Chapter 51: Hands That Protect, Hearts That Falter

“…I’m sorry.”

In the end, setting aside the many words that amounted to little more than excuses, Chaewon said it. No justification would have helped.

Ultimately, Chaewon had failed to carry out the duty entrusted to him, and although nothing worse had happened thanks to sheer luck, he had nearly made the situation far more dangerous. There was no room for excuses.

Su-ha, who had been listening to Chaewon in silence, finally spoke.

“Espers… are people who are easily intoxicated by their own power.”

“…”

“The power they possess is superhuman. It allows them to subdue ordinary people with ease, and if they so choose, it even lets them stand above others.”

Because of espers, humanity had escaped the brink of extinction. That was an undeniable fact. The spirits of the countless espers who had been sacrificed in that process were noble, worthy of remembrance and honor.

At the same time, Su-ha understood the unease the public felt toward awakened individuals. Among a hundred espers, if even one harbored malicious intent, the damage they could cause would be beyond imagination.

It was on an entirely different scale from an ordinary person committing a crime.

Su-ha continued.

“That’s why espers must understand how frightening their power truly is. They need to realize that it’s not something to be wielded lightly. They must never forget that this power isn’t meant to hurt others, but to protect someone. That’s what I believe.”

Power not for attacking, but for protecting. Those words flowed along Su-ha’s energy and slowly seeped into Chaewon.

“I can’t say that your response today was skillful. There were certainly more effective and efficient ways to attack. And you know better than anyone how severe your side effects are. In that situation, enveloping the esper’s entire body with your power wasn’t a good decision.”

Su-ha calmly explained what he had observed. He could have simply praised Chaewon unconditionally, but that would have prevented him from realizing just how dangerous his choice had been for himself.

“If you hadn’t been able to withstand that esper’s attack, the situation would have become far more serious.”

At Su-ha’s words, Chaewon lowered his head once more. There wasn’t a single thing Su-ha had said that was wrong.

Chaewon already knew that when physical force was applied to his manifested power, he himself took damage as well. Knowing that, he had still given the enemy an opening to attack him, of course it hadn’t been a good choice.

Chaewon’s expression sank. Su-ha went on.

“But I understand why you made that choice. You wanted to handle it on your own. You wanted to neutralize his power in a non-violent way and protect everyone else. And for that, you probably thought that whatever side effects you had to endure didn’t matter.”

“…”

At Su-ha’s insight, Chaewon didn’t respond, but his silence was affirmation. For Chaewon, hurting someone else, even an enemy, was not easy. But if the pain was his own to bear, he felt he could endure it.

The hand that had been holding Chaewon’s wrist shifted to gently clasp his hand instead. The warmth was comforting. It wasn’t guiding. It was simply Su-ha’s hand being warm.

“It wasn’t the right choice… but I think that’s exactly your greatest strength.”

Su-ha had seen far too many people who, raising their voices in the name of justice, easily intimidated and crushed others. It wasn’t always because they were inherently bad. Possessing power different from others was enough to change even an ordinary person.

Carefully, Su-ha brushed his fingers over the bandage wrapped around Chaewon’s finger and continued.

“So learn from what happened today and move forward, but don’t blame yourself.”

When Su-ha finished speaking, Chaewon felt, as if by a lie, that the guilt pressing heavily on his heart had eased. It felt as though the air trapped in his chest had finally been released.

Unable to even reply, he simply nodded slightly, and felt Su-ha’s hand twitch in response.

“Ah- sorry.”

Only then did Chaewon realize that, in listening to him, Su-ha had ended up holding his hand without intending to. Flustered, he quickly pulled his hand back and apologized.

Chaewon had no way of knowing that Su-ha’s hand had twitched because he wanted to pull him into an embrace.

Su-ha clenched and unclenched his suddenly empty hand, then rose to his feet. If he stayed here any longer, he didn’t know what else he might want to do. It would be better to leave. Chaewon’s condition had nearly recovered anyway, there was no need to remain by his side.

“Get some rest, Chaewon. I’ll be going.”

“Yes. Sorry for troubling you. You should rest well too, Su-ha.”

“If you start feeling unwell, or if anything happens… make sure you call.”

“Yes.”

As he replied, Su-ha frowned slightly, a forgotten unpleasant memory resurfacing. On the way back together earlier, Chaewon had answered a call from Min I-hyeon.

I-hyeon was probably still out on a mission and hadn’t heard about everything yet, but once he returned, he would surely find out.

And for some reason, Su-ha felt that I-hyeon wouldn’t simply let this go without getting involved. The warmth that had briefly stirred in his heart cooled in an instant.

Imagining I-hyeon’s number saved in Chaewon’s phone made his mood sink even further. Chewing over the still-unidentifiable discomfort, Su-ha spoke again.

“Make sure… you call me.”

He didn’t know why he’d added that. Even as he told himself that Chaewon wouldn’t suddenly call I-hyeon just because he was struggling, the very thought irritated him.

Chaewon, unable to guess why Su-ha kept repeating himself, nodded obediently despite his mild confusion.

“Yes. I will.”

That face was endearing. The unwavering kindness and quiet strength of someone who had endured so much malice throughout a harsh life, so pure it was hard to believe, made Su-ha’s chest ache anew.

Carrying feelings he couldn’t resolve on his own, Su-ha slowly turned away. His mind was in turmoil.

****

Su-ha finished preparing for bed and sat leaning against the headboard, lost in thought. It felt unfamiliar. Thoughts he had hesitated to examine closely, thinking they couldn’t possibly be real, had hit a dead end and returned, disturbing his night.

His drifting memories eventually fixated on a single moment: the instant Min I-hyeon’s name had slipped from Chaewon’s lips during that phone call, along with the unpleasant emotion Su-ha had felt then.

It was different from the vague feelings he’d had at first, when I-hyeon had been kind to Chaewon, when he’d offered to help train him. Now, Su-ha realized he could no longer pretend not to know who his discomfort was directed toward.

He felt a clear, undeniable unease toward Min I-hyeon.

It was unbelievable. Perhaps it had been natural for Su-ha to avoid acknowledging it. How could anyone easily admit to harboring negative feelings toward someone they respected, followed, and held up as a goal?

Again and again, he’d tried to escape reality, telling himself that this jealousy-like emotion was really about Chaewon.

That the problem was this esper who had suddenly entered his life, and on top of that, had drawn I-hyeon’s attention. That explanation had felt far more convincing to Su-ha, and so he’d tried repeatedly to define his feelings that way.

But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t.

Su-ha now understood that feelings he could no longer ignore had finally caught up to him.

Why had I-hyeon’s contact bothered him so much?

Why had it felt unbearable that he was reaching out to Chaewon?

As I-hyeon himself would say, there was nothing wrong with an S-rank senior esper looking after a junior, so why had even the sight of I-hyeon resting a hand on Chaewon’s shoulder made Su-ha react so sharply?

“…”

‘Could it be… Could it be that I- toward Chaewon? That I truly-’

As he tried to put that vague assumption into words, memories he could no longer avoid rose vividly before his eyes: moments when he’d hurt Chaewon while drunk on his own emotions, when he’d said things he never should have, when he’d become Chaewon’s guide and yet turned a blind eye to the pain Chaewon bore alone.

Feelings of excitement, regret, hope, and despair tangled together, tightening around Su-ha’s throat with every breath.

He shouldn’t have done that. No matter how overwhelmed he’d been by his own feelings, he should never have acted that way.

The weight of regrets he had already carried countless times grew heavier still, beyond description.

Replaying Chaewon’s words and actions, so often marked by a lack of any expectation for his own future, Su-ha let the darkness climb over him and fill his body as the night wore on.

To be honest, Su-ha thought that this despair he felt was justified.