IGWKE Episode 28

Episode 28

Yoon-ui extended his hand toward Lee Hyun-ji. She stared at his palm for a moment, unsure of his intent, before finally understanding and placing her hand over his. Yoon-ui quickly initiated guiding, assessing her physical condition as he did so.

The energy flow was shallow, light, and fragile—not in good shape. It was weak enough that she could easily lose control again if she overexerted herself.

Before the alarm indicating her standby alert turned off, Yoon-ui pushed a strong guiding flow into her, stabilizing her condition. Her previously fatigued expression brightened in an instant, and she thanked him repeatedly before hurrying off.

As he watched her retreating figure, Yoon-ui turned and nearly stumbled backward upon finding Heon-ju standing right behind him, practically glued to his back.

“Whoa! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“…Why did you guide Hyun-ji noona?”

“What?”

Heon-ju’s usually gentle eyes were now brimming with emotion, catching Yoon-ui off guard. He’d thought it was just mild sulking, but Heon-ju seemed genuinely upset. It made Yoon-ui feel like he’d done something terribly wrong when all he’d done was offer a helping hand.

“…Why? Is there a problem with that?”

“It’s not like there’s a problem, but…”

“But?”

“Just…”

Trailing off, Heon-ju followed closely behind as Yoon-ui walked out of the café. Though he didn’t outright complain, his low murmurs suggested he was still bothered by the guiding session with Hyun-ji.

“I’m not jealous of Hyun-ji noona or anything, but…”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just… she didn’t even ask for guiding, but you held her hand in front of everyone….”

“Uh-huh.”

“And there were other people in the café, not just us. If they see you holding hands like that, they might misunderstand….”

…He’s jealous. Clearly, he was trying to act as if he wasn’t, but to anyone listening, his words were dripping with jealousy. Ahead of him, Yoon-ui couldn’t help but chuckle. Turning around abruptly, he caught Heon-ju off guard, making him freeze in place.

Admittedly, the sight was cute, but to put an end to this sulking, Yoon-ui gently patted Heon-ju’s shoulder.

“It’s fine. No one’s going to suspect anything.”

“Well, yeah, but still… just in case.”

“Uh-huh, just in case. Alright, end of discussion.”

“Got it.”

As Heon-ju nodded, Yoon-ui turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Heon-ju spoke again.

“But…”

“What now?”

“Why did you guide Hyun-ji noona when she didn’t even ask for it?”

“Uh… well…”

Good question. Looking up at the sky, Yoon-ui reflected for a moment. Honestly, simply letting her go with a casual farewell would have sufficed. Offering a guiding session unprompted was a significant gesture of closeness among Espers, and it wasn’t surprising that someone as recently awakened as Heon-ju might take notice.

While Yoon-ui had briefly considered the possibility that Hyun-ji might misunderstand his actions, ensuring her stability had been his priority.

The truth was straightforward: he had seen Hyun-ji in a state of rampage before and knew firsthand how long it took her to recover, not to mention the severe aftereffects. When he guided her earlier, he had noticed a chronic lack of guiding energy, similar to Heon-ju’s situation in Busan. Her condition was precarious, prone to dipping below safe levels at any moment.

It was purely out of concern for her well-being. Nothing more, nothing less.

Being within the center meant that if Lee Hyun-ji experienced symptoms of guiding deficiency, she could receive immediate treatment. However, prolonged exposure to such a condition wasn’t ideal for any Esper. Additionally, the lingering sensation of her fragile energy, reminiscent of a tin can, still clung to Yoon-ui’s fingertips. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times, trying to shake off the uncomfortable memory.

After finally managing to peel the ever-jealous Heon-ju off of him, Yoon-ui returned to his office and immediately called a junior guide working in the support center.

“Hey, Yun-young. Can you issue a diagnosis for me? Specifically one for removal from active duty…”

― Huh? Why? Are you finally losing it? Taking a medical leave?

The unexpected nature of his request startled his junior, who responded with exaggerated concern. Hearing the confusion in her voice, Yoon-ui realized how odd his words had sounded and quickly clarified.

“No, no, not for me. I’m fine.”

― Oh, I thought it was for you. It’s been a while since you last took your meds. Isn’t it about time for you to snap?

“Wow. You really want me to go crazy, don’t you?”

Even as they exchanged playful jabs, Yoon-ui was mentally preparing how to explain his request.

Issuing a removal-from-active-duty diagnosis meant effectively barring an Esper from fieldwork. Considering Lee Hyun-ji’s current condition, such a measure seemed necessary. Keeping her away from the field would drastically reduce her chances of going berserk, and even if her guiding levels dipped below safe thresholds, simple medication or therapy could stabilize her.

However, if Hyun-ji were removed from field duty, would she be grateful for it? If she had personal reasons for staying in the field—like financial incentives or pride—wouldn’t this action be seen as meddling?

“Uh… never mind. Forget it for now.”

―”So, no diagnosis for now?

“Yeah. I’ll let you know if I need it later.”

― Okay, but let me know before you lose it. I’ll whip up a report in no time.

“Thanks.”

Despite his tendency to clash with Espers over the years, Yoon-ui had at least built some camaraderie within his guide circle. The junior’s half-joking offer to help gave him a faint sense of reassurance as he ended the call.

As much as he reflected on his lack of social grace, moments like these made him wonder if he was doing alright after all. But then again, maybe not.

The chaos started with the director’s outburst during a loud and contentious executive meeting.

“Why did we send Heon-ju to Busan if there wasn’t going to be any progress?”

Slamming down the report he’d been handed, the director’s frustration was palpable. Normally, he wouldn’t be so blunt, but with the deadline for results looming, his anxiety was showing. This tension escalated into a familiar pattern: the managers pointing fingers at each other.

Manager Park quickly redirected the blame toward the guides.

“If proper guiding support had been provided, the training would have progressed!”

Manager Im wasn’t one to back down.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t cherry-pick guides and then claim there was no support!”

Watching the two managers rehash the same argument for weeks, Yoon-ui tapped his fingers irritably against the table. The bickering was exhausting to listen to.

It also annoyed him that Manager Park never acknowledged the guiding sessions he’d personally provided for Heon-ju during training periods. And Manager Im, who clearly recognized his skills, hadn’t even considered putting his name on the recommendation list for Heon-ju’s dedicated guide.

“Alright, let’s all calm down. Everyone here wants what’s best for Heon-ju, so let’s keep the discussion civil, okay?”

The operations manager, attempting to play the peacemaker, stepped in. But at this point, the managers were too riled up to be placated, and the effort came across as performative.

Manager Park pounded the table with enough force to rattle the room.

“Director, I propose we bring a dedicated guide from Busan to Seoul. This rotating system with the current guides is inefficient!”

The director hesitated. “We already have plenty of personnel in headquarters. Do we really need to?”

Guide assignments fell under Manager Im’s jurisdiction. The director glanced at her, silently signaling her to handle the issue herself.

Watching this from the sidelines, Yoon-ui sighed internally. If the director couldn’t even manage this situation, would he ever approve the transfer paperwork sitting in his hands?

The meeting dragged on, filled with more pointless debates, before it finally adjourned. Determined to seize the moment, Yoon-ui swiftly followed the director as he left the room.

“Director!”

“Ah, Jung… Yoo-something… right?”

The director’s inability to remember the names of lower-ranking staff, even after years of working together, was frustratingly on-brand. Knowing there was no point in correcting him, Yoon-ui forced a smile.

“It’s fine, sir. My name’s a bit tricky to pronounce.”

“Yes, yes. So, what is it?”

“I have a request.”

After ensuring the coast was clear—neither Manager Im nor the operations manager had followed them—Yoon-ui handed over his paperwork.

“I’d like to request a transfer to a different department.”

“Transfer?”

Adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, the director glanced at the title on the document before flipping through its pages. After skimming the content, he returned to the cover, staring at the empty approval line.

“You’re the acting team leader of the Talent Management Team, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re originally a guide?”

“I still technically am.”

Yoon-ui struggled to keep a polite expression. The paperwork explicitly stated he wanted to switch from guiding to administrative work, yet the director’s questions made it seem as though he hadn’t read it properly. Still, in this moment, he needed that signature, so he swallowed his irritation and maintained his composure.

The director flipped through the document again, a behavior Yoon-ui recognized as a bad sign from years of dealing with superiors who avoided making decisions.