The truth is, if you have countless snacks in your fridge and you can fill your stocks anytime, having a giant cake wasn't really necessary. It would even be a disadvantage for you, taking up too much space. Whether you eat it or not, you won't starve; you have countless other options anyway. So, keeping that giant cake just because it's the biggest cake you have was meaningless.
That was how Le An saw himself. Yes, he was the unmatched one. But he wasn't necessary. As long as you have the good, you don't need the best.
For the ones in the GAC, he knew he was important; on the other hand, because they were cruel enough to enjoy seeing how many slices they could cut a giant cake into. Cruel.
But for humanity, no such thing or a giant cake would matter. If he wasn't born... What you don't know, you don't miss.
That night, the man didn't come. Le An waited for him until it was 1 am, until he fell asleep.
The man didn't appear the other night, either. And when he appeared again, after two nights of absence, he came back.
And things went that way for two weeks. Eventually, some things changed, and Le An… was kind of used to it now. As things turned into a regular guiding session, he wasn't sure what to do with this reality. And the truth is, the experiment problem was a bigger issue, and Le An couldn't bear doing anything about this man for now. The best way to protect others from this man was to stay put, he wasn't ready to test what would happen otherwise.
And actually, he was waiting for a move, the next move from him. How could someone sneak into his room and threaten him with revealing his gender, just to get guiding? That can't be all. So, for the time being, he was just observing and guiding.
One night, the night Le An's lawyers finalized the rearranged experiment proposal with new added conditions and handed it over to the GAC, they had a proper talk. The late-night news was on TV. The female speaker's voice was clear. "At the center of Northern Holyfrontshire, as we all know, a large dungeon appeared four days ago. According to dungeon experts, the dungeon named Holyfrontshire087 is a level 4 portal, approximately 3.5 meters long and expanding and contracting between 2 and 2.5 meters wide... Experts say level 4 dungeons like this risk expanding up to six meters."
That was when Le An heard the man behind him talk. "No dungeon that small could expand more than 4 meters."
This was the first thing he told, different from his nonstop commands like "star," "continue", or "try shouting if you want to." Also, shouting wasn't really an option, Le An realized later. Every night the man came, a black veil covered the entire ceiling above them. Recently, the man revealed that this veil was another one of his shadow powers, blocking sound and creating a soundproof space underneath.
Le An didn't assume he waited for an answer, but he wanted to say something.
"Those estimates are based on expert evaluations and espers' own experiences," Le An said.
The man laughed, arranging his hands to keep Le An's wrist tighter. "Those experts have very limited knowledge about real dungeons, and your little espers are just spending time in the playgrounds."
"So, you've seen bigger dungeons before, with better capacity to contract and expand?"
Silence followed. Then the man answered:
"A dungeon's size isn't about its level. It's about how long it's been stabilized. A level 4 dungeon, holding steady at 3.5 meters for four days straight, will eventually shrink."
"Are you talking about the depletion theory?"
"I'm talking about the truth."
"Well, a truth needs evidence, but depletion theory is still just a theory," Le An said, his eyes closed. He waited for an answer but heard nothing for a while.
So, he kept guiding. But from the way he was held, almost as hard as the first days, he could tell that the man was angry. And although he knew that talking while he was angry was a bit risky, he wanted to hear more from him. Because even a slip of the tongue could reveal his identity.
He asked. "So, you are an esper with field experience?"
"Is this new for you?" The man said mockingly. In a tone as if he thought Le An would be smarter.
"You're an S-level, unregistered, and..." Le An stopped. Five days ago, he had met one of his friends, an E-level esper named Fetz. Fetz worked at the Esper Association in telecommunications. Le An trusted him, so with Fetz's help, he searched the base, filtering all S-level espers in the country by their abilities. Even though he trusted Fetz, Le An ran multiple searches to misdirect anyone trying to uncover his goal. He gathered all the data he needed but found no one who matched. The man was unregistered.
But then, how could he go on the field missions if he's unregistered? He wanted to ask, but feared provoking him.
"So, you've already done some research about me... Well done. And?" The man asked.
"And…?
"You said I'm unregistered, and?
"Nothing."
"No. Tell me."
Le An felt the man's face come close and shuddered. "And furious. It's like you're furious about something I don't know."
"..."
It was their longest conversation in two weeks. But a few days after that night, they initiated an even longer one.
---
"The dungeon at the Holyfrontshire disappeared today, just as you said." Le An started. He felt the man's focus on him. "How many times have you been in a dungeon?" The man asked.
Le An's last field mission was catastrophic—a level 6 dungeon appearing in one of the big cities. After that, it had become too dangerous for him, so they stopped sending him on missions.
"Nine times, I think. The Gyoaron dungeon was my last mission. Luckily, there were no bigger appearances afterward, or it would have been ten. What about you?"
A minute passed in silence.
"I don't count," the man said.
Le An tensed and asked one more question. "Why are you in a state like…you need guiding every day? And how do you go to missions when you are unregistered?" He finally asked.
"You know nothing." The man answered.
Le An sighed. Exactly why he was asking.
"I remember the news reported that you were injured in the Gyoaron dungeon. Were you injured?" This time it was him asking.
Le An's shoulder twitched with muscle memory. "Yes, for a brief moment, the esper's guard shield couldn't reach me. A shugoren attacked me then. A few stitches on my shoulder. I was lucky."
"Shugorens…" The man murmured. " Why did you accept the mission?"
Le An paused. It seemed this man knew little about his life, too. "I wasn't given the choice to accept or reject. It wasn't up to me."
The man thought for a moment and asked. "What would you have done if you were asked to decide?"
"I would have accepted. That's what my image demands."
"So, you care about your image more than your safety?"
"…Yes, I guess." Le An was genuinely considering it, as the man behind him watched him. "My image is sort of... something I don't completely own. It belongs to people more than me, so what I do or say, even if I don't think like that, has to be professional, hopeful, and trustworthy. I can't abandon people who have placed their hope and peace on me."
"What an image…" He mocked Le An. Then, pressed on. "But the treasure has many haters, too. Quite a few."
Yes, and this man was probably Le An's number one hater. "I know." Le An said.
"What about them? Would you help them if they needed it?"
This time, the man waited for an answer. Le An thought for a moment, then said,
"They'd make me help them no matter what."
He didn't have much control over his actions anyway. Pondering it was pointless. As long as Le An maintained a flawless facade, they would continue to consume him from within, not out of need, but because of their greedy desires.
Hearing his own answer, Le An immediately felt self-conscious. He was telling this to the very man who was holding him forcibly to receive guiding. Was the man greedy? Yes. Was he forcing Le An to help him regardless? Yes. The whole picture felt strange. The man was silent. As the session ended and the man turned away, Le An saw those black strings on his face again. The man was looking at him, wordlessly.
Le An often found himself glancing into the darkness where the man's face should have been, trying desperately to piece together any clue. The black strings that obscured his features made it impossible to tell, but underneath, there was a storm of emotions, anger, hatred, and frustration. Towards Le An.
It was nearly impossible to guess what this man was thinking at times. He rarely spoke and sometimes just stared. His eyes were hidden, but Le An felt those stares. Meanwhile, the man could see Le An's face and every gesture.
He had no face, no name, no identity. They were not equals. It was unfair.