Ghost Apple

The soft, light brown strands of hair and strikingly vivid blue eyes—so vivid they looked as if he were wearing colored lenses—gave him the kind of arresting, refined appearance that could have been plucked straight out of a blockbuster Hollywood film. With such a face, paired with a distinctly Korean name and fluent Korean, it was impossible for him not to stand out.

—Meanwhile, the Association of Ability Users, which has been actively supporting CEO Seo Won’s business…

Of course. Figures.

Han-gyeom furrowed his once-smooth brow and turned away without hesitation.

That damned association always finds a way to insert itself into everything.

Wearing a faint grimace, as if he’d just bitten into something bitter, Han-gyeom tugged his thin black jacket tighter against the crisp breeze cutting through the air. Like someone trying to tune out unpleasant news, he strode forward with long, purposeful steps.

Despite it being a weekday afternoon, not a soul was around except for a lone taxi that had passed by moments ago. That’s how deserted this shabby street on the outskirts of Seoul was—people were a rare sight here.

Walking alongside the narrow two-lane road with not a parking spot in sight, Han-gyeom veered off into a small alleyway. It was the kind of cramped space where even two people walking side-by-side would feel crowded, but he entered without a hint of hesitation.

He passed a cluster of multi-family homes densely packed into the winding alley, heading deeper still. The path soon became gloomier, surrounded by aging stone walls with flaking paint, until even the sunlight barely reached the ground.

Just as he was about to push open the rusted iron gate at the end of the path, his hand already mid-reach—

Crunch—a faint sound of gravel shifting underfoot came from behind him.

A chill shot down his spine like a blade of ice.

Without thinking, Han-gyeom’s hand moved instinctively to the small knife hidden beneath his jacket. He turned quickly.

“Han-gyeom-ssi.”

A man appeared out of nowhere, smiling brightly as he called out Han-gyeom’s name. From his eyes seeped a faint, eerie black aura that drifted around him like mist.

He was a short, gaunt middle-aged man, skin clinging to bone. At first glance, he looked so sickly and emaciated that one might think he was suffering from some serious illness. But rather than reacting to the man’s frail appearance, Han-gyeom’s eyes scanned the area with caution.

This neighborhood didn’t have a single CCTV camera, and only a handful of people lived here, if any at all. Unless you were physically here yourself, there was no way to know this man had come.

“I told you—since I registered you as a client, all you had to do was wait inside.”

Still surveying his surroundings, Han-gyeom grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him forward.

“Hurry up and get inside, ahjussi. And keep your eyes down.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The man nodded clumsily and obediently lowered his gaze. The black mist that had flowed so clearly from his eyes sank downward, dispersing slowly to match his downward stare.

Once Han-gyeom had half-shoved the man through the rusted iron gate and made sure no one else was around, only then did he follow him in.

Han-gyeom’s home looked like a single-room shack torn straight out of some forgotten countryside village.

The faded yellow vinyl flooring carried with it the bleakness unique to rundown neighborhoods. The wallpaper looked so grotesquely rotted that one might half-expect a ghost to burst out at any moment, and the mold collecting in every corner drew an instinctive sense of unease. A battered desk with an ashtray, a narrow single bed barely big enough to lie down on, and a solitary chair placed awkwardly in the middle of the room—without even those, it could’ve easily been mistaken for a complete ruin.

Han-gyeom, shrugging off his jacket, gestured to the only chair for the man who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

His stark white dress shirt stood out almost as much as his skin, which looked so pale it might sting to the touch. With a long, lean frame, he clearly wore his shirt a size too big, almost as if trying to hide his body beneath it.

He carelessly tossed the jacket onto the bed and began rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.

“Are you just gonna stand there zoning out?”

“Huh?”

The man responded slowly, letting out a belated “Ah…” and scratching his head with an embarrassed expression. His bony fingers fumbled around in his pants pocket before pulling out a crumpled 50,000-won bill and holding it out.

“This is all I’ve got for now…”

“You remember, right? Emergencies cost an extra twenty thousand.”

“Yeah… but can you just do thirty thousand won’s worth for now… please…”

Han-gyeom took the bill and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. Then, pulling out an outdated flip phone—good for nothing except calls and texts—he firmly pressed the buttons to set a timer.

Without a word, Han-gyeom reached out and grasped the man’s hand, which was still awkwardly suspended mid-air.

That was all it took.

His black pupils flushed crimson in an instant.

“Ah…”

The man trembled with a shiver as the warmth spread through their joined hands. The gentle energy flowed from Han-gyeom’s palm, trailing smoothly along his veins, and within moments, it coursed through every part of his body like a wandering stream.

The red energy that had seeped into the man didn’t begin its work immediately; instead, it took a gentle tour of his body first.

So, he’s been recklessly using his ability, huh.

The channels were all bumpy and uneven—it was clear that fifteen minutes of basic “Hand Guiding” wouldn’t be enough to set things right. From the hand up to the heart where all paths converged, it would take at least a few days of proper guiding to fully straighten the flow.

If it were a Deep Guiding, I could reset everything at once…

By pressing their bare skin together across a wider area and syncing their physical and emotional states, he could soften and realign the flow entirely…

No. There’s no need to go that far. And I shouldn’t, either.

He glanced sideways at the man, who was already dazed and spellbound, drunk on the ticklish sensation from just the first pass of energy.

Han-gyeom wasn’t the only one who worked as a “guiding seller,” offering his abilities for money.

A little extra service was one thing, but going out of his way to offer help worth more than what was paid—it felt like a disservice to others in the same line of work.

Who was it that once said that?

If kindness is repeated, people start thinking it’s their right.

And that’s exactly right.

When someone gets a bit of goodwill-laced service once or twice, they start mistaking it for a given, not a favor. Then, when they go to another Guide, they’ll grumble and ask for the same extras—say the last Guide gave them a deeper session without even being asked, complain that this one has no sense of customer service.

Just do exactly what I’m paid for. Nothing more, nothing less.

With that firm resolution, Han-gyeom fully immersed himself in the guiding.

He connected the fractured energy pathways, straightened out the misaligned channels, and carefully smoothed over areas where the flow was inconsistent. The hardened, tense circuits were gently warmed and relaxed until they softened.

Though it might seem complex at a glance, guiding was, at its core, incredibly simple.

It was about tuning the pathways inside the body so the source of one’s power—commonly referred to as ESP, or the black current—could flow cleanly.

No snags. No blockages. No wandering currents.

Quite literally, guiding was about offering a proper guide for the power to follow.

And as their pathways were adjusted, espers often fell into a state of blissful surrender, swept away by the pleasant sensation of the energy smoothing over every inch of their body.

Especially during a session, endorphins were naturally released. The physical heaviness and throbbing aches caused by obstructed ESP flow were swiftly alleviated, transforming into pure pleasure. The intensity of that pleasure depended on both the quality and quantity of the guiding—so of course, every esper dreamed of receiving more from high-grade Guides.

To espers, guiding was a kind of drug.

At first, they reached out in fear—terrified of losing control or dying from a power surge. But even once they stabilized, they kept coming back, driven by habit. Eventually, some fell so deep that they couldn’t even use their abilities properly without a Guide. The anxiety without one would grow unbearable.

It was so severe that the Association had to enforce mandatory “Guiding Addiction Tests” for espers every month.

They possessed terrifying power—but with it came the isolation of constantly wrestling with an alien force that might consume them at any moment. How could they not become intoxicated by the warm, compassionate touch of a Guide who promised to always be on their side, to never let them fall? The bliss that came with it was just icing on the cake. No wonder so many espers ended up obsessively fixated on their Guides.

That’s why Han-gyeom stubbornly stuck to Hand Guiding, no matter what.

So his clients wouldn’t get drunk on it and cause problems.

BEEP BEEP BEEP—

“Done.”

Right at the peak of pleasure, the moment it was getting good, Han-gyeom coldly pulled his hand away the instant the timer went off. The warmth that had flowed through their joined hands and embraced the man’s entire body vanished in an instant.

Unlike when they first met, the man’s complexion had clearly improved, his skin glowing with life as he shot his eyes wide open.

“Hey, that was way too short!”

The guiding had been far too brief—so short it left him hollow inside. The man couldn’t help but blurt out his frustration. Han-gyeom’s eyes, which had been distant and even cold until now, twitched ever so slightly.

“At least give me three more minutes as a bonus—!”

“Hey. Ahjussi.”

Han-gyeom reached out and lightly tapped his index finger against the man’s forehead. His eyes, which had reverted to black the moment the guiding ended, were already glowing a vivid crimson once more.

“I clearly told you—”

“I clearly told you not to raise your voice.”

The door suddenly swung open with a bang, and a young man’s voice abruptly cut in.