Chapter 32: A Death Sentence Measured in Waves

The numbers displayed on the black monitor shot far past the red line drawn across the center of the screen and showed no sign of dropping.

That red line was probably the average upper limit.

Beside the desk where Kim Kyungwoon sat, there were also rows of bizarre-looking photographs hanging on the wall.

Among them were images that looked like brain scans, portions of them blackened as though the brain itself were dying.

My thoughts went cold.

“…What are you talking about, doctor? Brainwave radiation exposure? No, no. That can’t be right. It really can’t. No, even if that were true… then there’s no way I’d still be alive and perfectly fine like this. Right?”

“…In Jaeyoon-ssi’s case, unlike the guiding victims commonly documented in academia, we believe you were exposed to harmful brainwaves over a very long period of time. It didn’t explode all at once like a bomb. Think of it more as the numbers gradually accumulating over time, slowly spreading through your body from the inside.”

Kim Kyungwoon’s careful voice sounded distant.

I had thought I would hear nothing more than a few scoldings or warnings.

I never imagined things would turn into this.

Brainwave radiation exposure was something I had only ever heard about in manuals.

Who would ever dare imagine that such a phenomenon would personally happen to them?

“Doctor, there has to be some misunderstanding. Right, lately I haven’t been feeling well physically, but… no, I guided all the team members at once earlier today, so I’m probably just exhausted. Really. I-I’m fine, doctor.”

“…Jaeyoon-ssi, listen carefully. All the images hanging here are scans of your organs taken with medical equipment. Your duodenum, your brain, your bone marrow — none of them are normal. Especially your brain. Compared to a healthy person’s brain, anyone could tell something is seriously wrong.”

“Doctor.”

“…To be precise, your body is dying.”

My right hand, tangled with machines and wires, trembled violently.

No — my entire body was trembling.

The heater was working fine, and the examination room temperature was stable, yet chills kept crawling over me.

Like a pitiful wild animal drenched in cold rain, I grabbed tightly onto Kim Kyungwoon’s doctor’s coat and pleaded.

“No… no, that can’t be true. Really….”

“Jaeyoon-ssi, the team you’re currently assigned to is Assault Team 3, correct?”

“……”

“Correct?”

At Kim Kyungwoon’s repeated question, I nodded as though hypnotized.

“Then these symptoms aren’t particularly surprising. From the start, guiding that many high-level Espers likely placed an overwhelming burden on your body. More importantly, before Choi Siram joined the team, you alone handled all the guiding responsibilities for Assault Team 3….”

“So, doctor… what you’re trying to say is….”

Every word from Kim Kyungwoon felt like a sharpened executioner’s sickle pressed against my throat.

The sound of my dry swallow sliding down my throat echoed loudly.

“Yes. If things continue like this, Han Jaeyoon-ssi will die. There’s a very high probability.”

Death had always been both close and distant in my life.

At an age most people would still call young — my mid-twenties — I had already witnessed countless people die.

And yet, strangely enough, even while flesh exploded, blood flooded the streets, and the news reported dozens dying daily from civil wars across nations… I survived.

Upon my grandmother’s sacrifice.

Upon the cowardice of abandoning Yoon Heesung.

Protected by the Center as a Guide, I clung stubbornly to life.

“Treatment… there’s no treatment method? Even the smallest possibility is fine, please.”

“…There isn’t one. In fact, reckless treatment attempts could place even greater strain on your body. More than anything, stopping guiding immediately is the top priority. At this rate, your body won’t endure it.”

“…Then specifically, how much time do I have left?”

“At most, about a year. At minimum, maybe half a year. Even that is only a calculated estimate based on your current numbers. In reality, the illness could progress faster or worsen more suddenly.”

Was that why?

Because I had survived by stepping over so many lives, was this my punishment now?

The moment I heard that I had at best only a year left, the trembling throughout my body suddenly stopped.

The ticking of the clock.

Kim Kyungwoon’s careful voice as he tried to gently explain reality to me.

Everything slowed.

“…There are Guides nearing fifty who are still actively working. They’re healthy. They’re living perfectly normal lives. So why only me…?”

“…Weren’t you told when you entered the Center?”

“…….”

After I listed several famous active Guides as examples, Kim Kyungwoon looked at me with painful pity and began explaining again.

“Jaeyoon-ssi, the only reason someone with a barely above-average rank like you was able to guide such high-ranking Espers like Assault Team 3 was because of your compatibility rate. No matter how high an Esper’s rank is, if their compatibility with a Guide is poor, it means nothing.”

“…….”

“But compatibility doesn’t solve everything. High-ranking Guides can guide Espers at their own level — or even slightly above — without much physical strain. But for you, every session was essentially burning away your stamina and bodily functions.”

Right before entering the Center, during the first and last private meeting I ever had with the Center Director, he told me this:

If I were assigned to a team and began guiding, there was a high chance it would severely burden my body.

But if I still wished to sign the contract knowing that, I should think carefully before deciding.

No matter what happened afterward, the Center would at least provide compensation, but they could not take responsibility beyond that.

Now that I thought about it, that had been the Director’s final warning to me.

The researchers at the Center, and everyone aware of the contract details, had all been deceiving me — intentionally or not.

“…Did they know?”

I’m a refugee.

A homeless orphan with nothing.

Even if I died in some accident during guiding, there was no one who would demand compensation from the Center on my behalf, no one who would bring my case before the Guide Human Rights Committee.

So from the Center’s perspective, I must have seemed like the perfect candidate.

“When the Director and the researchers standing beside him signed that contract… did they already know something like this could happen?”

A disposable card.

That was all I had ever been worth to the people at the Center.

“…Jaeyoon-ssi, you’re an extremely unusual case. It’s almost unheard of for a low-ranking Guide to have such high compatibility with top-level Espers. Even in academia, cases like yours only barely exist in written literature. And a case where brainwave radiation exposure progressed this slowly? I’ve never heard of one.”

“…….”

“So everyone probably thought, surely not. After all, you’d endured this long without problems. Even I, as a doctor, never expected this. There’s no way the higher-ups at the Center paid attention to details this specific either.”

Maybe he intended it as comfort, but it didn’t comfort me at all.

Everything only felt hollow, hateful, and bitter.

Why didn’t I get examined sooner?

If it weren’t for Park Soochang’s mocking contempt, maybe I could’ve discovered my illness earlier.

Or if I had never awakened as a Guide in the first place.

If I had never entered the Center.

“…Ah… what do I do….”

“Jaeyoon-ssi.”

The hope that had barely begun taking shape collapsed all at once.

After enduring so much suffering, I had promised myself I would spend the rest of my life peacefully with the people at the shelter.

But now that resolve was swallowed whole like sea foam beneath a black tidal wave.

“C-Could I at least receive industrial accident compensation? And… will my condition be reported to the team members?”

“…Jaeyoon-ssi.”

“I don’t want that. No, I hate it. I hate it. Do you know the kind of things they’ll say again? Even until the moment I die, they’ll mock me for being nothing but a noisy empty can. They’ll ridicule me for being useless and lacking endurance. They definitely will. Definitely….”

“Calm down, Jaeyoon-ssi!”

As my thoughts tangled together into chaos and rational thinking became impossible, Kim Kyungwoon shouted firmly beside me.

“The Medical Center operates under laws specially managed by the National Security Bureau. A patient’s personal chart and examination records can never be viewed by anyone except the attending physician and the patient themselves.”

“…….”

“In your case, because it’s so unusual, a report technically needs to be submitted to the upper administration. But even then, I can delay officially registering it in your chart using physician discretion. Up to three months, in fact. So you don’t need to worry about that issue.”

Was that really true?

Or was he simply lying to calm me down?

When I stared at him suspiciously, Kim Kyungwoon clasped my hands and repeatedly reassured me that nothing I feared would happen.

“However, Jaeyoon-ssi, if you want to stop guiding, you’ll eventually need to either resign or request a transfer. And to process the required documents, your condition will inevitably need to be reported to the upper administration.”

“…Please, just let me think a little longer. It won’t take long. Even just a few days is enough. Could you keep this a secret until then?”

“…Sigh.”

There was no treatment.

The only solution left was to stop guiding immediately.

And in that hopeless situation, I clung to Kim Kyungwoon as though grasping at straw.

After hesitating briefly, Kim Kyungwoon finally stood up, searched through a drawer, and handed me a small medicine packet.

Inside the transparent bag were pills separated by meal schedule — enough medicine to last at least a week.

“It’s a narcotic painkiller.”