I am a Guide Who Killed an Esper.

“How are you still alive? Lucky for me—I was just debating whether I’d have to go clear a corpse out of your quarters.”

Was that supposed to be a concerned remark? From the words alone, it was hard to tell. But Kim Joomin insisted she was being genuine. She even shared her precious hand-ground coffee as proof of her sincerity, claiming that no one could question her intentions after that.

Woojoo chimed in with a suggestion to take an extra day off to recover, but Jungwoo, who had apparently been struggling with the workload in Yoonui’s absence, wasted no time airing his grievances.

“Ah, seriously, I thought I was gonna die while you were gone!”

“Would it kill you to at least pretend to say, ‘You should rest another day’ or something?”

“If you rest another day, then I die.”

“You really wouldn’t make it far in the field,” Yoonui sighed, shaking his head.

Jungwoo, ever unapologetic, grinned and replied with a chipper “Yes, sir!” as he handed over a mint-green-wrapped chocolate.

“Here, have this.”

“You prepared something like this? I’m impressed.”

“Of course not. I didn’t buy it.”

“Ah, that’s from our little ‘kid.’ They left it for you,” Joomin interjected, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“Kid? What kid?” Yoonui glanced at her quizzically, and she answered with a knowing smirk.

“Our S-class.”

“Oh… the one who rampaged?”

Despite being an adult Esper, the S-class was still under training, which placed him under the Talent Development Team’s jurisdiction. At only twenty years old, it wasn’t far off to call him a “kid.” Still, given his massive, fully-grown physique, the label felt a bit mismatched.

Yoonui recalled the fiery chaos—the unbearable heat, the stench of smoke, and the towering gray column of flame in the center. It was hard to imagine the “kid” had come out unscathed, but judging by Joomin’s relaxed demeanor, he seemed to be in better shape than expected.

“So, he’s alive, huh?”

“Of course. He’s an S-class, after all. After you left, eight guides were assigned to him.”

Joomin clicked her tongue, shaking her head. For an S-class Esper, the size of their “vessel”—their capacity for power—was enormous. It wasn’t surprising that it took so many guides to help restore his depleted energy and damaged body. Why they hadn’t deployed that many guides earlier was a mystery.

“Well, if he’s fine, that’s all there is to it.”

Yoonui shrugged off the conversation, deciding it wasn’t his problem anymore. Instead, he took the neatly wrapped chocolate from Jungwoo. The smooth ribbon and high-end packaging were unmistakably fancy. Unwrapping it, he popped a piece into his mouth, savoring the fresh burst of mint mingling with the sweetness of chocolate.

“Wow. That S-class of yours has good manners. You could learn a thing or two from him, you know.”

A faint smile crept onto Yoonui’s face as the refreshing taste lingered. Mint chocolate was one of the few desserts he genuinely enjoyed.

Jungwoo, on the other hand, made an exaggerated gagging noise, his shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“I taught him that, you know. I told him you like weird stuff like mint chocolate.”

“Huh? Did he come by more than once?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started. He came by every single day. Every. Single. Day.”

Joomin rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Woojoo chimed in with a smirk.

“I think he felt really guilty. He kept coming back to check on you.”

According to Woojoo, the Esper had first visited on the afternoon of Yoonui’s sick leave, bearing coffee. The next day, he brought more coffee. At first, he had seemed simply grateful, but as the days dragged on, his expression darkened with guilt and unease.

“We just told him you’re not seriously injured—you’re just old and a bit worn out,” Jungwoo teased with a grin.

“Wow, thanks for that,” Yoonui replied dryly.

The young Esper’s repeated visits to the administrative wing—hardly the center of prestige—had been a significant source of discomfort for the staff. In the end, they’d implemented a workaround, promising to tell him that “Senior Officer Jeong Yoonui loves mint chocolate, which keeps for days. Just leave that instead of coffee, and we’ll notify him when he’s back.” Listening to the story, Yoonui couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish.

“It’s been years since an Esper thanked me for anything.”

“He’s a good kid,” Woojoo added.

“He’s really sweet,” Joomin agreed.

So, the Esper’s name was Hyeonju. It sounded close enough to “Hyeonju” that it felt feminine at first, but the firm pronunciation of the “Hyeon” gave it a weighty and reliable ring. Hearing it brought back the image of those broad shoulders, covered in ash, standing in the inferno.

The memory of gripping that massive body with everything he had, surrounded by unbearable heat, sent a shiver down Yoonui’s spine. The adrenaline, the sense of imminent danger, and that faint tug of longing for the field all bubbled to the surface.

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. Shaking off the unwelcome emotions, Yoonui muttered, “Tell your precious little kid thanks for me—and tell him not to bother coming here.”

“Why? He’s been waiting to thank you in person for days!”

“What’s this?”

Yoonui tried to share the remaining chocolates with Joomin and Woojoo, but both declined. Feeling unappreciated, he popped another piece into his mouth and slouched back into his chair with a disinterested shrug.

“What’s there to be thankful for? A guide doing their job? The call came in, so I went. That’s all.”

“Still, saving him right before he fully rampaged is definitely something to be grateful for,” Woojoo pointed out.

“Ugh, whatever. Just tell him not to come back. If word gets out that the precious S-class has been coming here to thank me, do you think Park will let it slide? He’ll turn it into a circus.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Yoonui already looked exhausted by the thought. But the reactions around him were… odd. Especially Jungwoo’s expression, which was as transparent as ever—a mix of guilt and unease. The moment Yoonui caught sight of it, a chill ran down his spine.

“…You didn’t already tell him I’m back, did you?”

“I, uh… might have mentioned it yesterday. Told him you’d be in today….”

“Wow. Fantastic level of confidentiality, Jungwoo,” Yoonui muttered, clicking his tongue as he raised a fist menacingly.

Before his fist could meet Jungwoo’s stomach, the office door creaked open, and their “polite little kid”—the ever-dutiful S-class Esper—poked his upper body through the gap. Dressed in a bulky fireproof jacket, his oversized frame made for an adorably awkward entrance.

“Senior Officer Jeong, I heard you were back today, so I wanted to stop by….”

“Oh, Hyeonju, come on in!” Joomin welcomed him enthusiastically, practically ready to roll out the red carpet.

Unable to ignore his guest outright, Yoonui awkwardly lowered his fist and turned to greet him properly.

Kim Hyeonju.

The first S-class Esper South Korea had produced in over a decade. The Central Crisis Management Bureau’s shining hope and the future hero of the nation.

But rather than the cold, stoic image bureaucrats had painted, Hyeonju’s appearance was more fitting for television spotlights and screaming fans. How could anyone look this good while wearing a bulky fireproof suit?

His physique was remarkable—broad shoulders, a towering height that made him at least ten centimeters taller than Yoonui. His clear, smooth skin was pristine enough to make you wonder if the ash covering him before had just been a trick of the light. One of his eyes had a deep crease, giving him an asymmetrical yet uniquely charming look. His eyes, large and bright, sparkled with an intensity that made them hard to ignore.

“Those eyes are beautiful.”

The unexpected sight of such a strikingly handsome young man left Yoonui momentarily speechless. If someone was blessed with powers like his, shouldn’t their looks at least be mediocre for balance? Even Yoonui, who prided himself on his own appearance, had to admit Hyeonju was in a completely different league.

“Hello,” Hyeonju said politely, bowing slightly.

“Ah—uh—hello. Yes, hi,” Yoonui stammered, belatedly realizing he’d been staring too openly. Embarrassed, he chuckled and tried to cover it with humor.

“Sorry about that. I’ve spent so much time surrounded by these folks that I forgot what it’s like to see someone good-looking.”

Before he could finish, Joomin, one of the “folks” in question, jabbed her elbow into his side. Yoonui barely managed to block her.

Hyeonju, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the playful scuffle. In a soft voice that didn’t match his large frame, he replied, “…You’re very handsome too, Senior Officer.”

It must have taken some courage to say that because the moment the words left his mouth, his face turned bright red. And then—whoosh.

Was that the sound of something catching fire? Yoonui blinked in disbelief.

Not only had Hyeonju’s face turned crimson, but actual flames were rising from his back, right through the fireproof jacket. It was almost comical, like watching a human flamethrower in action.

“Wait—hey!”

“Huh?!”

The flames startled everyone in the office. Even the usually composed Joomin and Woojoo let out yelps, and Jungwoo practically shrieked as he scrambled to grab the stack of papers on Yoonui’s desk before they could catch fire.

Unbelievable.

Even Yoonui, who was no stranger to fire-based abilities, felt his heart skip a beat. The recent memory of the massive blaze caused by this very same Esper must have triggered a visceral reaction in his body.

“Fire! Hyeonju, you’re on fire!”