His head was burning. Fucking hell. Shit. The curses spun wildly in his mouth. He wanted to rip Eun-jo out of that bastard’s arms right now. To hold that warm body close, press a kiss to his lips, and tell him to wake up. But what Eun-jo needed right now wasn’t him.
Jin Mu-seong, who had reached out a hand just moments earlier, pulled it back and walked toward the Gate.
“Team Leader Jin, your ammo—!”
As a Center staff member shouted, Park Se-yul stepped in to take the ammunition.
“I’ll bring it to him.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
With a pistol and shotgun strapped to his waist, Park Se-yul followed close behind Jin Mu-seong. As the two disappeared into the Gate, Heo Nan-gyeom turned to Jung Tae-seok, who stood stiff and unmoving.
“Esper Jung Tae-seok.”
He held out Eun-jo, and Jung Tae-seok instinctively took him into his arms. His touch was gentle, careful—as if afraid Eun-jo might break. Had he always been this delicate with him? A flicker of confusion crossed Heo Nan-gyeom’s face.
“His shoulder was pierced by a monster’s claw, and the poison’s already spread. He won’t have any strength left.”
“……”
“Esper Jung Tae-seok.”
“……”
“Are you even listening to me?”
Jung Tae-seok stared silently down at Eun-jo. He looked completely out of it—unable to use his abilities, like his soul had left his body. Heo Nan-gyeom grabbed his shoulder hard.
“What, are you planning to let Guide Yeo Eun-jo die?”
Only then did something flicker back into Jung Tae-seok’s eyes.
“Fuck… No one’s dying on my watch.”
Jung Tae-seok held Eun-jo tightly in his arms, muttering curses under his breath. Then, drawing out every last ounce of his power, he strode toward the emergency tent.
His face was grim, and the Center staff moved fast. The tension from earlier, while waiting at the Gate, still hung in the air—it had been cold enough to freeze someone in place, and now, everyone moved with clockwork precision.
“The recovery room’s ready. We already called ahead.”
“Let’s move.”
Jung Tae-seok had just started walking when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He looked down at the unconscious Eun-jo cradled against his chest.
“Hyung.”
The quiet murmur made Heo Nan-gyeom stop in his tracks, too. He’d been on his way to the tent to give his report, but when he turned back, he saw Jung Tae-seok looking like death.
“What is it…?”
“……”
“You don’t feel it either, do you? Eun-jo’s Guiding aura. It’s gone.”
Slowly, the wound on Eun-jo’s shoulder began to heal. The gaping hole was shrinking, and the lifeless pallor of his skin was returning to its original color.
But the energy was still missing.
That gentle, warm light that used to radiate from him, even when he was unconscious—it wasn’t there anymore. Jung Tae-seok’s lips quivered.
“Something’s wrong… isn’t it?”
Just voicing the thought left him breathless. Startled by his own words, he shook his head, rejecting the idea like it could be undone.
“Forget it. I didn’t say anything.”
Clenching his jaw, Jung Tae-seok started walking again, faster this time. One of the Center staff took the hint and led the way. In seconds, the two disappeared through the temporary entrance.
Heo Nan-gyeom was the only one left behind.
“I’ve been gone too long.”
He muttered as he pressed a finger to his temple. While Park Se-yul and Lee Sang-heon returned to Korea, he’d stayed overseas, moving through various Gates. He’d been assisting an American team researching Gate cores, hoping they might uncover the origin of their emergence.
But it seemed a lot had changed while he was away. He thought back to Lee Sang-heon’s uneasy eyes—how he couldn’t stop glancing at Eun-jo, even while feigning indifference. And the fear etched onto the faces of all three of them—clear as day.
These were the same men who once acted like Eun-jo didn’t even exist.
So why…
What happened while he was gone?
His thoughts were interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. As he turned toward the Center, he reached for his pager.
“This is Heo Nan-gyeom.”
He pressed the button and resumed walking.
***
Heo Nan-gyeom.
The one ray of light in an otherwise bleak Guideverse story. The readers’ only lifeline. Their dream, their hope, their last gasp of air.
By the time Jung Tae-seok, Park Se-yul, and Lee Sang-heon had gone full speed into emotional collapse—shaking the plot like a damn storm—Heo Nan-gyeom would show up just in time to punch a hole in the suffocating atmosphere. No over-the-top affection or anything, but he was the only one who ever treated the main character like an actual human being.
Described as the “steadfast potato seme,” he was the sole source of tenderness in a novel built on pain and emotional devastation. Naturally, he was pretty popular with readers. Not that Eun-jo gave a damn.
“The sex is way too gentle.”
Eun-jo had scoffed under his breath while reading one of Heo Nan-gyeom’s scenes. It was during a break in filming, and he’d holed up in the car with his tablet.
“If it’s gonna be hardcore smut, then damn—give me something filthy. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“Seriously? You’re talking about this in the middle of a shoot?”
From the front seat, his manager Seung-hwan, half-asleep, shot up with a glare.
“You little shit, are you reading BL again instead of going over your script?”
“Hyung, respect my tastes.”
“Tch. Respect my ass. Try having better taste first.”
Eun-jo stifled a laugh as Seung-hwan grumbled like a monk. He wasn’t wrong. Eun-jo’s tastes were complete trash.
If it was smut, he’d devour it. No questions asked.
“Sex should be gentle, huh? Says who…”
Just then, Seung-hwan’s muttering reached his ears again, and Eun-jo leaned forward between the seats, ready to argue.
“Sex, by definition, should be chaotic, animalistic—like, so intense you start wondering if you’re gonna die from it. That’s what makes it hot and exciting. Right, hyung?”
“Jesus! You scared the crap out of me!”
Seung-hwan practically screamed as Eun-jo suddenly leaned forward from the back seat. Clutching his chest in fright, he glared as Eun-jo kept talking without missing a beat.
“Also, hyung, it’s clear you don’t know this author.”
“Wh-What are you talking about?!”
“Even Heo Nan-gyeom’s got a dark streak, just so you know.”
Eun-jo was about to launch into a whole explanation when—
“Eun-jo hyung.”
“……”
“Hyung.”
A voice called to him—low, rougher than usual, laced with exhaustion.
“Come on… wake up. Before I die first…”
The last words were so quiet and muffled, they were hard to catch. But it was unmistakably his voice—his sweet, golden boy’s voice. Eun-jo groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes.
It was the recovery room—the same one he’d seen after the last Gate. Judging by the familiar surroundings, he’d been brought to the Central Center. In his line of sight, Jin Mu-seong was gripping one of his hands, Park Se-yul holding the other.
The sight of those two massive men crammed side by side on a chair barely wider than a dinner plate was so ridiculous that Eun-jo couldn’t hold back a snort. Their stiff, deadpan expressions made it even funnier. When he laughed, both of their eyes narrowed in sync.
“Oh? You’re laughing, baby?”
“Yeo Eun-jo.”
The sharp, warning tone made him immediately drop his smile. He quickly shook his head.
“People are gonna think I was on my deathbed or something.”
“Hyung.”
This time, the voice came from behind. Eun-jo turned his head to see Jung Tae-seok—wrapped tightly around him like a human body pillow. Even after the medics said he was stable, Jung Tae-seok hadn’t let go, still pouring his powers into him nonstop.
Eun-jo had no idea just how terrifying that wait had been. Arms locked firmly around his waist, Jung Tae-seok whispered in a low, shaky voice.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
If Eun-jo had even the faintest idea what they’d gone through while he was out, he wouldn’t have spoken so casually. Those hours without him had been pure hell. Being able to hold him now—it felt nothing short of a miracle.
And it wasn’t just Jung Tae-seok. The other Espers had gone through it, too. Hugging Eun-jo’s warm body close, Jung Tae-seok let out a long, shaky breath.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Jin Mu-seong leaned over and pressed the call button by the bed, then dipped down to kiss Eun-jo’s forehead. Startled, Eun-jo quickly glanced at Jung Tae-seok and Park Se-yul, checking their reactions.
When neither of them said anything, Jin Mu-seong’s voice came again—more urgent now.
“Seriously, we’re not gonna fight. No one’s dumb enough to pick a fight next to a patient. Just tell me.”
“I’m fine. Really, I feel totally normal…”
“Even your shoulder?”
“Yeah. But…”
Eun-jo looked around, eyes wide and searching.
“Where’s Lee Sang-heon?”
“In another recovery room. He’s stable, but since he was poisoned, they’re keeping an eye on him.”
Only then did Eun-jo breathe a real sigh of relief and nod.
“Thank God.”
He’d been worried. Afraid they had to leave Lee Sang-heon behind. The way Sang-heon had watched him, even while sprawled on the ground, kept flashing in his mind.
Just for a second, he remembered that strange little “family” they’d made—Sang-heon guarding their cave like a silent wall, and the tiny, scruffy puppies trailing after them…
It was all just a fantasy.
The strange wave of emotion hit him like a brick, and Eun-jo quickly shook the memory out of his head.
omg, they’re sharing (ノ_・。)