The Rose Knife and the Frilly Apron

Steel herself as she might, the moment Baek Yeo-eul stepped into the house and took in the interior, her eyes went round and a gasp of admiration escaped her. Contrary to Kim Yu-ra's description, the place was not empty at all—everything was unified in white, creating an atmosphere that felt snug and welcoming.

'No way.'

Looking over the interior, Kim Yu-ra found herself recalling the cleaning company van and the furniture company's cargo truck she'd passed on the way in. The furniture brand on that truck had matched the pieces in Han Yi-hyeon's home exactly. Muttering 'no way' yet again, Kim Yu-ra awkwardly lowered her head. Han Yi-hyeon had always kept his previous Guides at arm's length—booking them hotel rooms on the lower floors and refusing to let them set so much as a single foot inside his home—so she couldn't believe what she was seeing even with her own two eyes.

Just as she stood there blankly, Kim Yu-ra's watch rang. It was a call from Do Geon.

"Guide Baek Yeo-eul, I have some business to attend to, so I'll be on my way. I'll send you a friend request—please do register it."

"Ah, yes. Take care on your way out."

She wanted nothing more than to hold Kim Yu-ra back, but she couldn't bring herself to grab someone who looked that busy.

Baek Yeo-eul stood there in a daze, and when Han Yi-hyeon, who had disappeared into the kitchen, showed no sign of coming back out, she carefully perched her backside on the very edge of the sofa. Marveling inwardly at the cozy sense of security it wrapped around her, she then spotted the sofa's brand. It was a limited edition piece crafted by a world-famous designer.

'......'

Having a rough idea of the price, Baek Yeo-eul stealthily lifted her backside off the cushions. The sofa that had felt so cozy mere seconds ago now felt like a slab of rock.

Her backside was far too shabby to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be sitting on something that precious. Unable to bring herself to look toward the kitchen at the back of the house, Baek Yeo-eul fixed her attention on the sounds instead. Tak-tak-tak. A gentle bubbling. Tick.

"...Food."

"Ack!"

Baek Yeo-eul jolted upright at the voice that had arrived without so much as a footstep. Clutching her hammering heart, she looked up to find Han Yi-hyeon standing there with a rose knife in hand. The apron, as ever, was adorably frilled.

His face was frozen so rigid that, had it not been for that adorable frilly apron, she would have believed him if he claimed to have stepped out midway through cooking a person.

"...Have you eaten?"

Food? Did he just ask whether I've eaten? Baek Yeo-eul fumblingly pieced together a reply to the sentence Han Yi-hyeon had produced.

"Ah, no, not yet."

"...I happen to be making some right now. Would you like to... eat together?"

Han Yi-hyeon pointed toward the kitchen with the rose knife. In that instant, the blade caught the light and flashed.

'Why are you saying that while holding a knife?'

"S-sounds good."

At her answer, Han Yi-hyeon's expression brightened in a peculiar way. Before she could get a proper look at it, he scurried off into the kitchen.

Baek Yeo-eul made her way there too, one careful step at a time.

'...Whoa.' It was an exclamation quite different from the one the interior had first drawn out of her.

Had a war broken out in here? Flour lay thickly dusted beside the cutting board, onion peels strewn about at random. A pot scorched pitch-black, and any number of cookbooks crumpled, splayed open, in utter disarray.

And, funnily enough, there sat Han Yi-hyeon at the table—where a spread of surprisingly appetizing-looking food was neatly arranged—quietly waiting for Baek Yeo-eul, still wearing his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠frilly apron.

With a scrape, she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Well then, I'll dig in..."

Since Han Yi-hyeon showed absolutely no intention of eating until she picked up her spoon first, she hastily shoveled the soybean paste stew nearest her into her mouth.

"Ah, hot—!"

She had very nearly shown Han Yi-hyeon the sight of her spitting the tofu straight back out. Covering her mouth with one palm, Baek Yeo-eul rolled her tongue frantically, without pause, to cool the scalding tofu.

As she squirmed helplessly against the burning heat, Han Yi-hyeon, who had been fidgeting in anguish, rushed off to fetch cold water. Too flustered to manage even a proper thank-you, Baek Yeo-eul gulped it down.

Only after finally forcing the tofu down did the flavor wash over her, belatedly.

...Huh?

"It's delicious..."

Baek Yeo-eul was startled. Having witnessed the state of that kitchen, she had braced herself for the taste to some degree—but it was unbelievably good. And not merely good ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by comparison to her nonexistent expectations. It was just plain delicious.

No, wait—let me try another bite. For all I know, my survival instinct could have numbed my taste buds.

Baek Yeo-eul urgently tried the soybean paste stew once more—blowing on it this time—then a spoonful of steaming, perfectly cooked rice, then the freshly made spicy seasoned potatoes.

"It's good..."

What is this? Why is it good? It was enough that a GIF of someone bellowing "TASTE!" replayed on loop in her head, entirely of its own accord.

Eating warm home cooking for the first time in who knows how long, a hunger she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying came rushing in. Her stomach growled audibly even mid-meal, but Baek Yeo-eul was too busy scarfing food down to care.

Not a word passed between them; only the clink of spoons filled the room. Blindfolded as he was, Han Yi-hyeon somehow managed to pick up his side dishes with surprising skill.

"...Ah."

It was only after a second bowl of rice, after settling comfortably into the sofa she hadn't dared touch earlier, and after finishing every last piece of the fruit Han Yi-hyeon had brought out for dessert, that Baek Yeo-eul finally came back to her senses.

Wait, but isn't this way too comfortable? She popped the last remaining slice of melon into her mouth and chewed it slowly. Ah, sweet. So good. Out of season or not, the melon boasted a sweetness that made her tongue ache.

Once she had a moment's breathing room, Baek Yeo-eul turned her head toward the kitchen, from which the sounds had abruptly ceased. Han Yi-hyeon had wandered a few steps out toward the living room and was in the middle of a phone call.

"This is the cleaning company, isn't it? By any chance, do you also handle dishes and kitchen cleaning...?"

"Wait, wait!"

Baek Yeo-eul shot up from the plush sofa in a single motion and sprinted over to Han Yi-hyeon. As she came running, he awkwardly spread both arms wide—but she snatched the phone right out of his hand.

"Ah, I'm so sorry. I'll call you back later. Thank you for your time."

Phew. The moment the call ended, relief flooded in.

"You were about to hire a cleaning company, weren't you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's dirty."

Is this what rich people are actually like? Baek Yeo-eul could not comprehend Han Yi-hyeon's way of thinking at all. Calling a cleaning company because doing the dishes was too much hassle? What kind of nonsense was that? Granted, the kitchen currently looked like a war ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠zone, but still...

The penny-pinching commoner etched into Baek Yeo-eul's very bones shook her head, thinking, 'Even so, this is going too far.'

"It felt hopeless trying to tackle it alone. Let's do it together."

Baek Yeo-eul rolled up her sleeves. Han Yi-hyeon visibly startled.

"Just sit and rest. I'll give it a go myself. Just stay put..."

Whether Han Yi-hyeon followed or not, Baek Yeo-eul headed for the kitchen.

What the...? Why is the rose knife's blade and handle separated exactly, and why is the cutting board split clean in two? How does a spatula end up bent at a ninety-degree angle—why? The more of the wrecked kitchen she cleared away, the deeper Baek Yeo-eul's doubts about the source of his strength grew.

Once the great kitchen cleanup was over, Baek Yeo-eul entered the second-floor room Han Yi-hyeon had shown her to and flung herself straight onto the bed.

"Huaaaaah."

The moment she sank into the mattress, plush and reassuring as a slime, her body melted into a puddle. However at home her body felt, her mind was thoroughly exhausted.

Rolling over from where she lay face-down, Baek Yeo-eul gave the room—a space as large as her entire old home—a cursory scan. It came with a small study and a walk-in closet, plus a bathroom. And since her belongings had already been unpacked and arranged, the place felt less foreign than it should have.

Baek Yeo-eul powered on her watch.

The moment she tapped 'Yes,' a friend request popped up. Spotting Kim Yu-ra's name, she pressed accept.

At the same time, Kim Yu-ra's profile bloomed into view as a hologram.

"...Just as I thought."

Kim Yu-ra was a non-awakened—in other words, an ordinary civilian. No wonder she'd never shown that unmistakable arrogance all Espers seemed incapable of hiding.

Baek Yeo-eul's hand froze mid-tap as she searched for Lee Mi-so in the friend finder, about to send a request. Kim Yu-ra's warning surfaced in her mind—family or friends alike, she was to refrain from all contact for the time being. After a brief internal debate, Baek Yeo-eul sent a friend request to Han Yi-hyeon alone and shut off the watch screen.

Honestly, Baek Yeo-eul still couldn't quite believe the situation she was in. The 89% matching rate. Becoming the partner of an S-rank Esper.

'How much will I be paid?' She'd only ever heard rumors about the ballpark figure, and nothing had a clear source. But it felt too shameless to suddenly message Kim Yu-ra and ask what her salary was, so she opened a search window instead.

A sentence she was certain she had never once searched in her life—one she'd never even thought to type—looked nothing but strange to her.

Scratching her cheek, Baek Yeo-eul hit search.

The results varied from site to site, but at least one thing was certain: the money was good. Beyond anything she'd imagined.

'...This might actually work out pretty well for me.' Picturing the number that would soon be stamped into her bank account, a sense of ease settled over her heart all on its own. And with it came a flood of drowsiness. Just as her eyes were drifting shut—

CRASH!

It was a sound loud enough to snap her eyes wide open.

When she stepped out, she found Han Yi-hyeon sitting on the first-floor staircase. One look was enough to tell he'd tumbled down the stairs.

However unclose the two of them might be, Baek Yeo-eul wasn't so defective in the character department as to ignore an injured person. She slid down the stairs in a flash.

"Are you okay?"

With Han Yi-hyeon not stirring so much as a muscle, she wondered if he'd hurt his head.

What he was staring down at was his watch. Just as it had for Baek Yeo-eul, a hologram hovered in the air before him, and on the screen was a list of friend requests.

It was Baek Yeo-eul.