Breathing was hard, even when he stood still. His side throbbed from rolling across the dirt floor, and the rips in his combat uniform revealed dried blood clinging stubbornly to the fabric.
Shhk. Park Woo-jun popped his dislocated shoulder back into place with a grimace and started walking. Today’s assigned dungeons had been three C-class ones that appeared in downtown Seoul.
They weren’t too difficult, even in his half-recovered state. But rushing to clock out on time like a good civil servant had pushed him a little too far, and now his whole body ached in protest.
Still, compared to the rest of the strategy teams—who’d been dragged along by his bulldozer-like charge and ended up completely wrecked, some unable to even stand and sent straight to the infirmary—he was in decent shape.
“Ugh, that hurts… Yeah, three runs in a day’s too much. I’ll switch to doing two B-class dungeons instead starting tomorrow.”
If Lee Han-seo heard him now—probably assuming Woo-jun was safely training at the Esper Training Hall—he’d be so mad he might faint on the spot.
“Team Leader, great work today! Should I take you to the infirmary?”
“No, I think I’ll head straight to the Main Building. Thanks for everything today.”
Park Woo-jun handed off the sprawled-out Espers like baggage to the waiting staff and hurried off. He needed to wash up, change clothes, and make it to the Main Building before Han-seo got off work—and he was already cutting it close.
Hmm. I’ll say I overdid it in the simulator’s new high-level mode. Stabilize my wave with Guiding first, then sneak into the infirmary after Han-seo falls asleep. Let’s see… broken rib? Figures—it’s been throbbing nonstop.
Despite the injuries, his inner thoughts were annoyingly upbeat.
He didn’t want to fight with Han-seo, didn’t want to upset him. So, this was the compromise he chose.
“Oh, and don’t forget to leave my name out of the report.”
“Of course! Don’t worry.”
Deceiving Lee Han-seo—completely and without hesitation.
Technically, Park Woo-jun’s unofficial “not-a-vacation” still wasn’t over. It would take another two weeks, at least, to fully recover.
Han-seo had given him two choices: either take a Recovery Ampoule and go into the dungeon together, or rest up with him. What Han-seo didn’t know was that if they picked the second option, sweet as it might seem now, it would eventually trigger deployment orders for Han-seo too.
Maybe that was what Han-seo really wanted. But for Park Woo-jun, it was the worst possible outcome.
So he struck a deal with himself—go out on low-tier dungeon runs behind Han-seo’s back, even if it meant wrecking his body.
He’d already busted up the civilian Fitness Room not long ago, so when he said he’d be using the high-rank Esper training grounds instead, Han-seo didn’t even question it.
“See you tomorrow, then.”
“Good night, Team Leader!”
The junior staffer who got a second farewell lit up with a smile. The harder Woo-jun pushed himself, the easier their own work got—it was hard not to be grateful.
Word had already spread through the entire center: Park Woo-jun and Lee Han-seo were locked in a silent standoff over his return to duty. Everyone was smart enough to play along with Woo-jun for now.
Even Kim Joon-young had clicked his tongue and offered a sincere warning, based on personal experience. “Do you really need to go this far? Lying to your partner could blow up in your face.” But that was the extent of it. He had no energy left to talk a stubborn junior out of a choice he’d clearly already made.
“Fine. Handle your own mess.”
“Thanks for understanding, sunbae.”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t really care. Just don’t drag Han-seo to our dorm again after some dumb fight. I get annoyed when Jung-hyuk gives other people attention.”
Every time they had a major blow-up—if you could call it that, since it usually involved Han-seo yelling in frustration while Woo-jun just bowed and apologized without a word—Han-seo would run over to Joon-young and Jung-hyuk’s place and pound on the door.
Jung-hyuk never seemed to mind. But Joon-young, who was just as possessive of his Guide, had been incredibly patient up until now.
“If he shows up one more time, I swear I’ll throw Han-seo into a dungeon myself.”
Harsh? Maybe. But it was also Joon-young’s way of saying, Just keep him out of my space this time, and I’ll cooperate.
And so, Park Woo-jun’s tightrope act continued to hold—barely.
He grabbed a fistful of painkillers from his personal locker in the training center and chewed them down like candy. Scrubbing the stench of monster blood from his skin was almost blissful.
The fluffy hoodie he’d packed to change into was a couple item he’d just bought to match with Han-seo. The white sneakers, their backs crushed from being half-worn, were a gift from Han-seo not long ago. They were a size too small—typical of Han-seo, who pretended to be overly protective but was clumsy when it came to actually taking care of people. It was cute, in a way.
Five minutes left until the Guide Management Department clocked out.
Humming to himself, Park Woo-jun jogged toward the Main Building, light on his feet like he was dancing.
“Uh—”
“……!”
He ran right into the last person he wanted to see just as he stepped into the lobby. Park Woo-jun instinctively frowned. He wasn’t someone who disliked people easily, but…
“Been a while, Park Woo-jun.”
“…….”
“How’s Han-seo? He doing okay?”
This man—this one person—he hated so much it made his blood boil. His voice turned sharp without meaning to.
“Well, look who it is. Must be a special day if you’re saying hi.”
“Not like I wanted to. Just… some odd rumors have been going around among the lower-tier dungeon teams.”
“Not your problem. I’ve got it covered.”
He was shorter than even Lee Han-seo—barely scraping past 170 cm, if that. That kind of height might’ve looked laughable on any grown man, but Ryu Ho-yeon always stood just one step outside the lines of what was normal.
“If you’re going to lie, at least don’t let him find out. Han-seo would be crushed.”
His face, shadowed with concern, looked like a moonlit lake—too perfect to be real. Unlike Park Woo-jun, whose sharp features gave him a clearly masculine edge, this man’s beauty blurred the line between genders.
“When I last saw him, he looked like he was coming down with something. Did he stop by the infirmary? He always gets sick this time of year…”
That was exactly what drove Woo-jun insane—this man’s tone, his expression, his effortless concern. It pushed him into corners filled with petty jealousy and a deep, gnawing sense of inferiority.
“That’s enough, Ryu Ho-yeon.”
“…….”
“Who the hell are you to worry about him? Who are you to care?”
Ryu Ho-yeon, the S-Class Esper with a special-type ability so classified the entire world didn’t even know he existed, had been Han-seo’s designated pair long before Park Woo-jun had ever awakened as an Esper.
By all rights, Woo-jun was the outsider—the guy who rolled in and stole someone else’s Guide the moment he got here. Whether or not he’d known Han-seo had someone else, whether it was even his choice to make or just Han-seo being stubborn, didn’t matter in the end.
“He’s my Guide. My partner.”
But really, what Esper in the world could stay chill about their Guide’s past after they’d already formed an Imprint?
By the time Park Woo-jun first met Han-seo, Ryu Ho-yeon had known him for over a decade. That alone gave Woo-jun more than enough reason to hate him. And he did—deeply.
“If you hadn’t shown up, he’d still be mine.”
“Too bad. I did show up. And didn’t you get a new Guide, anyway? So do me a favor—no, do us a favor—and stay out of our lives.”
Ryu Ho-yeon didn’t reply. Just clenched his jaw, lips pressed into a hard line as he glared daggers at Woo-jun. Woo-jun’s eyes weren’t exactly friendly either.
“Woo-jun!”
Ding. The elevator chimed as the doors slid open, and Han-seo came bouncing out, cheerful as ever. Without missing a beat, Woo-jun casually shifted to block Ryu Ho-yeon from view and plastered on a wide grin.
He didn’t want Han-seo seeing him. Not even a glimpse. Not while he still flinched like a startled rabbit every time guilt came creeping in.
Loving Han-seo completely. Being the one who got every bit of his fierce love and affection. That was something he wanted for himself—and only himself.
“Were you waiting for me again, you sweet thing?”
“Mm-hmm. You worked hard today. Want to grab dinner? There’s a new cold noodle place that opened near the front gate. I heard it’s amazing.”
“Oh! The one with the marinated ribs too? Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Even if their daily life was fragile, like a castle built on sand—it still felt perfect to him.
“I love you, Han-seo.”
“Wh-what the heck?! We were just talking about food—where did that come from…?”
“I just felt like saying it.”
“…Ahem. Ahem, ahem.”
Han-seo was the type who showed love through actions, not words. So every time Woo-jun threw out a sudden, unfiltered “I love you,” he’d turn red all the way to his ears and cough awkwardly like his throat had dried up.
“What about you, Han-seo?”
“I, uh… I mean… I… you know. That. I do. That.”
His half-pouting face was so adorable that Park Woo-jun couldn’t help but burst into a matching grin, walking alongside him like the happiest fool in the world.
