could not be found, the Republic of Korea Center’s status would be jeopardized.

So, it wasn’t as if I couldn’t understand why the Director was so anxious over just one Kang Juha. It was closer to me having intentionally pretended not to know.

To be honest…

“If the Center is going to go bankrupt just because one Kang Juha is missing, shouldn’t it just go ahead and go bankrupt?”

“Um… Team Leader, your inner thoughts just came out vocally.”

Juyoung, who was standing behind the sofa, leaned down and whispered into my ear. At that, Kang Juha, who was sitting opposite me, glared up at him sharply, and Juyoung hurriedly straightened his upper body.

“Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Well, technically…”

Juyoung glanced around, checking the reaction of Mr. Director Shin, who was sitting at the desk.

“I agree. The Center deserves to go bankrupt. But the Republic of Korea shouldn’t go bankrupt. How could I face my ancestors after I die later?”

Saying so, Mr. Director Shin took off his thin-rimmed silver glasses.

“By the way, why are you all so naturally coming to work in my office?”