Chapter 20: A Reluctant Performance

“It’s quite a bother that we have to see each other again for this shoot. After all, Mr. Han Do-hoon, your usual activities are overseas. I sincerely hope you get to enjoy plenty of Korean food and rest well before you return abroad.”

The greeting was laden with the unspoken wish that they wouldn’t cross paths again before then. Han Do-hoon, who had been turning to leave, paused and looked back.

His gaze swept over Sa-yoon from head to toe once more, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“Truthfully, there were other S-rank Espers on the battlefield as well.”

“What?”

“I’m merely stating a fact.”

Han Do-hoon, casting a sidelong glance at Sa-yoon, uttered those enigmatic words before turning and walking away.

“What was that…”

Sa-yoon stood alone in the deserted corridor, muttering to himself. He pondered the unsettling implication of Han Do-hoon’s parting words.

Other S-rank Espers had been present on the battlefield, yet Han Do-hoon had shown no inclination to engage with any of them. But with Sa-yoon, he seemed to feel differently. ‘Was that truly what he meant?’

Sa-yoon’s face contorted into a grimace.

“Does he think he’s some kind of emperor? Is he expecting me to be grateful for being ‘chosen’ among countless S-ranks?”

‘He’s truly insufferable.’ Sa-yoon grumbled, turning away from the direction Han Do-hoon had taken.

Even he, accustomed to the self-important arrogance of S-rank Espers, found Han Do-hoon’s particular brand of pride difficult to stomach.

Awkwardness aside, work was work.

Under the blazing sun, Sa-yoon diligently flailed his arms in the center of the training grounds. He stretched vigorously, right and left, pushing his body to its limits.

His usually relaxed muscles strained, protesting against their sudden exertion.

“Excellent. Simply magnificent!”

The director’s voice boomed through a megaphone, a thoughtful gesture for the crew members scattered far across the field.

Sa-yoon briefly considered pointing out that Espers didn’t need such amplification and could just speak normally, but ultimately shook his head.

It was far quicker to simply follow instructions and get it over with, rather than prolonging the process. The director and assistant director exchanged a few grumbling words, their expressions clearly dissatisfied, before the assistant director hurried over to Sa-yoon.

“Uh, Team Leader Jin Sa-yoon. You’re already doing splendidly, but perhaps you could move a little more… passionately? As if in actual combat?”

“But in real missions, I usually just stand still.”

Sa-yoon wasn’t a brawler who relied on brute force; he fought by manipulating his surroundings and employing strategy. What reason would he have to move ‘passionately’?

“Oh, or perhaps… how do your usual training sessions go?”

“I don’t train.”

Sa-yoon felt a pang of guilt for the assistant director, whose face had turned ashen. However, it was true: Sa-yoon simply didn’t train.

Ever since he awakened as an S-rank, his body had autonomously adapted to the most optimal form for his abilities. He’d grown taller and his musculature had increased naturally.

He understood that many Espers who relied on physical prowess could strengthen themselves through rigorous training and conditioning. Yet, this wasn’t Sa-yoon’s experience.

Unnecessary fatigue only served to dull his mental acuity.

“If this is a documentary, wouldn’t it be better to film something closer to reality? Rather than enduring this scorching sun and staging a performance?”

“My apologies. The director is… a bit traditional. Still, the next shoot will be indoors, I promise.”

The assistant director bowed deeply to Sa-yoon. Sa-yoon supposed the man was simply following his superior’s orders; he bore no ill will.

Patting the assistant director’s shoulder reassuringly, Sa-yoon sent him back to the director’s side. ‘At least it’ll be more comfortable indoors,’ he thought.

With that in mind, he ran through the training ground a few more times, completing the shot.

A short while later, Sa-yoon stepped indoors, but his face remained as dark and sullen as the training ground’s muddy floor.

“I’d rather just shoot outside again.”

“Oh, come on. What are you saying? Indoors is much better. It’s shaded here, and no dust blows around.”

Chae-jun replied with a wide smile, his bright face beaming with joy.

“Well then, Team Leader Sa-yoon, please continue your hard work. We’ll be heading off now.”

“Is it really something to be so happy about, abandoning me here?”

“My only desire is to remain by the side of the most respected and beloved Team Leader Sa-yoon for all eternity. However, the film crew mentioned that extra people would be a distraction, so everyone was told to go home—or rather, to return to their original duties.”

Since their work for the day *was* the shoot, its conclusion meant immediate dismissal. Sa-yoon watched Chae-jun depart with a light heart, barely suppressing tears of pure envy.

The individuals assigned to the anti-terror mission were Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon. At the director’s fervent request to capture scenes of the two training and strategizing together, they were the only ones who had to remain before the cameras.

“Alright, if you could just spar lightly here. We need a combat scene.”

“What?”

Sa-yoon dug at his ear, asking again. Had he misheard? From a distance, the director, megaphone in hand, beamed as he issued instructions to both Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon.

“Just mimic a fight. Pretend to exchange blows. Oh, and flashy is good!”

“When Espers fight, it’s rarely just ‘play-acting,’ you know?”

“Oh, come now, you’re professionals. Just make it look impressive, without actually making contact. Understood? Then, we’re rolling!”

Sa-yoon stood dumbfounded, blinking slowly. While their current location was indeed an indoor training facility, sealed off from the film crew by thick walls and specialized glass, were two S-rank Espers truly expected to fight here?

Sa-yoon scratched his head in disbelief.

Sparring wasn’t an issue in itself, but high-ranking Espers typically engaged in mock combat by sealing their abilities and fighting purely hand-to-hand. The director couldn’t possibly be expecting that.

Sa-yoon glanced at Han Do-hoon, fully expecting him to share his bewildered discomfort. However…

‘Right. This guy isn’t exactly normal, either.’

Han Do-hoon was smiling with a vibrant intensity Sa-yoon had never witnessed before, an eagerness for battle practically radiating from him.

“I must admit, I have been curious. I’ve never had the opportunity to face a space manipulation ability user.”

“It is a rather rare ability, I suppose. Ah, I don’t know.”

Sa-yoon adopted a ready stance, swiftly memorizing the coordinates spreading beneath his feet. His sole desire was to give the film crew what they wanted and conclude this quickly.

As a bonus, perhaps breaking a few of Han Do-hoon’s bones wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Alright, we’re rolling!”

Instantly, the temperature in the training room soared. Heat haze shimmered from the floor, and a crimson vortex rippled around Han Do-hoon.

This was his intention: to transform the confined space into a more suitable battleground.

“The burns might sting a little.”

However, an indoor environment was inherently advantageous for Sa-yoon.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor tiles, which then began to shift slowly. Flat stones ripped free, levitating one by one into the air.

“Just don’t cry when it hurts.”

The two Espers clashed in mid-air.

As the director had envisioned, the battle was both dazzling and ferocious. Stones melted and rained down from above, while torrents of flame were abruptly halted by the rising floor.

A series of blinding explosions and ear-splitting roars that threatened to shatter the speakers erupted in quick succession.

Had the Commander not rushed in, alerted by the tremors, and yelled for them to stop immediately, they likely would have fought until the entire building crumbled.

And so…

“I should have hit him harder.”

“I told you not to feel regret.”

Chae-jun said, lightly tapping the bandage wrapped around Sa-yoon’s arm.

“Apparently, the training ground, which was supposedly designed to withstand a nuclear explosion, has developed cracks. I knew our Team Leader was a bit… unhinged, but I never imagined Team Leader Han Do-hoon would be just as wild.”

“He provoked me first.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did.”

Sa-yoon pouted, feeling a wave of injustice. Not only had he been slightly injured in the fight with Han Do-hoon a few days prior, but now Chae-jun was misunderstanding the entire situation.

“How could you doubt your esteemed Team Leader, who was clearly injured?”

“I heard Team Leader Han Do-hoon was hurt far worse.”

“Well, of course he was.”

It had been a clash between a man who could merely breathe fire and a truly formidable individual capable of twisting space itself. It was inconceivable that Sa-yoon would suffer greater injury.

While his skin had inevitably been singed despite dodging every attack, Han Do-hoon, on the other hand, had likely sustained a broken bone or two.

“Anyway, thanks to that, the footage turned out great. Have you seen the documentary trailer?”

“They certainly made it quite extravagant.”

“Extravagant? No way! It’s absolutely amazing. I’ve watched it over fifty times!”

The documentary trailer featuring both Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon had been released. ‘A trailer for a documentary? Are we idols now?’ he’d thought initially.

However, upon seeing the YouTube views surpass one million in a single day, he promptly swallowed his words.

“I already knew our Team Leader was amazing, but this time, you were truly, truly incredible.”

Indeed, the editing was so spectacular that even Sa-yoon, watching the video, found his jaw dropping. It showed a person breathing fire, and another warping entire walls.

The image of the Espers battling, beads of sweat glistening, was a scene perfectly crafted for awe and adoration. Accompanied by majestic music, it truly evoked a sense of sublime dedication to protecting the nation.

In reality, the Sa-yoon on screen was not thinking about wanting an early dismissal. Regardless, the trailer itself had turned out spectacularly.

“Well, it seems our hard fighting wasn’t entirely in vain.”

The public’s current fascination with the two of them now surpassed that directed at most celebrities. Having spent his days idly within the headquarters, Sa-yoon hadn’t fully grasped the extent of it.

Yet, it seemed the day he’d jokingly mentioned writing an autobiography might not be so far off after all.

“Oh, that’s right. The Commander is currently reviewing the final cut, which will air soon. Will you be going to check it yourself, Team Leader Sa-yoon?”

“The Commander can just give it a quick look and release it. There won’t be much substance to it, anyway.”

The trailer alone made it obvious. It would be a documentary filled with a few seconds of interviews, interspersed with flashy scenes disguised as “archive footage” to pad out the runtime.

Just another superficial documentary, like all the others released thus far.