Chapter 52: Standing Where Eyes Turn

“Oh? How did you know? I was going to call you in separately and tell you.”

Ye-seon asked back, eyes widening as he looked at Chae-won sitting across from him, genuinely caught off guard. Just moments ago, Chaewon had asked whether it might be possible to push back his scheduled training with Giyoon a little.

Now, Su-ha, who had long since taken to staying naturally by Chaewon’s side, was seated next to him and added calmly,

“Team Leader Joo told us himself.”

“…Seriously, that man is impossible. I knew he rushed out all excited, but he really couldn’t keep it to himself.”

That Giyoon had said it directly didn’t surprise Ye-seon much. He quickly cleared away a few unimportant documents and turned his attention back to Chaewon.

“We can move the schedule as much as needed. Are you feeling particularly unwell? Should we run some additional tests?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then…?”

“I’d like to do some other training first.”

“Other training?”

At Chaewon’s unexpected answer, Ye-seon glanced toward Su-ha, his look clearly asking, Do you know what he’s talking about? Su-ha responded with a small nod, his expression even. This was something Chaewon had already discussed with him before coming here.

Chaewon fidgeted with his hands on his lap and continued carefully.

“My side effects are definitely a problem, but I also think my physical abilities are just… too lacking.”

“Ah…”

“When I was actually in the field, I realized that aside from using telekinesis, I don’t really have any combat capability at all.”

That thought had come to him after watching Su-ha fight with guns and blades. Even though Su-ha was a guide, he moved without hesitation, and if he hadn’t needed to stay close to Chaewon to guide him, Chaewon was certain Su-ha would have fought even more actively.

Yet Chaewon, the esper, had none of that. Without physical reinforcement, he already lagged behind other espers in close combat, and without technique to compensate, no matter how many times he thought it over, he felt like he would be utterly helpless on a real battlefield.

“I want to get better at using my body… not just my telekinesis.”

“Hm. Physical combat training is one of the basic things we usually cover.”

Ye-seon nodded, agreeing with him.

When a newly awakened esper entered the center, one of the very first steps was physical combat training. Most espers experienced an overall enhancement of their physique and physical abilities upon awakening, so even minimal training often yielded noticeable results.

In Chaewon’s case, however, even using his ability had been difficult, so Ye-seon had judged that enduring and stabilizing the side effects through examinations had to come first.

Now that Chaewon could use his power to some degree without losing his mental footing, moving on to the next step didn’t seem like a bad idea.

After quickly sorting things out in his head, Ye-seon spoke.

“All right. I’ll readjust the schedule and let you know once the training plan’s set. Just… be aware that Team Leader Joo might come throw a tantrum about why his training got pushed back.”

With a playful wink, Ye-seon added what was half joke, half truth. Chaewon instinctively ducked his head and laughed. They’d only met twice, yet for some reason, he could vividly imagine Giyoon’s so-called “tantrum.”

The one whose expression stiffened at Chaewon’s smile, however, was Ye-seon.

Come to think of it, this was the first time he’d seen Chaewon laugh.

When Chaewon had first arrived, he’d always looked as though he were carrying a constant weight of guilt. Now, that heaviness seemed noticeably lighter.

No matter how many times Ye-seon had told him otherwise, Chaewon always seemed to believe that his severe side effects, his inability to properly fulfill his role as an esper, and even becoming Jin Su-ha’s esper were all somehow his own fault.

He moved forward through training without hesitation, yet in every other aspect, he seemed determined to remain faint and colorless, doing his best not to stand out, not to oppose anyone. It was painfully obvious in his every gesture.

And now, here he was, sitting and laughing. Even if it was reflexive, it was something that wouldn’t have happened unless he felt comfortable here.

As Ye-seon stared blankly at the soft curve of Chaewon’s smiling eyes, his gaze naturally shifted to Su-ha beside him.

Su-ha, who had been smiling faintly as he looked at Chaewon, noticed Ye-seon’s stare and quickly schooled his expression.

Seeing the unmistakable change in the atmosphere between the two, Ye-seon laughed in quiet satisfaction, then remembered there was something he needed to say.

“Um… Chaewon.”

At the weight in Ye-seon’s voice, Chaewon immediately straightened his expression and answered, “Yes?” Ye-seon briefly studied the bandage still wrapped around Chaewon’s finger before meeting his eyes.

“There’ll be an announcement soon… that a new S-class telekinesis esper has appeared.”

“Ah…”

Tension washed over Chaewon’s face in an instant. He couldn’t help wondering whether he was really someone worthy of such a major announcement.

“The management team will handle the press conference and the official statement,” Ye-seon continued, “but Chaewon… you might need to show your face there, at least briefly.”

There was no hard rule demanding it, but the emergence of an S-class esper was such a rare and monumental event that, in most countries, the esper themselves usually appeared before the press.

An S-class esper, simply by existing, became a symbol of the future, of hope and possibility. From a governmental standpoint, having that person stand before the public and speak of the future was an undeniably useful tool.

And for the esper, a brief exposure could bring overwhelming public support and affection. It was usually a win-win situation. Until now, there hadn’t been a single S-class esper who hesitated or felt uncomfortable standing at their own announcement.

Yet even as he made this well-worn suggestion, Ye-seon hesitated. Despite all the proven benefits, he worried whether this might further suffocate an esper who already carried so much on his shoulders.

Thinking that perhaps it wasn’t only Jin Su-ha who had changed, Ye-seon waited for Chaewon’s answer.

After a moment, Chaewon spoke quietly.

“Would it… help if I went?”

He tried to imagine it seriously. There would be crowds, countless cameras and reporters, media outlets from everywhere, and an overwhelming level of public attention.

“As you know, I’m very different from other espers,” he continued evenly, without a trace of self-mockery. “I’m worried I might ruin the atmosphere instead.”

Before Ye-seon could respond, weighing the old memories that still bound Chaewon to his past, Su-ha spoke up first.

“If you don’t want to go, Chaewon, you don’t have to.”

“Guide Jin Su-ha.”

Startled by Su-ha speaking without any coordination with upper management, Ye-seon tried to stop him, but Su-ha continued, unfazed.

“But if the reason is that you’re afraid people will be disappointed when they see you… I hope you don’t think that way.”

“…”

“It doesn’t matter whether they’re disappointed or not. Don’t worry about that. That’s not what’s important.”

Sitting there, Su-ha saw himself reflected in Chaewon’s dark eyes, not the man who had once acted selfishly, drunk on foolish emotions, but someone anxiously afraid that Chaewon might be hurt, even a little.

It wasn’t something Su-ha had realized on his own. It was Chaewon, steadfast, gentle, unwaveringly kind, who had made Su-ha turn back and look at himself.

And because of that, Su-ha was certain: no matter who it was, truly hating the man before him, fragile at a glance, yet stronger than anyone, would never be easy.

Suppressing the emotions rising in his chest, Su-ha said,

“What matters is that you’re here, Chaewon. That alone is already meaningful. Other people’s opinions don’t deserve that kind of weight.”

“I…”

“If you don’t allow it yourself, then no matter what people think, they can’t diminish what you have, even a little.”