Chapter 15: The 97% Kiss

At that exact moment, the pads on the desk shot into the air and crashed to the floor.

In this school, only one person could move objects around like that.

A bad feeling made Lee Chae open his eyes.

Cha Haejin stood right in front of him, in full uniform.

“Sorry I’m late, babe. It’s our first official schedule together, so I had to dress properly.”

First official schedule? Dress properly? What the hell is this lunatic saying?

Haejin smiled like a tail-wagging puppy and patted Lee Chae’s shoulder twice.

“I told you I’d feed you for life even if you quit school. Why come here and deal with trash like them, hm?”

By now, Haejin’s crazy talk didn’t even surprise him anymore.

While Lee Chae’s face asked are you insane?, Haejin didn’t even glance at the others and kept spitting venom.

“My darling always says it—humans should play with humans. You can’t use monsters.”

The hand on his shoulder moved up, ruffled his hair a few times, then dropped.

Lee Chae had been too stunned to react, but this sudden disaster had ruined his new strategy: treat Haejin like a complete stranger until he gave up.

Sure, Haejin had roasted those cockroaches for him—slightly appreciated.

But the ruined plan piled on the stress.

Anyway, why is he here? What’s this “first official schedule” bullsht? And why the uniform?*

Haejin grabbed Lee Chae’s hand and led him to their station.

The esper who’d just taken a direct hit started whining to his guide: I’m dead, I told you to tone it down— while everyone else stared at the floor, terrified of meeting Haejin’s cold eyes.

Soon the professor entered and the practical began.

Lee Chae glared at the now-sealed door, cheeks puffed.

Any hope of Park Yoochan showing up was as dead as that closed door.

“Being chosen as a guide’s practice subject is for the esper’s own benefit. Thank you all for volunteering. Now—espers, please remove your outer clothing and get on the table.”

Haejin shouted “Yes, sir!” loud enough for the whole room, then started unbuttoning his shirt too.

Lee Chae grabbed his wrist in horror and hissed:

“Are you crazy? Why the shirt?”

“If I take the shirt off too, the practice will go better.”

He flexed his chest on purpose.

Lee Chae hurriedly covered it with the pad, grinding his teeth.

“If you ruin my practical, you’re dead. Please, just act normal.”

“Call me Haejin-hyung and put it back on. Then I’ll keep the shirt.”

If this weren’t class, if it weren’t graded, he’d smash the pad over his head and curse a storm.

But he couldn’t.

Haejin whispered “Come on~” and winked shamelessly.

It felt like bugs crawling on his skin, like heartburn, but if one sentence kept the shirt on—he swallowed it.

“Haejin-hyung, please put it on.”

Haejin grinned, climbed onto the table fully clothed.

“Put it on, got it. Anything my Lee Chae asks, I do.”

His cheeks were bright red.

Why the hell were his cheeks red?

Lee Chae sighed, turned on the machine that recorded results, and connected the pads.

“Contact is better, but non-contact is whatever.”

He ignored the grumbling, took a deep breath, and raised the pads over Haejin’s body.

Then a sudden thought: this situation might not be so bad.

The “perfect matching rate” was just Haejin’s baseless claim.

Sure, the weird reactions worried him, but if today’s practice proved a D-class guide had no real effect?

It would be the perfect chance to finally get rid of him.

“All on the table? Timer starts in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—begin!”

Beep.

Lee Chae placed the pads on Haejin’s ankles first.

He watched the monitor and slowly slid them upward.

The graph, which had been rippling low, began to climb.

Past the shins, lingering a minute at the knees, then to the thighs—the graph went berserk.

Sharp spikes, sudden drops, repeated over and over.

What the…? Machine error? Or the weird reaction again?

He’d never seen a graph like this.

A wave that huge should’ve drained him to the point he couldn’t hold the pads, yet he felt nothing.

His carefully steadied heart started pounding like crazy.

If he lost control of his energy, he’d lose points.

Sweat beaded on his palms.

Then Haejin’s low voice:

“Focus and keep guiding. It’s not an error, not the weird reaction. It’s because the matching rate is insane. Just don’t let go of the pads—you’ll get full marks.”

Lee Chae gripped tighter.

The graph was still wild.

He looked at Haejin with shaking eyes.

Haejin, calm:

“If you want the graph stable, move the pads to the stomach. It’s going crazy because they’re too close down there.”

Lee Chae quickly moved them up.

The graph calmed almost instantly.

No way… it really was because they were near his—

Haejin narrowed his eyes at him.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not excited by the pads.”

Lee Chae snorted.

“Then what?”

“You. Jung Lee Chae.”

The brief lightness from the pad joke vanished.

He knew exactly what answer would come out of that mouth—why did he even ask?

He refocused.

When the pads reached the chest, the graph went wild again.

Why here? Because it’s near the heart?

He tilted the pads slightly right to avoid the heart.

The graph stabilized immediately.

“Good job.”

“Shut up. The one receiving guiding shouldn’t talk so much.”

The pads moved higher, revealing a firm jaw, slightly parted lips, a sharp nose.

A little higher—deep, dark eyes met his.

Lee Chae’s hand trembled for a second.

Guiding ended with plenty of time left.

When he let go, his hand was sticky with cold sweat.

Haejin squirmed on the table like he was uncomfortable.

“My turn lying down, so the score will be perfect anyway. Right?”

He glanced over.

The curve of his eyes seemed to say I won, didn’t I?

Annoying.

Lee Chae turned away—and saw the machine.

[Matching Rate – 97.1455% | Guide Score – 99]

Near-perfect.

He’d been confident he’d score high if he didn’t mess up, but this matching rate?

Haejin was grinning at the screen.

The timer rang—time up.

“Well done, everyone. One team recorded a near-perfect score. The stored data will be reflected in your grades and ratings.”

It wouldn’t override rank anyway.

As long as the grade was good, whatever.

Haejin hopped off the table like a spring, put his uniform jacket back on, and stared straight at Lee Chae.

Lee Chae said flatly:

“What.”

“Congrats on the great score.”

It was nothing special, yet heat rushed to his face.

Maybe because everyone was staring, expecting something.

Lee Chae shoved the pads into his bag without a thank-you and turned to leave.

He didn’t ask for the favor—he didn’t owe gratitude.

Ugh, it’s hot.

Would he make it home for a shower and still get to the cleanup crew on time?

The air in the practice room had turned stifling.

Even non-contact guiding left lingering heat between imprinted pairs.

His heart pounded like before a major exam, blood racing, stomach churning, face burning.

Weird reaction?

The room’s heat?

Or all the eyes staring, expecting something?

He couldn’t move a step.

He crouched slightly, anxious under the persistent stares.

He needed to get out, now—but he didn’t know what was wrong.

When his pulse finally started to slow, he looked up.

Haejin was right in front of him, smiling loosely.

Perverted bastard. If Park Yoochan had just shown up, you’d be gone.

He cursed inwardly, but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Haejin extended a hand—get up.

Lee Chae brushed it away lightly and stood on his own.

The moment their hands touched and separated, sparks flew.

“See? Keep rejecting me and it gets worse.”

“Don’t need it.”

He could move now—no reason to stay.

He took one step—

And froze again.

What? He’s not using his ability.

His mouth was desert-dry.

His eyes kept drifting to Haejin’s lips.

The weird reaction was clearly worse than he thought.

Otherwise…

Haejin grabbed his arm tight.

“Stay still.”

He glared like he’d devour him, yet his voice was gentle.

Then he pressed his lips softly against Lee Chae’s—just a touch—and pulled away.

The scorching heat that had threatened to swallow him whole began to cool, pleasantly.