Chapter 23: The Lunatic’s Suspiciously Perfect Gentleman Mode

“…The other professors are full of praise. You could’ve graduated without filling those credits, yet you’re taking all the classes you missed.” “…” “As your mother, I don’t really understand it, but… I’m proud of you.”

Haejin could already guess the rest.

Espers could convert hunting achievements into credits, but since the conversion rate varied by rank, low-rank espers and guides had long been resentful.

By pure combat merits, he should’ve graduated years ago.

The reason he stayed in school was simple: he found the headquarters old-timers who tried to control him under the pretext of “credit privileges” utterly repulsive.

It wasn’t some noble sense of justice.

He answered coldly.

“So? Get to the real point. We don’t call each other for chit-chat.”

“Fine, since you’re being blunt. Reports are coming in about unidentified intangibles appearing outside gates. Headquarters is on emergency alert. Stay ready—you could be summoned anytime.”

“I already know that. Anything else?”

“And how long are you going to go without an exclusive guide? I introduced you to several of my S-class students. What exactly is your problem with them?”

Everything was the problem: the fact they were S-class, the fact they were guides, and most of all, the fact that Professor Kim—his mother—was the one who introduced them.

Talking would be pointless anyway.

“I’ll handle my own body. Hanging up.”

Click.

The moment the call ended, his mood hit rock bottom.

He still remembered his father’s last moments vividly.

His father, possessed by a Cyclops without realizing it, had trusted his teammate and taken a fatal wound.

And then, unable even to receive his wife’s guiding, he had died horribly.

“Haejin-ah, you must never hate your mother. Awakened carry a duty that cannot prioritize personal happiness. She had no choice.”

Even as his breath faded, his father had tried to convince him.

Haejin had sobbed.

This world was insane.

A single human life was treated as disposable for the sake of “saving humanity.”

Every day, Haejin thought the same thing.

A human is someone’s child, someone’s spouse, someone’s parent.

If individuals are trampled mercilessly for the majority, what’s the point of saving humanity?

Some would call that sacrifice noble.

Some, like his father, would die with a sense of duty.

Haejin refused to throw his life away like that.

And he refused to let anyone else’s life be treated as trivial under the banner of “the greater good.”

That was why he founded Legion.

An individual is humanity itself.

An ideology directly opposed to headquarters.

Espers who agreed began gathering one by one.

To Haejin, Jung Lee Chae—who loved his own life and family more than anyone and ground himself to the bone every day to protect them—was the embodiment of his perfect ideal.

Yeo-jun tapped the shoulder of Lee Chae, who was staring into space holding a pad.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah, hyung… sorry. I zoned out for a second.”

When one person spaces out on the job, the workload on the other increases.

Lee Chae apologized guiltily, but Yeo-jun just smiled casually.

“No, I wasn’t scolding. Just… you seem off lately. Keep staring at nothing, can’t focus on guiding.”

“Ah, it’s nothing big. Exam period, you know. Just tired.”

He slapped his own cheeks to wake himself up.

If he didn’t snap out of it, he’d spend the whole day thinking about Cha Haejin and ruin work.

Showing up perfectly dressed, no nonsense the moment they meet, taking exams seriously, saying he’ll buy dinner and then not even chasing when Lee Chae runs away?

If this was “I’m done tormenting Jung Lee Chae” normal behavior, he’d welcome it.

But it couldn’t be.

I need to figure out what the hell he’s plotting so I can prepare.

It was better than open harassment, but this suspiciously normal behavior was getting on his nerves. It pissed him off.

Exam week is stressful enough—making me waste brain cells on this is straight-up thug behavior.

Even after finishing work, he instinctively looked where Haejin used to stand.

No one.

And strangely, that disappointed him.

This is seriously not okay.

No, what’s not okay? I got my book back, the stalker vanished—perfect for studying!

He tried to steel himself.

But “don’t think about it” only made the forbidden subject pop up more.

In the end, he pulled another all-nighter forcing himself to focus.

Next day—exact repeat.

Haejin: impeccable outfit, perfect exam focus, zero nonsense.

Lee Chae tried desperately to ignore him and concentrate on the test.

Luckily the questions were manageable; results should be decent.

“Lee Chae-ya, wanna eat the dinner we missed yesterday?”

Remembering how he’d obsessed all day after rejecting the offer yesterday, Lee Chae hesitated.

More contact might be bad, but obsessing alone was worse.

Haejin smiled with gently curved eyes.

“Come on, don’t overthink. It’s just one meal.”

“…Fine. But disappear right after.”

He answered as gruffly as possible.

Haejin grinned like he’d just received a love confession.

Idiot… it’s literally just dinner, why’s he so happy…

Lee Chae assumed student cafeteria.

Instead Haejin walked out the school gate.

The farther they went, the longer the walk back—time not in today’s schedule.

Irritation flared.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far. Just wanted to feed you something good. You always eat that shitty cafete—”

Haejin abruptly shut his mouth.

Lee Chae turned.

Their eyes met—Haejin’s pupils shook.

He could guess what was almost said, and why it was swallowed.

Trying to protect my pride? Or still bothered because I got mad last time?

It was hard to imagine Cha Haejin being that considerate, but the feeling of being respected wasn’t bad.

So he played along.

“Yeah, cafeteria food sucks. We both know. But we’re busy—what else can we do?”

Haejin’s eyes curved into crescents again.

He definitely knew that smile made him look pretty and was using it on purpose.

Annoyed, Lee Chae looked away.

Trying to erase that smile from his brain, they arrived—steakhouse.

A place he’d only ever seen from the outside.

The moment Haejin walked in, every staff member greeted him.

He ignored them all.

His eyes were fixed solely on Lee Chae, as if no one else existed.

Rude bastard… thinks he’s some celebrity.

So yesterday and today’s mature vibe had been an illusion after all.

Following the manager to a table, Lee Chae clutched the menu plan: pick the cheapest item.

But the server just brought water—no menu.

“Like steak?”

Whether he liked it or not, he’d never eaten real steak.

If cafeteria hamburger steak counted, then yes.

“…Who hates meat?”

“Perfect.”

Curved eyes again.

Getting seriously annoyed by the constant eye-smiles, Lee Chae changed the subject.

“Why didn’t they take our order?”

“Ah, here… it’s a single-menu place.”

Haejin’s lips twitched awkwardly up and down.

His eyes were clearly panicked—he was lying.

Lee Chae knew steak involved doneness, cuts, sides—lots of choices.

Single menu with no order? 100% bullshit.

Haejin rolled his eyes awkwardly and changed the subject.

“How was the exam? You probably aced it.”

“Of course I did.”

“Right, because it’s you. You did great.”

Not-really-a-compliment compliment, and again—again—again that smile.

Lee Chae seriously considered gouging those eyes out.