A press conference? Out of nowhere?

I’d been so thankful when the board blocked reporters during my discharge, and yet here they were a few days later, pushing for a joint press conference with Joo Seunghyuk.

I was introverted to begin with, and ever since realizing I was inside a novel, I’d lived even more cautiously. I was terrified of attracting Seunghyuk’s attention.

And I especially hated standing out in public. As an S-Class Guide, I’d often been dragged to government events and the like, but I never got used to it. Knowing my nature, Professor Choi approached me and apologized.

“Yeonsu, I’m sorry. But the public is panicking—there’s no helping it. Think of it as your duty as an S-Class Guide.”

“I understand. But the press conference content—you're sticking to the script, right?”

The whole purpose of today’s press conference was to reassure the public. We would clarify that Joo Seunghyuk wasn’t retiring, and that I was healthy. And as a bonus, they’d publicly announce that I was currently his assigned Guide.

The most important thing here was the word currently.

An S-Class Guide was even rarer than an S-Class Esper.

Putting aside the classic debate over which role was more important inside a gate, the sheer number of Guides was drastically lower.

Among the active Espers in their twenties, there were four S-Class Espers: Joo Seunghyuk, Park Geonwoo, Do Hyukjin, and Kim Chaea. But I was the only S-Class Guide.

Neither the Academy nor the Center wanted such a valuable S-Class Guide to be bound to Seunghyuk alone.

Of course, they hoped we’d reconcile and get along—hostility would be problematic—but becoming his exclusive Guide was an entirely separate matter.

When I turned down the exclusive contract with Seunghyuk seven years ago, a lot of people were secretly thrilled. Not just companies and guilds—government officials too.

When Seunghyuk was on the verge of losing his future as an Esper, they reached out to me out of desperation. But people are always different when going into the bathroom and coming out, as the saying goes.

Besides, the fact that Seunghyuk and I had a high match rate was proof that his rejection symptoms weren’t absolute—and meant he might be able to form high compatibility with another Guide as well.

The school planned to test his compatibility with other Guides. If they could find someone with even a 30% match rate, guiding would be possible.

As soon as Seunghyuk showed signs of recovery, I’d be relieved of my duty as his assigned Guide.

That was what both the board and I hoped for.

Even if we couldn’t stop them from announcing that I was guiding him “for now” to calm public anxiety, we had to emphasize that temporary status.

“I’m only Joo Seunghyuk’s temporary Guide.”

“Of course. Don’t worry. Just read the script. It’s only a few lines. I’ll do most of the talking, so you don’t have to worry about a thing. And the reporters’ questions are pre-selected, so there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Yes. I’m counting on you, Professor.”

It wasn’t even my first press conference, so why was I so nervous?

I usually disliked attention, but I wasn’t bad at handling it when it came. Yet today, I had no confidence.

Was it because I’d be standing next to Joo Seunghyuk?

“Hyung.”

The source of my anxiety had arrived.

I turned my head. Seunghyuk, like me, was wearing the Esper Academy’s formal uniform. Hat and cloak included.

With every step he took, the black cloak swayed. It wasn’t just ornamental—it was protective gear imbued with defensive magic.

Since the magic made them extremely expensive, it wasn’t practical to distribute them to every student. Only top scorers received enchanted uniforms. The rest got plain cloaks with no special features.

The designs were the same, but the enchanted fabric had a distinctive sheen and feel. That was why some students studied like their lives depended on it—to earn that cloak.

Both Seunghyuk and I had entered as top-ranked students, so our cloaks were enchanted.

Personally, I didn’t like it. It was a lot heavier than the standard cloak. But seeing the way it gleamed and flowed with his movements—it did look cool.

“You’re early, Seunghyuk.”

“You got here before me, hyung.”

“Well, I live in the dorm.”

The press conference was being held in the board’s main auditorium.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yeah.”

I’d passed out right after organizing my clothes. I didn’t even know chaos had broken out overnight.

“Good job.”

Seunghyuk brushed his hand over my cheek.

“You look beautiful today too.”

“Haha. Thanks.”

Apparently not seeing any faculty nearby, he wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, like we were in our own little world.

I wanted to push him away immediately and ask what the hell he was doing, but as of today, my ‘patient immunity’ had expired. I didn’t dare reject the yandere prince.

“White really suits you, hyung.”

“Y-you look good in black too.”

Seunghyuk, fittingly, looked excellent in black.

His large, slanted eyes, dark irises, lashes long enough to cast shadows, high nose bridge, sharp mouth—his face was incredible. I was caught staring, forgetting everything else, when he whispered in my ear.

“Feels like a wedding.”

“W-what?”

What kind of nightmare fuel was that?

“You’re in white, I’m in black. Even the designs look like formal wear, don’t they?”

...Now I hated this uniform even more than I already did.

“I-is that so?”

“If we walk out like this, it’ll look like a wedding press conference.”

“......”

“Should we just announce our marriage?”

“......”

His soft tone was terrifying.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t tell me you’re not going to marry me? My purity—”

Before he could launch into that “purity” nonsense again, I blurted out,

“T-the cloak...!”

“The cloak?”

“Wedding suits don’t have cloaks.”

“Should I burn them?”

Burn what?! Do you even know how much this costs? It's made of taxpayer money!

“They’re just regular uniforms, same as everyone else’s. Wedding outfits should be special.”

“You’re right. I agree, hyung.”

Seunghyuk smiled sweetly and kissed the back of my hand.

“A wedding announcement should be special.”

“...Right.”

No. There’s no way we’ll ever announce a wedding. Ever.

My whole body trembled with fear.

Then, salvation came in the form of a voice.

“It’s time. Please come out.”

“Yes!”

I quickly pulled my hand away. Seunghyuk gazed down at me, but said nothing and walked ahead.

As I moved to follow, Professor Choi stopped me.

“Yeonsu, are you and Joo Seunghyuk getting married?”

He must’ve heard our conversation. Well, it’d be weirder if he hadn’t—we were right in front of him.

Seunghyuk was already up on stage. I lowered my voice as much as I could and answered the professor.

“No.”

“But—”

“Absolutely not. That was just a joke from Seunghyuk.”

“Are you sure? I was thinking... maybe when you said earlier that you were his temporary Guide, it was a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be his exclusive—”

“That’s absolutely not it.”

Professor, why do you keep saying such terrifying things lately? I used to really like you. This is disappointing.

“...I see. Then shall we proceed as written?”

“Yes. You mustn’t change the script. You ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) promised.”

“Alright, alright.”

I was trying to get him to confirm one more time that the script was sacred, when Seunghyuk’s voice rang out.

“Hyung, what are you doing?”

“Ah—coming!”

I hurried up onto the stage.

Even though the press conference had been arranged at the last minute, the auditorium was packed with reporters.

Before I even sat down, camera shutters exploded in bursts. The flashing lights made my eyes snap shut on reflex.

No matter how many times I experienced it, I’d never get used to this. But Seunghyuk didn’t even blink amid the flash barrage.

“Good afternoon. I’m Choi Jisung, head of the Guide Department at the Esper Academy. Thank you for coming all this way.”

Professor Choi began with a greeting, and Seunghyuk and I bowed.

Today’s press conference was mostly led by Professor Choi to protect the students. Seunghyuk and I only had to say a few lines.

We read the prepared statements exactly as planned. Only the Q&A remained.

Many reporters raised their hands, but Professor Choi called only the pre-approved ones.

“Guide Lee Yeonsu, a question. Have you fully recovered your health?”

We’d already anticipated this question. I gave the prepared answer.

“Yes. Thanks to everyone’s concern, I’ve made a full recovery. I sincerely apologize for causing public distress.”

The next reporter asked,

“There have been rumors that Esper Joo Seunghyuk is retiring. Is that completely false?”

“Yes.”

Seunghyuk gave a short, direct answer.

He hadn’t been given many lines today. Since he was unpredictable—and frankly, the professors were all intimidated by him—they couldn’t exactly ask him to play along in this staged performance.

Professor Choi was probably just grateful he’d agreed to sit still.

And since this was how Seunghyuk usually acted, it didn’t even seem out of place.

“Haha. Of course. Esper Joo Seunghyuk will continue to protect this country alongside Guide Lee Yeonsu.”

As the Q&A dragged on, the reporters’ expressions soured.

Only reporters with ties to the Academy board were being called. The questions were bland, and the answers dodged the real issues.

They probably sensed this was a rigged game. But Professor Choi ignored the frosty glares and kept to the script.

“Now, we’ll take one final question.”

Finally—it was almost over.

I’d been worried, but Seunghyuk had behaved, and everything was wrapping up smoothly.

Just as I relaxed, a voice rang out from the back of the room.

“Why is it only temporary? Is there a specific reason Guide Lee Yeonsu has to be Joo Seunghyuk’s temporary Guide?”

It was sudden, but Professor Choi handled it like a pro.

“Please refrain from asking questions unless selected.”

“What caused the berserk incident?!”

But the reporter shot off a second question with bold defiance. It broke the rules of the press conference—but the other journalists looked thrilled.

The atmosphere was changing. If this kept up, reporters might start shouting out questions en masse.

Professor Choi seemed to sense it too and quickly stepped in to control the situation.

“We cannot disclose the cause of the berserk episode.”

Jeers broke out immediately, but Professor Choi clearly expected them and continued calmly.

“As I stated earlier, Guide Lee Yeonsu was assigned as Esper Joo Seunghyuk’s temporary Guide to alleviate public concern. There is no particular reason—”

“There was a guiding rejection.”

A calm, low voice echoed through the auditorium. I turned to Seunghyuk in shock.

“Joo Seunghyuk!”

Even Professor Choi, who had maintained his poker face until now, shouted in alarm. But Seunghyuk ignored him and kept speaking.

“I nearly went berserk because of it.”