Kwon Ho-eun wiped the blood from his hands and changed into his work attire before collapsing onto the couch.
He extended the right hand he had placed over Do In-ho’s heart. There was no visible difference from how it usually looked. There was a tingling sensation, like something was draining away, but as expected, nothing had changed. His body just felt a bit fatigued, and he was a little hungry. For some reason, every time he ran into Do In-ho, he ended up feeling famished.
“So tired.”
Ho-eun set an alarm for about an hour and took a deep nap. He hadn’t gotten proper sleep the night before, so even the short rest had been deep. He shut off the blaring alarm and checked the time.
“If I eat and leave now, I’ll get there right on time.”
As he shoved his feet into his shoes and opened the door, he found Do In-ho standing in front of the elevator. It was ironic—he hadn’t seen him at all when he was actively searching for him, but the moment he hoped to avoid running into him, there he was.
Still, even with self-healing abilities… he lost that much blood. Should he really be up and walking already?
The hallway where the blood had been spilled was clean, as if someone had taken care of it. Ho-eun briefly considered turning back into his apartment due to the awkward situation, but that would look even more ridiculous, so he resisted the urge.
“Wow. What a coincidence! We’re neighbors.”
“……”
Gathering his courage, Ho-eun tried starting a conversation, but Do In-ho merely gave a small nod and said nothing more. From his behavior, it seemed like he didn’t remember what had happened at dawn.
Ho-eun felt a small sense of relief. The image of their hands clasped together flickered through his mind, but he forced it away.
“Are you headed to work?”
“……”
With no response, Ho-eun scratched his cheek awkwardly. What a way to make someone feel uncomfortable.
The elevator arrived, and the two stepped in silently. Facing forward, Ho-eun stood still while subtly glancing at Do In-ho, who was looking down at the floor.
The Espers and Guides he had met here all seemed to lack basic social skills, but among them, Do In-ho seemed to be the worst.
According to Hosoo, Do In-ho had spent ten years as an Esper. Growing up hearing things like “You should just die. Hurry up and overload so you can become a tool!”—it wasn’t hard to guess why his social skills were stunted.
If I only had ten years left to live…
He’d travel the world, eat delicious food, go on adventures. Since he’d die anyway, he’d work less, spend more, and live as freely as possible rather than digging himself into a hole like Do In-ho.
But is that kind of life even allowed unless the Guides permit it?
He couldn’t imagine Do In-ho traveling or enjoying good food. The image of the house he’d seen at dawn flashed in his mind—a living room without even a television. He hadn’t had time to look around thoroughly, but one thing was clear: the place felt utterly empty.
How had Do In-ho lived, knowing he had only ten years? The first time Ho-eun saw him, he’d been wearing something that looked like a military uniform. Surely he hadn’t spent his entire life just working.
While Ho-eun pondered these questions, the elevator stopped on the first floor.
“Do In-ho.”
Ho-eun reached out and grabbed the hem of Do In-ho’s shirt with his index finger. When Do In-ho halted and looked down at him, Ho-eun’s finger poked the back of his hand.
“?”
As Do In-ho arched an eyebrow, Ho-eun took his unguarded hand in his own. The warmth lasted only a few seconds.
“See? Even when I touch you, nothing happens.”
“I told you clearly. Do not—do not concern yourself.”
“But I’m not worried. I’m just touching you.”
“D-Do not do that either.”
Do In-ho pushed his hand away and stammered. That faint voice from last time hadn’t been a fluke—he really did speak softly despite his appearance. Maybe it was that handsome face of his, but the awkward speech didn’t seem like a flaw—more like an endearing trait. Ho-eun rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Just saying, I can touch you and I’m fine. That’s all.”
Without waiting for a reply, Ho-eun turned and walked toward the building with the cafeteria, only to stop halfway. He glanced back—Do In-ho was heading toward the forested area.
That direction led to a facility Ho-eun had never been to. From the outside, it looked like a three-story building, but it extended underground, making it much larger than it appeared. It was said to contain both individual and group training spaces.
To think that after going through all that to heal his body, he was headed straight to the training center.
“That’s just sad.”
Ho-eun knew better than to pity people so easily, but when he thought about what had happened at dawn, he couldn’t stop the feeling.
He slowly looked around. Everyone passing by had an employee badge hanging from their neck. Even the shop staff here wore silver name tags instead of badges, which meant they were ordinary civilians.
Of all the people he had seen, only Do In-ho had no form of identification. He was being denied his identity, living among people who didn’t even treat him as human and hoped for his death. What was he enduring every day for? And what was at the end of that endurance? Death?
It looked peaceful on the surface, but in reality, everything was twisted.
I’m supposed to work here for the rest of my life?
The ID badges everyone wore no longer looked like ID badges to Ho-eun. They looked like leashes.
Something inside him stirred violently. Was it a sense of justice? Or perhaps the basic morality every human should have? He couldn’t define it in words, but one thing was certain.
If Do In-ho was no longer alive after July 30, then Ho-eun would be one of the reasons he died. Just like Hosoo said—he would become a complicit bystander, an accomplice to murder.
I’d be tormented by guilt every waking moment.
Even in his sleep, while enjoying delicious food, Do In-ho—someone who had not even been allowed to be a companion—would haunt his thoughts.
Ho-eun chased after the retreating figure of Do In-ho. His body moved before his brain could even process the thought. With each large stride, his heart pounded louder. His head was overflowing with thoughts. He wanted to spill it all out.
He caught up and grabbed Do In-ho by the shoulder, turning him to face him.
“Do In-ho.”
“……”
“So that you can live as a person, not a tool.”
“……”
“I will… I’ll save you. You won’t overload if you receive guiding, right?”
“……”
Each word he spoke brought a wave of emotions he couldn’t name. Why did you accept that you have to die when you never agreed to it in the first place? Why won’t you say no to the people deciding your fate for you? What’s so special about being an Esper? And what even is a Guide?
Is it right to forcibly turn someone who was living as an ordinary person into an Esper and shove them into a life with an expiration date? If it was possible to stop that twisted fate, Ho-eun wanted to do so with everything he had.
“If a Guide can save an Esper, then I’ll help you.”
A Guide is supposed to be someone who can save an Esper, right? If that’s true, then Ho-eun would do it without hesitation. He wouldn’t become a wicked Guide like Hosoo, who drove Espers toward death despite having the power to save them. He’d become a Guide who rescued Espers.
“I…”
For the first time, Do In-ho smiled. Or… was that even a smile? With a deflating sound, he slowly shook his head.
“I want to die soon. As I am now, I have no value. They say I’m only worth something if I die and leave behind a core.”
“What…?”
“Someone like me… even if I lived, I’d just hurt people and cause trouble.”
“……”
“So please, for your own sake, don’t do anything. I want to die.”
With those final words, Do In-ho brushed past Ho-eun and walked away.
Espers, in exchange for their abilities, must use their powers for the sake of ordinary people. Guides heal Espers whose lives are drained by using those abilities.
This was what the theory classes had taught—something called a symbiotic relationship. But in that relationship, the ones in control were always the Guides.
A Guide has the power to save an Esper. To an Esper, a Guide is like a god. So it made sense—if someone said a Guide saved their tormented soul, of course they’d cry and become devoted.
That’s what Ho-eun had arrogantly believed.
Staring blankly at Do In-ho as he walked away, Ho-eun stood frozen. Why? He had never even considered the possibility of being rejected.
“Got shut down…”
In the version Ho-eun had imagined, Do In-ho would cry and thank him.
“I actually want to live,” he’d say.
Ho-eun would wrap him in a warm hug and say, “Then how about starting by being my training partner?”
“Of course!” Do In-ho would reply instantly, and the two would live out a cheerful youth drama full of laughter and hope.
But reality had dealt him a harsh rejection. It hadn’t been some polite refusal—Do In-ho’s face, when he said he wanted to die, made that painfully clear. He looked resigned, like he had no ties left to this world, with the kind of certainty that made it obvious he had no desire for a new life.
***
Even during Guide theory class, Ho-eun couldn’t concentrate. He filled his paper with scribbles, trying to figure out why Do In-ho had rejected him.
“Do you have a cat?”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t this about a cat?”
Kim Se-hee pointed at Ho-eun’s heavily scribbled paper with a curious look on her face.
“Like, you tried to feed it and take care of it, but it was too wary to eat, right? Some stray cats hate humans so much that you really have to approach them slowly, or they’ll stop showing up altogether.”
Because his paper was filled with words like guarded, rejected, and ignored, she must’ve misunderstood and thought he was talking about a cat. Ho-eun hesitated over how to explain, then shook his head.
“It’s not a cat. It’s a person.”
“A person? Then you really shouldn’t approach like that! I hate it when people come at me out of pity. Like, what makes them so great that they think they can help me and interfere with my life just because we’re both human?”
Yup. Definitely a K-teenager. Kim Se-hee’s unfiltered words struck Ho-eun like a blow to the ribs.
“What makes you so great that you think you can help me?”
Those words landed in his mind like a lightning bolt.
He and Do In-ho were both human. It wasn’t about being a Guide or an Esper—they were both just people.
Had Ho-eun been trying to save Do In-ho as an Esper, or as a person?
He had wanted to stop the overload to make sure Do In-ho could be treated as human. But underlying that was the assumption that Guide Kwon Ho-eun could do it.
In the end, he was no different from Hosoo. Whether it was someone adjusting the overload schedule with guiding or someone making empty promises to “save” an Esper—it was the same kind of delusion. Some warped belief system about the Guide–Esper relationship must have been imprinted on him after he got here.
Get a grip, Kwon Ho-eun. A god? Seriously.
It was ridiculous. He must’ve gone temporarily insane.
He was not the one saving anyone. That was something Do In-ho had to decide for himself.
The first step wasn’t making him beg for his life. It was freeing him from a death that made no sense.
All he could do was stop the fate called Overload.
What came after—that life was for Do In-ho to choose. Not as a Crystal Implant. As Do In-ho.
And from the side, he would show him—That this world is fun enough to make you regret dying.
