A tremor ran through his body. The moment Park Se-yul, who had been supporting him from behind, let go, Eun-jo crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
The man opened the door and walked right past Eun-jo without so much as a glance. His steps were cold, detached—like they belonged to a stranger. From near the entrance, Park Se-yul’s voice called out.
“I’ll handle the consequences.”
“……”
“Don’t do anything stupid. Just take some time off. I’ll file it as leave.”
His footsteps echoed down the hall, gradually fading into silence. Only after the last sound disappeared did Eun-jo dare to look at himself.
His shirt lay discarded by the toilet. His pants were bunched awkwardly around his ankles. The pool of semen on the floor said everything that needed to be said. If anyone saw this mess, it would only add more fuel to the already vicious rumors.
“Fuck… seriously…”
The tears he’d been holding back finally broke loose. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes furiously as he forced himself up. His legs buckled beneath him, and he had to cling to the wall just to stay upright.
“He’s really throwing a tantrum this time.”
As he bent down to pull up his pants, Eun-jo let out a weary sigh. Normally, something like this would’ve been the breaking point between them… but he knew Park Se-yul too well.
That bastard was probably somewhere right now, calling this “training,” getting off to the memory of Eun-jo’s pain-stricken face.
Knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. He was too worn down to pretend it didn’t matter. Letting his pants fall to the floor, Eun-jo stepped into the stall and locked the door behind him.
Tears poured freely again. Clamping his teeth down on his lip, he pressed his palms hard over his eyes. His hands were soaked within seconds.
“Ugh…”
Everything felt like too much. Curling up, he hugged his knees and buried his face between them.
The more he cared about them, the heavier it all became. The stronger his desire to protect them, the deeper the guilt dug in.
Through blurred vision, he spotted his crumpled shirt. Peeking out beside it was a corner of a handkerchief—cheerfully embroidered with a smiling teddy bear. In spite of himself, it reminded him of Heo Nan-gyeom.
Knock knock—
A knock echoed through the stall. A staff member? Another Guide? Whoever it was, he didn’t want to face anyone right now. Eun-jo froze.
“Yeo Eun-jo-ssi.”
The voice was calm but courteous.
“Are you alright?”
Heo Nan-gyeom stood just outside the stall, waiting for an answer. Inside, the sound of ragged breathing leaked through the door—it was Eun-jo’s.
Nan-gyeom’s gaze swept the floor. His eyes landed on a milky fluid seeping out from the stall. Silently, with practiced grace, he pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and crouched down to clean it up.
Just then, the lock clicked open. The door cracked, revealing Eun-jo crouched on the floor.
“……”
“……”
The moment Eun-jo saw Heo Nan-gyeom wiping up the mess, his gaze wavered, lost. Regret flashed across his face—he shouldn’t have opened the door. He immediately covered his face with both hands.
“Please… just leave.”
It was a childish gesture, like hiding his face might make him disappear. In this place, it was the only way Eun-jo could escape.
His body trembled as he added,
“I said get ou—”
Before he could finish, something light and warm settled gently on his shoulder. When he peeked through his fingers, he saw Heo Nan-gyeom’s jacket draped over him.
“It’s alright.”
Heo Nan-gyeom stepped closer and knelt on one knee beside him. With steady, calloused hands, he carefully pulled the jacket snug around Eun-jo’s shoulders.
“Even if you were lying naked, covered in vomit and rolling around in it… it wouldn’t matter.”
“……”
“You’d still be beautiful, Yeo Eun-jo-ssi.”
His gaze was unwavering—steady and honest. In those pitch-black eyes, Eun-jo saw his own reflection: pitiful, messy, and painfully real. No masks. No pretense. Just the wreck he truly was.
When Eun-jo said nothing, Nan-gyeom gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He helped him to his feet with care, picked up the shirt, and tied it around his waist.
Then, without warning, he lifted him.
The sudden change in height startled Eun-jo. Reflexively, he clung to Nan-gyeom’s neck. Nan-gyeom flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t say a word. He carried Eun-jo out of the stall like nothing had happened.
At the sink, he set him down gently, then reached into his jacket and pulled out another handkerchief. Eun-jo stared, wide-eyed. It was like a magic trick—handkerchiefs just kept coming.
Another teddy bear.
“…How did you know I was here?”
Nan-gyeom soaked the cloth with water and wrung it out like it was second nature. The soft drip-drip of water echoed in the quiet bathroom.
“I’m part of Team A, too.”
“Ah…”
Just like Park Se-yul. He must’ve heard about the inspection. That meant his Imprint partner, Jin Mu-seong, probably knew as well… and so did Jung Tae-seok and Lee Sang-heon.
Shit.
He’d known a report would go up, but he didn’t think it would spread this fast. As the realization hit, Eun-jo grimaced. Nan-gyeom silently slipped the damp handkerchief into his hand.
“They probably won’t come. Tae-seok’s out on a trip, and Team Leader Jin and Lee Sang-heon are in the middle of a Guiding session.”
“…Guiding?”
“I heard they’re trying drug-assisted guiding.”
So they were resorting to medicinal Guiding now. Great. Eun-jo groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Nan-gyeom gently cupped his jaw.
“Excuse me.”
With slow, careful movements, he began wiping away the tear streaks on Eun-jo’s face. His touch was tender—like someone handling something fragile. He wiped around his eyes, even between his brows, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
What kind of guy does this? Eun-jo stared at him, bewildered by how effortlessly nurturing this man was.
“Before my Esper abilities awakened, I wanted to be a preschool teacher.”
Maybe sensing his confusion, Nan-gyeom explained quietly.
“…Though I probably wouldn’t have lasted. Kids cry too much.”
His voice was as calm as ever, but something in his tone felt a little sulky.
“It sounds like it would’ve suited you. That’s a shame.”
His voice cracked again. Mortified, Eun-jo felt his face heat up. Goddamn it.
Nan-gyeom smiled slightly, like he was holding back a laugh.
“Whether or not it suits me doesn’t matter. What matters is that the kids don’t cry.”
“……”
“I’m doing something similar here, anyway. It’s fine.”
“…You’re not secretly a dad, are you?”
The smile vanished.
“Do you really think I’d be doing all this if I had a kid? I’m not that kind of saint.”
His blunt answer made Eun-jo’s ears turn red.
Only now did Nan-gyeom’s age and background start to register in his mind.
You’ve really lost it, Eun-jo. That’s the kind of dumb mistake you’d never make otherwise.
Avoiding his gaze, Eun-jo mumbled, “I’m not usually like this.”
“I know.”
The reply was indifferent, almost dismissive.
I mean it.
Eun-jo pouted, unable to stop himself from rambling.
“I don’t cry. I don’t hiccup. I can wash my face just fine by myself…”
Nan-gyeom finished wiping his forehead and adjusted his grip before lifting him up again.
“You did well.”
“I wasn’t fishing for praise.”
“I know.”
The more he spoke, the deeper he dug himself. Eun-jo clamped his mouth shut, cheeks burning.
Cradling the now-quiet Eun-jo in his arms, Nan-gyeom started walking again. A small, even smile played at his lips.
“…We’re going to the Guiding Room, right?”
The question came in a whisper from Eun-jo, who had leaned his head against Nan-gyeom’s shoulder.
“…Yeah.”
Nan-gyeom’s arms tightened around him, just a little more.
