IGWKE Episode 30

Episode 30

“Yeah, stuff like, ‘It must be tough awakening late,’ or, ‘Is training hard?’ He also said he’d help me out a lot going forward,” Heon-ju explained.

“‘Going forward?'”

That was a loaded phrase. ‘Going forward.’ Yoon-ui tapped the bottom of his coffee cup against the table. How many years had it been since Song Ki-heon had voluntarily transferred to the Busan branch? He couldn’t remember exactly, but it was clear the man was probably itching to return to Seoul by now.

“Ah…”

Suddenly, Yoon-ui recalled Manager Park’s comment during the executive meeting: We’ll bring someone over from Busan. It didn’t take much thought to realize that the “someone” in question was likely Song Ki-heon. And knowing that snake, there was no doubt he had been working behind the scenes to make it happen.

“Song Ki-heon is really climbing the ladder, isn’t he?”

Yoon-ui couldn’t suppress a sardonic laugh. Volunteering for the dreaded Busan post to curry favor with higher-ups, then enjoying a cushy stint in the less demanding branch, only to return under the guise of assisting with S-class Esper training—it was a route Yoon-ui couldn’t even consider, let alone attempt. His pride wouldn’t allow it.

Noticing the sharp change in Yoon-ui’s expression, Heon-ju hesitantly asked, “Do you not get along with him?”

“Not really. I mean, he’s just a… very junior junior,” Yoon-ui replied, emphasizing the “junior” with a slight sneer.

Sure, that “junior” had clawed his way up the ranks, even surpassing Yoon-ui, who had been stuck in career limbo. But still, a junior was a junior.

If Song Ki-heon became officially recognized as Heon-ju’s dedicated training guide, it would be only a matter of time before he overtook Yoon-ui completely.

‘I really should quit being a guide,’ Yoon-ui thought bitterly.

It was humiliating enough to be outranked by an arrogant, ambitious younger colleague, but leaving the field in a retreat-like fashion wasn’t something his pride could tolerate.

‘I’ll show him the difference experience makes.’

Fueled by a sudden determination, Yoon-ui set his coffee cup down and gestured for Heon-ju to come closer. If Song Ki-heon wanted to play the part of the perfect guide for an S-class Esper, Yoon-ui was going to show everyone what real guiding looked like.

Unaware of his intentions, Heon-ju brightened and asked, “Are you going to guide me?”

“Yeah. Let’s top you off completely today.”

With an eager smile, Heon-ju quickly extended his hand, pressing his palm against Yoon-ui’s. Taking a deep breath, Yoon-ui focused his energy, channeling it with the intensity reserved for an Esper on the brink of losing control.

“Whoa…”

The sheer potency of the guiding left Heon-ju in awe, his face glowing with reverence. His dramatic reaction filled Yoon-ui with a sense of satisfaction. This should leave quite the impression. He won’t even need food or sleep after this.

“Make sure you tell everyone you got a full guiding session from me today, okay?” Yoon-ui instructed confidently.

---

How many years below me is that guy, anyway?

As he thought about Song Ki-heon, memories of the past surfaced unbidden. The last time they had crossed paths was at the year-end ceremony, where Song had clapped half-heartedly as Yoon-ui received an award, his expression barely hiding his disdain.

‘Wow, senior, you’re doing great, huh? Do gates only open on your shifts? You hog all the gates and then take home the year-end commendation. Even after getting the presidential award, you couldn’t let a junior have just one ministerial award, could you?’

Yeah, that brat.

Song hadn’t even bothered to bring a congratulatory flower bouquet and instead came empty-handed, dripping with sarcasm and completely devoid of respect.

Song’s actions had been a major source of stress for Yoon-ui. Not long after Yoon-ui’s transfer to a less desirable position, rumors spread about Song boasting at guide gatherings. He had reportedly claimed it was the perfect chance to leapfrog the promotion order and earn a supervisory role before Yoon-ui could return to the field.

‘That little punk even gloated about it, Yoon-ui recalled bitterly, gripping his coffee cup tightly.’

For months, he hadn’t been able to adapt to his new duties, spending countless sleepless nights seething with frustration. Even now, the rage from that time resurfaced, keeping him awake. Yoon-ui suddenly sat upright.

“Ugh, how am I supposed to keep looking at that smug face?”

If Song Ki-heon became Heon-ju’s dedicated training guide, he would inevitably be stationed in the Talent Development Team until the training concluded. That meant Song would likely hang around daily, bragging about his guiding techniques and Heon-ju’s progress, taking every opportunity to mock Yoon-ui for being stuck in his current position.

On top of that, Yoon-ui could already imagine Song cozying up to Heon-ju, pretending to be overly friendly while leveraging the S-class Esper for his own advancement. He could see it now: ostentatious guiding sessions in front of everyone, unnecessary touches under the guise of “guiding,” all to flaunt his closeness with the Esper.

Knowing Heon-ju’s gentle nature, he wouldn’t refuse. Worse, Heon-ju might even grow fond of Song, mistaking his flattery for genuine care.

‘If I were in Heon-ju’s shoes, I’d probably prefer a smooth-talking, eager-to-please guide over an older, nagging one like me.’

Grinding his teeth, Yoon-ui muttered, “Either I quit, or I toss that jerk into the Busan sea before he comes to Seoul.”

He lay back down with a huff, resolving to settle things with Manager Im tomorrow. He needed a decision—one way or another. If this dragged on, he feared he’d end up being the guide who not only killed an Esper but also a fellow guide.

---

The following morning, Manager Im’s attempts to persuade him only tested his patience further.

“I know the work is tough right now, but someone has to do it…”

“Why does that ‘someone’ have to be me?!”

Tired and irritable after another sleepless night, Yoon-ui’s voice came out harsher than he intended. Taken aback by his aggression, Manager Im bit her lip before sighing deeply.

“With your experience and seniority, you’re in line for a promotion soon. Don’t you think it’s time to show some sacrifice for the organization?”

Her tone had shifted to lecturing, but Yoon-ui, who had already decided to go all out, wasn’t having it. Crossing his arms and leaning back, he shot back, “Let’s be honest. You never intended to promote me, did you?”

The accusation hit its mark. Manager Im faltered, stammering in response.

“Why would you think that?”

“If you planned to, you’d have moved me out of this position ages ago or at least given me decent evaluations. But no, neither happened. What’s the point of these five years I’ve spent here? When you sent me to this position, you said it was temporary, just until things calmed down, and I’d return to the field.”

“The issue was bigger than expected, so it took time to settle, and—”

“Save it. Let’s just admit it—I’m the guide who killed an Esper, aren’t I?”

He cut her off, unwilling to listen to more excuses. After years of hearing the same hollow reassurances, he had long since stopped believing them. If they wouldn’t transfer him to administrative work, the least she could do was give him a clear answer.

“Is Song Ki-heon coming to Seoul?”

Her hesitation said it all.

“Manager Park requested him, didn’t she? So, he’s going to the Talent Development Team?”

“Well… yes. She specifically asked for him, and since they said his presence is crucial for results, we didn’t have a good reason to refuse. Besides, he’s worked hard in Busan.”

“Worked hard in Busan? With all the gates focused in the capital? What kind of hard work are we talking about?”

“Busan is understaffed, you know that.”

Manager Im’s defense of Song was blatant. Although she claimed it was about results, it was obvious she was supporting Song Ki-heon’s climb to a supervisory role.

“Are you worried he’ll get promoted first? Is that what’s bothering you?” she snapped. “Why are you so hung up on this? Don’t be so petty. Letting a junior succeed isn’t the end of the world. A young person like you shouldn’t be so obsessed with promotions.”

Her words felt like a slap. The insinuation that he was petty and envious, obsessed with sabotaging a junior’s career, stung deeply.

‘It’s not that I hate seeing him succeed. I just hate him. I don’t want a promotion—I just want to be recognized for the work I’ve done.’

“Song isn’t doing this for a promotion. He’s needed for S-class training. As a senior, you shouldn’t let personal feelings interfere with personnel decisions. It’s immature.”

Her reprimand struck a nerve. On top of his exhaustion, it left him feeling utterly miserable. Tears threatened to spill, and he cursed his fragile state of mind.

Forcing himself to hold back his tears, he channeled his frustration into a calm but firm declaration.

“Then I’ll resign.”