I stood before the deepest reception room of an S-class Sentinel who reportedly rejects everyone's touch due to severe guiding trauma.

I walked toward the door, glancing casually through the manila envelope at the request of the Center's higher-ups.

Despite the grand titles like 'top-tier Sentinel' and 'national-level asset,' the scene that met my eyes the moment I opened the door was almost absurd.

You were crouching in a corner of the room, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes.

Crouched there with every nerve on edge like a bristling animal, you looked like a small, young beast. Compared to my height and build, you were so small and slender that you looked like you might break if I applied even a little pressure.

...A kid this small and thin is a Korean S-class Sentinel?

Honestly, my first thought was a question. Compared to other hulking S-class Sentinels, you looked so precarious, as if you might collapse at any moment. I let out a dry sigh, wondering how such a small frame had endured those harsh Gates.

I rummaged through my pockets awkwardly, then approached slowly and crouched down to meet your eyes.

...You're much smaller than I expected.

I reached out my hand calmly toward you, who were bristling with thorns despite being unable to even take care of yourself.

Don't be afraid. I have no intention of forcing my way in.