Even now, Lee Haru felt both comforted and uneasy with Kang Min by his side. While the man’s presence brought a sense of security, the uncertainty of when Kang Min might suddenly leave him alone on the first floor to return upstairs gnawed at him.
If that happened, Haru knew he’d inevitably be consumed by that suffocating fear again and find himself stepping onto the stairs leading to the second floor.
At that point, wouldn’t it be better to just ask Kang Min for permission to stay in his room until the lights were fixed?
He had phrased it with careful politeness, but strangely, Kang Min’s eyes grew noticeably cold the moment their gazes met.
“Did you change your tactics or something?”
“Tactics…?”
Why is he suddenly talking about tactics?
Haru’s mind spun, trying to decipher the meaning behind Kang Min’s words. As if reading his confusion, Kang Min continued without missing a beat.
“Pretending to be polite. Playing the innocent. Just to get close. I’m really starting to wonder how badly you want the bodies of S-Class espers.”
“Uh…”
He should’ve said something—anything—but the sheer contempt etched across Kang Min’s face made it feel like a noose had tightened around his throat.
“I never understood why an S-Class Guide insists on contact guiding…”
Kang Min’s eyes swept over him, blatantly and without shame, from head to toe. The tea in Haru’s mug rippled from the tension.
Oddly enough, Haru couldn’t help but focus on his voice. Even though he knew whatever Kang Min said next would twist his intentions, he couldn’t look away—like a sunflower locked onto the sun.
“Guess you were just born that way.”
The voice was graceful, but Haru wasn’t so dull that he missed the barbed implication underneath.
If anything, he wished he were oblivious enough not to understand.
His expression faltered for just a moment. The way Kang Min looked at him—like someone appraising a prostitute—made the muscles in his jaw tighten involuntarily.
He didn’t know what kind of life Lee Haru had lived before. He’d heard the rumors weren’t flattering, but since taking over this body, he hadn’t done a single thing worthy of scorn.
Today was no exception.
If the light hadn’t gone out—or rather, if only the kitchen and living room lights hadn’t failed—he wouldn’t have even thought of going upstairs.
Sure, Hong Seong-jun’s warning had been annoying, but it was clear the second floor was meant to be an espers-only space.
He had no intention of invading someone’s privacy out of idle curiosity.
But things had changed. He truly was afraid of the dark—and terrified of ghosts. Wasn’t there even a sobbing sound earlier, coming from the basement?
He’d meant to bring that up when the timing was right. But judging by Kang Min’s current demeanor, he’d probably think that too was just another lie to get into his room.
“Team Leader, you’re not my type, okay?”
…No. That was a lie.
Truthfully, Kang Min was so ridiculously handsome he could demolish anyone’s preferences. Even now, despite Haru’s irritation, every time the man blinked, he looked like a sculpture come to life—and a softness began to stir inside him, against his will.
“My type’s someone smaller than me, pale skin, black hair… someone a little innocent-looking, but sexy too…”
The flurry of emotions spilled out before he could rein them in, and he ended up blurting out the ideal type he’d always had floating in his subconscious. As the words left his mouth, his gaze automatically dropped to his own hands.
Wasn’t the body he currently inhabited practically molded after that exact description?
If there had been a mirror nearby, he probably would’ve stared at his reflection in stunned silence.
“If you’re talking about someone smaller than Guide Lee Haru… I doubt there’s anyone like that among the espers. Are you expecting me to believe that?”
He wasn’t wrong. Most espers were tall and well-built. Realistically speaking, anyone smaller than Haru would probably have to be a woman.
Come to think of it, women did exist in this world, right? Why had he instinctively ruled them out?
Then it hit him—the novel he’d possessed was a BL story. That explained it.
And considering his own unusual sexual orientation, he couldn’t exactly argue. Still, back when he was Kim Min-hyeok, his ideal type had been the complete opposite of what he had just described.
He felt wronged, but there was no outlet for that frustration. All Haru could do was let out a shaky breath as Kang Min stood up from his seat.
Instinctively, he tracked the man’s movements. The corners of his eyebrows drooped just slightly.
The mere thought of being left alone again made his heart race with unease.
“The lights will come back on soon. I hope tomorrow you’ll perform proper guiding. I heard you didn’t guide Seong-jun properly today.”
In other words, if he had forced his way into this mansion, he should at least do his job right.
Simple-minded as he was, Haru let Kang Min’s pointed remark roll off and clung instead to the useful bit of information—that the lights would soon return.
“If the lights are coming back, then I won’t hang around anymore.”
Whatever gratitude he’d felt earlier—for being saved from near death, for the warm tea—had completely evaporated.
Should’ve known when he gave me a storage room for a bedroom.
Even if Kang Min hid it under a layer of politeness, he was every bit as difficult as Yu Je-hyun and Hong Seong-jun.
Haru felt a twinge of guilt, but he had no intention of bending over backwards for espers who didn’t just dislike him—they hated him.
“And I’ll do my job properly. You don’t need to worry about that.”
If there was one thing he’d never lacked, it was a strong sense of responsibility. He pushed away any thoughts of the kind of guiding that involved physical intimacy, the kind Haru had supposedly done in the past.
He resolved to limit himself to hand-holding—or at most, a hug.
Kang Min’s attitude had definitely helped solidify that decision.
He asked if I’d changed my tactics.
Unlike Yu Je-hyun, who suspected he was high, Kang Min seemed to genuinely believe the shift in Lee Haru’s personality was plausible.
Haru didn’t know what kind of person Kang Min had taken the previous Haru to be—but that worked in his favor.
No matter how he behaved now, Kang Min would likely assume it was all part of some elaborate scheme to get closer to the S-Class espers.
Now I just have to say I’m not doing close-contact guiding anymore.
Maybe he’d think Haru was just playing hard to get. But unlike Hong Seong-jun, who unbuckled his belt like it was nothing, Kang Min appeared to detest any unnecessary physical contact with Haru—even if it was for guiding. Honestly, that suited him just fine.
“I’ll believe you this time.”
Kang Min cast a brief, unreadable glance at Haru’s confident smile, then turned and vanished up the stairs.
The only proof that Haru hadn’t been alone moments ago was the mug sitting on the opposite side of the table.
“If you were going to leave, couldn’t you have at least waited until the lights came back on…”
Haru squinted toward the now-silent staircase, glaring at it in frustration. But when the darkness pooled along the steps like ink, a ripple of fear pulled his gaze away.
“When are they coming back on? Please… just turn on already…”
If any adult had seen him like this, they would smack him and say he was scaring off good luck. His thighs were trembling so badly they looked like they would snap.
His restless fidgeting sent a splash of cold tea across the back of his hand. He set the mug down and wiped the wet skin with his other palm, unsure whether the dampness came from spilled tea—or cold sweat.
Even deep breathing wasn’t helping. His heart thudded faster and faster. Closing his eyes brought on panic, but keeping them open was just as terrifying.
Every time thunder boomed like the sky was ripping open, his frail body jerked off the sofa, trembling pitifully.
No matter how much he told himself to stop, his eyes kept drifting back to the stairs.
At least he knew one thing: Kang Min was still inside the mansion.
Should I go ask one more time?
Just until the lights come back—ask him to stay with me.
No. Have some self-respect. That would be like clinging to the leg of a man who’d made it crystal clear he couldn’t stand him.
He didn’t seem like the type to lie, so if he said the lights would come back, they would. Haru just had to wait.
“Ugh…”
Even as he tried to steady himself, Haru’s face drained of all color. The sobbing—the eerie, keening wail he hadn’t heard while Kang Min was nearby—was back.
“AAAH! Kang Min!”
To hell with pride. It didn’t matter anymore. Haru screamed loud enough to shake the mansion and bolted up the stairs like a madman.
Offense and embarrassment were luxuries for people who weren’t about to drop dead from sheer terror. If he stayed down there any longer, he’d probably die of a heart attack and end up like that ghost—wandering, trapped between worlds.
Legs trembling, he forced himself upward, taking the stairs two at a time.
KWAANG—
Déjà vu?
A loud crash exploded overhead, freezing him mid-step.
This time, at least, he managed to grab the banister before his knees gave out.
As he steadied his swaying body and looked up, he saw them—two glowing eyes, gleaming in the darkness like a predator’s.
“Fuck—do you have a death wish?!”
