“So… what exactly is today’s training?”
That was when the speakers around the arena began counting down from ten.
—10, 9, 8…
“We just call it grinding.”
Kang Juhee glanced up at the giant monitor overhead. I followed her gaze—then nearly fainted on the spot.
Onscreen was some kind of creature I’d never seen in my life, chained by all four limbs. It must’ve been at least three meters tall, shaped like neither man nor ghost.
Huge horns jutted from its head, yet no eyes could be found. A red, tentacle-like tongue flicked, flashing rows of savage teeth. Every labored breath made its chest swell and split open to reveal the raw red flesh inside.
The grotesque form sent goosebumps crawling up my neck and arms.
I’m the type who, if a scary link ever pops up on my computer, just smashes the power button immediately. Now my heart nearly exploded.
“Wh-what the hell is that?”
I gagged. Juhee, disturbingly enough, spoke in a fond tone.
“That’s a tak-gwi. Classified E-grade—perfect for training lower-ranked espers.”
An aberrant.
I’d heard the word before, but never imagined one could look this repulsive. Well, of course I knew they were ugly, but this—this was nightmare fuel beyond my imagination.
“You mean they bring aberrants into the training ground?!”
I shrieked. Juhee just pointed at the field with her chin.
“As if.”
I whipped my head back down. The monster from the monitor was nowhere to be seen—only a scarecrow-like robot stood there.
Unbelieving, I darted my eyes back and forth between screen and arena.
So… only visible through those goggles Gweonwoo wore?
Then a buzzer blared, signaling the start.
The tak-gwi’s chains fell loose. It threw back its head and screamed. The sound tore into my skull, forcing my hands over my ears.
Then, with legs flailing, it lunged at its prey at terrifying speed. Gweonwoo faltered back, then turned and ran. He was fast—visibly fast—but the tak-gwi closed the distance almost instantly.
My stomach churned. I couldn’t bear to watch the screen, so I fixed on the field instead. Better to watch Gweonwoo shadow-boxing a robot than see him hunted down.
I swallowed hard, throat clicking. My first time watching esper training—and it had to be this barbaric?
My fists clenched, my voice shook.
“He hasn’t even manifested. Even if he has power, he can’t use it yet—and they’re putting him through this?”
“Usually, yes.”
I turned on Juhee, disbelieving.
“You know Rothschild’s flea experiment?”
I shook my head. I could barely memorize fifty hanja; what the hell was a Rothschild.
“Fleas can normally jump hundreds of times their body height.”
“…”
“So one day Rothschild caught a bunch, put them in a box this tall, and sealed it with a glass lid. At first they kept leaping—bang, bang—bashing their heads.”
“…”
“But over time, the noise stopped. When he removed the lid, not a single flea escaped. They’d learned to jump only this high—just enough not to smash their heads. No higher.”
On the field, Gweonwoo went flying through the air like a blanket on a windy day without clothespins. I winced.
“So what did Rothschild do? He set an alcohol lamp under the container and lit it. Guess what happened to the fleas.”
Gweonwoo rolled across the floor a few times, somehow got back up—but the robot didn’t tire, it lunged again.
“They jumped. Higher than the container, heads be damned.”
“…”
“Because they wanted to live.”
Juhee’s gaze stayed calm, watching the field.
“Same idea. Lighting the alcohol lamp. Humans can survive without powers, you know.”
For a moment, I remembered the professor on my first day of guide training. According to him, all of humanity was born with latent power. But whether you used it was up to you. Some died without ever tapping it; others used up every last bit before they went.
Onscreen, the robot grabbed Gweonwoo by the scruff and slammed him into the floor.
Forget fleas—my esper was being rag-dolled like dust under a broom.
“Hold up. My flea—no, my esper looks like he’s dying.”
“Looks painful, but the floor’s impact-absorbent. Barely hurts.”
Barely hurts? My esper was bouncing around like dung on a dung beetle’s ball!
My fists clenched tighter. It was like I was the one getting slammed.
They said continuous guiding forged a bond between esper and guide. A sticky sort of loyalty, even possessiveness. Sometimes it even caused drama worthy of trashy romance shows.
Back then I’d scoffed. Me, with Cha Gweonwoo? But now, watching him pop like popcorn in a frying pan, I couldn’t help recalling the research.
He’s the one in pain—so why does my chest ache like I’m watching my own kid get hurt?
“We… we need to stop this training right now.”
“It’s fine. Field pain is a hundred times—”
“Is it fine?!”
I shot to my feet before I knew it.
Onscreen, Gweonwoo was being devoured by the tak-gwi. He’d die at this rate. I was about to run down myself—
Beep— The blessed end-of-training tone sounded.
At the same time, a short vibration buzzed at my wrist. A guide call.
“Fuck!”
I ripped the door open and bolted. His location blinked on my summoner, simple as could be:
Location: Training Center A2, 1F Temporary Guiding Room
Too simple.
“Shit! How the hell am I supposed to find a guiding room in this place?!”
I cursed as I sprinted out of the elevator.
This place was bigger than a soccer stadium, with no maps anywhere. Who designed this hellhole? May three generations of your family go bankrupt.
I bit my lip and, on a wild hunch, activated the esper locator.
GPS was supposed to be blocked here, so I didn’t expect much—but…
“Oh.”
It worked. The locator synced instantly. My pounding feet screeched to a halt mid-corridor.
Between partner espers and guides, position sharing always worked, anywhere in the world. Pro: you could find them instantly. Con: you could never lie about your own location.
Once, I’d stupidly forgotten that and sent Gweonwoo this message:
Sorry^^ I’m in the hospital, not feeling well. Nothing serious though! I’ll be discharged tomorrow and head straight to the Center^^
Truth was, I just didn’t feel like going in.
Five minutes later, he replied by sending a screenshot from his summoner: my apartment’s location, glaringly obvious.
Fuck!
I shot out of bed and rushed straight to the Center, bowing as I explained:
Good news, the doctor said I can be discharged early!
He looked at me with his patented you’re full of shit face, but I’d seen it too many times to care.
Anyway, my burned flea’s current position was on the exact opposite side of where I stood.
“Goddammit!”
I pivoted and sprinted the other way.
The closer I got, the faster the locator’s beeps came—until they peaked right at the guiding room door.
I killed the tracker, flung the door open, and charged inside—like some drama lead rushing into the ER after hearing their lover’s been in an accident.