I Possessed a Promiscuous Guide 64

“Kuhhk, cough, h-heuk…”

He had lost count of how many times he had been choked to the brink of death, only to be released at the last second. Gasping for air, Lee Haru lay collapsed on the bed, struggling to steady his ragged breathing.

His throat throbbed with pain, as though it had been torn open from the inside. The skin around his neck, where bruises from strangling fingers were surely forming, stung so badly it brought tears to his eyes.

“…Lee Haru.”

Kang Min reached out toward him.

Lee Haru instinctively flinched, shoulders recoiling.

He had just seen the gates of the afterlife.

It was only natural to fear the person who had tried to kill him.

The unshakable man’s expression shattered. Kang Min’s fists clenched tightly as he watched Lee Haru tremble uncontrollably, unable to even meet his eyes.

The bones on the back of his hand protruded sharply beneath the stretched skin. He had cornered Lee Haru many times before, but never with the intent to kill.

To him, Lee Haru was a reverse scale—something that must never be touched.

Someone who disrupted the very core of his existence… yet someone he could never bring himself to eliminate. Because if Lee Haru were to vanish from this world, then so would he.

And yet—just moments ago—he had truly wanted to kill him.

He had used a shameful, degrading method to make Lee Haru his.

He had believed he held Lee Haru completely in his grasp. But the moment he realized that what he held was a hollow illusion—it was like a slap to the face.

He had felt it when Lee Haru attempted suicide. Again, when those red lips dared to whisper the name Yu Je-hyun.

Even though Lee Haru was now technically “his,” he still could not truly possess him.

Taking his body had been easy—just break his resistance, suppress him, pin him down. But that was never what he truly wanted.

It was never just the body.

He yearned for the heart.

He wanted that pure, unwavering devotion—the kind that remained, even when the body and soul were left in tatters. He wanted that fierce, unrelenting affection to be directed only at him.

The only thing he had ever truly, desperately desired… was Lee Haru. But the deeper his greed grew, the worse everything became.

He had barely recovered what he once thought was lost forever. And again, he had nearly destroyed it all with his own two hands.

Kang Min stepped back from the bed. Even as his shadow slowly receded, Lee Haru remained curled in on himself, unmoving.

“…Get some rest.”

He barely managed to get the words out before slipping from the room.

The door closed. And the moment it clicked shut, his body crumpled downward, sliding along it until he collapsed on the floor.

“Kgh…”

His composure crumbled, and the muscles in his face spasmed out of control. Kang Min buried his face in his hands and sat in silence for a long time.

He only stirred when he heard faint movement from inside the room.

When he walked away, something about the silhouette of his back had changed from when he had entered.

***

…Is he gone?

Even after Kang Min had left, Lee Haru held his breath, waiting.

Only after what felt like an eternity, once it was clear the door was not going to open again, did he finally lift his head.

The room was still and silent.

He flopped down on the bed, limbs spread wide. His muscles, cramped and stiff from being curled up so long, screamed in protest. But his neck hurt the most—so badly, he could not even bring himself to touch it. That lunatic had vanished without even leaving him a healing potion.

Grumbling, Lee Haru suddenly remembered the leftover potion in his pocket from before. He pulled it out and applied it to his neck. The throbbing pain gradually began to subside.

Hey. Lee Haru.

Now that the pain had dulled, the solitude finally hit him.

Lee Haru called out to the original owner of the body. They had been in the middle of a conversation before Kang Min barged in and interrupted everything. At this point, he could no longer deny it—Kang Min was the culprit.

Seeing him change in the blink of an eye made Lee Haru finally understand how those Espers had felt the day he entered the mansion, looking as though they had seen a ghost.

Seriously… if this is not a case of multiple personalities, I don’t know what is.

The gentlemanly mask he had always worn so perfectly had vanished. In its place was a violent, cold-blooded man who strangled without hesitation—exactly the same Kang Min Lee Haru had glimpsed in the body’s memories.

Any lingering doubts were gone.

The Kang Min in those memories was undeniably the same man. And since it was not as though he had a twin, that meant Kang Min was a master actor—capable of shifting his personality with the circumstances so convincingly it bordered on genius.

Lee Haru… are you still here? Say something, will you?

Frustrated, he called out again.

He had managed to stop Kang Min’s rampage by grabbing his wrist and Guiding him—but there was no guarantee that would work again.

Just as Kang Min had once known the real Lee Haru better than anyone, Lee Haru was now the only one who had seen Kang Min’s true self.

If Kang Min had shown that violent side to anyone else, the rumors would have been impossible to ignore. But no—Kang Min had one of the best reputations among S-rank Espers.

Surprisingly, the one who had the most negative rumors was Hong Seong-jun.

Between the three, Lee Haru had always thought Yu Je-hyun would be the one to make the most enemies.

Still, Hong Seong-jun seemed just as socially awkward as the original Lee Haru.

Sure, he was terrifying when he dealt with Lee Haru—but when he smiled, it was gentle.

In fact, of the three Espers, his smile was the most disarming—the kind that lowered people’s guard. And yet, people still whispered that his personality was awful.

Talk to me, please. You asked me to take revenge for you, remember? But to do that, I kind of need to stay alive. I am seriously about to die here, you know.

Still, no response.

For the first time in his life, Lee Haru genuinely wished he could see a ghost.

If he could just see a glimpse of him, at least then he would know for sure that he was truly gone. But because the voice had come and gone intermittently, Lee Haru could not tell whether the original soul was still here and simply ignoring him—or whether he had disappeared completely.

Does Kang Min have any weaknesses? Or maybe… Do I have some kind of hidden power?

Even in the silence, Lee Haru pressed on, asking the questions that plagued his thoughts.

After all, back in that dungeon, he had been on the verge of death—until the body’s original owner helped him escape.

Lee Haru rolled over and laid flat on his stomach.

He had only taken a small sip of the healing potion—just enough to moisten his throat—while applying the rest to his neck. The headache that had been pounding inside his skull was finally gone, and that brought him a little comfort.

He quietly ran his thumb along the smooth surface of the ring wrapped around his right index finger.

[Ugh, stop rubbing that.]

Huh? You’re back?

Strangely enough, the moment he touched the ring, the voice he had been waiting so long to hear suddenly responded.

[Yeah, I’m back. So quit rubbing it already!]

…Why? Does it tickle?

[Don’t ask. Just don’t. You’ll get hurt.]

Tch. Lee Haru’s lips curled in annoyance.

Here he was, suffering hell inside someone else’s body thanks to this guy, and still getting snapped at.

Still, he stopped rubbing the ring. The voice had sounded genuinely pained.

Besides, Lee Haru was notoriously ticklish himself, so he could easily imagine how unbearable that might feel.

[Would you mind handling it a bit more gently? That ring is pretty much my body right now.]

…That’s even possible?

[You’re from a different world and you’re literally inside my body. And you think this is too far-fetched?]

Okay, fair point.

There was a weird logic to it that was hard to argue with.

Now that he was thinking of the ring as the guy’s physical form, Lee Haru had a hard time figuring out what to do with his index finger.

He ended up sticking it out stiffly, like it was in a splint—and immediately, a voice scolded him.

[Just act natural. You’re seriously going to walk around like that? This sketchy-looking ring already draws enough stares—what are you trying to do, advertise it?]

Ugh, fine. Can’t even joke around with you.

His ear was practically ringing. Lee Haru rubbed the shell of his ear, which felt like it had turned red.

Anyway, that’s not the point. I need a survival strategy. Some guaranteed way to make it through this. I’ve been strangled back-to-back by both Black’s leader and Kang Min, okay? At this rate, my neck’s going to snap clean off.’

His fingers, which had been absently hovering around his now-healed neck, suddenly stiffened.

[I was always meant to die. Suicide.]

You’re serious?

It seemed the body’s original owner had finally decided to have a real conversation.

And he was starting strong.

[So this really is a novel world, isn’t it? One of those with tags like ‘multiple semes,’ ‘guideverse,’ and the like?]

By the standards of my world, yeah. It’s a novel. For you, it was reality. And now, it’s my reality too.

Sometimes, when Lee Haru got really immersed in a novel, it would start to feel like the characters truly existed somewhere out there.

And in those moments, he would wonder—maybe the author was catching glimpses of another world through inspiration.

It was the kind of wild fantasy anyone who loved fiction had probably imagined at least once.

But I’ve never read the novel where you came from.

He had read so many books that it was impossible to remember them all in detail.

Still, if he had read it, he was confident he would at least recall the names of the characters—or the general plot.

[No. You did read it. You just forgot.]

That’s ridiculous. If I read it, there’s no way I’d forget everything.

Author: Levia