I am a Guide Who Killed an Esper.

Yoonui’s life had an incredibly narrow scope. His accommodation was a staff housing unit situated right next to the base, and due to the nature of his job, he was always on standby, restricted from leaving the designated area. He rarely traveled more than 5 kilometers away from his workplace. In his entire life, he’d never even accepted a cup of coffee from a civilian who hadn’t signed a confidentiality agreement. A life like this left no room for common sense, adaptability, or social skills to develop.

This wasn’t unique to him—most Espers lived similar lives. It was common for them to be recruited into the military at a young age, undergo rigorous training, and start serving as soon as they reached adulthood. Even after that, they remained on 24-hour standby, with strict security protocols that limited their interactions with civilians.

As a result, most Espers struggled to adapt to civilian life after leaving the service. As Wooju had pointed out, it was practically rare for a retired Esper to avoid falling victim to scams. Many ended up losing their severance pay and pensions, unable to adjust to life outside the organization.

Jumin, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, shook her head with a serious expression.

“No way. If you leave, you’re going to get scammed and starve to death no matter what you try to do.”

It was a harsh assessment. Yoonui, unwilling to tolerate such a grim prediction, immediately protested.

“Why? I might adapt surprisingly well!”

“No, you wouldn’t. Don’t even think about trying anything on your own. Just use your face to marry an older woman who’ll take care of you. You have no social skills to make a living in the real world. Just get married, take care of the house, and live quietly. That’s the only way you’ll survive out there.”

“You’re really crossing the line.”

“Hey, it’s not an insult—it’s a compliment.”

Jumin spoke with a straight face.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a decent face.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

Yoonui didn’t deny his looks. While he lacked experience interacting with civilians, he wasn’t blind to conventional standards of beauty. Having two eyes and a mirror at home was all it took to know he was good-looking. It was an objective fact.

“But still, isn’t my guiding ability a better measure of my capabilities—”

“That’s exactly why you need to stay here if you want to rely on that ability alone. Out there, the only marketable skill you have is your face.”

In a firm but kind tone, Jumin laid out Yoonui’s strengths—or rather, his one strength: his appearance.

Although he didn’t quite reach 180 cm, he stood at a respectable 179 cm—not short by any means. With a slender build and long legs, he particularly stood out in uniform, which suited his frame perfectly. On top of that, he had fair, elastic skin and well-proportioned, sharp features, making him undeniably handsome.

However, there was one notable flaw. His large, slightly upturned eyes gave him an intense, cat-like appearance, which, combined with his blunt and abrasive personality, often left a lasting—and not always positive—impression.

When he didn’t smile, his expression was cold and unapproachable. And when he opened his mouth, his blunt, no-nonsense manner often left others overwhelmed. Many guides who had approached him, charmed by his looks, or Espers who mistook the comfort of his guiding for genuine affection, were scared off in less than a month.

That was all in the past, though. After a certain incident landed him a demotion, word spread quickly, and now no one in the organization was foolish enough to approach him based solely on appearances. Jumin sighed and patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“If only you could soften up and behave nicely, someone might’ve taken care of you.”

“Worry about yourself.”

“With that attitude? Yeah, you’re going to do great adapting to the outside world.”

Yoonui narrowed his eyes, realizing that everyone silently agreed with Jumin’s assessment. He had come to them for advice, only to be bombarded with critiques of his personality.

Still, opening up about his concerns wasn’t entirely pointless. Despite teasing him relentlessly, Jumin eventually offered a surprisingly reasonable suggestion.

“Why don’t you transfer to an administrative position instead?”

Transferring to administration meant leaving his current role as a Ministry of Defense operative on assignment at the Central Crisis Management Center and becoming a full-time administrative staff member of the center instead. It was a route he’d never considered before.

But now…

“…That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Once the option came to mind, it seemed like the most reasonable choice out of all his potential paths.

For one, his working environment and colleagues wouldn’t change, and he could continue living in the same staff housing. His public servant status would remain intact, so he wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet. His career experience would still be recognized, and his workload would likely decrease.

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered why this hadn’t occurred to him sooner. It was such a practical option that even Yoonui found himself impressed by the idea.

But despite how reasonable and practical this option seemed, Yoonui couldn’t bring himself to fully embrace it. Was it because he had never stepped outside the confines of the Ministry of Defense? Or was it because it felt like running away from the organization?

Lost in his thoughts, he ruffled his hair in frustration and checked the clock. 4 a.m.—the time when night duty was often at its liveliest and when instant ramen tasted the best.

“It’s a bit heavy, huh? But the water dispenser’s hot water can’t boil three cups at once.”

“It’s fine,” Hyeonju replied.

Jungwoo was already holding a large kettle filled with water, placing it gently on Hyeonju’s palms. For someone with such a big build, he had an incredibly mild personality. Even though Hyeonju was likely exhausted from his night training, he obediently held the kettle as Jungwoo instructed, carefully releasing small bursts of flame from his hands to heat the bottom. Watching this scene, Yoonui clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“They’re using an S-class Esper as a gas burner.”

“This is part of his training. Controlling the flame to just the right size, keeping it steady on the target—it’s all about practicing precision. I had to do similar stuff, too.”

“If Jumin catches you, you’re dead meat.”

Though he scolded them, Yoonui still helped Jungwoo by opening packets of ramen. “Ramen tastes better with properly boiled water than with lukewarm dispenser water,” he muttered, adding an offhanded remark about how thanks to Hyeonju, they no longer had to deal with half-cooked ramen.

When Yoonui said this, Hyeonju’s face turned red, and he bashfully replied, “If you’d like, Sir, I can boil ten cups of ramen for you.”

Such an earnest junior, so unlike Jungwoo, who could learn a thing or two from him. Encouraged, Yoonui gave Hyeonju a pat on the back. The resulting burst of flames scorched the plastic handle of the kettle, but aside from that, it was a nearly perfect performance.

Young Espers were bound to lack control. Watching the oversized fledgling unleash his flames recklessly, Yoonui chuckled to himself. As long as the ramen turned out fine, what was the harm in a fire-wielding S-class Esper letting off a bit of steam? The real issue was his own future. The thought of what lay ahead made the ramen broth harder to swallow.

Of course, the noodles went down just fine. After expertly finishing every bit, including the toppings, Yoonui sighed as he glanced at the heads of his juniors, who were still bent over their ramen cups, eating as if they hadn’t been fed in days.

There was no point in seeking advice from these greenhorns, but bottling up his thoughts was only going to make things worse. So, feeling restless, Yoonui tapped the not-so-adorable junior sitting next to him.

“Hey, Jungwoo.”

“Don’t talk to me while I’m eating.”

“When a senior talks to you, at least lift your head and look at them.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jungwoo raised his head just enough to meet Yoonui’s gaze for a split second before immediately ducking back down. His attitude showed not even an ounce of respect for his senior, but then again, Yoonui didn’t expect much.

Still, his lack of options for sharing his concerns left him no choice but to direct his question at this cheeky subordinate.

“Jungwoo, hypothetically speaking… what would you think if I said I was going into administration?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Try thinking for once in your life.”

Yoonui wasn’t surprised—this was exactly the kind of response he’d expected from Jungwoo. It didn’t even bother him anymore. What caught him off guard, though, was Hyeonju, who had been quietly sipping his ramen broth but now looked up, wide-eyed in shock.

“What do you mean by going into administration?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’d stop being a guide and handle administrative work at the center.”

“A guide can just… stop being a guide?”

Huh. When Hyeonju widened his eyes like that, his double eyelids disappeared. Yoonui smirked at the sight. His already large eyes grew even bigger, and his dark, shiny pupils seemed to scream his thoughts and feelings aloud. What a face—so transparent and expressive.

Amused by his reaction, Yoonui softened. He suddenly felt like explaining things in more detail to this young Esper who still had so much to learn.

“I don’t do much dedicated guiding these days, right? And besides, I’m non-combat. A non-combatant guide who doesn’t guide isn’t all that different from an administrative worker. Basically, I’m just a guide-qualified administrator. You’d be surprised how common that is.”

“Oh… So not all guides work in the field or in guiding rooms?”

“Exactly. If that were the case, why do you think Jungwoo and I are here?”

It seemed Hyeonju knew almost nothing about how the organization worked. For this pure and clueless rookie, Yoonui grabbed some paper and a pen and started sketching a simple organizational chart. He wrote down the names of two centers and two departments, connecting them with circles and lines.

“Look, our department is kind of a mix. The centers, like the one we’re in, are where most of the Ministry of Defense’s Espers work. Then there are the administrative departments. But even the centers have administrative staff, and the administrative departments also have Espers like me and Jungwoo. That’s called a deployment system.”

When it came to explaining the structure of the organization, no one was better than Yoonui. He gave Hyeonju a concise yet thorough explanation of how the centers and administrative departments complemented each other and how the deployment system worked.