“So, how much do you think the rate will go up?”
Kim Mi-yeon’s question wasn’t idle curiosity. She was probing to see whether the current contract should be scrapped and redefined.
“High enough that I won’t need another Guide.”
Han Ju-oh’s answer wasn’t just about compatibility rates. He wanted Baek Seo-ha to perform so well that there’d be no need for anyone else.
“I’m not giving you much time. If it doesn’t go up to a satisfactory level by then, I’m calling in Guide Jin Ga-min.”
Kim Mi-yeon laid down the condition like a threat.
“I’m saying this because I don’t want to see you throw yourself into danger again like last time. So take it seriously.”
Baek Seo-ha was the one who’d been carried out, but Han Ju-oh hadn’t been in much better shape. Anyone could see he had pushed himself too hard—but, as usual, he made no effort to take care of himself.
That was why she said it. But if Han Ju-oh decided to be reckless again, who knew what might happen? Just imagining it made Kim Mi-yeon sigh in frustration.
“I wish someone would put a leash on you.”
Was there really no one who could keep Han Ju-oh in check?
As she muttered to herself, the passenger-side window lowered, and a fresh-faced young man popped his head out.
“If you two have a lot to talk about, should I just walk from here?”
It was a muttered complaint about how long he was being made to wait. Despite his cool, sharp features, his lips jutted out in a childish pout.
Han Ju-oh wordlessly shut the partially opened door and moved over to the driver’s seat. As a result, Kim Mi-yeon had to climb into the backseat and gave a dry chuckle.
What impeccable timing. It was almost like a sign that this man would be the one to leash Han Ju-oh.
“Maybe it is possible?”
Considering Han Ju-oh’s past behavior, he’d been surprisingly tolerant when it came to Guide Baek Seo-ha.
***
When they returned to the hospital room, it had been cleaned so thoroughly that it was hard to believe there’d ever been a party. The mountain of food that had nearly burst his stomach was gone without a trace.
Seo-ha paused, wondering if he’d stepped into the wrong room, then shook his head in resignation.
“Seriously, I can’t believe this guy.”
It was obvious who had tidied up. The friend who always looked out for him the most. He nagged a lot, but having Moon Roi—who could see right through him—by his side was a huge comfort.
‘I’ll let the party hat slide this time.’
Seo-ha walked to the bed and sat down, glancing at Kim Mi-yeon and Han Ju-oh, who had followed him in.
“When can I be discharged?”
“They said it’d be better to observe you a bit longer. Are you uncomfortable here?”
When Kim Mi-yeon asked, Seo-ha nodded.
“I’m not in pain, so I’ll discharge myself. I’ll come in as an outpatient for any follow-ups.”
“All right then. I’ll inform the hospital and head out. Make sure to rest well.”
As Kim Mi-yeon left the room, only Han Ju-oh remained.
He was still someone Seo-ha felt awkward around—there were more unknowns than certainties between them.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
Seo-ha swung his legs onto the bed as he spoke. Han Ju-oh frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, he came closer—and even sat down on the bed. The already narrow hospital bed became even more cramped.
“There’s a chair right there. And a sofa, too.”
“I’ll sit where I want.”
“You don’t care that you’re making me uncomfortable, huh?”
It was hard to stretch his legs properly, so Seo-ha just bent them.
“I’d rather be alone right now.”
“Talk to me.”
“…There are things you talk about, and there are things you need to sort out on your own.”
Seo-ha was baffled that Han Ju-oh wouldn’t just leave. Sure, he’d always been clingy, but was there really a need for it now?
The guiding session was done, the compatibility rate had increased. He could just go on his way now with a clear conscience.
“Really? Then I’ll just say what I came to say and go.”
Thankfully, it seemed even Han Ju-oh didn’t want to stay if he’d be nagged about it.
“The hundred wishes you said you’d grant me.”
“…”
Seo-ha shut his mouth tight. He’d totally been caught off guard with that one.
“I’ll say what I want, and you figure out which ones to deduct.”
Han Ju-oh had no intention of counting them himself. Since Seo-ha was the one who owed him, he’d have to subtract them as he saw fit. It could sound a bit arrogant, but Seo-ha accepted it without protest.
“Then I’m using one right now—to stay here with you. Deduct that one.”
Since he wasn’t going to count them, Seo-ha figured he could tack on little explanations like this to whittle the list down. With that mindset, he quickly deducted it—and Han Ju-oh didn’t object.
‘At this rate, I’ll burn through a hundred in no time.’
He mentally scolded himself for carelessly blurting out that he’d grant a hundred wishes. But it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be smoothed over.
“I’m staying here until you’re discharged tomorrow. Let’s leave together.”
“Yeah? I’ll count that as another wish.”
Not wanting to argue with him about staying, Seo-ha casually chalked it up as one of the hundred wishes and turned onto his side. As soon as he closed his eyes, his head filled with all sorts of thoughts.
He’d actually told Han Ju-oh they would to increase the intensity of physical contact.
Their matching rate had doubled—how much higher could it go?
Objectively speaking, even with that increase, it was still far too low. At the Center, even Cho Ha-cheol—who had been labeled dead last without Seo-ha—had a 30% rate. The road ahead was still dauntingly long.
What would he be like ten years from now?
Letting his thoughts wander without restraint, his mind drifted this way and that until, at some point, it was swallowed by darkness.
***
The dream he had was cruel.
There was the Esper whose chest had been pierced right before his eyes—Seong, his hyung—and others who had lost chunks of flesh in the recent explosion. Seo-ha hadn’t even seen those scenes himself, so why were they so vivid in his dreams?
There was an Esper who’d been swallowed whole by a monster along with his Guide, and another whose face had been half-melted by poison.
Why this dream now? Faces he thought he’d forgotten, that he believed had faded from memory, came back painfully clear, leaving him tormented.
His chest ached with sorrow for their tragic deaths. They’d been so young, lost so suddenly—and there had been nothing he could do. All he could do was stand there, helpless, watching them go.
He felt powerless.
Blood pooled at his feet, and he could do nothing. The sense of futility and incompetence gnawed at him. Holding onto the vague hope that “someday, I’ll be different” wasn’t enough when the horrors of the dungeon were burned into him like a brand, returning again and again to haunt him.
‘It hurts.’
Reliving death was never welcome. It only brought back the sorrow and hollowness of those moments.
‘I don’t want to see this anymore.’
He wanted to escape. Flailing his arms in desperation, trying to claw his way out, only to have the monster’s tentacles wrap around his limbs one by one.
“…Wake up.”
“Ugh… Let go!”
No matter how hard he struggled to free his arms from the creature’s grasp, the tentacles only tightened. He knew it was a dream, and yet he was on the verge of spiraling into sheer terror, convinced he was about to be eaten—
“Baek Seo-ha!”
A familiar voice rang in his ears.
And just like that, the world changed. The battlefield reeking of blood vanished, replaced by a hospital room filled with the sterile scent of disinfectant. Han Ju-oh’s face hovered directly above his, blocking out the ceiling.
“You were having a nightmare.”
Han Ju-oh calmly explained why he was on top of him, and Seo-ha nodded. He’d already figured as much without needing to be told. So now he stared quietly, willing him to get off—but Han Ju-oh didn’t move.
“You’re heavy.”
The hands gripping his arms were one thing, but the weight and warmth of Han Ju-oh’s lower body pressing against his stomach and below were even more distracting.
Thankfully, Han Ju-oh let go without another word and got off the bed. As if waking him up had been his only concern.
Seo-ha rubbed his sore arms and stared up at the ceiling. He was awake, but the aftermath of the dream lingered.
“Haa…”
He let out a long breath to sort through his emotions, feeling a bit better afterward. Turning his head toward the window, he saw that the sunlight was high in the sky. Even with the curtains drawn, the room was bright.
“I can get discharged today, right?”
“Yeah.”
With Han Ju-oh’s straightforward reply, Seo-ha opened the closet and pulled out some clothes. Luckily, what he grabbed wasn’t a combat uniform.
It just so happened to be exactly what he wanted to wear. As he reached up to take it off the hanger, Han Ju-oh, who still hadn’t left, caught his attention.
“I’m gonna change. You planning to watch?”
Gender aside, he simply didn’t want to change in front of someone else. Han Ju-oh, saying nothing, turned around and left the room. Once alone, Seo-ha changed clothes.
It wasn’t until he stood before the mirror to tie his necktie that he realized who had laid the outfit out for him. Thinking of that guy, his phone suddenly vibrated. Seeing the name on the screen, Seo-ha answered.
—You’re being discharged today, right?
“Yeah. You even ironed my clothes.”
—Wrinkled clothes don’t look good.
“Thanks.”
After a brief conversation with Moon Roi, he ended the call. There wasn’t much else to pack, so he left the room—and found Han Ju-oh standing just outside the door.
“I have a place to stop by before heading home.”
Han Ju-oh’s eyes brushed over Seo-ha’s clothes but didn’t ask where he was going.
