The Espers Who Regretted Losing Me Chapter 23

“It seems we’ve been giving Guide Yoon Hyea far too much leeway. If we’d treated her the same as other guides, she wouldn’t have pulled tricks behind our backs, at the very least.”

“C–Captain. Your hand, please……”

It hurt.
Not figuratively—actually hurt.

Given his strength far exceeded that of an ordinary person, it was only natural.

I twisted my body while letting out a pained sound, and only then did Cha Eunhwi loosen his grip. Lee Shinra released my hand as well, but clear finger marks remained on my wrist, already darkening into bruises.

“……”

I was beyond dumbfounded. It wasn’t like my already fragile body could withstand being snapped in half. And more than that—

Why are they the ones getting angry?

At this point, even I was getting pissed.

The only reason I’d let things slide until now was because I knew that if something went wrong in my relationship with espers, I’d be the only one to suffer.

Espers were never the type to reflect on their own behavior.

They said they’d given me special treatment— Fine. That part wasn’t entirely wrong.

But the reason I was treated slightly better than other guides was purely because of my ability.

So what about it?

My insides churned along with the pain, but in the end, I had no choice but to endure it again.

No matter how angry I got or how many times I explained things back when we were younger and closer, nothing ever changed.

The bigger my expectations, the deeper my disappointment—every single time.

Arguing about it now would only be a more pointless emotional drain than before.

I swallowed down the agitation that had risen to my throat, steadied myself, and said the familiar words.

“I’m sorry.”

“…Is that all you can say, Guide Yoon Hyeya?”

“It’s true I tried to submit my resignation, and it seems like that’s what you’re angry about. You’re all saying what you want—what exactly am I supposed to say here?”

I’ll correct myself again.

I meant not to waste emotional energy, but this time my irritation spiked too sharply for that.

At my blunt reply, Cha Eunhwi froze. For a long while, he said nothing. Neither did Yeon Dogyeong nor Lee Shinra.

As the silence grew uncomfortable, I endured the pain in my wrist and tightly grabbed Shinra’s and Cha Eunhwi’s hands, starting the guiding.

I could feel all three of them emotionally shaken, but Cha Eunhwi’s condition was the worst. He’d already said he wasn’t feeling well.

To be honest, I wasn’t in great shape either—between my anger at the Director’s betrayal and the throbbing pain in my wrist.

But this wasn’t the first or second time feelings had been hurt between us.
In the end, I was the one who had to let it go again.

There’s a saying that if you hate the temple, you should leave—but I wasn’t even in a position to do that.

Poor, kind me. Guess I’ll endure it again.

I wondered if there was such a thing as a more pathetic form of mental gymnastics.

Judging by Shinra’s expression, he wasn’t going to heal me, so I decided I’d put some medicine on it later.

Even after the fairly serious guiding session ended, the unpleasant silence lingered.

After staring at me for a long time, Cha Eunhwi squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and released my hand.

Then he turned around and said,

“Let’s go. You both probably have a lot to say—but do it after we leave the gate.”

He didn’t specify who, but it was obvious there were plenty of things meant for me.

The thought of being showered with biting remarks the moment we cleared the gate made me feel gloomy.

Step. Step. As we walked across the land split perfectly into red and white, the silence continued.

Normally, Dogyeong and Shinra would be chatting noisily, with Eunhwi responding just enough—but not today.

I didn’t regret submitting my resignation one last time, but the sighs wouldn’t stop coming.

Suddenly, I remembered Eunhwi saying this expedition was a special directive.

It was supposedly issued with the hope we’d return on good terms……

I guess they didn’t realize that no matter what we did, our relationship would never improve.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I believe the relationship between espers and guides should be equal.

Of course, espers didn’t think that way. To them, they were heroes—and guides were little more than accessories to those heroes.

Yeon Dogyeong, Lee Shinra, Cha Eunhwi— They were all the same.

But they hadn’t always been like this. I remembered them as kind kids who smiled easily.

At some point, though, they started parroting the words of a first-generation esper.

That damned phrase— “Guides are gifts sent by God for espers.”

People say positions change people.

That supremacist mindset was even printed in training materials, so it was unavoidable—but the real problem was how their behavior and attitudes gradually changed after they started saying it.

The kids who once asked for my opinion no matter what began treating me like property, saying things like, “You’re ours anyway, aren’t you?”

No matter how many times I scolded them and told them it was wrong, nothing worked.

Cha Eunhwi left the unit not long after, so we didn’t clash much.

But Dogyeong and Shinra stayed with me, and watching them change day by day was far more disappointing.

After everything I did for them……

Since we were kids, I told them countless times.

Don’t do that. That’s wrong. If you keep saying things like that, I won’t want to be your guide anymore.

And this was the result.

A relationship so awkward it was hard to believe we were childhood friends. Awkward honorifics. Awkward guiding. An awkward atmosphere.

Since Cha Eunhwi changed just like the other two, I eventually gave up on expecting anything from espers at all.

Some people might refuse to give up and say, “I’ll change this broken world myself!”

But I didn’t want to go that far.

My espers were already beyond saving, and even if others changed, it had nothing to do with me.

It’s not like I ever worked with some grand sense of duty, anyway.

My wrist still hurt. I was irritated. My mood kept sinking lower.

As my steps gradually slowed and I fell to the back of the group, Shinra—walking a few steps ahead—snapped quietly,

“Hurry up, Hyeya-noona. We’ve been slowing down this whole time because of you.”

Sorry about that, you little bastard.

I nodded expressionlessly and picked up my pace.

The green land we reached without another word was—surprisingly—peaceful and cozy.

It felt like an entirely different world separated by a transparent veil.

A pale blue sky with wispy clouds drifting by.
Warm sunlight pouring down just right.
Flowers and grass everywhere my eyes landed.
And on the large tree I’d noticed earlier, red fruits hung heavily.

An apple tree?

There were no monsters—just birds chirping and small animals like rabbits and squirrels hopping about.
It looked like heaven. Or paradise.

I took a deep breath, and the sweet scent of flowers softened my jagged mood.

Cha Eunhwi, who had arrived first and was looking around, said,

“Since I don’t remember this, it seems like an untriggered gate.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen a completely new gate. But seriously—what is this? Is it okay for it to be this peaceful?”

“There aren’t any harmful substances at all. It’s calmer than outside, if anything. If there were plant-type monsters, you’d expect toxic spores in the air—but there’s nothing.”

Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere, but all three of them looked noticeably less tense than before.

Then Yeon Dogyeong furrowed his brow and turned to Cha Eunhwi.

“Captain. What was this gate’s original rank and named monster again?”

“It was classified as B-rank. The named monsters are dragons—one in the volcanic zone, one in the glacial zone.”

“Oh. Those fat lizards? That’s annoying. Their hides are tough.”

“Not really. This gate’s clear method is simple. You saw the short clear time, right? The dragons hate each other. If you lure them into meeting, they’ll fight until one goes down. Even if you attack them, they’ll only focus on each other. Take out one first, then finish off the other.”