The door to the treatment room opened, and the center staff walked in. Seeing a bunch of hulking Espers sitting around all chummy was still jarring, but after watching the same scene for the past two days while Eun-jo slept, it was at least something he could tolerate now.
What are they, bear cubs or something?
The staff member clicked his tongue at the mountain-sized bodies and approached Eun-jo, speaking in a flat, businesslike tone.
“You need to remain on strict bed rest.”
“Bed rest, my ass…”
“Cursing Is only going to mess with your recovery.”
Clinging to Eun-jo like a ghost, Jung Tae-seok stared warily at the tray in the staff member’s hands.
“What the hell is that? Isn’t that needle way too damn big?”
Here we go again. The staffer, already used to Jung Tae-seok’s dramatics over the last two days, turned to Park Se-yul.
“……Any chance Jung Tae-seok isn’t scheduled for training today?”
Translation: Please get him out of here. Tae-seok growled, but Park Se-yul was already on his feet.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s got plenty lined up.”
“Team Leader!”
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
“This really isn’t the time!”
We should be stuck together like nutrients! But Park Se-yul yanked Tae-seok off like uprooting a stubborn weed.
“Eun-jo hyung!”
Even as he was being dragged away, Tae-seok kept calling out desperately. Eun-jo gave him a small wave, eyes softening at the sight of Tae-seok’s droopy, mournful gaze.
Once they were gone, only Jin Mu-seong and the staff remained in the room with Eun-jo. Standing off to the side, Mu-seong silently watched as they changed Eun-jo’s IV and drew his blood.
Normally, he would’ve cracked a joke by now. The silence felt unusually heavy.
What’s with him?
The way Mu-seong was so quiet—it didn’t suit him. Even Eun-jo started feeling self-conscious. After sneaking several glances, he finally broke the silence.
“Jin Mu-seong-ssi.”
Only then did Mu-seong tear his eyes away from the staff and turn toward him.
“Will you hold my hand?”
“……”
“I’m scared of needles.”
Eun-jo absentmindedly held out the hand that already had a needle in it, then quickly switched and offered his other hand instead. The result was both hands awkwardly reaching out at once.
Mu-seong let out a deep sigh and sat down on the stool beside the bed. Then he gently took Eun-jo’s left hand in his.
“You’ll charge headfirst into monsters without blinking, but a little needle scares you?”
“No one’s gonna rescue me from a syringe.”
“Hah.”
“Can’t shoot it with a gun, either.”
At the word “gun,” one of the staff flinched. Eun-jo turned his head away, pretending not to notice.
“Did you get Guiding?”
“My Guide should’ve stayed farther away.”
If Mu-seong had known what Eun-jo had been through, he wouldn’t be speaking so casually. Even now, just thinking about it made his mouth go dry. Jin Mu-seong raised Eun-jo’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the smooth back of it.
“You nearly gave me a damn heart attack.”
“Wow. That just screamed age gap.”
Eun-jo let out a soft laugh, and Mu-seong playfully pushed his pretty face away with a flick.
“So don’t scare me like that again, baby.”
“……It’s not like I meant to.”
“I almost collapsed back there, you know.”
Mu-seong leaned his head against Eun-jo’s shoulder, whining like he was in pain. With a body that looked like it could stop a needle from piercing through, it was honestly ridiculous. Still, Eun-jo looked down at him quietly, even as a smirk tugged at his lips.
His face was worn. The sharper cut of his jawline said it all—he clearly hadn’t been eating properly.
He said it’s been a week, right?
Just imagining how frantically Mu-seong must’ve searched for him during that week made Eun-jo’s chest ache. He was the one who’d left after entrusting him with an Imprint—his literal lifeline.
“Did you… get any Guiding?”
Eun-jo asked softly, remembering how Mu-seong once said he needed Guiding every time he stopped time. Before he could answer, the staff member who had just finished swapping the IVs spoke up.
“Excuse me, Guide Yeo Eun-jo.”
Unlike the cold tone he used with Tae-seok earlier, his voice now held a quiet weight. When their eyes met, the man hesitated—like a doctor about to break bad news.
“Due to your Guiding ability… we’ll need to move you to a different testing facility.”
“Testing?”
“Yes. Ever since you returned from the Gate… something seems to have gone wrong with your Guiding ability.”
Eun-jo instinctively glanced down at Mu-seong. He must’ve heard it, yet he didn’t so much as flinch—just kept his head buried on Eun-jo’s shoulder.
“You already knew?”
“Yeah.”
The low voice came without pause or emotion. Just calm acceptance.
“It’s not that important.”
How could it not be? Both Eun-jo and the staff looked down at him in disbelief.
To a chef, their dominant hand was everything. To a runner, their legs. To a Guide, it was their Guiding ability.
“Then what is important?”
“You.”
“…What?”
“You, Eun-jo. I don’t have a whole lot of storage space in my head, so I cleared everything else out.”
Heat rushed to Eun-jo’s cheeks in an instant. He jerked his shoulder, trying to shake Mu-seong off, then bit his lip hard. This from the same guy who once acted like he’d die if he didn’t get properly Guided?
“What the hell are you even saying…”
Eun-jo mumbled under his breath, his face fully flushed with embarrassment. Mu-seong just snuggled closer, resting his head back on his shoulder like nothing had happened.
The staff shot them both a deadpan look. Honestly, to handle a pack of overgrown bear-like Espers like that, this Guide had to be just as strange. The image of Eun-jo as a poor, pitiful victim quietly faded away—now he just seemed like one of them.
Lost in their own little world again, the two didn’t even notice when the staff member cleared his throat.
“We’ll inform you of the testing schedule tomorrow.”
With that, he and the rest of the team quickly made their exit.
Thud! The door slammed shut behind them.
It felt like they’d just made a scene in some upscale restaurant. Eun-jo let out a long sigh, his face still burning.
***
His head was a mess the whole day.
There were a dozen things gnawing at him, but one above all kept bugging him: the comment about his Guiding ability having changed.
Did I awaken as an S-Rank?
If he was following the logic of the original story, then after forming four Imprints, his Guiding ability should’ve awakened as S-Rank. That’s how it was supposed to work.
But if that were the case…
The Center Director would’ve been doing a tap dance in the hallway by now.
“Our center just produced its first S-Rank Guide!” There’d be media coverage, interviews, photo shoots—probably a whole PR campaign. Especially with multiple S-Rank Espers involved, the Guide Center Director, who usually kept his guard up like a steel trap, would’ve been ecstatic. Eun-jo could already picture his smug face after a magazine cover went viral.
No way that man would sit on news like this.
And yet, for two days straight, the Director hadn’t even shown up.
That alone told him everything—he hadn’t awakened as an S-Rank.
Maybe my energy just… shifted?
Next on his mental stress list: Team A Esper, Heo Nan-gyeom.
If he’d at least dropped by, Eun-jo might’ve had a chance to talk to him. But just like the Director, Heo Nan-gyeom was completely MIA—not a single glimpse.
He seemed pretty close with Yeo Eun-jo too…
But Eun-jo didn’t have much to go on. In the original novel, there hadn’t been a single scene showing Heo Nan-gyeom and Yeo Eun-jo together. And without a script, it was impossible to play the part.
“Are you really… Yeo Eun-jo?”
The words he’d heard inside the Gate came back to him, and the dull throb in his head flared up again. Lying on the examination table, Eun-jo squeezed his eyes shut, then slowly opened them.
“Guide, are you feeling unwell?”
Where did he even start? Everything felt off. Being stuck there for hours with wires hooked to his arms and legs was exhausting. The way the staff whispered just out of earshot was irritating. But the worst part…
His gaze drifted past the window to where Guide Center Director Jung Young-soo stood, his face drawn tight with concern. Right beside him stood Heo Nan-gyeom—tall and unmoving, like a telephone pole.
You could never tell what that man was thinking. That deceptively beautiful face gave away nothing. He just stood there, silent and still, watching Eun-jo with that unreadable expression. There wasn’t a shred of emotion in his gaze, and every time their eyes met, it left Eun-jo feeling… unsettled.
“I’m fine.”
Their eyes had only just met when Eun-jo quickly looked away.
“All right, let’s hold your breath again.”
He inhaled deeply and held it. His chest tightened almost immediately, and his throat felt like it was burning. Whether it was from the lack of air or Heo Nan-gyeom’s silent stare, he couldn’t tell. Eun-jo opened and closed his empty hand, fingers twitching with tension.
