“I guess there’s no choice.”
Delroz let out a heavy sigh and spoke.
“Just cooperate for a little while. It’s not like I plan to guide with you forever.”
“Are you suggesting a temporary guide contract?”
“Yeah. I’m saying I’ll owe you a favor until I find the guide I’m looking for.”
The guide he was looking for—Delroz was still searching for the one who had stopped his rampage. It was the last faint hope he had left.
Banteon quietly let out a breath of relief. Delroz hadn’t realized it yet. Even though he knew Banteon could guide him, he hadn’t made the connection between Banteon and the person who guided him that night.
Delroz crossed his arms and looked down at Banteon, trying to interpret the silence on his stiffened face.
“Don’t get any funny ideas. I have no intention of signing an official contract with a guy.”
Look who’s talking. Banteon swallowed a curse and stared back at Delroz.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
When Banteon accepted the offer for a temporary guide contract without resistance, Delroz gave him a curious look.
“Most people try everything to keep guiding me. But you’re not like that.”
“I don’t need it. And isn’t it true that you’re not particularly fond of me either?”
“Hmm…”
It was suspicious—who would refuse such a coveted position? Delroz narrowed his eyes and asked with clear disapproval.
“Must be that high-and-mighty family of yours. You probably think you don’t need an SS-rank.”
You sure know without me saying a word.
Banteon didn’t even bother responding. He just stared off into the distance. Delroz, ignored, didn’t seem to care either. It had only been a provocation—he hadn’t asked with the intention of getting an answer.
“This place is funny. One side wants it like a gold nugget, desperate to claim it. The other sees it as more bothersome than a rock.”
Delroz’s voice dripped with sarcasm. There was a subtle hostility in his tone toward the Center and the nobility. It was understandable that he’d reject the Center, given what he’d been through—but the grudge against all nobility was curious.
“If it’s that uncomfortable here, couldn’t you just leave?”
According to the kingdom’s law, Espers and Guides belonged to the Center. But if an SS-rank simply decided he didn’t like it and walked away, who could stop him? Even if he founded his own kingdom, no one would be able to interfere.
“That’s the plan. Once I find my guide.”
“……”
“Don’t worry. It’s not you.”
Absolutely not. He must not find out that Banteon was the one who saved him that night. Banteon quietly reaffirmed his resolve. He had no intention whatsoever of leaving the comfort and civilization of this world behind.
In fact, if Delroz found out Banteon was that guide, he’d be more likely to accuse him of colluding with the ones who triggered his rampage than try to take him along.
“If you have any terms for the temporary guide contract, say them now.”
“I’d prefer if we kept things strictly professional. I doubt either of us wants anything more.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
Banteon shook his head in response. He didn’t want anything from Delroz. As long as they didn’t see each other more than necessary, that was enough.
“What about you?”
Banteon asked out of politeness. Delroz watched him silently for a moment before replying.
“From now on, call me Delroz.”
“Excuse me?”
“How long are you going to keep calling me ‘you’? You’ve agreed to be my guide, so use my name.”
Banteon pressed his lips together. Delroz had nailed exactly what he’d been intentionally avoiding—using his name.
In this kind of arrangement, calling the other person “you” really was impolite. It didn’t feel great to be corrected by someone who clearly lacked any manners themselves, but just because he was annoyed didn’t mean he’d stoop to that level.
He forced himself to speak, despite his reluctance.
“Understood. Delroz.”
“You can drop the honorifics too, if you want.”
“I’d rather not.”
It wasn’t like they were going to become best friends. There was no reason to get casual. Besides, the moment he started talking informally, there was a high chance he wouldn’t be able to hold back and would start mouthing off.
“Then if that’s settled, we should get some sleep. The sun’s going down.”
The faint light filtering through the cave crevice had grown even dimmer. It was hard to tell where the puddles ended and the ground began—the area was getting that dark. Delroz didn’t seem bothered by the limited visibility and strode over to a corner, spreading out his outer garment on the ground. Then he walked back toward Banteon.
“Grab on.”
He offered his hand, taking into account Banteon’s injured ankle. It was help Banteon didn’t want, but couldn’t afford to reject.
As Banteon leaned in, Delroz lifted him up without much effort, half-carrying him. Though Banteon’s feet touched the ground, the burden of his weight clearly rested on Delroz.
Delroz had chosen a rare patch of dry, solid ground between the puddles. Banteon sat down on Delroz’s coat as instructed. There was no choice but to spend the night here.
Since going upward was no longer an option, they would move in the direction of the light once the sun rose the next day.
Hoping his ankle would be in slightly better shape by then, Banteon closed his eyes to get some rest—only to feel an unfamiliar touch from behind.
“What are you doing?”
“It gets cold in places like this at night.”
Without hesitation, a strong arm emerged behind Banteon’s back, propping him up. It was a position that resembled a mother bird wrapping around her chick, and Banteon let out a dry, incredulous scoff. He had been called fragile, and now it really seemed like Delroz thought he’d melt in water, like some delicate paper doll.
“Didn’t you say you couldn’t stand men?”
“When you’ve lived the mercenary life, this kind of contact becomes routine. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
As if. Banteon nearly snapped back. It wasn’t about gender for him. But he definitely had a type—small and adorable. Something this big and feral? Hard pass.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not.”
“I sa—”
“Just don’t catch a cold and start making trouble. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy cuddling up to men.”
That shut him up. It would be foolish to catch a cold on top of a twisted ankle. He was already relying on Delroz; becoming an even bigger burden was the last thing he needed.
He tried shifting to put a little space between them, uncomfortable with how closely their bodies were pressed together, but Delroz didn’t budge—not even a twitch. He hadn’t even seemed to exert any strength. It was like leaning against a warm boulder.
“Stop rustling, will you? You’re not some kitten.”
“……”
Pudding, kitten—what the hell did he see when he looked at a fully grown adult man? Banteon seriously wanted to replace his corneas.
Fine. If the man wanted to be used as a cushion, he’d gladly oblige. Being cradled by that massive body wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was better than the cold stone walls.
He’d stay like this for just a little while—then move away once Delroz fell asleep.
With that decision made, Banteon leaned in with his full weight. He had to be heavy, but Delroz didn’t shift an inch.
In the absence of sight, the soft trickle of water and the gentle rhythm of breathing grew loud.
For some reason, sleep felt especially out of reach tonight.
***
A long while had passed with Banteon’s eyes closed. Contrary to his expectation, he was now fast asleep, breathing in a steady, peaceful rhythm.
And a gaze was fixed on him, unmoving.
In the pitch-black cave, where not even the palm of one’s hand could be seen, Delroz’s golden eyes gleamed in the dark.
He shifted carefully, mindful not to tense the arm holding Banteon. He slowly raised one arm, taking great care not to disturb the fragile thing in his embrace.
Even that subtle movement made Banteon stir, his long lashes twitching as he shifted slightly in his sleep.
Delroz’s own body could go days without sleep or rest. If he were alone, he’d already have scaled the cave wall by now. But this body… this one was different.
The faint red mark still remained on Banteon’s cheek.
Torn open by a pebble no bigger than a fingernail—bleeding and bruised.
A strange irritation bubbled up inside him.
Delroz was used to dealing with non-awakened bodies. Everyone in the mercenary corps—aside from Petern—had been non-awakened. He’d seen plenty of ordinary men in his time.
The kind of men who’d go days without washing and laugh with yellowed teeth.
The kind who’d bleed and vomit from wounds, and he wouldn’t bat an eye.
So why was this one different?
Was it because he was a Guide?
He moved the raised hand closer to Banteon’s face. He hesitated briefly, then gently touched Banteon’s cheek. The skin beneath his fingertips was absurdly soft. Even this kind of touch didn’t feel unpleasant.
It must be because he was a Guide.
If it weren’t, there’d be no reason for this sense of turmoil.
The splitting headache that had tormented him earlier had completely vanished. The constant, grating tinnitus in his ears had faded long ago.
He felt more at peace now than he had in any other moment—yet the pull of that damn instinct was anything but welcome.
Delroz stared intently at Banteon’s face. His golden eyes glinted alone in the cave’s darkness.
That gaze lingered long into the night, until the moon had set.
***
When Banteon opened his eyes, his body was swaying with a steady rhythm. The movement was oddly soothing. As his vision cleared, the sharp line of Delroz’s jaw came into view.
‘Why the hell is this the first thing I see?’
He blinked a few times and finally processed the situation.
Delroz was carrying him in both arms, walking forward.
