TDG Ch 10

The nature of the terrorist attacks had changed. The plans had become far more elaborate and powerful, making them several times, or even dozens of times, more dangerous than before. As troublesome as the monsters pouring out of the Gates were, the terror attacks committed by Espers were just as big of a headache.

Korea had stricter government regulations in place for managing Espers, which kept the overall risk lower than in other countries. But that didn’t mean Korea was completely safe from Esper-related crimes or terrorism.

If you had to name the group that played the most pivotal role in all these incidents, there was one organization that would always come up first, without exception.

“Black Moon.”

A terrorist organization made up entirely of Espers, operating primarily on the international stage.

There wasn’t a single crime they hadn’t touched—terrorism, kidnapping, prostitution, drugs. They were also infamous for their extreme slogans. They brazenly spouted nonsense like “Espers are the rightful rulers of the world, and all non-Espers should be enslaved.”

But just because I was a Guide didn’t mean I was safe. On the contrary, being a Guide might make me more of a target than an ordinary civilian. Even in a society where laws and social order still held sway, there were a truckload of Espers who abused, raped, and mistreated Guides without consequence. In a lawless world where even those last lines of defense were gone, the outcome didn’t need much imagination.

Yet despite all that, the number of Espers joining Black Moon increased every year, seduced by its insane ideals of creating a “Valhalla^[1] for Espers.”

In some third-world countries, resistance forces were waging constant wars against national leaders who had aligned themselves with Black Moon. Watching global news related to them felt like falling into a bottomless pit of absurdity, and I couldn’t help but blurt out reflexively, “Cut it out already, you lunatics.”

The Korean government had made constant efforts to prevent Black Moon’s infiltration into the country, but it was of no use. The group had already reached out with their black hand^[2].

With their vast funds and swift execution, they devoured local crime syndicates one by one and gradually built their influence. Their next move was to strike deals with corrupt elites, stirring up social unrest. This was an early-phase strategy they deployed everywhere.

Black Moon, which had been lurking beneath the surface, only revealed its true colors after Han Jihyuk went on a rampage, obliterating half of Seoul and paralyzing the government’s ability to function.

And so the story progressed, leading to Han Jihyuk’s fated all-out war with the Black Moon organization.

But to be completely honest, that part didn’t matter much to me when I was just a reader. He’s the protagonist, so no matter how earth-shattering the villains were, of course, he’d win in the end.

What I really wanted to know was whether the male lead and female lead’s love ever truly came to fruition.

Seriously, wasn’t it too much? How could two people who so desperately loved each other end up doing nothing more than holding hands before the story just fizzled out? If it was going to end like that, what was the point of establishing that guiding required physical contact in the first place?

My vision was hazy and dark. A shadow flickered ticklishly over my powerless eyelids.

“Did you sleep well?”

A voice laced with laughter snapped me out of it.

Did I just doze off…?

“Is the test over?”

“Yeah.”

Jihyuk gently guided my flustered self back into the chair and sat beside me.

“When?”

“Just now.”

Thankfully, it was only a few minutes past the expected end time for the training session.

Still, I had never fallen asleep on the job before, not even in Division 7. What would the researchers think of me?

“…You should’ve woken me up.”

Jihyuk shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s the big deal? We don’t have any other appointments anyway.”

“Still…”

“I didn’t want to wake you, Hyung. You looked like you were sleeping so peacefully.”

Jihyuk grinned mischievously, his eyes crinkling. This punk was teasing me now.

Just then, a researcher opened the door and came out to find us.

“Both of you, please come in.”

In a strictly professional tone, he displayed the test results on the monitor.

“This is the final report compiling Han Jihyuk’s test data.”

Finally. My heart swelled as I locked eyes with Jihyuk. This was the moment all our hard work would be quantified. A mix of rising excitement and anxious anticipation swirled in my chest.

“As you’re aware, we use the U.S. EOC^[3] international standard as our benchmark for measuring Esper’s ability levels. Esper Han Jihyuk has surpassed the previous highest scores in all seven categories and achieved new high scores. This is an extraordinary case, even setting new global records.”

At the researcher’s gestures, the test categories changed one by one on the screen, but the name at the top of each list remained the same.

Whoa—look at that point difference from second place. The numbers aren’t even in the same range.

Seeing the overwhelming scores, I couldn’t help but smile with pride.

“However, one issue remains. The high level of dependency on his Guide has not been resolved.”

My smile disappeared in an instant. That was the one thing I had hoped they would overlook. But the researchers weren’t nearly as forgiving as I had wished.

“Please take a look at this. These are yesterday’s records. You can clearly see that without Seo Juwon, Han Jihyuk’s brainwave readings fluctuate significantly.”

“But…”

Just as I began to cautiously offer a counterpoint, the researcher raised his hand, signaling me to listen until the end.

“It is our duty to provide accurate and complete results. The Esper must be aware of his own issues in order to consider any countermeasures.”

“…Yes, that’s true.”

I couldn’t predict what else they might say, so I swallowed dryly. The researcher, unaware of my nerves, calmly flipped to the next chart and continued speaking.

“Dependency on one’s Guide, to varying degrees, is a challenge faced by all Espers. Although there are some concerns, we believe Han Jihyuk’s level of self-control is sufficient to manage them. We recommend he proceed to take the Suitability Evaluation.”

That statement made my ears perk up. The Suitability Evaluation? So that’s what all the tension was about!

The Suitability Evaluation is a national qualification test that proves an Esper’s overall aptitude.

It’s usually taken by newly awakened Espers who want to assess their abilities. It evaluates power levels, control, self-restraint, adaptability, and situational response all at once. Getting high marks naturally raises an Esper’s value.

In short, it meant Han Jihyuk might finally be able to stand on his own as a full-fledged Esper.

“If he passes, he can have the suppression devices on his hands and ankles removed, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Jihyuk, this is it! You just have to pass this!”

Jihyuk, who had been looking blank from not knowing what a Suitability Evaluation was, finally nodded after I explained it to him.

The thin black bands around his neck and limbs were originally designed to restrain Espers who had committed crimes. Developed by a Korean genius, they disrupted the unique brainwaves of Espers to suppress or weaken their powers.

In Han Jihyuk’s case, he wore them because he couldn’t control his powers. But every time I saw them, it made me uncomfortable.

I turned to the researcher, my voice slightly breathless with anticipation.

“Please schedule the Suitability Evaluation as soon as possible.”

* * *

All evening, Han Jihyuk’s mood was strange.

There had been an inexplicable shadow on his face ever since I explained in detail what the Suitability Evaluation was and the benefits it could bring.

Once he passed the evaluation, he would be free from his restraints, released from the dedicated partnership, and able to choose the Guide he wanted to be with. So what part of that news could possibly make someone look so gloomy?

Unless… maybe he just didn’t like the dinner menu.

I wouldn’t blame him. Tonight’s tray was especially green, and it was making me feel a bit down, too.

While picking at my food and trying to read his mood, I waited for the right moment before speaking up.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been quiet this whole time.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Yeah, right. That tone was practically soaked in gloom.

It was like someone had written ‘I’m in a bad mood’ right across his forehead.

“Are you worried the test will be too hard? Don’t worry. We’ll do plenty of rehearsals before you take it. And even if you fail, you can always try again—”

“That’s not it.”

“Huh?”

Han Jihyuk stopped me right at the most important part, completely fraying my nerves.

“…Forget it. It’s nothing.”

And just like that, he clammed up again, evasive as ever.

As he squeezed his chopsticks a little harder, the piece of grilled tofu between them split in two and dropped onto his rice.

Han Jihyuk. This damn kid.

There are two things that really tick people off during a conversation. One is stopping mid-sentence, and the second is…

“……”

For a moment, I felt like I needed to completely rethink how I was approaching this.

What if he was actually under immense stress and just hiding it?

From the very beginning, Jihyuk had been on a completely different path than other Espers, those lucky enough to awaken and immediately start figuring out how to make money from it.

He had awakened in a sudden burst of unimaginable pain, only to lose consciousness and wake up imprisoned in an unknown place. Branded a dangerous individual without knowing why, stripped of his normal life, and forced to undergo endless tests and evaluations he didn’t even understand.

The fear of not being able to control his own power.

The burden of possibly losing his reason and hurting someone.

And above all, the helplessness of knowing he couldn’t survive without relying entirely on a complete stranger.

If it had been me, I wouldn’t have lasted even a few days under those conditions. But Jihyuk had accepted it all quietly, never once complaining or showing how hard it was.

Still, that didn’t mean he was fine on the inside.

What made it more heartbreaking was that if he’d had any family, they could have visited, supported him, at least spoken to him.

But he had no one. No one except me.

The thought that he might not even have dared to complain because I was all he had made my chest ache.

“Jihyuk.”

“Yeah?”

“Want to go out somewhere for some fresh air?”

The words came out on impulse. Jihyuk tilted his head, confused.

“Are we allowed to go out?”

Just last week, the answer would’ve been no. But now, with the Suitability Evaluation approaching, there was a real possibility.

“Is there somewhere you want to go?”

“……”

He hesitated, unable to answer right away. Was I being too blunt with the question?

“Then… how about my place?”