Chapter 146

“Hey, Song Jaeha! After class today, are we doing a Skype study call?”

“Jaeha… I’m seriously dying right now. I’m so emotionally drained I feel like my thoughts are literally projecting out of my head. Finals themselves feel like a direct threat to my very sense of self…”

“Kim Minjeong, stop with the denial already.”

“No, but honestly, guys. What’s the point of memorizing all this? It’s not like we’ll ever use it later. Are we supposed to answer in an interview, ‘My defense mechanisms are repression and sublimation’?!”

Minjeong, exhausted from cramming for finals, ruffled her hair in agony, while Seongmin snickered and teased her playfully.

Yes, in this world, Jaeha was a proper fourth-year psychology major, apparently around twenty-four years old. And…

“Hey, Song Jaeha. What’s wrong with him?”

“He must’ve pulled an all-nighter. Yaaawn.”

He had… a lot of friends. Which was, frankly, troublesome.

The moment he arrived at a campus that felt oddly familiar, a crowd naturally gathered around him, walking together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was, honestly, overwhelming. To cover his unsettled expression, Jaeha pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

Was he really this sociable here? Just what on earth did the boss intend to show him through this hallucination? The only guesses were that it was some kind of happiest space, something he would want to stay in forever—a world built from his deepest desires.

“……”

If so, then this was too real. Instead of joy and peace, what he felt was bewilderment and creeping anxiety.

Yes. This wasn’t reality. But it was more real than reality itself. To the point where trusting his own memories felt difficult. Were his memories actually real?

“Ah, that ad’s running again.”

“Still, he really is so good-looking.”

“……”

Jaeha lifted his gaze. On the massive screens outside the school, played a video styled like a celebrity commercial. A man in an association Guide uniform smiled in a perfectly groomed way as he spoke.

[Your guiding may be someone’s lifeline. For the stability of espers and the peace of society—apply for Guide registration today.]

“……”

Jaeha froze mid-step, staring.

Skin pale and clear like glass, contrasting with neat black hair falling smoothly over his forehead. Deep black eyes calm beneath long lashes. And features not strikingly strong, but soft, refined. Beneath the polished collar, each detail was perfect. A beauty anyone would admire.

Yes. It was Aiden.

[Stable matching, systematic training, and official state certification. With the Korean Esper Association, you too can become someone’s light.]

– Apply now through the official Association app.

“Are all Guides usually that good-looking?”

“Nah, of course not. But it’s nice that they’re showing Guides at all now. Before, broadcasts only showed the espers entering gates, while the Guides’ faces were always blurred out.”

“……”

And here—it was as if the association’s reforms had never happened.

The old Chairman had never resigned. All the changes to improve rights and survival rates of espers and guides—reversed. The Guide Human Rights Association didn’t exist at all.

So, here, Aiden spoke like a doll, mouthing words he would never say in the real world. Normally, Jaeha might not have noticed—but now, he could see it. His face wore a hollowness, a crushed emptiness that reminded Jaeha of himself in the past. The bold, unshaken air Aiden always carried was gone, to the point Jaeha hadn’t immediately recognized him.

“Maybe I should get tested for esper manifestation.”

“Man, if you turn out to be A-rank or above, you’d coast through life.”

“……No.”

“Huh?”

Jaeha spoke without realizing it. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not actually good, being an esper.

“…It’s really not good, becoming an esper.”

He had just—ironically—parroted Aiden’s own words.

His complicated expression made his classmates exchange awkward glances, nudging each other.

“True, espers do risk their lives in gates all the time.”

“Right, weren’t Jaeha’s parents an esper and a guide? He’d definitely know better than us… Sorry. Guess we spoke too lightly.”

“……”

This world was laughable. Here, his parents were alive as esper and guide, while five-year-old him had manifested… as nothing but a normal human. Jaeha sighed inwardly. Until he could figure out this world’s structure, and how to get back, he had no choice but to play along. Blend in.

Schooling his expression, he smiled faintly.

“Guys……”

But it didn’t last.

“—And his older brother works at the Association too, right?”

“…What?”

Until then, he had never heard of having a brother. He had grown up without parents, without siblings.

Within his very first lecture hall—his first proper college class—he barely heard a word. His mind blurred as he scrolled his phone.

‘Why so surprised? Did you two fight?’

‘What, him and his brother? No way. They’re super close. When’s he visiting?’

‘Don’t ever invite him over. He’s just trying to mooch food off big brother again.’

‘Pfft. Free meals are always welcome!’

Just as his supposed “friends” said—it wasn’t hard to find traces of a brother.

His phone buzzed.

When does class end today? Should I come pick you up?

The contact name: simply “Hyung”.

If they were supposed to be close brothers, the photo gallery would reveal him right away. But Jaeha… didn’t dare look. Because somehow, he already knew who it would be.

“……”

After hesitation, he slowly typed:

Can you come now?

Sending the message required no grand resolve. Maybe he was braver in this version of himself, or maybe it was how he had always been, deep down.

The read receipt showed right away.

Now? Shouldn’t you be in class? Something wrong?

The reply suggested a caring brother. A kind one.

And yet, Jaeha’s chest roiled—anger, resentment, the old, boiling emotions threatening to spill. Instinctively, he pressed them down. Again.

Jaw tight, he typed:

I don’t feel well today.

The dots indicating a reply appeared almost immediately.

I’ll come get you.

Even while the lecture pressed on, Jaeha stood, abruptly walking out.

“Huh? Jaeha, where are you going?”

“…I’ll call you later.”

“W-wait, what?”

His classmates tried to stop him, but he slipped past every hand, leaving without pause.

He tried to keep his steps discreet, composed—but before long he was outright running, panting raggedly.

Of course, nobody was waiting outside the school gate. Whoever it was, they couldn’t have gotten there instantly.

Passersby shot strange looks at the visibly shaken young man, gasping against the wall. Embarrassed, he tried to slow his breathing, but it wasn’t easy. He felt like Alice in Wonderland—an alien, a misplaced outsider.

“….”

He sank into a crouch, dizzy, back pressed to the wall near the gate.

You’re not crazy. You’re not dead. This isn’t real. This is just a trap the gate boss is showing you.

He whispered the words aloud without realizing—like a madman muttering to himself.

Time passed. Enough for headlights, the slam of a door and footsteps to reach him. Each step carried an unbearable familiarity.

The rhythm of heel to ground, the length of stride, the tempo. He knew it all. He had memorized it.

That sound pulled up memories he wanted buried: An arm choking tight around his throat. A burning body close. Abuse excused as training, with “gratitude” demanded for it. Chains of memory that suffocated him anew.

The looming shadow fell over his crouched figure.

“Song Jaeha.”

His head rose slowly at that recognizable voice. His blurred green eyes found the familiar face.

“…What are you doing here like this?”

“……”

“Are you very sick?”

“……”

Jaeha’s face contorted in pain.

Because the “older brother” standing before him—was his Boss.