Kwon Dajung, glaring at him like he wanted him dead while placing particular emphasis on the word “fuck,” looked less like a person and more like an untamed animal.
Everything about him existed in a state of staggering imbalance. Dajung was still beautiful now, but when he was younger, he had genuinely looked like an angel. An angel in a school uniform spewing the foulest curses imaginable. Even setting aside what an unusual character that made him, unlike anyone Gyujin had ever seen, Gyujin couldn’t help being impressed.
So it really is possible for one person to swear this creatively without repeating himself.
He was better these days, at least, but back then Dajung had been far worse. Every time their eyes met, he would unleash a stream of verbal abuse without hesitation, and sometimes he resorted to violence too. He hated everyone in the world and seemed desperate to make sure they knew it.
Even so, Gyujin had never found Dajung particularly frightening.
Years later, Dajung confessed that Gyujin had been the first person who didn’t so much as blink no matter how viciously he cursed at him. But Gyujin was the one who found that strange.
What kind of real damage or threat could such a tiny, pretty kid possibly pose just by swearing at him?
To Gyujin, Dajung had never changed all that much from then to now. The image that came to mind was still basically a tiny kitten, terrified out of its mind, puffing up every strand of fur and hissing for all it was worth.
Besides, however aggressive he might have looked, it wasn’t as though he had ever actually torn into Gyujin.
Maybe his defensive instincts were simply unusually strong.
“No, I’m pretty sure you’ve rewritten your memories. Dajung attacked you plenty of times back then too, didn’t he? I think you just don’t remember and you’re romanticizing the past.”
Ko Hyeguk muttered as he stepped on the brake. With the hand that wasn’t holding the wheel, he scratched his head.
Leaning back in the passenger seat, Gyujin could only think, Did he?
“I can remember at least five times off the top of my head. Didn’t you bleed once after Dajung hit you with something he threw? Was it your forehead? Your head?”
“Oh. Right.”
Gyujin ran a hand over his forehead.
If you looked closely, there was still a faint scar just above his eyebrow. He had gotten it while guiding Dajung, when Dajung threw a book—or something like one—and hit him with it. Gyujin remembered being horrified at the time because there had been quite a lot of blood.
“But throwing something at me… I mean, that’s not really a direct attack, is it?”
Hyeguk stared at him.
“You really say the most ridiculous shit with a straight face. Dajung’s ability is telekinesis. Of course he attacks people by throwing things. What did you expect him to do, walk over and punch you himself? What are you, a hedgehog? Stop protecting him.”
At Hyeguk’s scolding, Gyujin quietly closed his mouth.
Maybe he was being too biased.
Still, part of him stubbornly thought, Dajung wasn’t that aggressive.
“Dajung has always been the same asshole, then and now. He just pretends to be a puppy in front of you. If he wasn’t like that, would he have fucked up the entire exercise this badly?”
“I already heard enough about that from Sungmin. You don’t need to start too.”
“Esper Seo Sungmin? What the hell did that poor man do to deserve any of this? What is he even supposed to put in his report?”
Hyeguk shuddered as though he were the one responsible for submitting the report.
And once again Gyujin found himself hearing the familiar complaint that he should have slapped that bastard one more time.
He rubbed between his eyebrows.
Gyujin hadn’t said a single word about slapping Dajung, yet Hyeguk already knew. Which meant the story had apparently spread everywhere already.
Why does everyone love gossiping about other people so much?
Exhausted, Gyujin sighed.
Maybe it was because both his body and mind were worn out, but sleep kept dragging at him.
“Hyeguk, I’m going to sleep for a bit. Wake me when we get to the Center.”
He cut off Hyeguk’s ongoing catalogue of Dajung’s past crimes with the declaration.
Hyeguk blinked.
“Huh? You’re seriously going to sleep right now? Just like that?”
“Yeah. I’m sleepy.”
Part of him did want to escape the conversation, but he genuinely was struggling to stay awake. Too much had happened inside the gate, and he had spent the whole time tense from constantly watching everyone around him.
The moment that tension disappeared, exhaustion rushed in to replace it.
Good thing I called Hyeguk separately instead of going back with the others.
It was a little shameless of him, but riding back like this without the team made things infinitely easier on his body.
“All right. I’ll wake you when we get to the Center, so get some sleep. Recline your seat too.”
Gyujin felt around for the button and adjusted the seat. The instant he leaned back, keeping his eyes open became nearly impossible.
As he drifted in and out of sleep, Hyeguk murmured under his breath.
“I really hope you’re not actually sick…”
Gyujin let the worried voice wash past him and quickly surrendered to sleep.
“…so don’t worry about that. Yeah, I checked that side… there’s no problem. Those fucking bastards do whatever they want, so don’t expect them to cooperate. You got rid of all the evidence, right?”
The awareness that had been balancing somewhere between consciousness and oblivion slowly floated back to the surface.
Gyujin’s eyelids fluttered.
His body felt stiff. When he tried to stretch, his fingertips brushed against something.
He slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly ahead.
Only a moment later did he remember that he was inside a car.
“You’re awake?”
Hyeguk closed his phone and spoke to him.
Rubbing his eyes, Gyujin nodded.
“We’re here?”
“We are, but…”
Hyeguk trailed off and pointed outside the window.
Gyujin naturally followed his gesture.
“…What? What is that…?”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Even though he was looking directly at it, the scene was so unbelievable that he wondered whether he was still half asleep.
But no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes, the view outside remained exactly the same.
Gyujin hesitantly looked at Hyeguk.
“Am I just not awake yet? Because right now, up ahead…”
“The Guide Center is on fire. I can see it too.”
Gyujin’s mouth slowly fell open.
It wasn’t a dream.
He wasn’t seeing things.
The road that should have led into the Guide Center parking lot was packed solid with stopped cars. Beyond the red barricade blocking the road ahead, the Guide Center building was blazing like dry kindling.
“There’s a fire? What about the people inside? Did you call anyone? Then we can’t just sit here—!”
Gyujin reached for the door, but Hyeguk quickly stopped him.
“I already checked. There are Espers and firefighters gathered over there.”
He jerked his chin toward the area beside the burning Center.
Just as Hyeguk said, a large crowd had gathered at a safe distance from the building.
Spotting the Espers among them, Gyujin let out a small breath of relief.
If Espers were involved, then at least the situation should be manageable. With their abilities, flames that size could probably be suppressed quickly.
“What the hell happened? Why would there suddenly be a fire…?”
“I don’t know. It was perfectly normal when I left to pick you up, so it must’ve started while we were gone.”
Hyeguk’s expression was unusually grave.
According to him, the Center had looked exactly the same as always when he left.
At most, a little over an hour had passed since then.
And in that short time, a fire had broken out and literally engulfed the entire Guide Center.
“Shouldn’t we get out and help somehow instead of sitting here?”
“No. What are you going to do over there when you’re already not feeling well? Nobody called you in, so worry about yourself for now. The traffic’s moving anyway. We’ll get out of here soon. Once that side opens up, it won’t take long.”
“But…”
Gyujin glanced toward the burning building.
Now that he was paying attention to it, the smell of smoke hit him all at once.
Even from this distance, it was strong.
Crimson flames flicked ceaselessly through the air like a snake’s tongue.
“More importantly, check your phone. It’s been buzzing like crazy for a while.”
At Hyeguk’s remark, Gyujin quickly patted his pockets.
Sure enough, his phone was vibrating insistently.
When he saw Kwon Dajung’s name on the screen, he hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Hello, Dajung—”
—Where are you right now?
Gyujin flinched at Dajung’s cold voice.
Before he could answer, Dajung bombarded him with questions.
—You didn’t go to the Center, did you? Are you hurt? Where are you right now? Why did you go off alone—! No. Forget it. Just tell me where you are first. Hurry. I’m coming to get you right now, so tell me.
He worked himself up and calmed himself down all on his own, yet throughout it all Dajung obsessively demanded Gyujin’s location.
Judging by his tone, he had heard about the fire too.
Gyujin answered haltingly.
“I’m in front of the Center. Hyeguk and I were heading back together when we saw the fire, so we stopped. They’ve blocked traffic here, so we can’t get any closer…”
—…Ko Hyeguk?
Dajung’s voice dropped another several degrees.
—Gyujin, you’re with Ko Hyeguk right now?
Beside him, Hyeguk, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping on the call, frantically shook his head.
Caught off guard, Gyujin failed to answer immediately.
Dajung’s voice became even colder.
—I asked if you’re with that fucking bastard.
At the icy demand, Hyeguk pressed a hand to his forehead.
Gyujin was about to come up with some excuse when Hyeguk snatched the phone from him.
His urgent voice filled the car.
“Listen, Esper Kwon Dajung. We’re currently waiting outside the Guide Center, completely safe, without so much as a scratch. We are in a safe location, we are safely staying here, and we intend to remain safe for the foreseeable future. So there is absolutely nothing to worry abou—”
—We?
Dajung didn’t even pretend to listen to the rest.
Apparently fixating on Hyeguk’s use of the word “we,” he let out a short, humorless laugh.
—Since when were you and Yoon Gyujin close enough to call yourselves “we,” sweetheart?
“I didn’t call him sweetheart…”
Gyujin tried to defend himself quietly, but Dajung was apparently too far gone to hear him anymore.
Gyujin could practically feel through the phone as Dajung started to swear, stopped himself, and forced down his anger.
Hyeguk handed the phone back to Gyujin with a look that clearly said, Do something about him.
At that moment, the blockage ahead finally began to clear and the cars started inching forward.
“More importantly, Dajung, where are you right now?”
Horns sounded intermittently outside, and everyone visible through the windows looked overwhelmingly busy.
Gyujin’s gaze followed them.
With the large-scale exercise underway, the Center should have been almost empty.
Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate was hard to say.
With fewer people inside, there should have been fewer casualties.
But with fewer people around, perhaps no one had been there to contain the fire in its early stages.
This was not a small enough fire for everyone to have escaped completely unharmed.
In some respects, security at the Guide Center was even tighter than at the Esper Bureau.
Safety came first, second, and third there. The building was thoroughly prepared for fires and every other kind of disaster.
And yet, at precisely this moment, a fire had just happened to break out by “coincidence”?
Could a coincidence like that really happen?
“The others are with you too, right? Bring them all to the Center. I’ll wait here.”
Maybe this wasn’t just a simple fire.
As Gyujin stared at the burning building, suspicion took root in his eyes, sharper and brighter than the crimson flames themselves.