Chapter 47: Illness

Since that night he’d fainted from a nosebleed while drinking, Bodam had made a great deal of effort.

Following the doctor’s advice, he booked a psychological counseling session and, for the first time in his life, registered for personal training at the best gym near his home.

Since he was doing it anyway, he paid for his mom and Bomi’s shares too.

With a thick wallet, he became generous with investments in his health management.

Even if he was sick, having money made it hurt less.

He resumed meditating, which he had neglected, and watched videos related to psychology.

Excluding the period he spent lounging in bed for a week, captivated by a drama recommended by the algorithm, he was leading a fairly desirable daily life.

For a distant future, he also contemplated his aptitudes and what he wanted to do.

For now, he focused on resting since nothing came to mind immediately, but at least he thought about it.

“Doing well…”

Bodam, who had opened his locker door in the gym changing room and removed his hoodie, muttered.

The news of Attack Team 3 he heard from Jo Yeon clung to his ears like gum stuck to a shoe sole—sticky and irritating.

“Receiving guiding well. As usual. The same.”

He nodded along with his monologue, quickly pulled off his pants, and threw them into the locker.

He also put on his high-quality workout clothes with force.

Anger seeped into his stomping feet and quick hand gestures.

“Someone’s getting psychological treatment.”

Bang.

Bodam’s shoulders heaved up and down as he slammed the locker door shut.

His emotions were on red alert.

Since accepting that he had some psychological issues, he had become slightly more sensitive.

At times like this, he needed to meditate.

“Tsk. Whew—”

He waited for people to leave the changing room, then stood in a secluded spot in front of a fan and took a deep breath.

He put on his newly purchased earphones, enjoying the cool fan breeze.

Bodam closed his eyes tightly and followed the guidance of the meditation app.

The sensitive emotions, fragmented through meditation, could be blown away by exercise.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but he did whatever he could for now.

“I am at peace.”

He whispered to the breeze, following the calming voice of the meditation guide.

His voice was so quiet it was almost covered by the sound of the fan.

As he inhaled deeply, he organized his thoughts, and as he exhaled, he expressed positive affirmations.

“Everything is getting better.”

He would buy a cool car, move into a good house, and travel.

He would learn what he wanted to learn and find what he wanted to do.

There was so much to do, it felt like time was precious.

“I’m doing f*cking well too.”

Bodam had all the conditions for happiness.

Definitely better than those bastards—

“Member.”

“Ack!”

Bodam, who almost fell over with nothing to lose, screamed in surprise.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the PT instructor’s round eyes right in front of him.

The gym trainer, with an English name ‘Charles’ engraved on his golden name tag, had come to fetch the member who wouldn’t come out of the changing room.

Since there were many foreign members, all gym staff used English names.

“Do you dislike exercising that much?”

Bodam, clutching his thumping left chest, was dragged out before he could make an excuse.

Charles, who was strong, though not as strong as an Esper, made an insincere offer to reduce one set.

He, who took pride in member management, was very interested in the new member with little body fat.

His severely low muscle mass, revealed in the InBody test results, was so surprising it was a wonder he could even walk.

***

Attack Team 3’s waiting room.

Having returned to their routine, they began their regular Friday morning meeting.

The table where only Han Seung Ho, Min Ji Oh, and Lee Tae Hwan sat at the head of the table looked unusually empty.

For a gathering of three muscular men, each twice the size of an average person, the empty space felt vast.

Of course, no one mentioned the desolate empty seat.

They had already talked about it to exhaustion, so there was nothing more to say.

“Kang Yi Jun.”

Tae Hwan, sitting in a skewed posture, finally asked about the youngest member after a month.

Seung Ho, who was obligatorily leading the meeting, put down his coffee cup and replied.

Unlike the emaciated Tae Hwan and Ji Oh, Han Seung Ho still looked perfect.

“Has he ever attended a meeting?”

“I’m asking about his condition.

Is he still unconscious?”

There was an edge to Tae Hwan’s tone.

Since Yoon Bodam left, their conversations always had this atmosphere.

It was like building a precarious tower that would collapse easily if anyone applied a little too much force.

Thanks to the one at its center, whose roots were firmly on the ground, it wasn’t a tower that would easily fall.

“He’s getting better.”

Ji Oh, who was on his phone, stood up without a word.

Attending the weekly Friday team meeting for at least 10 minutes was one of his promises to his grandfather, the Center Director.

Watching only the clock, he left the waiting room without looking back as soon as 10 minutes passed.

Ability users, bound by their watches, had all their movement paths reported to higher-ups.

So Min Ji Oh only fulfilled the exact promised time.

When Yoon Bodam was there, he used to sit for the full meeting time.

As if a hole had been punched in his head.

Even between Ji Oh and Tae Hwan, who, though not close, used to exchange casual conversations, a cold wind blew.

It was good that the noise had decreased thanks to that f*cking Min Ji Oh keeping his mouth shut.

“Half a month left. Keep your word, hyung.”

Once only the two of them were left, Tae Hwan sought confirmation from Seung Ho again, as he did every day.

He truly counted the days, like a countdown, without missing a single one.

“Stop asking.”

“Just try to talk nonsense.

I’ll collapse the main building as it is.”

Tae Hwan, who wanted to be dispatched to civilian areas, made a deal with Seung Ho.

He secured a promise that if he helped suppress gates in each sector for a month and did his best until things stabilized, he would be dispatched to a civilian area for just one day.

Tae Hwan said one day would be enough.

Just one day.

“Don’t forget the restraining order.”

“My head isn’t that empty.”

As expected, Tae Hwan, who had concluded his say, kicked back his chair and put his hands in his pockets.

He was annoyed at being treated like a twenty-year-old brat.

He had no intention of forcibly approaching someone who had put such distance, even requesting personal protection.

Yoon Bodam’s voice, saying he’d bite his tongue and die, was vivid enough to appear in his dreams.

Lee Tae Hwan just wanted to see with his own eyes if he was still alive.

There was no longer any space where Yoon Bodam’s wave or scent remained.

He felt like a dead person.

Like an idiot.

“……”

Seung Ho, in the renewed silence, quietly picked up and put down his coffee cup.

The coffee, which had long since cooled, hadn’t diminished.

His head unconsciously tilted towards the seat on the right side of the table.

Of course, it was an empty seat.

Buzz.

Today, too, the notification vibration broke the silence, and Seung Ho indifferently pulled out his phone.

It was a call from the Esper Director.

***

Today, too, the medical center building, bustling as usual, became quieter as the floors went up.

Although no VIP signs were attached, three researchers and the head of the research institute gathered in the unusually spacious and well-decorated high-floor ward, waiting for Team Leader Han Seung Ho.

It was a space where not just anyone could enter.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The sounds of researchers flipping through test charts and cold machine beeps continued endlessly.

The head of the research institute, sitting alone on a sofa, drinking tea and furrowing his brow, only sighed dryly.

He adjusted his glasses, checked his watch once, and looked at the white bed guarded by researchers and trained barrier users.

A spacious bed, large enough for two or three grown men to lie on comfortably, was filled with long wires connecting electrodes.

The guiding machines surrounding the bed operated without even a faint noise.

The large machines, big enough to obscure the patient lying on the bed, were models with performance incomparable to standard-issue ones.

More than half of the eight units introduced in the country were located here.

Screech—.

One of the guiding machines overloaded and stopped working.

The already fatigued researchers’ complexions darkened further.

The head of the research institute also threw down his teacup.

Two machines capable of saving hundreds of Espers had already been broken by just one psychic.

All the machines had been brought in with investment funds from that Esper’s kin, so they couldn’t stop them from operating.

It was like pouring gold into a completely broken jar.

The head of the research institute smoothed back his few remaining gray hairs and took a deep breath.

What that Esper needed now was not a guiding machine.

“You’re here, Team Leader Han.”

At the sound of the door opening, the head of the research institute rose from the sofa and greeted Seung Ho warmly.

With Team Leader Han’s arrival, the barrier users, whose muscles had been tense, relaxed their bodies.

Thanks to his presence, they could breathe a sigh of relief, if only for a moment.

Seung Ho fixed his gaze on the bed where Yi Jun lay.

The hospital room was infinitely calm, except for the machine noises.

The short-statured head of the research institute took heavy steps and approached Seung Ho.

Even though he was a barrier Esper whose wave could not be felt, Team Leader Han was a very terrifying presence to the civilian research staff.

This was because he was the most fearsome-looking person after Esper Lee Tae Hwan.

“Ahem. Esper Kang Yi Jun’s condition is not good.”

The head of the research institute cleared his throat and began to speak.

Contrary to rumors circulating at the Center, Yi Jun wasn’t feigning illness to avoid detention and holed up in the hospital room.

It would have been better if he were, but he was currently in the most critical condition of any patient.

It had been over a week since his wave level reached 93%, the cutoff for entering rampage.

Yi Jun was no different from a balloon inflated to the point of bursting.

A balloon that would burst with just one more breath was precariously clinging to life.

The reason this was possible was not because of guiding machines.

Seung Ho walked past the head of the research institute towards the bed where Yi Jun lay.

Seeing Seung Ho approach, the researchers quickly moved, clearing the stopped machines and making way for him.

Seung Ho’s lips parted slightly as he stood in that empty space.

“……”

The barrier users, who had put up reinforced walls in preparation for an Esper’s rampage, stole glances at Seung Ho.

Then they all had the same thought.

Team Leader Han makes that kind of face too.