IGWKE Episode 20

Episode 20

Joo-min had her reasons for standing there, watching Yoon-ui eat the chocolate instead of disappearing right away. When she asked about the card, Yoon-ui reluctantly pulled it out of his pocket, where he had shoved it without much thought.

“A card? This?”

“Yeah, Heon-ju specifically asked me to make sure you got it.”

“You didn’t read it?”

“Hey, ever heard of privacy? I have some manners, you know.”

For someone who claimed to respect privacy, Joo-min sure looked eager to know what was inside. She urged him to read it quickly, her curiosity nearly palpable. Finally, with half-eaten chocolate still in his mouth, Yoon-ui opened the card, which was unusually small compared to Heon-ju’s big hands.

There wasn’t much written, just a short message and a series of numbers:

[I’ll be back after training! ––*** Here’s my number! – Heon-ju]

Cute handwriting. That was all Yoon-ui thought after reading the brief note three times. The round, chubby lettering, pressed firmly into the card with a pen, resembled Heon-ju’s soft eyes and didn’t match his large frame at all.

Staring at the note and the unfamiliar string of digits for a while, Yoon-ui finally looked up and met Joo-min’s expectant gaze. She clearly wanted him to say something more. But unsure of what to say, he shared his honest impression.

“…The handwriting is cute.”

“…That’s it?”

“…? What else should I say?”

---

“The fact that he gave you his number means he wants you to reach out,” Woo-joo explained, offering a clearer interpretation for the still-confused Yoon-ui.

“It’s like when you’re in college, and you leave your desk in the library for a bit, and someone leaves you a drink with a note attached, right? ‘I’ve been watching you. Give me a call.’ You know, that kind of thing.”

“I only graduated high school, remember?”

“Oh, sorry.”

Woo-joo apologized, though his face showed zero remorse.

“Do we really need an analysis for this?” Joo-min chimed in, incredulous that such a simple matter even needed explaining. But Yoon-ui was just as baffled.

“It’s not that I don’t get why he gave me his number…”

He began, waving the card around.

“I mean, I know he’s being friendly, but what reason do I have to call him? It’s not like I have anything to say to him.”

“Wow, you really are the textbook definition of a cranky old man.”

Jung-woo remarked, clearly impressed by the extent of Yoon-ui’s grumpiness. But the comment didn’t bother Yoon-ui. He wasn’t denying his “old man” tendencies, and frankly, he didn’t see any valid reason to contact Heon-ju. He barely reached out to other guides, let alone a young Esper trainee. What could he possibly have to say to someone who was away in Busan for training?

Joo-min, who had been listening quietly, scowled in frustration and smacked him on the back.

“How can you say you have nothing to say? You could at least thank him for the chocolate, ask how his training’s going, and maybe invite him for coffee when he’s back.”

“Why do I need to ask how his training is going? He’s probably doing fine without me checking in.”

“Because you ‘should’ check in!” Joo-min shot back, exasperated.

She had hit a nerve, though. Yoon-ui rubbed his back in silence, unable to fully disagree. Joo-min might not understand, but from his perspective, keeping a distance from Heon-ju was a necessary precaution. If just having coffee with him had already stirred up so much hostility, what would happen if they got any closer?

He didn’t want to become the center of controversy again. He hated the idea of people pointing fingers and whispering behind his back. He thought he’d left those days behind, finally living a quiet life. The last thing he needed was for his past to be dredged up again just because he was seen hanging around Heon-ju.

What did I do so wrong?

During a staff meeting, Yoon-ui couldn’t help but stew in his thoughts, especially with Manager Park glaring daggers at him from across the table.

From the moment he walked into the room, Park had been making it obvious she wanted to confront him. She’d even stood up to come over, but Manager Im had pulled her back into her seat, apparently assuring her she’d handle it.

Honestly, Yoon-ui wished she’d just said whatever she needed to. All the glaring was giving him a headache. He shot her a scowl of his own, irritated by the unspoken hostility.

Meanwhile, the head of the department rambled on, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“We’re too quiet on the media front lately! We need to generate public interest, and if everyone just quietly does their job, no one’s going to notice. It’s the age of self-promotion!”

While the silent battle of glares continued between Yoon-ui and Park, the department head was the only one passionately speaking. The operations manager, trying to ignore the icy atmosphere, buried his head in his notebook, diligently taking notes on every word.

“We need to be putting out several press releases a week! How can we get any attention if we’re this quiet? We need to make some noise!”

But there was no noise. The meeting remained silent. Both Manager Park and Manager Im were from the field and had little interest in the political side of things, and the operations manager was too timid to care. As for Yoon-ui, he had even less to say. Whether or not their headquarters became more visible didn’t concern him.

Seeing that his impassioned plea was falling on deaf ears, the department head sighed, flipping through the meeting materials in frustration.

“Really… If we don’t have anything to report, we might as well make something up…”

“Yes, of course… We’ll make sure to handle it,” someone responded, but the atmosphere remained tense.

“What’s going on with that S-class Esper?”

The director suddenly asked, throwing out an unexpected mention of Heon-ju. Both Yoon-ui and Manager Park’s expressions shifted. The director pulled out Heon-ju’s report and began flipping through it with a serious look.

“What’s Kim Heon-ju up to right now?”

“He’s currently in Busan for a week of training.”

Manager Park answered.

“Busan? Why send him all the way there? Isn’t there a training facility here?”

The director’s tone was unsettling. Sensing the shift, Yoon-ui quietly adjusted his posture and pretended to focus on the meeting, flipping through pages of the report that matched the one the director was scrutinizing—Heon-ju’s training status. As he began reading the data, his face gradually tightened.

“How long has it been since he started basic training, and he still hasn’t completed it? Didn’t we pull personnel from the field to provide training support for the Espers?”

The director complained, clearly frustrated.

It wasn’t hard to understand why. The pace of Heon-ju’s training was slower than that of a middle schooler experiencing their first awakening. Heon-ju wasn’t an unintelligent kid, so Yoon-ui shot a glance at Manager Park. Watching her squirm under the director’s scolding was quite satisfying.

“Well, since he’s an S-class, his ability is hard to control with precision, so…”

Park muttered, her face flushing with embarrassment as she tried to explain.

‘Serves you right’.

Yoon-ui thought with an inward smirk. She had made such a fuss about taking control of his education.

Normally, the training of ability users would fall under the purview of the Talent Development Team, where Joo-min worked. However, the Espers had insisted that S-class training couldn’t be entrusted to administrative staff and took over Heon-ju’s education. Yoon-ui still remembered vividly how Joo-min had complained about the Espers overstepping their bounds and infringing on her team’s responsibilities.

Training is all about experience. Espers, who had no real teaching experience, couldn’t hope to educate properly just by waving their hands around without a guidebook. When Yoon-ui made brief eye contact with Manager Im, he could see she was thinking the same thing, her expression equally unimpressed.

“If training isn’t working out, just hand him back to the Talent Development Team. Why are you being so stubborn about it?” the director snapped.

“It’s not stubbornness…” Park stammered, fumbling for words before dragging others into her excuse.

“Heon-ju requires constant guiding during his training because of his large capacity, but the Guides aren’t cooperating with us.”

Manager Im, who had been quietly observing, immediately straightened her posture and glared at Park.

“Excuse me? When did we ever not cooperate?”

“You haven’t provided us with a capable enough Guide!”

“We offered several highly recommended Guides, and you rejected them all, Manager Park.”

The verbal brawl was on. Yoon-ui crossed his arms and sat back to enjoy the show.

But the fight didn’t last long.

“Enough! Enough!”

The director slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room.

“Is now the time to be blaming each other? We’ve got three months until the foundation anniversary!”

‘Ah, so that’s why he’s so panicked.’

Yoon-ui realized. The director’s anxiety suddenly made sense.

“Have you all forgotten that the BH is scheduled to attend the event? The President will personally present the S-class graduation certificate! Do you think we’ll meet the deadline at this rate?”

The director was clearly stressed, his hand slapping the table repeatedly as he vented, before eventually collapsing back into his chair with a heavy sigh. The room grew cold and silent.

At this point, whose fault it was didn’t matter anymore. For the next three months, everyone in the headquarters would be focused solely on ensuring that Heon-ju completed his basic training course in time for the ceremony.