IDESGI Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Yeoul couldn’t respond to that. The rumor hadn’t spread far yet, but soon, the news that Han Yeoul and Yoo Ihan had broken up would reach the other zones. Then Yeon-oh would know too.

But saying now that he and Yoo Ihan had broken up would only be adding fuel to the fire. Yeoul knew that well—and chose silence.

“The one I’m worried about is Yoon Geon. If you give him even the tiniest bit of hope, he’ll throw me away without hesitation and run to you.”

“I won’t give him any hope. Don’t worry.”

“Yoon Geon voluntarily deployed to Zone 3 because you requested him, right? Am I wrong?”

“That’s…”

“That’s what I mean by giving him hope. For him, even something that small becomes a reason to cling on.”

Yeon-oh’s cold accusation left Yeoul without a retort. It was true—he was using Geon. And even if it made him feel guilty, if that counted as giving false hope, then Yeoul knew he had no choice but to keep doing it.

“I’m sorry, Yeon-oh. But I promise—I’ll never lead Geon-hyung, no, Esper Yoon Geon, on emotionally.”

“But you won’t say you’d rather die than do it.”

“…I won’t guide Esper Yoon Geon anymore. His Guide isn’t me—it’s you, Yeon-oh.”

Yeon-oh muttered bitterly.

“Yoon Geon doesn’t value my guiding that much.”

“No Esper thinks guiding is unimportant.”

“That’s a lie, Guide Han Yeoul.”

Yeon-oh grit his teeth in frustration. Through clenched jaws came a voice full of resentment.

“Espers who think guiding doesn’t matter? Sure, they’re rare. Most Espers live and die by it. But I know two who don’t give a damn about guiding.”

His eyes, darkened with jealousy, burned even blacker. Facing that sharp, piercing gaze, Yeoul’s hands were slick with sweat.

“Funny thing is, both of them love you.”

Yeon-oh let out a scornful laugh and twisted his posture. His eyes were cold and sharp, yet strikingly beautiful.

“The so-called match of the century? Yeah, impressive. But things would’ve been different if it was a Guide with a 3-rank gap. It’s not like there weren’t other Guides who matched with Yoo Ihan.”

Yeoul’s clenched fist trembled as he swallowed a dry lump in his throat.

“There were three A-rank Guides with match rates in the 60s. One of them was nearly 70%, right?”

“…Yes. But that’s different from—”

Yeon-oh cut him off, voice sharp.

“And all of them got kicked out of Zone 1, didn’t they? Because of you. Am I wrong?”

Yeoul’s head, which had been bowed low in guilt, suddenly snapped up. His sorrowful eyes hardened. Why did he have to justify himself to Seo Yeon-oh, when he hadn’t even made excuses like this back in Zone 1—because they were too pathetic, too dirty?

Though he was seething inside, Yeoul held back and stayed polite. After all, it was true he was using Geon, so he felt he had to endure at least this much.

“They weren’t kicked out. They left because they wanted to. They applied for transfers of their own accord.”

At that, Yeon-oh gave a mocking smile and stared at Yeoul. The silence between them was suffocating, and Yeoul looked away first—only for Yeon-oh’s voice to drip with scorn.

“Esper Yoo Ihan. Celebrated hero, praised and revered. Warm-hearted, kind—every citizen in Korea knows him that way, right?”

It was true. Everyone knew that. The sudden shift in topic made Yeoul furrow his brow. Just like Yeon-oh said, Yoo Ihan was kind. No one knew that better than Yeoul.

Yeoul grumbled under his breath.

“Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?”

Yeon-oh, sitting with perfect posture, crossed his legs and slowly looked Yeoul over. His gaze held not a single trace of kindness. Feeling its full weight, Yeoul tightened his clenched fists.

“I think Esper Yoo Ihan got rid of those other Guides. Right in front of you.”

Yeoul wondered if he had misheard. The words were so outrageous, so absurd, he opened and closed his mouth for a while in disbelief before finally managing to speak.

“What… What did you just say?”

Yeon-oh raised his eyebrows with a calm expression. His voice was unbothered, disturbingly so.

“I’m saying Yoo Ihan might not be as good a person as you think.”

Bringing Ihan into it pushed Yeoul past his limit. His previously gentle eyes turned sharp and cold.

“Ihan has no reason to do something like that.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He knows you’d care.”

“I don’t know what made you say something like that, but this misunderstanding… I find it deeply offensive.”

Why should Ihan have to endure this kind of slander just because he’s an S-Class Esper? Where else could you find someone as kind as Yoo Ihan? People who didn’t know him always twisted and misjudged him like this.

They didn’t know anything. Not about Yoo Ihan’s pain, not about the burdens he carried.

He never showed it, but he was always doing his best to protect others. Even when he was breaking apart, he would still try to save one more life. Yeoul knew this. He remembered the day Ihan came to him after losing a teammate—the way he barely held himself together with a trembling smile. All Yeoul could do then was hold him.

“This has nothing to do with Ihan. Don’t drag him into it.”

His voice, once soft, turned firm and cold. At that, Yeon-oh’s tone sharpened to match.

“How can it not? What if Yoo Ihan snaps and hurts Yoon Geon? What if he kills him? Are you going to take responsibility for that, Guide Han Yeoul?”

“How can you say something like that?!”

Yeoul couldn’t hold back anymore and stood up abruptly. As his clenched fists trembled, Yeon-oh remained strangely composed.

“The only reason Yoo Ihan left Yoon Geon alone was because he thought Geon had given up on you. But now? If Yoon Geon tries to win you back, do you really think Ihan will just sit quietly?”

His cold, ruthless gaze climbed up Yeoul’s body. His voice was icy and razor-sharp.

“What if I lose my Esper because of you? How will you make up for that?”

Yeoul’s entire body trembled with fury. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to speak, pressing every word through restrained rage.

“Ihan… is not… that kind… of person.”

“You think an Esper would just let another Esper go after their Guide—especially one they’ve imprinted on?”

“Ihan would never do that. Not the Ihan I know. Stop making baseless assumptions.”

Yeon-oh shrugged, nodding slightly.

“You’re right. I don’t have any proof. It’s just a feeling. But these feelings of mine? They’re usually not wrong. So take this as a warning.”

Rising slowly from his seat, Yeon-oh looked down at Yeoul with a heavy, pressing gaze.

“Stay away from my Esper.”

Yeoul took a step back, exhaling a sigh. He didn’t want to waste any more emotion on this.

“You should go. If Geon-hyung comes home and sees this, it’s going to be awkward for all of us.”

His voice was dry and cracked from exhaustion. Still, Yeoul repeated his reassurance, trying to ease Yeon-oh’s worry.

“And let me be clear—I have no intention of taking your place. I have no plans to go back to Geon-hyung, and I don’t have the energy to even think about it. At most, you’ll be seeing me around for three months, so there’s no need to worry.”

Yeon-oh didn’t respond and instead gave one last warning.

“I’ll leave for now. But remember—Yoon Geon is my Esper. Not yours. Mine.”

With those final words, Yeon-oh brushed past Yeoul’s shoulder and slammed the door behind him. Only then did Yeoul unclench his fists, his palm aching with the imprints of his own nails.

Ihan hurting Geon-hyung? That’s ridiculous…

Feeling like Ihan had been unjustly blamed because of him, Yeoul sank onto the couch with a long, weary sigh.

“Haa…”

His face was hot, but his hands were cold. That confrontation had drained him. Quietly, Yeoul muttered to himself.

“Honestly… Yeon-oh wasn’t completely wrong.”

He didn’t agree with the accusations about Ihan, but he understood why Yeon-oh had come to confront him in the first place.

Geon might’ve said he didn’t love Yeon-oh, but officially, Yeon-oh was still his Guide. Espers and Guides often fell in love—most of them did. But with Geon, the relationship had always been one-sided. No wonder Yeon-oh was hurt.

‘But… Ihan is more important to me.’

He knew it was selfish. He knew he shouldn’t have involved Geon in this at all.

But if it was to save Ihan, Yeoul was willing to go even further. He could be as selfish, as ruthless, as he needed to be.

Still, that didn’t mean Yeoul felt no guilt at all toward the two of them. He was full of regret—toward both Yeon-oh and Geon.

‘How did it end up like this… This wasn’t the plan.’

He hadn’t meant for things to go this way. The original idea had just been to borrow Geon-hyung’s name, pretend it was one-sided affection, and then… once Ihan lost all attachment to him, to end it all.

Even so, Yeoul couldn’t take the decision back, no matter how much he regretted it. Because anything—anything—was better than letting Ihan die.

‘Only someone like Yoon Geon would make Ihan accept it.’

If there had been another way, he would’ve taken it. But calling Geon had been the decision of someone backed into a corner.

“…I’m sorry. Yeon-oh, Geon-hyung.”

The quiet apology he muttered wouldn’t absolve his selfish choice. Yeoul hoped they wouldn’t forgive him for choosing Ihan.

‘When I’m dead, please think, “Serves you right.”’

After all, once he was gone, this would all end. Just a little longer. Just a little bit more—he begged them to endure.

‘I’ll end it all with my own hands. So just until then…’

A trembling laugh escaped between clenched teeth. In truth, deciding to die in the first place had been selfish.

His weary head drooped, and a dull throb filled his skull. His aching stomach made his chest twist tighter. But he didn’t get up to take any medicine. To hurt someone like that, then turn around and numb his own pain with painkillers—that felt far too shameless.

Even letting out a groan felt like too much of a luxury. So Yeoul clamped his jaw shut.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He reached for the table and checked the screen.

It was Kim Eunha.