Chapter 45: The Quiet Before the Storm

“If this is how it’s going to be, why don’t you just send us out? Is it really acceptable for our team to be this idle while they’re deploying overseas personnel?”

Chae-jun posed a perfectly valid question. Typically, Sa-yoon would have shaken his head, preferring a life of leisure, but this time, he wholeheartedly agreed with Chae-jun. No matter how much he enjoyed taking it easy, this situation felt beyond the pale.

“Are we truly… being discriminated against? I think we can be certain of it now.”

“Team Leader, I believe that’s an exceptionally belated realization. I’ve been asserting that all along.”

“I, for one, am enjoying this current state of affairs.”

The one who shattered the serious atmosphere was Kang Ah-jun, who was nonchalantly spooning ice cream behind them. As Sa-yoon and Chae-jun simultaneously turned their heads, Kang Ah-jun instinctively hunched his shoulders and slowly lowered his spoon.

“No, really. Why? It’s true, isn’t it? Team Leader Sa-yoon, you always used to say that less work and higher pay were ideal.”

“Ugh. You fool…”

Chae-jun, usually unreserved with everyone but Sa-yoon, clicked his tongue in exasperation.

“Don’t you understand what this means? Deploying foreign personnel while perfectly capable domestic forces are just sitting around is obviously suspicious.”

“What is it? Don’t just keep it to yourself; explain it properly!”

Chae-jun, who had been regarding Kang Ah-jun with a look of utter disdain, crossed his arms.

“Ordinarily, in a situation like this, it would be correct to assume our team is at risk of being demoted…”

“Huh? Really?”

“The chances of that are slim, though. No matter what anyone says, we’re the strongest attack squad, boasting an S-class Esper Team Leader.”

“What? You startled me.”

Kang Ah-jun, momentarily taken aback, relaxed his shoulders with a sigh of relief. Chae-jun, his expression still grim, proceeded to explain the next possibility.

“If it’s neither a demotion nor a special vacation, then this unexpected leisure must have another underlying reason…”

“Could you just explain it quickly? I’m practically holding my breath.”

“It means our next mission is a major one.”

Sa-yoon, unable to listen to his two team members’ banter any longer, interjected. While considering factional disputes and various other circumstances, no strategy would ever involve sidelining an S-class Esper force.

Therefore, his team’s exclusion from the current mission strongly indicated that their next assignment had already been determined.

And it was a mission so crucial that they needed to embark on it only after a period of rest.

“As expected of our Team Leader.”

“This much is just basic knowledge.”

Sa-yoon, raising his head, smiled shamelessly in front of the clapping Chae-jun. Despite his confident demeanor, his mind raced.

Just how significant could this upcoming mission be to keep his team on standby while deploying overseas teams?

More importantly, others already knew things would unfold this way. Not just the Director, but Han Do-hoon as well. That must be why he’d subtly warned Sa-yoon not to worry about Levian Christine.

As Han Do-hoon had confided before, he was not merely an Esper team leader. Being the current Commander’s adopted son placed him in a vastly different position than Sa-yoon, who merely had a minister as a backer.

In fact, it was laughable to even consider a minister as a backer. Sa-yoon’s own biological father, Jin Jung-woo, was practically using Sa-yoon as *his* backer. The crucial question was what information this capable Han Do-hoon possessed.

‘Things are taking an unusual turn.’

Sa-yoon’s surroundings had remained unchanged for years. His daily life was unremarkable, consisting of resolving minor disputes as an Esper team and ignoring his biological father, who contacted him regularly, with the feeling of having stepped in something unpleasant.

Recently, however, an unprecedented series of events had befallen Sa-yoon. The emergence of Airain brought with it a continuous stream of new individuals and unfamiliar incidents. It felt like the calm before a storm.

Sa-yoon crossed his arms, watching Chae-jun and Ah-jun bicker. The headquarters was practically deserted. Sa-yoon’s team, along with a few other Esper teams with large rosters, remained like night watchmen, guarding the base.

The remaining personnel were mostly low-ranking individuals, and the Director was busy commuting between headquarters and command.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Okay, see you later!”

“Team Leader, you can’t just leave! That damn Chae-jun—!”

“Just be quiet for a moment.”

Ignoring his two team members, who were fiercely squabbling in that short span of time, Sa-yoon exited his office. Surveying the empty corridor, Sa-yoon descended a rarely used staircase. The direction he was heading was the research wing, opposite to the dormitories.

As he moved towards a place he would never voluntarily visit, Sa-yoon scanned his surroundings. He estimated he wouldn’t encounter more than three people on the way to the research wing. The total number of people moving around was about ten, less than half the usual.

He walked slowly, closing his eyes. There were twelve CCTV cameras in total. As expected, security became tighter closer to the research wing. Sa-yoon moved, avoiding anyone whose path might overlap with his. His target wasn’t some random person wandering alone. Sa-yoon sought out individuals he could approach now that fewer eyes were watching.

Moments later, Sa-yoon detected a group sitting on a bench near the research wing. Checking his wristwatch, it was just past 12:30 PM. They had about twenty to thirty minutes left of their lunch break. It was perfect. As anticipated, people in white lab coats were huddled together, chatting.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Sa-yoon surveyed the talking group and inserted himself among them. Every one of them was thin, wore thick glasses, and had a slight forward head posture. They looked, without exception, like researchers who spent all their time at their desks.

“It looks like you’re taking a break after lunch.”

“Ah, yes… Yes. Hello.”

The startled researchers scrutinized Sa-yoon, their tense expressions slowly softening. One researcher, quickly recognizing Sa-yoon, nudged the person next to them with an elbow.

“This is my first time taking a walk this way, and it’s pleasantly quiet.”

“It is, isn’t it? People here don’t usually come outside much… But you’re Esper Jin Sa-yoon, correct?”

Sa-yoon smiled and nodded at their gazes, filled with curiosity. Even within the same headquarters, if departments were different, it was hard to even get a proper look at someone’s face.

Especially Sa-yoon, who disliked bothersome tasks and delegated all his work to Chae-jun, was treated like a rare natural monument. Aware of his reputation, Sa-yoon put on a pleasant smile and sat down beside them.

“Since we’ve met like this, how about we chat for a bit? I’m not interrupting, am I?”

The four pairs of eyes watching Sa-yoon widened in surprise, and they rapidly nodded their heads.

****

“So, this substance surprisingly exhibits conductive properties. It’s already difficult to manifest the wavelengths emitted from a human body, but imagine the hassle of having to control these properties as well…”

“Even among the technologies currently in use, there are many whose principles aren’t fully understood. Quantum mechanics alone…”

Sa-yoon struggled to maintain his smiling face, his cheeks aching. Despite preparing himself, it was proving to be a truly arduous time. Surely these people were speaking the same Korean as him, right?

“Hahahaha. How utterly fascinating.”

“Oh, I apologize. Have we been rambling on about only what interests us? Esper Jin Sa-yoon, this sort of talk must be quite dull for you.”

“Not at all. I’m finding it very interesting.”

If the Director saw Sa-yoon now, he’d likely demand to know ‘who are you?’ and try to peel off his face. Sa-yoon dredged up every ounce of patience and politeness he didn’t usually possess, acting as if he were a perfectly courteous individual.

“What kind of research do you all conduct?”

“We are the Guide Wavelength Sensor Research Team. Our goal is to enable guiding regardless of the matching rate between a Guide and an Esper.”

Sa-yoon nodded, inwardly clicking his tongue. He had hoped, just in case, but it was a bust. Sa-yoon was looking for the people researching the prediction system he’d heard about from Dr. Jung Hyun-woo. It seemed things wouldn’t be that easy after all.

“Isn’t the matching rate already largely irrelevant? These days, they don’t even bother with matching rate tests much.”

“That’s all thanks to our research. However, it’s still incomplete.”

In the past, there was an era when Guides and Espers were paired based on their matching rates. They had to match ranks, form highly compatible pairs, and even undertake missions together.

Moreover, if a Guide unfortunately crossed paths with a particularly ferocious Esper, their human rights were often disregarded, much like a sacrifice thrown before a beast.

However, technological advancements successfully standardized the matching rates between all Espers and Guides. Now, it was an era where guiding was easily possible as long as the ranks matched.

“While guiding is possible regardless of matching rate, there are still areas that science hasn’t been able to overcome.”

“That’s right. Phenomena like imprinting, or a particular Guide having exceptionally good synergy with an Esper. Those kinds of things still exist.”

The researchers, once again ignited, began conversing in terms Sa-yoon couldn’t comprehend, discussing wavelengths, brainwaves, and self-replication. As he listened, Sa-yoon checked his surroundings. There wasn’t enough time to seek out new people. Perhaps he would have to retreat today after enduring this unhelpful conversation.

“Esper Jin Sa-yoon, don’t you have someone like that? A Guide you particularly harmonize well with?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t most Espers have one or two? A preferred Guide, or something similar. All Espers seem to be like that.”

Sa-yoon, silenced by the sudden question, frantically racked his brain. It was a difficult question for him, as guiding made little difference. Answering that there wasn’t much difference might sound odd, so he quickly tried to recall his most recent guiding session.