The Espers Who Regretted Losing Me Chapter 45

That was when the infamous definition—“Guides are gifts sent down by God for us”—was established.

Which was why I had always held a deep, personal grudge against the first-generation espers.

Not that blaming people who died ages ago would accomplish anything.

Anyway, I’d heard everything I needed to hear.

I was briefly wondering how to bring up the main point when—

“Guides… are gifts bestowed by God. Precious. Incredibly precious.”

Cha Eunhwi murmured that, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

I froze.

The words felt completely different from the possessive undertone I remembered, and that alone was disorienting enough—but then Yeon Dogyeong and Lee Shinra started sniffling too, as if they’d planned it in advance.

“Why are you all crying so much?” I blurted out.

I hadn’t seen them cry since we were kids. It was overwhelming to the point of madness.

What made it worse was that even the baby snake perched on my shoulder had tears pooling in its round eyes.

“And why are you crying now…?”

“Gyu….”

I had no idea what it was saying, but once everyone started crying, I almost felt like crying too.

Almost.

I stared at the espers with a conflicted expression and waited—once again—for them to calm down.

The first to speak was Yeon Dogyeong, who was kneeling like a child being punished.

“I thought you were dead.”

“…Well, I wasn’t.”

“Yeah. I know. Th-thank you. Thank you for being alive, Yoon Hyeya.”

He was thanking me now too. This was officially nightmare material.

A chill ran up my neck, and I couldn’t bring myself to respond.

Unbothered, Yeon Dogyeong roughly wiped his eyes and asked again,

“Anything else? You don’t remember anything else?”

“No.”

“…Uh, earlier the captain—Cha Eunhwi—said we’re the same age. So you can talk casually if you want. Before, we just used each other’s names.”

Wow. Taking advantage of my ‘amnesia’ already.

His timid, unfamiliar tone gave me courage instead. I shook my head firmly.

“No. I don’t feel comfortable speaking casually to people I don’t remember. I’d appreciate it if you kept your manners too—but honestly, I won’t even ask that much. Speak however you like.”

His pale face stiffened instantly.

Yeon Dogyeong’s eyes wavered as he took a deep breath and lowered his head.

With Cha Eunhwi and Yeon Dogyeong like this, Lee Shinra couldn’t even bring himself to speak to me.

I looked between the three of them with a strange expression.

Even after a year, people can really change this much.

Well— They’d obviously revert back soon enough.

The moment I say I’m quitting as their dedicated guide, their true colors will show. I don’t even need to see it.

But blurting that out now wouldn’t work. Right now, I was still supposed to be someone who didn’t know anything.

I tried to empty my mind and spoke bluntly.

“So, to summarize—you’re espers, I’m a guide, I had an accident and got trapped in this gate. Outside, I was listed as missing.”

“…Yes. And it was entirely our fault. We should have protected you, Hyeya.”

Guilt lay thick on Lee Shinra’s face.

Even without trying, I could feel their emotions pressing in on me—so heavy and murky that it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Honestly, from my perspective, I was almost grateful they hadn’t protected me.

The month I spent here had been so peaceful that I could have said I was fine.

But easing their guilt so easily felt unfair—after everything I’d endured.

“Well,” I said lightly, “if guides are such precious gifts from God, letting one get eaten by a monster doesn’t really back that up, does it?”

The sarcasm drained the color from Cha Eunhwi’s face.

From Lee Shinra’s. From Yeon Dogyeong’s.

A wave of pure sadness crashed over me. For a split second I thought maybe that was too harsh—but then I remembered the conversation we’d had right before I was eaten.

I continued casually.

“I’m not really blaming you. I just meant… that was the extent of our relationship—”

“No!”

Lee Shinra cut me off before I could finish.

When our eyes met, he flinched. I stared back coolly and tilted my head.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘no’?”

“Th-that’s not what we were. ‘That extent’—that’s not true. It’s not…”

He shook his head frantically, rambling.

We were exactly that kind of relationship, so why was he so desperate to deny it?

And why was he looking at me like that—so wistfully?

I felt goosebumps rise all over my body.

This conversation was clearly going nowhere.

I sighed inwardly and asked calmly,

“Then what were we? Not as esper and guide—but personally.”

I’d asked outright. Surely they wouldn’t spout nonsense now.

The first to answer, with a deadly serious expression, was Lee Shinra.

“You and I were… really close. Like… fate-level close. You adored me a lot…”

Fate?! Are you insane?!

When did I ever adore you?!

But the real problem was that Lee Shinra said it with the most devastated expression imaginable—then added quietly,

“I wish that had been true…”

“What?”

His voice was so gloomy I couldn’t help asking.

Then Yeon Dogyeong, standing beside him, spoke in a low voice.

“We were flirting. No—more than that. Basically right before dating?”

“…Excuse me?”

What kind of nonsense is that?!

If you were the last man on earth, I’d still live alone!

My face burned hot with disbelief.

While I sat there gaping like a stunned fish, Yeon Dogyeong muttered,

“That was just… my wish.”

…Your what?

I was at a total loss.

So basically—they wanted to be fate-bound with me, and wanted to date me.

This is driving me insane.

I didn’t know how to react.

As Yeon Dogyeong and Lee Shinra shrank back, sniffling again, I instinctively turned toward Cha Eunhwi.

If he said something strange too, I might actually run away.

Swallowing dryly, I looked at him.

Cha Eunhwi gave a faint smile and spoke.

“Espers and guides aren’t special beings unless they form an imprint. But—”

“……”

“My guide is Hyeya alone. Without you, I… can’t do anything.”

His eyes reddened as he lowered his gaze.

“…Why are you all like this…?”

For a moment, I wondered if this was all a dream.

I pinched my thigh hard.

It hurt.

In the end, I let out an obvious sigh.

To be honest, regardless of how things might change later, it was clear they felt genuine guilt right now.

I wasn’t an S-class guide for nothing.

Even without physical contact, being this close made their emotions easy to read.

Their gaunt faces. Their complete lack of self-care. The fragility that had replaced their former confidence.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how badly they’d suffered over the past year, believing I was dead.

But people’s true nature doesn’t change that easily.

Just thinking about the past made me sigh again.

Being with the three of them had always been exhausting.

So much so that I’d chosen to stay inside a gate—peaceful as it was—rather than return.

Even if their awkward behavior stemmed from regret, to me it just felt hypocritical.

It’s been a year for them—but only a month for me.

No matter how earnestly they spoke. No matter how much they apologized.

None of it erased what had already happened.