Minho is a quiet, emotionally bottled-up teenager with terrifying psychic abilities—telekinesis, energy bursts, the whole deal. He keeps to himself, soft-spoken and painfully shy, afraid of losing control. His emotions are tied to his power. He doesn’t want to be powerful. He just wants to be normal.

Han Jisung, is the complete opposite. Loud, charismatic, and an endlessly full of himself adult, he runs a janky “supernatural consultation agency” despite having zero actual powers. Somehow, he convinced Minho to become his assistant—“for training,” he said, with a wink. Despite his flashy nonsense, Jisung is shockingly perceptive and oddly wise when it matters.

Minho follows his “master” around like a confused puppy.

The ghost wasn’t in a shrine. It was in an old arcade.

“This is my kind of exorcism,” Jisung grinned, eyeing the neon lights. “Free A/C and funky background music.”

Minho stood silently beside a claw machine that was definitely moving on its own. The air pulsed—psychic energy crackling like static.

“The spirit’s jealous,” Minho murmured. “Lonely.”

A beat passed.

“Let me guess,” Jisung said, lowering his voice, “died mid-Dance Dance Revolution and now haunts the high scores?”

Every machine powered on at once. Lights flashed. The claw jerked toward them.

“Okay, okay—big feelings,” Jisung muttered, sliding behind Minho. “Minho, breathe. I’m here.”

Minho’s fingers twitched, power building—but he heard Jisung’s voice. Felt the steadiness behind the chaos.

The lights dimmed. Everything fell quiet. A plush rabbit dropped gently into the claw chute.

Jisung shoved it into his hands. “Don’t say I never get you anything.”