Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Ugh… What in the world…?”

A shapeless flame surged, bringing with it an intense heat that felt as if every pore on my body had burst open. This alien energy, unlike anything I had ever experienced, made my body instinctively recoil.

‘An ability?’

It felt as though I had been cast into the heart of a boiling volcano, my breath catching in my throat. Though only a fleeting moment, barely a few minutes, I instinctively knew I couldn’t remain standing. I stumbled backward, my legs threatening to give out. Even the air I drew in now carried the acrid scent of burnt kindling.

Just as I pressed forward, searching for an exit, all the lights in the otherwise dark room began to flicker erratically. In their intermittent glow, the full extent of Room 714, in the Blue Wing—Yoon Geon-woo’s solitary confinement—came into view.

The room’s overall layout was no different from the Red Wing dormitory where the Guides resided. Yet, this particular room was eerily, suspiciously empty. The only piece of furniture was a single bed, and even that was just a bare mattress.

Scattered around the bed were countless empty medicine packets and discarded plastic bottles. Beyond these, the desolate space held no other traces of habitation.

‘What is that…?’

In the very center of that stark, barren room, something lay concealed beneath a monochromatic blanket.

At first, I thought it might be a pile of clothes or trash bundled together. However, as I watched intently, I realized it was twitching, then twitching again, as if it were a living creature.

Well, since I was in Yoon Geon-woo’s room, that suspicious lump was most likely him.

“Yoon… Geon-woo…?”

On a hunch, I cautiously called his name, but no reply came.

In this unexpected situation, only two choices presented themselves: either open the door and leave as if nothing had happened, or approach the lump presumed to be Yoon Geon-woo.

Part of me desperately wanted to flee this unsettling space immediately. Yet, if I were to leave now, would anything truly be different from before?

Undoubtedly, it would be the same as before the regression: a future where I’d be unpaired without ever having exchanged a single word with Yoon Geon-woo.

‘In that case… there’s nothing to even think about.’

Taking a deep, quiet breath, I resigned myself to choosing the latter option.

“You… you’re Yoon Geon-woo, right?”

Coaxing my hesitant legs forward, I slowly drew closer to him.

Still, no answer came, and the monochromatic lump, presumably Yoon Geon-woo, continued to swell and recede in rhythmic, labored breaths.

As the distance between us closed, I became aware of his unnaturally ragged breathing.

‘Is he perhaps sick?’

Was it due to a lack of guiding? Or was he simply unwell? Half-worried, half-frightened, I hesitated to approach, especially as the fiery aura emanating from him intensified.

However, for an S-rank Esper to be so oblivious to an intruder opening his door and stepping inside, this was clearly no ordinary situation.

After a moment of deliberation, I cautiously picked up the edge of the wide-spread blanket. Lacking the courage to yank it off in one swift motion, I gently lifted it, as if testing the waters, when suddenly, a forceful impact resonated as a flash of blue light burst from the shadowed crevice of the monochromatic blanket.

Simultaneously, an invisible force violently shoved me backward. The event unfolded so instantaneously that I had no time to even register that something was amiss.

“Agh!”

Not only did my chest throb from the impact, but I also landed hard on my backside, tumbling to the floor. Every spot that had collided with the ground felt as if an electric current surged through it.

‘Damn it… that hurts like hell.’

The hot energy swirling around me was unmistakably an Esper’s psychokinesis. Tears welled in my eyes from the excruciating pain.

To him, it might have been a mere gesture of refusal, but an S-rank Esper’s power always defied common sense. It was fortunate there were no other furnishings in the room; had I struck my head on a sharp corner, I might not have lived to see my second graduation.

While it was entirely my fault for opening his door unbidden and intruding upon his space, I couldn’t shake a feeling of injustice, as my intent had been solely out of concern for his condition.

Clutching my aching chest, I slowly, unsteadily pushed myself up, and from beneath the monochromatic blanket, the room’s occupant, Yoon Geon-woo, emerged as expected.

“Haa… ha…”

His blue eyes flashed, accompanied by ragged, gasping breaths.

The Yoon Geon-woo before me appeared even worse than I had anticipated. His bangs were soaked and matted with sweat, and dark circles beneath his eyes, like bruises, spoke of profound exhaustion.

His sharply sculpted nose and prominent, chiseled jawline gave him an even more sensitive and irritable appearance. Amidst this, his firmly pressed, moderately thick lips were chapped and cracked, with tiny clots of blood forming. If he were to speak even carelessly, his skin would surely split, and he would taste blood.

The tips of his fingers, clutching the blanket, were torn and raw, with red hangnails, clearly betraying his current precarious state.

Despite his delicate features, which seemed at odds with his large physique, he exuded more fragility than mere haggardness; in simpler terms, he was just a patient.

Stealing a glance at Yoon Geon-woo, I cautiously took a step toward him.

“Are you alright?”

“…Haa.”

“This is because of guiding deficiency, isn’t it?”

Yoon Geon-woo replied in a faint voice, barely audible unless one listened very closely. While I couldn’t make out the precise words, the gist seemed to be ‘get lost.’

‘I can’t back down now.’

Had he been crying alone beneath that monochromatic blanket? Now that I looked closely, the sharp upward curve of his eyes, beneath his thick eyebrows, was also flushed red.

“Let me guide you.”

“…Get out.”

“I’m your new pair.”

“Damn it… just get out.”

Yoon Geon-woo half-raised his collapsed body, glaring in my direction.

Though he exuded a chilling, sharp aura, he seemed barely able to sustain it, appearing so precarious he might collapse at any moment.

I tried to cajole him, assuring him it would only take a moment, but it seemed to have the opposite effect; a shimmering heat haze began to rise around Yoon Geon-woo. By the look of it, he was attempting to use his ability.

‘What if he goes berserk?’

This was an unprecedented situation, so I couldn’t predict what outcome today’s events might bring. However, I knew one thing for certain: I was trapped in an enclosed room with a ticking time bomb on the verge of explosion.

Of course, there was one solution: I was the very lifeline, the handful of living water, that could calm Yoon Geon-woo.

Given his alarming state, it seemed prudent to try using the ability that had suddenly manifested after my regression.

‘Now’s my chance.’

As Yoon Geon-woo momentarily faltered, I lunged forward, almost flying, and seized his hand. He immediately recoiled, trembling violently as if he had touched something forbidden, and struggled to shake off my grasp.

Our conjoined skin burned as if on fire. I couldn’t tell if it was due to his raging fever or the sheer power of the ability he was emitting.

“It’ll only take a moment, truly.”

I pleaded with Yoon Geon-woo, practically clinging to him, pouring out a torrent of words. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. In the brief moment he flinched, I interlaced my fingers firmly with his, ensuring he couldn’t pull away.

While my arm strength was admittedly poor, my grip, despite appearances, was comparable even to Espers. As long as he didn’t use his ability again, he wouldn’t easily escape.

It was only a matter of seconds, but as my ability activated while touching Yoon Geon-woo’s bare skin, faint golden letters materialized in the air.

[Matching Rate 94%]

[Contamination Level 89%]

A mysterious power that revealed an Esper’s matching rate and contamination level upon contact.

I had been utterly astonished when this ability first activated on its own after my regression. I’d even worried I was hallucinating from extreme stress.

It was only after making light contact with a few Espers I encountered on campus that I realized it was a new ability acquired after my regression.

‘Crazy, the contamination level… 89%?’

The government’s standard contamination level for Espers was set at 30%. Exceeding 30% typically required guiding, and anything over 70% categorized an Esper as a high-risk individual prone to rampaging, leading to medication or, in extreme cases, isolation.

But 89%? Wasn’t this a highly critical state, where an explosion could happen at any moment?

I wore a startled expression, shocked by the alarmingly high contamination level. Yoon Geon-woo, his face looking as if he might collapse any second, bit down on his lips as if suppressing a fierce thirst, trying to push me away.

With a matching rate exceeding 90%, it was likely that subtle guiding had begun to seep through our clasped hands.

‘Coercive guiding… that’s not allowed.’

Guiding without mutual consent was tantamount to a criminal act. However, wasn’t this an emergency, where such considerations were secondary?

“Sorry, Yoon Geon-woo.”

“You… now…”

“Just this once, for just one minute.”

Believing I had no further retreat, I closed my eyes tightly and pulled Yoon Geon-woo’s hand closer. Though I trembled, wondering if he might hit me, I had already steeled myself for a blow the moment I forcibly grasped his hand.

As I began to pour guiding through our clasped hands, he looked down at me with a hazy, dazed gaze.

It was the moment the power of a 94% matching rate manifested.

But pouring a single small plastic bottle of water onto a vast desert wouldn’t end a drought. Without hesitation, I seized Yoon Geon-woo’s nape.

‘He’s burning hot.’

The moment his scalding breath enveloped me, I finally understood.

He wasn’t a parched desert, but the colossal sun scorching it.

📚 Also on NHV Novels

I’m Not the Saintess! I’m a Good-for-Nothing Young Master!

Female ProtagonistGender BenderReverse Pursuit

Read Now →
Not interested