Completely unaware of Kang Chi-yu’s feelings, Hyun Tae-oh could only feel irritated by the way Kang had started obviously avoiding him.
It was the house he’d lived in ever since joining the Central Bureau at the age of twenty.
Not only had Kang moved out of that house without so much as a word of discussion, but he had also sent a single message to inform him that he would no longer be coming by to wake him up every morning, something he had done as a matter of course for over a decade.
Hyun Tae-oh couldn’t understand what had prompted such an abrupt wall between them, but one thing was clear—he couldn’t stand anything Kang Chi-yu was doing lately.
Whenever he had time, Hyun Tae-oh went down to Unit 2, determined to talk with Kang in person.
But with Kang Chi-yu never alone, every attempt to speak with him privately ended in failure. All that was left was the bitter realization that Kang was deliberately avoiding him.
“Since it’s a 100th episode special, you only need to film two episodes. Nothing will change aside from having a temporary Pair Guide—just go about it as you normally would.”
That was the casting offer for the show A Pair is Born.
At the mention of a temporary Pair Guide, Hyun Tae-oh immediately thought of Kang Chi-yu. And he decided to use this program to bring Kang—who had started to visibly distance himself—back to his side.
Hyun Tae-oh accepted the offer on the spot.
On one condition: the temporary Pair Guide had to be Kang Chi-yu.
***
—Phone’s off…
It had been a long time since he’d tried contacting Hyun Tae-oh, and his phone was turned off.
Kang Chi-yu had already guessed it would be, knowing Hyun’s habit of shutting it off the moment he got off work.
Still, part of him had held onto a foolish, romantic hope—that maybe, just maybe, Hyun would have kept it on, waiting for his call. A delusion so ridiculous that he let out a bitter chuckle once reality hit.
Whether Kang was beside him or not, Hyun Tae-oh was still living his life, same as always.
With a weary sigh and a hint of laughter, Kang climbed into his car.
As he drove toward Hyun Tae-oh’s neighborhood—the one he’d lived in for quite some time—a sigh slipped out at the thought of how all his efforts to avoid Hyun had crumbled in less than a month.
Even after changing his number and moving houses, Hyun Tae-oh had come looking for him several times. But every time, Kang had made sure to be with someone else so he couldn’t approach.
The housewarming party had served as a perfect excuse.
Kang knew all too well how much Hyun Tae-oh loathed being in crowded places. Using that, he’d managed to avoid him quite effectively for nearly two weeks.
If not for today, he probably could’ve kept dodging him—at least until he’d fully let go of his feelings.
Clicking his tongue unconsciously, Kang Chi-yu steered the car toward Hyun Tae-oh’s place.
***
Beeeeep—
Click.
Before Kang Chi-yu could even press the doorbell, the front door flew open with a loud clatter.
He’d already considered that Hyun Tae-oh might know he was coming. The building’s system automatically photographed everyone entering through the main entrance and sent it as a notification to each unit.
In a normal apartment complex, that might be seen as an invasion of privacy. But this building was exclusively for well-known Espers and Guides, so such measures were standard.
Built with top-tier confidentiality and airtight security, the system was part of the landlord’s efforts to catch lurking reporters and obsessive fans.
Kang had originally intended to just use the passcode—he still remembered it—but after moving out, he wasn’t sure if Hyun had changed it, so he had reached for the bell instead.
He figured that if he tried the code and it didn’t work, it would sour his mood even more.
He hated how pathetic he felt, scared of such trivial things when he was the one who had decided to end it. But emotions weren’t something he could just will away.
It was only natural that he couldn’t erase nearly twenty years of unrequited love in just two weeks.
“How did you know?”
The moment he stepped through the door, Hyun Tae-oh stood at the entrance, staring at him. The gaze felt awkward, so Kang forced himself to speak.
Their eyes had met, and it felt like he had to say something—but nothing else came to mind, so he asked something he already knew the answer to.
“How wouldn’t I?”
Hyun Tae-oh stepped aside, as if inviting him in, and replied.
Kang hesitated for a second, trying to parse what that meant. He decided to interpret it as Hyun wondering how Kang could forget about the notification system.
If he let himself believe it meant “How could I not recognize you?” he’d just end up drowning in delusion again.
Still, even after all this time, seeing Hyun Tae-oh’s face again made Kang Chi-yu’s heart pound. He wasn’t sure when he’d first realized how stunningly beautiful that face was.
Maybe it was when they entered the Esper Academy and all the students around them kept complimenting Hyun Tae-oh’s looks. That’s when he understood—Tae-oh wasn’t just handsome. He was breathtaking.
He used to think he was simply indifferent to appearances because he’d never fallen for someone based on looks. But that wasn’t the truth.
The reality was, he’d grown up seeing this face every day—becoming immune to it was inevitable.
Only now did it hit him: not only was his long-standing one-sided love a reason, but the sheer familiarity of this face might’ve been why no one else ever caught his eye. It probably explained why he’d been single his whole life.
“Have you been well? Dinner?”
“Did you actually care?”
As Kang Chi-yu asked while walking toward the sofa, Hyun Tae-oh followed behind with a sulky tone. Chi-yu’s steps came to a sudden stop.
He turned to glance up at Tae-oh, and when their eyes met, his heart—already beating a little fast since entering—suddenly lurched.
Even now, he still wasn’t immune to that face. Despite having seen it for what felt like a lifetime.
“Are you mad I didn’t call?”
“Sit. Let’s talk.”
Tae-oh turned toward the kitchen as he spoke.
“I don’t need anything to drink.”
Kang blurted it out, thinking Tae-oh was going to grab the usual fresh fruit juice he always drank. Then he flinched. It had been two weeks—they hadn’t seen each other since. Why would Tae-oh bother buying juice he didn’t even like, especially since it had a short shelf life?
But as if mocking that thought, Tae-oh casually opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of fresh strawberry juice—Chi-yu’s favorite—and grabbed a cup of coffee for himself.
Kang stared at the juice now placed in front of him, then slowly lifted his eyes to look at Tae-oh.
This was the problem. Right here.
The very reason he couldn’t escape Hyun Tae-oh was because of moments like this—where he did things so naturally, so unconsciously, that felt devastatingly intimate.
It was maddening, how easily Tae-oh enchanted people with gestures like this.
To Tae-oh, it might have been nothing but a habitual act. But to Chi-yu, they always felt significant—enough to spark delusions.
And it was those delusions that made him want to compete with someone like Min Yu-hyun, despite being nothing more than a lifelong friend who could never take the role of a lover.
So maybe the bad guy here… was actually Hyun Tae-oh.
Kang Chi-yu couldn’t help but resent Tae-oh’s thoughtless sweetness.
“…Thanks. I’ll drink it.”
He took the bottle—already opened for him—and brought it to his lips.
Tae-oh watched Chi-yu as he took a sip of his coffee.
After a couple more silent sips from both of them, Tae-oh finally broke the quiet.
“Now tell me.”
“…Ah, I came here because—”
“Not that. The move.”
“……”
“And changing your phone. Avoiding me.”
“……”
Chi-yu’s mouth went dry, even though he’d just had a drink. Those questions, direct and unrelenting, left him speechless.
He couldn’t answer honestly.
He was terrified of Tae-oh discovering that he liked him.
Maybe now, when he truly wanted to put an end to this long one-sided love, it wouldn’t matter even if Tae-oh found out—maybe he could endure the fallout. But even then, he still couldn’t say it out loud.
Because he didn’t want to lose the special place he’d held by Tae-oh’s side all these years.
This was just a pathetic desire.
And a selfish kind of cowardice.
“What’s the reason?”
Tae-oh’s voice was low, subdued.
Chi-yu took another sip, then met his eyes.
It would’ve been a lie to say he hadn’t thought of an answer to this question.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything Tae-oh would understand.
He couldn’t say something like, I’ve liked you for a long time, but now that it seems like you have someone else, I want to graduate from this love.
“It’s not like I have a specific reason…”
“You don’t?”
“…Yeah. I just wanted to be closer to the Bureau for commuting.”
“We teleport together every day. That’s not an excuse, Chi-yu.”
Tae-oh’s voice dropped into a lower register.
That tone—he was getting angry.
Chi-yu swallowed hard, scrambling for a half-lie, half-truth.
“It’s just… in case you’re not around. If there’s ever a time you’re not there, I might have to drive and—”
“I’m always going to be there. Why are you imagining I won’t be?”
Tae-oh’s brow furrowed visibly.
Chi-yu quickly dropped his gaze to avoid seeing his expression.
“Don’t be so certain. You might not be. I mean, what if something important comes up for either of us? Or if… one of us starts seeing someone.”
For a brief moment, Tae-oh’s expression turned icy, almost frightening—but Chi-yu didn’t see it, still staring down at his drink.
Only when a low, bitter laugh escaped from Tae-oh did Chi-yu finally lift his head and meet his eyes.
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
The growl in his voice made Chi-yu flinch.
Even after all this time, Tae-oh’s anger was still difficult to face.
A long silence followed.
Chi-yu just rolled his eyes around the room, fidgeting uncomfortably. Tae-oh, meanwhile, stared at him without saying a word.
