Chapter 14: The Oath and the Vanished Researcher

The room suddenly stirred. My aunt, seated at the very end, quickly rose from her seat, covering her mouth with one hand. The murmuring intensified once more. It was clear that I had given them the answer they sought.

“Is this what you wanted to hear?”

“…”

“Since I’ve given you the answer you desired, I’d appreciate it if you’d answer my questions in turn.”

The room, which had been buzzing with whispers, fell silent as a tomb at my single utterance.

“If I’ve explained things in detail as you demanded, shouldn’t you also explain this matter to me in detail?”

I deliberately cast my gaze towards the lowest row. Most of the people present seemed familiar from television or other media outlets, but the four individuals seated at the very bottom were faces I had never encountered before. Without even needing to ask, I could tell that these four individuals, who appeared to be well over sixty, held the ultimate decision-making power.

The four, who had been watching me intently, exchanged a few words before nodding towards the director. And, predictably, it was the young director who spoke next.

“Yun Junseo Esper, do you know how many S-rank Espers have emerged in our country to date?”

“I believe there have been six.”

“That’s correct. Two Espers have retired, and including you, Yun Junseo Esper, a total of four are currently active.”

It was an abrupt question. However, knowing the director’s reputation for meticulousness, I doubted he would ask a question without reason, so I listened patiently.

“In that case, do you know how many of them belong to the Intelligence-type?”

“One.”

“Correct. It’s the currently active Esper Shin Hanseo.”

‘Officially, at least.’

The director then casually dropped a crucial statement that couldn’t be overlooked.

[Any nation where an S-rank Esper appears must register them with the Association.]

This was part of an agreement that all nations had pledged to uphold since the Association’s inception. While its purpose was to aid nations facing emergencies, it also served as a procedure to register Espers who needed to be monitored.

The Association regularly disclosed the abilities and basic profiles of S-rank Espers registered in each country. This was to demonstrate to the public how trustworthy an organization the Association was. And the Association’s media strategy had been successful. Concerns and worries about overly powerful Espers vanished the moment they became ‘Association-registered Espers,’ and at some point, even a sense of longing for such Espers began to emerge. As the popularity of Espers soared, trust in the Association grew stronger, and people began to support both the Association and the Center.

Currently, the public’s anxieties and worries were virtually nonexistent.

“What I am about to say must never leave this room. You will need to take a confidentiality oath. How do you wish to proceed?”

‘A cry of ‘no’ echoed in my mind. I had no obligation to learn the details through complicated explanations, nor any reason to waste time on such a trivial oath.’

I could have simply refused, yet I found myself unable to utter the words.

Up until now, I had lacked nothing and desired nothing. But now, unexpectedly, I had found something I wanted.

“I will. The oath.”

A single desire had stirred my heart. Driven by it, I unknowingly made an irreversible vow. It was an extremely impulsive act for someone who had always been so cautious in everything.

****

After taking the simple oath, as I lowered my hand, I caught sight of my aunt sighing.

Just as I was thinking it was too late to retract, *flicker*—a bright light illuminated the space behind me. Slowly, I turned around to see a large screen displaying numerous unfamiliar words.

“Yun Junseo Esper, do you happen to know the criteria for designating an S-rank?”

It was impossible not to know. For Life-type Espers, it was determined by their healing abilities and the extent of their healing energy, but for Physical-type and Intelligence-type Espers, excluding Life-type, there was only one distinguishing factor.

For Physical-types, who were born with similar strengths, it was difficult to differentiate levels based solely on stamina or brute force; even with the most detailed examinations, the figures were nearly identical from A-rank upwards. Still, Physical-types had more measurable elements. For Intelligence-types, even after undergoing complex tests, the observable results were extremely limited.

However, there was one thing—a very simple and fundamental criterion that could be immediately confirmed without the need for complex examinations.

[Ability]

A special ability that others did not possess. While all Espers possessed special abilities, the Association had specifically designated a few particular abilities. Espers possessing these abilities were immediately classified as S-rank without further testing. Among Physical-types, those who could control natural elements like wind, water, or fire were included, and among Intelligence-types, those with mental manipulation abilities that could control others were also included.

“Thirteen years ago, there was a principal researcher working at the Center. Her name was Lee Jaehee. At the time, she was twenty-one, a remarkably young age to be appointed as a researcher.”

“Twenty-one?”

“That’s right.”

On the screen, a woman with a gentle demeanor was smiling brightly. With her charming eye-smile, flawlessly clear skin, student-like bob cut, and horn-rimmed glasses, she was the very picture of a young girl.

Everyone seated wore a uniformly grim expression. Their faces, which had hardened the moment they saw the screen, grew increasingly severe as the director spoke.

‘A victim?’

I was making my own conjectures while looking at the photo on the screen. I assumed the sudden display of this photo was because she was a victim connected to the incident. However, the director, observing my expression, uttered something incredible.

“She is the ‘master’ you referred to earlier, Yun Junseo Esper.”

‘What?’

I involuntarily scrunched up my face. The face on the screen, if anything, belonged to a victim, certainly not an perpetrator.

I recalled what that Chinese man had said yesterday. ‘All this time, every day felt like walking on thin ice for us. We were terrified beyond words.’

I looked closely once more, but the woman behind the rigid glass barrier had a face that anyone would describe as angelic.

“I understand your surprise. We couldn’t believe it at first either. Even I, her supervisor at the time, found it incredibly difficult to accept. It took a long time to let go of the hope that it wasn’t her, and even after finding evidence, I remained in denial for a while.”

The director continued speaking without pause. A researcher who worked at the Center. She was kind and loved helping others, just like her unassuming appearance suggested, making her popular with both Espers and Guides.

Exactly two years later, she vanished from the Center. Along with twenty-three Guides.

“We speculated that she possessed the ‘Fascination’ ability. Otherwise, we believed it impossible for her to sway so many people to her side all at once.”

Fascination: an ability to dominate another’s mind and force them into submission. It was one of the S-rank special abilities designated by the Association, an ability yet to be discovered in any country.

“To prevent further harm, understanding the opponent was paramount, and if that opponent was an Esper, discovering their ability was the most urgent task. Therefore, we sent the wisest among our high-level Guides to her, requesting confirmation.”

‘They sent someone.’

“Therefore, we sent the wisest among our high-level Guides to her, requesting confirmation.”

“They failed, didn’t they?”

Many people flinched at my blunt remark.

“…That’s right. That Guide never returned either. And simply… became her Guide. That Guide was none other than,”

“Kim Wooyoung.”

I uttered the name with a chilling tone. Several researchers held their breath at my cold, steady voice.

“…Indeed. You know him well.”

‘Of course I do.’

Kim Wooyoung. A Guide so exceptional that anyone present at the Center at the time would undoubtedly know him. And—

“He was originally destined to be Esper Shin Hanseo’s Guide.”

Hanseo Hyung’s first Guide. The first person my brother had loved.

Eleven years ago, a few months before I awakened as an Esper, I had met him somewhere other than the Center. In my still vivid memories, Hanseo Hyung, introducing Kim Wooyoung as his future Guide, was smiling brightly for the very first time. But shortly after, Hanseo Hyung completely lost his smile.

“We believed that Guide Kim Wooyoung could make contact with her as planned without issue.”

‘A lie.’

The Center must have known. Even if Guide Kim Wooyoung didn’t return after being sent, they could confirm her abilities through his disappearance. A national institution that normalized the sacrifice of the few for the greater good would undoubtedly want to confirm her abilities, even at the cost of one Guide’s life, to prevent future victims. It was clear they had sent the most exceptional Guide, Kim Wooyoung, for this very reason.

“At the time, both Guide Kim Wooyoung and Esper Shin Hanseo had agreed to this.”

I had no desire to hear such pointless excuses. Even as the director provided further explanations about what had transpired, it did not change the fact that the Center had deliberately sacrificed the Guide, fully aware of the consequences.

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