And if I was right, the evidence would be in this room.

Joo Junghan had secretly developed a special Red Lotus Flame–based new drug—in the original, and in the present as well.

When I asked Joo Seunghyuk if Seonghan Pharmaceutical was researching special Red Lotus Flame, he’d answered:

“No. I’d rather burn it than hand it over to that bastard Joo Junghan. Well... unless that bastard snuck in and stole it without me knowing, I’d never give it to him myself.”

Those words didn’t mean he hadn’t handed it over at all—they meant he had deliberately let Joo Junghan steal it.

And Joo Junghan, to develop a new drug from the stolen Red Lotus Flame, had set up a secret lab in Texas.

After the past Red Lotus Flame incident, the World Health Organization and the World Ability-User Association had designated “Red Lotus Flame” as a dangerous plant, banning its collection from Gates.

Because of that, most countries either outlawed Red Lotus Flame entirely or barely allowed research for medical and academic purposes, and even then, the process was far more complex and regulated than before.

So for any truly free experimentation, secrecy was a necessity.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

The moment special Red Lotus Flame became known to the world, there would be those who coveted it—pharmaceutical companies, drug traffickers, ability-users, even nations or the World Ability-User Association itself, under the pretense of public good.

So naturally, he would want to keep it secret until results were achieved.

And he likely intended to use it as a secret weapon against Joo Seunghyuk as well.

Besides, that was the story in the original. In the present, where he was secretly stealing Seunghyuk’s property for experiments, there was even more reason to hide it.

Developing a new drug required astronomical sums.

If it were an official project, company funds could be used, but since this was a secret endeavor hidden from the company, Joo Junghan would have to bankroll it himself.

Even for a third-generation chaebol heir, endlessly pouring in personal funds would be difficult.

Cornered, Joo Junghan decided to use the “Nemershield Necklace.”

He disguised one of his own treasures as “the Nemershield Necklace” and offered a deal to the chairman of Lexington Pharmaceuticals—who was in talks for a political marriage with Seunghyuk.

The Lexington chairman probably intended to marry off his daughter and then borrow the remaining funds from Seonghan, and Joo Junghan would have encouraged him.

But that plan failed.

In the original, it would have been due to Kim Jun’s change of heart. He truly came to like Seunghyuk and blocked the marriage, even defying Joo Junghan’s orders.

This time, it was Seunghyuk himself who refused, saying he wouldn’t marry anyone but me...

Either way, with the political marriage to Seonghan scrapped, Lexington gave up on purchasing the Nemershield.

But Joo Junghan didn’t give up—he put the Nemershield Necklace up for auction in Aquilus.

As expected, it fetched an astronomical sum at auction, but the moment it was used, its true nature as a fake would have been exposed.

Before that could happen, Joo Junghan murdered the winning bidder, Do Hyeokjin, and made off with the fake—securing the auction proceeds.

But in reality, unlike in the original, it was David who won the item.

For Joo Junghan, he was the worst possible buyer.

David was surrounded by cameras twenty-four hours a day, leaving no chance to harm him or switch the fake.

Seunghyuk must have realized Joo Junghan’s plan the moment I hinted at the original’s storyline. And to spite him, he maneuvered events so David would win the bid.

The result put not only Joo Junghan but David himself in an awkward position—likely intentionally.

Then Seunghyuk leaked information on the real culprit to an enraged David, cornering Joo Junghan even further.

And Seunghyuk didn’t stop there—together with Do Hyeokjin, he gathered information on Joo Junghan’s illegal Red Lotus Flame drug.

It was probably in that process that he rescued Kim Jun from an attempted abduction.

The one who arranged Park Geonwoo’s drunk-driving accident must also have been Joo Junghan.

At the time, Park Geonwoo had been questioning the results of my matching rate test with Seunghyuk and investigating the possibility of Red Lotus Flame use.

In the process, he must have dug into Seonghan’s Red Lotus Flame research, and fearing exposure, Joo Junghan staged a car accident to kill him.

But with the Nemershield scam and Kim Jun’s abduction both failing and finding himself cornered, Joo Junghan decided to pin his crimes on Seunghyuk instead, feeding false information to Park Geonwoo.

I gripped the doorknob.

Seunghyuk must have known about Joo Junghan’s crimes—and gathered evidence.

And the only place in this house where he might have kept it was this room.

As I tried to open the door, a flicker of fear rose within me.

What if what’s in here isn’t evidence? What if it’s a secret Seunghyuk had desperately wanted to hide?

I might end up facing a truth I’d have been better off not knowing.

My hand slackened—but then I gripped it again.

I trusted Joo Seunghyuk. I wouldn’t run away anymore. Even if he had a side I didn’t know about, I wouldn’t avoid it.

Without further hesitation, I opened the door—and froze at the sight of the large room before me.

The “secret room” Seunghyuk had so desperately hidden was nothing like I’d imagined.

Like its owner, the rest of the house was perfect—overall black tones, a clean and sophisticated interior that allowed not the slightest clutter.

But this room was different.

In the center of the room was a large piece of paper that read [NO BUMS ALLOWED!]. The handwriting was obviously that of a child—uneven despite trying to be straight—and the thick paper had yellowed with age.

Next to it was another sign: [No Losers Allowed]. The handwriting here was elegant, on bright white paper, clearly much more recent.

I knew the owner of that handwriting—it was Seunghyuk’s. He must have written it after I once told him the “loser” story.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t called me a loser even once since then.

Then... was the “No Bums” sign from seven years ago, when I’d refused the exclusive contract? I looked again at the crooked letters.

After the contract fell through, he’d never again used the word “bum” or belittled me over money.

Could he have thought I’d refused the contract because I’d been called a “damn bum”? And so he’d written this and stuck it on the wall?

Had he looked at it, reflected on it, and thought about what he’d say to me the next time we met?

And I’d just kept running away from that boy...

Lee Yeonsu, what the hell have you done...

On the walls, besides the writing, were several drawings—all portraits of me.

Some were from magazine photos, others drawn from life.

Judging by the clothes I wore or the furniture in the background, the studying scene was from the dorm, the sleeping one from after a rut.

So when I’d wondered what he was quietly doing behind me while I studied—he’d been drawing.

He must have sketched in a notebook whenever he had time, then torn out the ones he liked and put them on the wall.

I’d thought he’d never hang anything unless it was a famous artist’s ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) work, or at least a perfect painting on an easel.

“Our Seunghyuk is good at drawing, too.”

When he’d said he didn’t like drawing anything but me—that had been the truth.

Next to the drawings were photographs—me wearing an apron, making him food.

The day he took those pictures, he must have gone so far as to print them.

In photos, my food looked even plainer. Compared to Seunghyuk’s cooking, it was embarrassing.

And honestly—why was there a picture of Connie chicken nuggets on the wall? That’s not even cooking...

That wasn’t the only embarrassing thing.

On one wall stood a display cabinet as beautiful as an art piece. Inside were grapefruit juice, Ev*** bottled water, and handmade candies—all things I had given him.

Embarrassment and guilt surged together.

That was all I’d ever given him.

Compared to the gifts he’d given me, it was painfully meager. And yet, instead of being dissatisfied, he’d treasured them.

Over... something like this.

I tore my gaze away from the cabinet. Now wasn’t the time for sentimentality.

I needed to find evidence.

I opened the notebook on the desk.

Instead of records of Joo Junghan’s crimes, what greeted me was childish handwriting—the same as on the [No Bums Allowed] sign.

***

Today I met my guide. ^-^

His name is Lee Yeonsu. He’s even prettier than in the photo, and his voice is pretty too.

He asked me to have a hamburger with him.

When Yeonsu held my hand, it tingled and buzzed and felt kind of strange.

Yeonsu said he’s never had a hamburger before. I’m going to buy him lots.

I’m going to be a great Esper and make a lot of money.

Yeonsu is my guide. I’m so glad Yeonsu is my guide.

***

It was Joo Seunghyuk’s diary. The first page, written only when he was in a good mood, was about me.

So he hadn’t hated me after all... Even while snapping and grumbling at me, in his heart he had always thought of me as his guide...