#8

“A grateful person, indeed. We must show our appreciation when we find them.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“When I find them… they will see.”

Delroz grinned, baring his teeth as he recalled the person who had stopped his rampage. Paton, feeling a chill down his neck, scratched it nervously.

“Why do you think of your savior so menacingly?”

“Yes, a savior. A very precious one.”

Delroz stroked his collar, feeling the rough, dry scar between his smooth skin. He had refused treatment from the healer espers to keep this scar.

“They saved me only to disappear with a shocker. I must find out why.”

“Well, it might have been scary to actually save you. You know, you don’t exactly have the friendliest face…”

“Paton.”

“…Right, of course. No one is more gentlemanly than you.”

Sweat trickled down Paton’s back as he quickly changed his words. Delroz ignored his subordinate’s anxiety, focusing instead on the silver-haired guide.

He recalled the silhouette and back he glimpsed through the misty moonlight. The staggering steps as they left indicated they had exerted themselves to guide him. It made sense. To stop an SS-class rampage, they must have taken a significant risk. But why had they fled in such haste?

Delroz’s expression tightened as he remembered the incident. The sensation that dominated his body was unforgettable. In his memory, there was no moment of comfort without pain. His nerves were always on edge, like walking on needles. Meeting guides at the center brought only fleeting peace, never relief from the primal agony.

He had resigned himself to a life of constant searching for guides with higher compatibility, expecting to eventually die from a rampage, like the first esper he had studied.

However, his first rampage was nothing like he had anticipated. What he had learned during training was a mere shadow of the hellish reality.

His body felt like it was about to explode with heat while simultaneously suffering the agony of being drenched in ice water. The sounds of wind and dew drops were deafening, like hammer blows to his eardrums. Even swallowing saliva felt like being drilled through his throat.

If this was what a rampage felt like, he thought he should end his life before it got any worse. In that moment of resolution, someone approached him.

Amidst the thunderous noise, the sound of their steps on the grass was soft. Fingers that hovered just out of reach soothed his frenzied senses. All the excruciating sensations seemed to gravitate towards that person.

Instinctively, he knew this was his savior.

He pleaded internally for them to hold him, to pull him out of this torment. If he could have moved or spoken, he might have clung to them, losing all self-control.

Even without physical contact, their presence dulled his pain. When he finally managed to move a few fingers, he grasped the wrist of the person who seemed never to intend touching him.

Only then did the fiery inferno engulfing his body extinguish.

He had complained to Paton about being shocked unconscious but had no intention of blaming the guide for it.

Had he not been knocked out, he would have drained the guide’s energy until they collapsed. The first thing he did upon regaining consciousness and reaching the center was to check if any guides or staff were hospitalized.

But there were no guides in the infirmary. They had walked away on their own at dawn. This meant they had recovered enough to move. So why hadn’t they come forward? The rumor that he was searching for the silver-haired guide had already spread throughout the center, so the person must know by now.

Then why were they avoiding him?

Delroz propped his chin on his hand, tapping his foot. His body, which had been on the brink of rampage, felt lighter than ever. Even after destroying a building, he felt as full as a brimming cup without a drop spilled.

The quality of this guiding was unlike anything he had experienced before. No guide had ever left him feeling this refreshed, with all his pain gone. It was the first time he had known such peace in his life.

“So, all we know for sure is the silver hair and long length? Any other distinguishing features? Were they wearing glasses or earrings?”

“Neither.”

“Then… couldn’t it be a man?”

Most noble women had their ears pierced from a young age. It was rare to find a woman without earrings. However, Delroz shook his head at the plausible suggestion.

“No way.”

“Why are you so certain? You said you only saw their silhouette and back, not even their full body.”

Paton questioned. Delroz, despite saying he had only seen the back of the head as they walked away, was adamant that the guide was female. While some noble men did grow their hair long, statistically, it was more likely the guide was male.

No matter how much Paton explained this, Delroz was firm in his denial.

“It can’t be a man.”

“So, a woman without pierced ears…”

“No man could pull off such long hair.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I just hear that right?” Paton asked, his disbelief evident, but Delroz simply crossed his arms, ignoring him.

Even though the image was blurry, Delroz hadn’t forgotten the figure that briefly appeared before his eyes. Bathed in the soft, backlit moonlight, the long, silver hair fell like a curtain. The face looking down at him was…

“I’ve never seen someone so radiant.”

“Gasp.”

“What’s got you so startled?”

“Our commander has finally…”

Delroz kicked Paton, who was exaggeratingly tearing up, and ignored his dramatics as he rolled on the floor. Standing up, Delroz looked down at Paton.

“Stop making a fuss.”

“Can you blame me? Put yourself in my shoes.”

“Shut up. Just find them.”

“Of course. Leave it to me. I’ll bring back the person who will become our sister-in-law.”

“And report back when you narrow down the culprit.”

Finding the guide was urgent, but Delroz also needed to deal with those who drugged and ambushed him.

The one who had delivered the drugged drink would never see the light of day again. Hastily dealing with them without uncovering their backers was a mistake. Now, he had to start from scratch, overturning everything.

The real burden would fall on the center, not Delroz. If they didn’t provide satisfactory results, he planned to tear down the entire place regardless of guilt.

The center, a grandiose name for a place where nobles lived in luxury, was of no consequence to Delroz. He could destroy it without any remorse once he found his guide.

A sinister grin spread across Delroz’s face.

---

Banteon stretched his body, which was stiff from lying in bed for too long. He rotated his shoulders and wrists, feeling the blood circulate through his body.

After two days off, Banteon had used his long-saved annual leave. Sleeping for a week had finally restored his strength. The thought of needing a week to recover from one guiding session was absurd. Moreover, it wasn’t even a full session.

While Banteon rested, the center had been turned upside down several times. Normally, he would have dismissed any SS-class outbursts as typical barbaric behavior, but now he couldn’t ignore the situation, which complicated his thoughts.

Even as he strolled through his favorite garden, his mind was filled with thoughts of Delroz.

Delroz’s actions weren’t just about finding a benefactor; it was as if he were searching for a fated partner, frantically digging around like a madman. That he was so desperate to find a guide he had briefly encountered in a confused state was baffling.

‘Could it be that the matching rate is exceptionally high?’

The ominous thought made him shake his head slightly. The results of countless matching tests had been consistent; there was no reason to believe Banteon would be different. He reassured himself that Delroz’s dire condition had merely left a strong impression of an ordinary guiding session.

As he walked, lost in these troubling thoughts, he saw someone approaching, bowing slightly in greeting from a distance.

“Mr. Banteon.”

“Hello, Mr. Sodel.”

“I’m glad to see you. I was actually looking for you.”

Mr. Sodel held out his terminal. The screen showed Banteon’s contact, indicating that Sodel had been about to message him.

“I just got permission from the director. Could you please cover my advanced class for today?”

“I’ve never taught an advanced class. Will that be alright?”

“Even self-study would be fine. Something urgent came up…”

Mr. Sodel clasped his hands together and bowed apologetically. Asking someone on leave to cover a class was quite rude. Recognizing this, Sodel’s expression was one of genuine distress.

“What about the other advanced class teachers?”

“Many of them volunteered for the subjugation team, so there’s no one available.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

A new dungeon discovered in the abandoned mine had taken many available staff. Several teachers had accompanied the students, leaving few spare hands.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Where’s the class?”

Sodel’s face lit up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much! The class is in room 304 of the West Wing. I’ll send the materials to your terminal right away.”

Banteon nodded, accepting the situation. It looked like his break was over, and he had to face whatever lay ahead, including Delroz.