Chapter 67: The World Is Watching

Chaewon unconsciously clenched his phone tightly in both hands. He even thought about turning it off right then and there, but in the end he couldn’t overcome his curiosity.

With trembling eyes, he slowly moved his finger and began reading through the comments beneath the article.

The comment section was filled with countless opinions. So many people were curious about Chaewon’s identity. Based on his appearance in the video, some tried to guess his age, while others speculated about his rank.

Someone brought up the rumors about an S-class Esper that had been circulating not long ago, while another scoffed at the idea, saying there was no way they could have hidden an S-class all this time and that at best he was probably A-class.

There were people trying to figure out why this Esper’s existence had been kept hidden until now, and others loudly pushing conspiracy theories, claiming the terror incident that day had actually been an elaborate script by the Disaster Management Agency to raise public interest in him.

But none of those opinions were as numerous as the comments expressing affection and admiration toward Chaewon.

Chaewon’s brow furrowed deeply. He found himself agreeing more with the comments saying that he was obviously nothing special and that they didn’t understand why people were paying so much attention to him.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t believe that the person being showered with praise and flowery words was himself.

He especially couldn’t understand the compliments about his appearance. Of course, Chaewon wasn’t unaware that he wasn’t particularly unpleasant to look at by conventional standards.

From time to time, older people would call him “kept man-like,” whether as praise or as an insult. There had also been occasions when customers showed interest, handing him their numbers or asking for his.

But those things were nothing more than fleeting moments in life. Fundamentally, they never had any positive effect on the people he had to face day after day, the people who made his life more exhausting and difficult.

That was why Chaewon believed that even those who showed interest in him because of his looks would quickly lose that interest if they spent just a little more time with him.

And yet here, there were so many people who didn’t even know him, openly praising him.

They talked about how beautiful he looked when he used his power, how their hearts swelled just watching that short clip, how entranced they felt, how they experienced something almost sacred.

The fact that Chaewon ended up coughing blood and collapsing before fully resolving the situation didn’t seem to bother them at all. If anything, they even praised him for not giving up and continuing to save people until he was pushed to that point.

‘That’s not it. I just wasn’t capable enough to handle it properly.’

Every time Chaewon argued back in his head like that, the kind words that followed immediately below seemed to rebut his thoughts all over again. It was a strange experience.

Raw insults and malicious speculation barely registered with him. The people who had warned him not to look at reactions directly were worried about so-called “hate comments” hurting him, but just as he had expected, those didn’t leave much of an impact.

After silently scrolling through the comments for a while, Chaewon finally closed the page and set his phone down in front of him, sinking into thought.

Jeong-jin and Eunho had mentioned reactions on social media, but Chaewon hadn’t had the energy, or the inclination, to look those up. He simply sat quietly, replaying the words he had read in his mind.

His heart wasn’t racing. He didn’t feel elated. That was because he didn’t believe those praises were truly directed at “Lee Chaewon” as a person.

The object of their admiration was, strictly speaking, a fictional figure. They weren’t speaking based on knowing the real Chaewon.

So there was no reason for the real, existing Chaewon, who was different from the image they described, to feel happy or excited about those compliments.

Still. Just a little.

Chaewon found himself thinking that even if not now, someday he wanted to become someone who genuinely fit those words. Someone even a little closer to that imagined version of him they talked about.

Slowly stretching out his arms, Chaewon relaxed his stiff muscles, still aching from not having fully adapted to training yet. Even though his body didn’t always cooperate, he had been finding joy in the training he’d been doing lately.

The feeling that he was striving to move forward, rather than desperately struggling just to avoid sinking, was too precious for him to ever want to lose.

After carefully placing his phone back on the bedside table, Chaewon lay down and tucked himself neatly under the covers. He hoped tomorrow would come quickly. He wanted to train more. He didn’t want to neglect anything, stamina, combat, telekinesis.

At first, it had just been anxiety, worry about not being expelled from here, about not causing harm to others. But now, it wasn’t fear or impatience driving him anymore. He simply liked this work and wanted to do better at it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone to sleep at the end of the day sincerely wishing for tomorrow to come. He wasn’t even sure such a day had ever existed before.

That realization felt strange. And good. Almost unbelievable, like, after living his life, days like this could really come.

With a contented heart, Chaewon closed his eyes. Even if people’s praise wasn’t truly meant for him, there were more and more moments in his life now that made him smile just by thinking about them.

****

“Is it really necessary to disclose things this explicitly?”

After silently reading the contents written on the paper Ye-seon had handed him, Su-ha spoke with clear dissatisfaction on his face. Chaewon, seated beside him, was still reading.

What Ye-seon had given them after calling Su-ha and Chaewon into his office was a document summarizing the information about Esper Lee Chaewon that would be released to the press.

It condensed Chaewon’s past life, those exhausting, lonely days that lasted until the very end—into just a few lines of text.

The fact that he had been a terminal patient, pushed to the brink of death before awakening, was the central element of Chaewon’s past. It was an important factor that made it understandable why, despite being S-class, his side effects were so severe.

It was also the kind of dramatic seasoning that would appeal to a public that loved tragic backstories. Su-ha knew that.

What worried him was whether Chaewon would really be okay with those days, days that could never have been easy, being exposed overnight for everyone to talk about.

Watching Chaewon finish reading and place the paper down on the table, Ye-seon opened his mouth.

“As you can see, public interest has grown too big. The fact that there’s video footage probably pushed things over the edge… In any case, from the government’s perspective, they want to steer this heightened attention in a positive direction.”

From the government’s standpoint, this was a situation worth applauding. They’d likely been agonizing over how to package Chaewon’s existence and when to reveal it, so for things to blow up like this must have felt like perfect timing.

Even footage of him coughing blood and collapsing had already been released. It was, quite frankly, an ideal setup. In a situation like this, there was no way higher-ups would consider the emotional toll on Chaewon of having his misfortune laid bare for the world.

Su-ha knew that voicing complaints wouldn’t change anything. Ye-seon knew it too. Neither of them had the power to alter the course of events. All Ye-seon could do was make some effort to help Chaewon brace himself for what was coming.

Though he spoke as if there was nothing to be done, Ye-seon couldn’t hide his heavy expression. This time, he turned to Chaewon, who had remained silent, and asked,

“What do you think, Chaewon?”

“Pardon?”

Lost in thought, Chaewon looked up in mild surprise. Ye-seon carefully softened his expression, trying to make it easier for Chaewon to speak honestly.

“To be frank, I don’t have the authority to completely change the direction that’s already been decided. But if there’s something you truly want to keep hidden, I can try bringing it up again. I can’t promise it’ll be accepted, but…”

As Ye-seon said, the higher-ups had clearly set their course the moment Chaewon awakened and entered the center.

Assigning Su-ha as his paired guide despite such severe side effects, and having Ye-seon himself, the leader of Management Team 1, personally oversee him, were all clear signs that they intended to use what Chaewon had for this very purpose.

There was no way they would pass up such a good opportunity out of consideration for Chaewon’s personal circumstances. Su-ha and Ye-seon both knew that.

Even so, Ye-seon wanted to try one more time. He wanted to do whatever he could to lessen Chaewon’s pain, even just a little. He didn’t know when he’d become so emotional, but that was how he honestly felt right now.

And finally, meeting Ye-seon’s gaze with calm eyes, Chaewon spoke.

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