Ghost Apple

Standing in front of the door was a tall man with a solid, muscular build—someone Han-gyeom had never seen before.

Even without touching him, it was obvious through the shirt that his physique was impressively firm and well-defined. Perhaps that was why, despite wearing nothing more than an ordinary white shirt and black slacks you could find anywhere, he still stood out so sharply.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that caught the eye.

A black cap pulled low, jet-black sunglasses that looked like they’d completely block out his vision, and a black mask that perfectly concealed his nose and mouth.

His face was so thoroughly covered it actually made him more noticeable.

“…Guide?”

A smooth, low voice—like it was echoing out of a cave—slipped from between the man’s lips, muffled behind the mask. The deep tone was so pleasant that Han-gyeom found himself briefly lost in the sound, realizing only belatedly what the man had actually said.

What the… ?

A strange feeling crept over him.

Like a mysterious force he couldn’t ignore was trying to wrap around his entire body. In sync with that sensation, a sharp current ran up his spine, heightening every nerve ending along his back.

Was this a warning—telling him the man in front of him was dangerous?

Or was it meant to alert him to something else entirely?

“Who… are you?”

The man didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared at Han-gyeom. Though the sunglasses masked his eyes, it was clear from the stillness that he was studying him—taking him in piece by piece, like he was being dissected with a gaze alone.

Which made the whole thing feel even more unsettling.

Did Jae-woo send him?

The man was a complete stranger. Which meant this had to be his first visit. That alone made it odd that Song Jae-woo hadn’t shown up to guide him personally, as he usually did.

Judging from the fact he made it through the barrier, he must be someone Jae-woo registered himself…

But even that didn’t sit right.

Jae-woo was meticulous to a fault—so careful that he layered his barriers with almost bug-level sound sensitivity and registered every single expected visitor. No matter how busy he might be, there’s no way he wouldn’t have at least mentioned a first-time visitor.

As Han-gyeom’s wariness and questions mounted, a small, gaudy flyer was suddenly extended toward him.

“I heard you run a guiding business for unregistered Espers.”

It was a flyer overlaid with Song Jae-woo’s unique barrier technique.

Each flyer had a thin layer of enchantment over it, designed to reveal its true content only to “unregistered abilities.” If someone from the Esper Association or a regular civilian saw it, it would just look like a run-of-the-mill payday loan ad.

So if this man had seen the real content—then there was no doubt: he was an unregistered Esper, outside the Association’s reach.

But that didn’t mean Han-gyeom accepted just anyone as a client.

The paper only had the advertisement details and the phone number of Song Jae-woo, who acted as the intermediary. Any new client had to go through Song Jae-woo first, and even when he referred someone to Cha Han-gyeom—the unregistered guide—he always accompanied them directly.

In other words, the fact that this man had shown up alone, without Jae-woo, was already a major red flag.

In cases like this, Song Jae-woo, the broker, needed to verify and approve things first. There was also the possibility the man was blacklisted by other guiding outfits, which needed to be checked.

So for now, there was only one thing to do—send him away.

“Why are you coming here for guiding? You should be going to the Association.”

Han-gyeom feigned indifference as he shot the man a cold glare.

“You’ve got the wrong house. Leave before I call the cops.”

Just as Han-gyeom moved to shut the door again, the man stepped forward and gently pushed him back inside, crossing the threshold into the house himself.

“No, I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“What the hell are you talking abou—”

Bzzzt—

Han-gyeom was cut off by a faint vibration from his pocket.

[Hye-seong Noona]

He glanced at the screen, recognizing the name and number instantly. Still eyeing the man warily, Han-gyeom answered the call.

—Han-gyeom-ah, are you busy?

As soon as he put the phone to his ear, Kim Hye-seong’s clear voice rang out.

Kim Hye-seong was a woman in her forties, widely known among unregistered Espers as a well-connected information broker.

She had also been Han-gyeom and Jae-woo’s very first client when they started their guiding business, and remained a longtime regular.

Notably, she was the only client on the list who Han-gyeom addressed formally—with honorifics.

“No, I can talk.”

As he answered, it occurred to him that her appointment was coming up soon.

Han-gyeom checked the time, then turned back to the man, preparing to tell him to leave once again—just as Hye-seong spoke.

—I’m sending an Esper over in my place. I’ll let Jae-woo know, so just treat him like a client.

So this man standing in front of him must’ve been the one Hye-seong was talking about.

Every now and then, she would send a new, unfamiliar Esper to him like this.

These days, thanks to word of mouth and advertising, he was doing pretty well financially. But back then, it wasn’t like that at all.

With no real connections or advertising methods, Han-gyeom had barely managed one or two guiding sessions per week.

It had been Kim Hye-seong, using her network and influence, who had helped him and Jae-woo bring in new clients back then.

Thinking back on those early days, Han-gyeom realized how the man in front of him had gotten through—and the sharp edge of his caution began to dull.

“Noona, you should’ve at least had him go through Jae-woo first. You can’t just slap a trace of yourself on someone and send them over.”

Upon closer inspection, he noticed a pair of feminine cufflinks on the man’s white shirt sleeves. They were unmistakably the same ones that had been attached to the blouse Hye-seong wore during her last guiding session.

That must’ve been why the barrier hadn’t flagged the man as an intruder.

Kim Hye-seong had the ability to cloak someone in her own “presence,” making them appear as Kim Hye-seong to others. Song Jae-woo had probably been fooled by it too, thinking the person who entered the barrier was just their usual client, Kim Hye-seong. He was probably only now realizing what was happening, startled by the conversation inside and rushing over in a panic.

—Sorry, things have been crazy for me lately. I didn’t want our Han-gyeom to wait in vain, so I sent someone to fill in for me instead of cancelling.

“And what if I hadn’t figured it out?”

The man was built wide and tall—big enough to nearly eclipse Han-gyeom from view. The thought of mistaking a guy with that kind of build for the slender and elegant Hye-seong was disturbing in its own right.

—Come on, I know what you’re capable of, Han-gyeom.

Hye-seong chuckled lightly, then added reassuringly:

—That Esper’s been a client of mine for a long time. He’s always been professional, no drama, no mess. Good manners, too.

If Hye-seong vouched for someone like this, then he could probably be trusted. It sounded like this man had been working with her for a while. At the very least, he wouldn’t be completely lacking in basic courtesy.

Considering the long-standing relationship Han-gyeom had with Hye-seong, it made the most sense to accept the man as a client—at least for now.

“…Fine. Just make sure you call Jae-woo right now and explain everything properly, so it doesn’t turn into a headache.”

—Yeah, I will.

She let out a light laugh and ended the call with a warm “Take good care of him.”

As Han-gyeom let out a short sigh and stared at his phone, the man casually stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“So, can I finally get guided now?”

The man’s tone suggested he was wondering if there was still more waiting to do. Understandable—he’d been left standing at the door while Han-gyeom took the call.

“…Sit there.”

Han-gyeom jerked his chin toward the chair in the middle of the room and walked over to his desk. The cigarette he’d left in the ashtray had burned nearly all the way down to the filter. What a waste.

“Like the flyer said, it’s 10,000 won for five minutes. For a first session, I don’t go over ten minutes. It’s to check your resonance and how effective the guiding will be.”

He framed it as a technical assessment, but the truth was, during first sessions, it wasn’t uncommon for some Espers—especially those who’d been deprived of proper guidance—to lose themselves halfway through and suddenly snap, trying to jump him.

Unregistered Espers had no reliable way of determining their own ranking, which meant they also had no idea how well they might match with a guide. That’s why Han-gyeom used the first session to gauge just how deep the Esper would fall into the guiding state, and what level of intensity was needed to achieve decent efficiency. That way, he could calibrate for future sessions—just enough to earn his pay without overextending.

The sound of the man settling obediently into the chair reached him.

“So after the first time, sessions longer than ten minutes are on the table?”

“Yeah. Depends on how much you’re bringing.”

Han-gyeom casually stubbed out the cigarette into the ashtray, smoke trailing faintly in the air, and extended his hand toward the man.

“Since you’re standing in for Noona, I won’t charge you the emergency rate. Just give me twenty thousand won.”

Whether the man had been briefed by Kim Hye-seong or not, he pulled out a neatly folded 20,000 won bill and handed it over as if he’d been expecting the request.

Han-gyeom tossed the bill onto the desk and reached out his hand again—this time not for more money, but for the man to take it.

The man removed only his mask, leaving the hat and sunglasses in place, and stared down at Han-gyeom’s open palm instead of taking it right away. While he hesitated, Han-gyeom took a moment to observe the face now partially revealed.

Pretty, huh.

Even with most of it still obscured by his hat and sunglasses, the man’s high-bridged nose and sharp jawline were enough to show he was strikingly handsome, with an exotic kind of beauty.

The man slowly tilted his head up, looking up at Han-gyeom from beneath the brim of his cap. As he did, the shadows cast by the hat shifted just enough to better reveal the defined angles of his face.

“So, for guiding… all I have to do is hold your hand?”

“That’s the basic setup. But if you touch anywhere else without permission, I’ll dock your time—so watch yourself.”

“The way you said that makes it sound like, with permission, more than hand-holding is on the table.”

“You’re not wrong. I can offer more… if you’re a chaebol, that is.”

Though Han-gyeom’s actual services were limited to hand guidance, he didn’t mind exaggerating a little. Since this was a new client, there was no guarantee he’d come back regularly, so stirring up a bit of vague intrigue was part of the strategy. Keep the guy curious and entertained—enough that he’d choose to return, even with competitors trying to poach him.

Not like he’s actually a chaebol, anyway.

How many unregistered Espers, constantly hiding like rats or living like fugitives, could possibly be loaded?