The Espers Who Regretted Losing Me Chapter 49

I spoke again, my expression stiff.

“Guiding. You said I’m a guide. If I do that for you, you’ll get better, right?”

“Well… yes, technically—”

Cha Eunhwi answered awkwardly. His face was full of confusion. Yeon Dogyeong and Lee Shinra stared at me as if trying to bore holes through me.

I absolutely can’t say things like ‘I feel sorry for you,’ ‘you look pitiful,’ or ‘it’s okay, I’m here.’
The moment I say that, I’ll be leashed all over again.

After organizing my thoughts, I replied the same way I’d been doing all along—short and blunt.

“I don’t like watching you bleed. The smell is awful too.”

For a second, I wondered if that was too harsh—but all three of them just stared blankly.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
But honestly, watching this made my own chest feel like it was going to explode.

If you’d all kept acting obnoxious like before, I’d have pretended I couldn’t do it even if you begged.

I’d never understood the saying “Give rice cakes to someone you hate.”

Why would you give food to someone you hate? So it gets stuck in their throat and they suffocate?

I knew the proverb meant don’t pile up resentment no matter how much you dislike someone, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

Still—just this once.
Only this once, I decided to help with that mindset.

I spoke again, curtly.

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Well… you hold hands—”

“Hands? All three at once would be hard. You two have been bleeding nonstop, so I’ll start with you first.”

I stood up at last and took long strides toward Yeon Dogyeong and Lee Shinra.

But the idiots actually stepped back when I approached.

“Why are you backing away? You don’t want guiding?”

A month ago, they’d clung to me, begging even when I didn’t want to do it.

Shinra shook his head quickly.

“It’s—i-it’s because of the blood… If we hold hands, you’ll get dirty too, noona…”

“…You can wash it off. It’s fine.”

Where did all that arrogance go?
The way he stammered was exactly like when he was younger, and it made my mood feel strangely unsettled.

I grabbed Shinra’s hand almost forcefully and reached my arm out toward Dogyeong as well.

But for him, it didn’t seem to be about dirty hands.

“Yoon Hyeya… do you really not remember us at all?”

I almost flinched.
So the excuse wasn’t entirely convincing after all.

Frowning, I nodded.

“Like with the leash thing earlier, bits and pieces come up sometimes. But I really don’t remember anything else.”

“…Then can you call me by my name? And drop the formal speech. We really did grow up togeth—”

He was speaking timidly when blood suddenly poured from his mouth.

No matter how much his behavior changed, at heart Yeon Dogyeong was still Yeon Dogyeong—sick of my constant polite speech.

Honestly, they all probably knew why I’d insisted on it.

Would it be better to just be rude instead?

After wiping the blood away, Dogyeong looked at me with faint, hopeful eyes.

That alone made me not want to give in.

The fact that I even offered guiding first is already unbelievably kind, considering what you did to me…

Letting my discomfort show plainly, I said,

“No. Like I said, I don’t remember anything. Just give me your hand.”

The brightness drained visibly from Dogyeong’s face as he weakly extended his arm.

The moment I grasped both their hands, the condition flowing into me was far worse than I’d expected.

These idiots… they really used their abilities like this…

I hadn’t been wrong at all—it was even worse than when we first met eight years ago.

Cha Eunhwi hesitated, then began explaining.

“According to headquarters training, the first step is to hold affection and compassion for the esper.”

Straight out of a textbook.

Meaningless to me, but I nodded anyway.

“With those positive emotions, you can sense how unstable their condition is.”

Another half-hearted nod.

“After that, you imagine something stable and calm. Hyeya, you once said you picture untangling knotted threads, straightening crooked lines, or filling in something that’s missing—static, quiet images.”

Of course he remembered something I’d said in passing eight years ago.

Since the explanation was accurate, I didn’t ask anything further and focused immediately.

It had been a month since I last did guiding, but it wasn’t difficult.

However—the moment I formed that stable image in my mind—

“…Wait.”

Yeon Dogyeong’s face hardened as he suddenly pulled me into his arms.

I twisted reflexively, thinking what kind of trick is this now, but froze immediately.

“What—what is this?”

The warm, peaceful air turned damp and sticky.
The sky clouded over. Flowers, grass, and leaves blackened and withered.

“Kiiiiiik!”

The animals that had been calmly circling us began baring their teeth.

At me.

“Shinra, barrier!”

At Cha Eunhwi’s shout, Shinra instantly deployed it.

In the blink of an eye, squirrels and rabbits—now nearly twice their size, sharp fangs jutting out—slammed into the barrier and slid down to the ground.

“……”

What the hell is this?
The absurdity left me speechless.

Through the translucent barrier, my eyes met the lop-eared rabbit’s.

The same rabbit that used to squeak cutely at me now looked viciously distorted.

Flinching, I heard Dogyeong whisper urgently,

“Yoon Hyeya. Don’t ever leave my side. Ever. Please.”

He was panting like someone terrified.

Honestly, even without him saying it, I had no intention of moving.
Not with things looking like this.

But it wasn’t just Dogyeong.

Shinra and Eunhwi were both deathly pale, guarding me as they scanned the surroundings.

Only now did I truly understand how deeply that incident a month ago had scarred all three of them.

…Let’s keep guiding for now.

The once peaceful scenery had flipped completely, and the animals inside had turned into monsters.

This was a gate.
A place where you could genuinely lose your life.

No matter the rank, for espers who hadn’t received proper guiding for a year, the risk was far too high.

Even now, the transformed squirrels and rabbits kept attacking the barrier, and Shinra’s condition worsened by the second.

This was dangerous.
If we delayed, the barrier might break.

Eunhwi said earlier he’d teleport them away if we were attacked. Shinra and Dogyeong might collapse any second. So…

I had to guide all three at once.

Radial guiding was inefficient—out of the question.

I snapped my head up, grabbed Shinra with one hand and Cha Eunhwi, who had moved closer, with the other.

Then, glancing sideways at Dogyeong who was holding me, I said,

“I’ll try guiding like this. So you—don’t let go either.”

I’d once been ready to die, but at this point, survival felt like the better option.

Changing my mind with impressive speed, I closed my eyes.

And more seriously than ever, I filled my mind with an image.

Threads tangled so tightly they seemed impossible to undo began loosening, one strand at a time.

Maybe because I focused for so long, the effect was remarkable.

I felt dizzy from how much effort I put in.

The barrier, which had been shaking anxiously, became perfectly solid.

Solid enough to withstand even the monsters’ assault.

Yeon Dogyeong, who’d struggled to make even a baseball-sized fireball before, looked downright exhilarated as he rained fire from the sky.