The Signature Line

At an S-class level, was it possible to recognize a Guide even without tests?

If so, wouldn’t it be faster to just bring an S-class in and have them pick out who was a Guide and who wasn’t, instead of waiting for test results?

Jaeyoung stood there blankly, entertaining such pointless thoughts.

It was his own situation more than anyone else’s, yet it didn’t feel real at all.

‘Me… a Guide…?’

Jaeyoung, who had half-started to believe Saheon’s words, blinked once.

Then he shook his head.

“Because he can’t believe it himself.”

As if he’d read Jaeyoung’s thoughts, Saheon answered the man at just the right moment.

His tone was casual, but Jaeyoung still flinched, feeling oddly called out.

“How old is he?”

The man asked Saheon and scanned Jaeyoung’s face.

Jaeyoung stiffened his posture.

From the moment he’d arrived, the man had seemed uncomfortable with Jaeyoung’s presence, and it bothered him.

“He turns twenty after the New Year.”

“Then it makes sense he wouldn’t believe it.”

Hearing Saheon’s answer, the man nodded as if he understood Jaeyoung’s doubts.

In South Korea, all citizens were required to undergo a constitution test once they turned sixteen.

Statistically, the chance of awakening after that was close to zero.

Jaeyoung and his friends had all been classified as Type C—ordinary civilians—not E-type Espers or G-type Guides.

“That’s why I brought him here to confirm it directly.”

“If Jin Saheon’s going through all this trouble, I guess he’s worth using?”

The man’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Jaeyoung, as if surprised.

His gaze was sharp enough to feel like it could strip flesh from bone, and Jaeyoung felt a chill crawl up his scalp.

Apparently satisfied that the man understood, Saheon grabbed Jaeyoung’s stiff arm.

He pulled him forward several steps and stopped in front of a large chair.

“Sit.”

Jaeyoung looked up at Saheon with a dazed expression.

Before his brain had even processed the word, his hips were already pressed into the chair.

Saheon had pushed his shoulder down, clearly unwilling to wait even a second.

Even then, Saheon checked that Jaeyoung was sitting upright with his back straight before taking the seat beside him.

“Hand.”

At the unfriendly command, Jaeyoung glanced around, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

Growing impatient, the man roughly grabbed Jaeyoung’s wrist and yanked it forward.

Jaeyoung flinched.

His fingertip stung.

A bead of blood welled up at the end of his pale finger.

Having achieved his goal, the man tossed Jaeyoung’s hand aside.

“Don’t you usually say it’ll just sting a little?”

Jaeyoung muttered resentfully, clutching his injured finger with his other hand.

“Saying it doesn’t make it hurt less.”

The man replied coldly, sealing the glass vial with Jaeyoung’s blood and giving it a shake.

“Now put your arms on both armrests.”

At the order-like tone, Jaeyoung’s brow creased slightly.

He hadn’t wanted to be here in the first place—did he really have to put up with this man’s rudeness too?

“It might get a little annoying.

If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Jaeyoung startled at the voice beside him.

Saheon, still wearing an indifferent expression, gestured toward the man with his eyes.

It felt like he’d read Jaeyoung’s dislike perfectly.

“We probably won’t see each other again, so I’ll just put up with it.”

The man might be unpleasant, but it wasn’t like he’d done something bad enough to deserve whatever Saheon might do to him.

Jaeyoung let out a deep breath, as if forcing himself to swallow his irritation.

At that, Saheon let out a small laugh and tapped Jaeyoung’s head a couple of times.

The touch wasn’t especially gentle, but it felt like praise for enduring it, and Jaeyoung’s face heated up.

Turning his head this way and that to follow the man’s instructions, Jaeyoung soon scratched his forehead awkwardly.

‘Which armrest is mine?’

Like theater seats, the chairs were lined up side by side, with armrests on both ends and one in the middle.

Unlike the hesitant Jaeyoung, Saheon placed his arm on the middle armrest without a moment’s pause.

Jaeyoung had been planning to just use the outer armrest comfortably—

When sudden heat from his left hand made him jolt.

Saheon had interlaced their fingers.

“Just sit still.”

If making something sound considerate but feel dismissive was a skill, Saheon had mastered it.

Jaeyoung relaxed the upper body he’d instinctively tensed and leaned back.

Soon, the man approached and placed a helmet covered in countless wires over Jaeyoung’s head.

‘This looks like something I’ve seen at a hair salon…’

Jaeyoung kept his neck straight and only lifted his eyes to glance upward.

It was probably for the best there wasn’t a mirror in front of him.

To Jaeyoung’s surprise, Jaehyo smoothly placed the same helmet onto Saheon’s head.

Looking at Saheon, who looked like an actor out of a sci-fi movie compared to himself, made Jaeyoung feel strangely dejected.

“Is this… really okay?”

Jaeyoung asked Saheon with a frightened expression.

The palm he was holding was growing hotter by the second.

“Of course.”

Saheon’s answer was overflowing with confidence—bordering on arrogance.

Jaeyoung’s anxiety only deepened.

On top of that, the man was staring at the tablet in his hand with a grave expression.

“Is… something wrong?”

This time, Jaeyoung asked the man carefully.

“Do you think this is some kind of health checkup?”

The man snapped irritably.

It seemed Jaeyoung had thoroughly gotten on his bad side.

Jaeyoung felt wronged, considering he’d been dragged here by Saheon himself, but he decided not to dwell on it.

He wasn’t someone he’d ever see again anyway.

“Why can’t you just say something?”

Jaehyo stepped up beside the man, peering at the screen with visible frustration.

Jaehyo was always gentle and attentive, so Jaeyoung thought he’d finally get an answer.

But Jaehyo stayed silent too.

Jaeyoung darted his eyes back and forth, trying to read the room.

“Um… Esper Ahn Jaehyo?”

He cautiously called out to the one person who seemed likely to answer him.

Jaehyo flinched like he’d woken from a dream and lifted his head.

“Ninety-seven point six percent…”

Jaehyo alternated his gaze between Saheon and Jaeyoung, reciting the number as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

Just hearing it made Jaeyoung feel dizzy.

“Is the maximum, like… ten thousand percent or something?”

Jaeyoung flatly denied reality.

At the lukewarm reaction, Saheon’s satisfied smile twitched unpleasantly.

“There really wasn’t anything else to see.”

“Honestly, just watching how he clings to him was already proof enough.”

Jaehyo and the man spoke back and forth without taking their eyes off the tablet.

Their tone carried a strange bitterness.

Jaeyoung still couldn’t fully grasp the reality of his suddenly overturned constitution.

Saheon removed the helmet from Jaeyoung’s head.

“Stand up.”

Jaeyoung lifted his head and stared at Saheon.

As if he’d never been irritated at all, Saheon was smiling in deep satisfaction.

Even Jaeyoung, who had lived in the same neighborhood as Saheon for over ten years before he moved out, had never seen a smile that intense.

He would never let him go.

That chilling certainty settled in Jaeyoung’s gut.

“The rank hasn’t come out yet.”

Seeing Saheon about to leave, the man spoke hurriedly.

“I know.

Send the constitution test results to my number.”

Saheon grabbed Jaeyoung’s stiff arm and signaled to Jaehyo.

Still being dragged along, Jaeyoung glanced back.

It was nice not having to deal with that unpleasant man anymore, but it still felt wrong to just leave like this.

“Ahn Jaehyo.”

“Y-yeah.”

Prompted by Saheon, Jaehyo hurried over and placed a hand on Saheon’s shoulder.

In the next moment, Jaeyoung’s vision warped violently.

Espers and Guides were divided into three categories.

Those affiliated with the government-run Association.

Those belonging to corporate Guilds.

And Frees, who belonged nowhere at all.

Most people chose the stability of the Association.

The raid footage commonly shown on TV was all provided by the government.

Surprisingly, Saheon—who didn’t suit being controlled by anyone—was an Association Esper.

The Association had been the first to recruit him.

According to his younger brother Haewoon, it was probably because Saheon couldn’t be bothered to look for a suitable Guild.

To shake off the lingering effects of teleportation, Jaeyoung slowly closed and opened his eyes.

Thanks to Jaehyo’s ability, they were back in Jaeyoung’s room.

Once again, the door was closed, leaving just the two of them inside.

“Uh… where did Esper Ahn Jaehyo go?”

He looked around for him, hoping for some psychological comfort, but Jaehyo was nowhere to be seen.

“Sit.”

At the voice, Jaeyoung startled and found Saheon.

He was sitting in front of Jaeyoung’s desk as naturally as if it were his own room.

Jaeyoung, who had been about to step forward, planted his foot back down.

Hadn’t he followed that same command earlier and ended up being held like a child and kissed?

Now that he knew why Saheon had done those unsettling things—like seating him on his thigh—

That didn’t mean he could accept them calmly.

“I’m not guiding you, so sit.”

Saheon had to have some hidden mind-reading ability.

Relieved, Jaeyoung sat down.

No matter how perfect Saheon was, Jaeyoung didn’t believe he’d trick him into skinship for no reason.

Once Jaeyoung sat, Saheon stood behind him, close enough to look like he was embracing him.

He placed an A4 sheet of paper in front of Jaeyoung and put a pen in his hand.

Jaeyoung blinked in confusion.

Printed in large, bold letters at the top of the paper were the words:

“You’re Party A.

I’m Party B.”

Saheon said it before the words could even properly register in Jaeyoung’s eyes.

Jaeyoung’s eyes went wide.

Jin Saheon as Party B didn’t suit him at all.

“Sign.”

Saheon pulled Jaeyoung’s hand down toward the bottom of the page.

“Ah—okay!”

Rushed by Saheon, Jaeyoung bent forward to sign—

Then froze.

Black ink spread slowly from the pen tip pressed to the paper.

“…Huh?”

Only then did Jaeyoung realize something was wrong and turn to look at Saheon.

Following Saheon’s gaze, he saw the signature line.

The moment he noticed it, Jaeyoung threw the pen away.

He’d almost been bound to something he didn’t even understand.