Don't Support the Guide - Chapter 8

Bailey remembered it well—when he had arrived with a selection of Guides, it had already been too late.

Even those with average hearing could tell what was happening inside the room. The unmistakable, shameless sounds had left little to the imagination.

Adrian Brillante—an Esper of unparalleled prestige and authority—was notorious for avoiding Guides. Yet, on the very night of her deployment, she had indulged in something so intense?

Curiosity had gripped him then.

What kind of Guide could possibly break down an Esper as untouchable as her?

Whoever it was, they weren’t ordinary. Not with the way his breathless, intoxicating moans had carried through the walls.

Does she think I was the one who sent that particular Guide?

Bailey quickly schooled his expression, shifting into a polite smile.

“I’m relieved to hear the Commander is satisfied! As a fellow Esper, I know how vital a good Guide is. So, will you be assigning him as your personal Guide moving forward?”

“Not sure.”

“In that case, shall I arrange for a different Guide—”

Adrian suddenly raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. Her sharp gaze was locked on something in the distance.

“Hold on.”

With a furrowed brow, she strode forward.

“Lieutenant Nora, more! Your body won’t break just because you’re tired!”

The drill instructor, clearly pleased by the recruit’s exceptional stamina, pushed him harder. The intensity of the training had long passed reasonable limits. Now, Samuel was running laps around the field with sandbags strapped around his torso—each nearly as heavy as his own body weight.

“Faster!”

Sweat poured down his face, soaking through his uniform. Still, he grit his teeth and pushed forward. But no matter how much effort he put in, his speed wouldn’t increase. Then, his footing slipped. His ankle twisted sharply, and Samuel crashed to the ground.

“Get up, Lieutenant No—”

“Enough.”

The cold voice cut through the air. Everyone turned toward the source. Adrian stood over Samuel, her expression as icily composed as her tone.

“Lieutenant Samuel Nora’s training ends here.”

“C-Commander?”

The instructor’s shocked voice went ignored. Adrian only looked at Samuel. Drenched in sweat, he gazed up at her in a daze—so much like last night. But while last night’s exhaustion had been satisfying, today’s sight unsettled her.

Guiding wasn’t just an act of balancing energy—it drained her own reserves to stabilize the Esper. It was a well-known fact that imprinting with an Esper of higher rank left the Guide severely depleted.

Even among those of equal standing, it was customary for Guides to take a day off after imprinting. Samuel, a mere Silver-level Guide, had spent all night stabilizing her.

And now? Here he was, pushed past his limits, forced to endure training that even a well-rested Guide would struggle with.

Had he been targeted because of their imprint?

Adrian’s gaze flicked to the instructor. But judging by his confused expression, he had no idea.

Interesting.

Her eyes slid back to Samuel. He had said nothing. Not to anyone. Adrian smirked.

“…You’re surprisingly discreet, Lieutenant.”

She placed a firm hand on his back.

Samuel flinched at the contact, startled. The heat of his sweat-soaked skin was almost dizzying—both from exhaustion and the immediate flood of guiding energy that pulsed between them.

For just a moment, Adrian hesitated.

Then she pulled him closer.

“It’s standard protocol,” she murmured, “for an imprinted Guide to take the next day off.”

“…I’ll remember tha—wait, what?”

The drill instructor, who had been all disciplined just moments ago, now looked utterly bewildered.

Adrian, still wearing the faintest trace of a smirk, made no further explanations. Instead, she simply led Samuel off the training field without another word.

Silence fell over the remaining recruits.

They exchanged glances, realization dawning upon them like a thunderclap.

“…Wait. The Guide who imprinted with the Commander last night was Samuel?”

Peter’s shout shattered the stunned quiet.

Suddenly, everything about Samuel’s behavior over the past day clicked together in his mind like perfectly aligned puzzle pieces.

This was huge.

The Adrian Brillante—the untouchable, unattainable beacon of discipline and power—had imprinted. And not just with anyone, but with a rookie Guide.

The field erupted into a flurry of hushed whispers and excited murmurs.

“What’s his level again? There weren’t any Golds in this batch, right?”

“He is ridiculously good-looking… Maybe the Commander has a type—”

One of the lieutenants, caught up in the speculation, abruptly stopped speaking. His mouth snapped shut, and his expression stiffened.

His gaze had locked onto something—or rather, someone.

“…Who… who imprinted with our Commander?”

The voice that cut through the chatter was smooth, refined—effortlessly elegant, yet unmistakably laced with arrogance.

Two figures stood at the entrance of the training grounds, both dressed in military uniforms.

The man in front had spoken.

And everyone recognized him.

“…Captain Linton,” someone muttered.

Linton Vione.

The Empire’s most famous Gold-level Guide.

And Adrian Brillante’s one and only rumored partner.

A man so striking he had been called a “living angel”—a moniker bestowed upon him for both his saintly beauty and his flawless reputation.

But today, there was nothing angelic about him.

His sculpted features were taut, his normally serene expression hardened with barely contained fury.

His piercing blue eyes burned like sharpened ice, raking over the gathered soldiers with unspoken demand.

“Say that again.”

His voice was low, controlled—but beneath it simmered undeniable rage.

“Who,” he repeated, “dared to imprint with my Commander?”

***

“No matter how much you wash, you’re still damp.”

Adrian perched casually on the edge of the bed, her sharp gaze sweeping over Samuel.

Fresh from the shower, he looked noticeably cleaner—his skin flushed slightly from the warmth, his damp hair still clinging to his forehead. Dressed simply in a light shirt and trousers, he hesitated for a moment, running a hand through his wet hair, as if waiting for her reaction.

Adrian smirked at his subtle nervousness.

“Want to dry off first?”

“Should I?”

“Forget it. Just eat.”

She nodded toward the small table, where food had already been set.

“Thank you.”

Samuel sat down without hesitation.

She had known he wouldn’t have had time to eat earlier—between waking late from the imprinting’s aftereffects and the demanding schedule of the military, breakfast would have been the least of his concerns.

As he quietly spooned up his soup, Adrian watched him. Even from a distance, she could feel it—the hypersensitivity that had already begun creeping up on her since morning, easing just slightly. The imprint bond was stabilizing her without her even needing to touch him.

“Keep this in mind. After an imprint, you always take the next day off.”

Samuel, who had just taken a mouthful of soup, quickly swallowed, as if to respond. But before he could, Adrian waved a hand dismissively.

“No, I don’t need a response. Just eat, Lieutenant.”

He hesitated, then gave a silent nod before reaching for a piece of bread.

Adrian chuckled softly. He had taken her words so literally—choosing not to speak, but still acknowledging her with a nod. Of course, he didn’t notice her amusement, too focused on tearing the bread apart.

“No matter how strong or well-built you are, a Guide’s body isn’t the same as an Esper’s. Be more careful next time.”

Samuel looked up.

“…Did you just say next time?”

Adrian raised a brow. “You’re not supposed to be talking, remember?”

“That’s… true.”

“Or did you not want to guide me?”

Samuel’s face cycled through a whirlwind of emotions—shock, urgency, wide-eyed disbelief.

It was amusing, really. Adrian swallowed down a chuckle as she leaned back, pressing her palms into the soft mattress.

The familiar sensation beneath her fingers made something stir inside her—an odd dryness in her throat. But water wouldn’t quench this thirst. She let her tongue flick over her lower lip, gaze steady on the man sitting at the table.

To be honest, Adrian had been feeling off since last night.

Bringing Samuel back from the training grounds was proof of that. She could have simply sent him back to his quarters, but instead, she had brought him here—had watched him shower, fed him, ensured he was cared for. By her usual standards, it was madness.

She had acknowledged the strangeness of her own actions, but the moment she met Samuel’s gaze, any lingering doubt disappeared.

The way his lashes dipped slightly as he averted his eyes, the movement of his long fingers tearing into the bread, the faint bob of his throat as he swallowed—it was absurd, how much she noticed him.

How could a single imprint carve an unfamiliar person so deeply into her mind?

Adrian didn’t bother searching for an answer.

Instead, she focused on what needed to be said.

“You can be honest with me, Lieutenant Samuel Nora,” she said, voice steady. “Even if you refuse, I swear on my honor—you will face no consequences.”

Samuel remained silent, waiting.

“I won’t pretend it’s easy to turn down a superior officer,” Adrian continued. “But I mean it. Guides have the right to choose the Espers they wish to guide—except in emergencies.”

“If you give me the opportunity, I want to,” Samuel answered immediately.

Adrian narrowed her eyes. “No hesitation?”

“None. My answer won’t change.”

“…Alright, then.”

She nodded as if unaffected.

What she didn’t realize—until the tension in her hand eased—was that she had been pressing her nails into her palm the entire time, waiting for his response.

She glanced down at her fingers, scoffing softly at herself.

“For someone so certain, you sure looked surprised,” she mused.

Samuel hesitated. “That’s because… I didn’t think you’d want to seek me out again.”

How could I not?

Adrian curled her left hand into a loose fist, as if trying to grasp something invisible.

The memory of his body beneath her palm, damp and burning from exertion, still lingered from earlier at the training field.

If she let herself indulge, she would pull him right back onto this bed and press him down again, feel him tremble beneath her hands, drown herself in the warmth and satisfaction he had given her last night.

But clinging to a lower-ranked Guide, demanding intense contact guiding from him daily—that was selfish. Adrian refused to become that kind of Esper. This was the first person who had given her something close to normalcy. She wanted to treat him well.

“Why wouldn’t I come back to you?” she asked.

Samuel’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised by the question itself.

“…I’m not a Gold-level Guide,” he admitted. “And I’m a rookie. My guiding must be lacking.”

Lacking?

Adrian exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Not even close.

But how could a Guide possibly understand an Esper’s thoughts? They had lived normal lives. Even Adrian, who had always kept her distance from guiding, was only now beginning to understand the nature of Espers—because of Samuel.

How could he possibly think he was lacking?

Last night, he had saved her—dragged her out of that unbearable agony, silencing the chaos that had been clawing at her senses. His level had never been the issue. For a brief, reckless moment, she nearly said something foolish.

That just having him near was enough.

And now, she finally understood why Espers clung to their Guides with such desperate devotion. Why they would do anything to keep them. Why they obsessed.

Am I seriously losing my mind?

These were not the kind of thoughts she should be having while watching a subordinate—one who was still young, still careful, still hesitant—picking at his meal in silence.