Look
843 Words
It feels strange.
We stood on the escalator. I “saw” the woman in front of me—she was troubled; I “saw” the man behind me—he was anxious; and the people passing by on the escalator moving in the opposite direction—happy, bored, worried, relaxing—
I covered my forehead with my hand.
Then, the person beside me—I “saw” him notice me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and those feelings disappeared. I returned to my original senses, but something was different. He was too close; I “saw” him more clearly—he was elated—
“Shield,” he gently reminded me.
I did know how to create a mental shield, but aside from the training to block attacks, I never thought it had any use. My perception had always been too dull for a guide. So I never connected that strange sensation just now with my senses.
But when I raised the shield, the world returned to normal.
Why?
“When a sentinel and a guide with high compatibility are near each other, it creates a mental resonance. Resonance heightens your senses,” he added.
I looked at him in shock. I had never heard of a sentinel being able to read minds. He smiled at me. The wave of joy almost instantly penetrated the shield I had just raised, soaking into my “vision.”
“You’re very easy for me to understand,” he said. After a pause, he added, “And I should be the same for you if you truly ‘look’ at me.”
He was looking at me, intently, his pale green eyes unblinking. I turned my head away, but he lowered his. He kissed my hair.
I felt myself freeze entirely. Out of disgust, out of rejection. Because, despite my obvious disgust and rejection, his affection and anticipation were still just as blatant. His indifference to my personhood. Forget about killing or destroying him—could I even harm someone like this?
“Watch your step,” he said. The escalator had reached, and I hadn’t noticed. His arm tightened around me, almost lifting me—
I broke free and ran forward a few steps.
In my panic, my shield collapsed, and it was as if the emotions surging in the hearts of everyone in the world were pressing down on me. Amid all the murmurs, the clamor, the chaotic noise, there was a clear wave of anger and hatred. Right behind me, pushing my suitcase, coming closer and closer.
Then he shielded himself. I “heard” nothing from him.
“Are you okay?” he asked me.
No, I wasn’t okay. I found you disgusting. I regretted it. I didn’t want to see you. You were awful. You were terrible. You were the worst sentinel in the world. Why couldn’t I end this at ease?
“Just hold on a little longer,” he said. “You can rest properly once we’re in the car.”
As he put my luggage into the trunk, he told me, who was about to open the backseat door, “Sit in the front.”
I hesitated.
“No,” I said, opening the door.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t drag me out. He didn’t use any tactics to force me. He got into the driver’s seat and turned on white noise, the sound of wind rustling through leaves. That’s when I realized he hadn’t been wearing noise-canceling headphones the entire way here. That was unusual for a sentinel not on duty.
He didn’t start the car. After a while, I noticed he was staring at me through the rearview mirror.
“Why mathematics?” he suddenly asked.
My heart skipped a beat.
None of the sentinels my dorm supervisor introduced me to had ever asked what I studied in college. I clenched my hands, feeling sweat in my palms.
He continued, “Because you like it?”
I lowered my head. I nodded.
“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” he said.
Very difficult. It even took me an extra year to graduate. But I liked it. Because the formulas were beautiful, clean, and safe. Dealing with numbers felt comfortable to me, much more so than subjects with too many uncertainties and things that needed to be “felt”. Originally, if—
“Do you still want to pursue a master’s degree?” he asked.
“Why did you kill Helen?” I blurted out. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I cried again. I had sworn I wouldn’t cry about this in front of him.
“It was just a mission,” he said. “Do you want to see the case file? Once you become an S-rank guide, you’ll have clearance.”
An S-rank guide. What a joke.
He fastened his seatbelt.
“As for how to become an S-rank guide, it’s easy,” he said, starting the car. “Bond with me.”
The car started.
*
- Writer
