Bzzz, bzzz.
His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, loud and relentless as ever. If he had no intention of picking up, he could’ve just put it on silent or blocked the number. But for some reason, Lee Han-seo let the trembling phone rest in his palm, smiling like he was genuinely amused.
He’d been ignoring the nonstop calls day and night for a while now, occasionally picking up on a whim—only to hang up without saying a single word.
Judging by the number flashing on the screen, today’s persistent harassment was courtesy of Park Seon-jun. At first, Seon-jun had alternated between calling Park Woo-jun and Han-seo, but after Woo-jun changed his number entirely, the full brunt of the barrage shifted to Han-seo. It was like he had a schedule to follow—there was barely a break between calls, all day long.
The sheer volume of calls was practically spam, making it difficult for Han-seo to stay in touch with anyone else. He’d ended up getting a second phone just to deal with it. Even their attempts to visit him at the Center had been met with flat rejections. And when that didn’t work, just a few days ago, Seon-jun had reportedly stormed into the lobby of Han-seo’s maternal family’s company headquarters, demanding they bring him out right then and there.
If even once, buried somewhere in all that desperate contact, there’d been a shred of sincerity—an actual apology, a moment of reflection directed at Park Woo-jun—maybe, just maybe, it might’ve shaken Han-seo’s resolve.
But whether it was unfortunate or just telling, all they offered were hollow words, apologizing if they’d upset him somehow. Not once did they grasp what had caused this situation in the first place.
Shameless to the point of divine retribution. That’s why Han-seo could say it loud and clear—he would be their punishment. Their own personal nightmare.
And really, all he’d done was take back the generosity he’d once extended. There was no need for them to be this frantic—unless, of course, their bellies were stuffed full of greed they couldn’t manage.
That was the truth. If Park Seon-jun could just lower his standards and find a job suited to his actual skills, if he’d stop clinging to lofty expectations about where and how he lived—what neighborhood, how big the place was, what brand of apartment—then they’d be fine. No one was going to starve.
If Han-seo were in their shoes, he wouldn’t have gambled everything on such a long shot. He’d have gone to another job interview, checked out another real estate office—secured a job and a home before anything else.
But those three acted like such grounded, everyday choices weren’t even options. Instead, they kept clinging to him, begging him to fix everything. It was pathetic. Laughably so.
“Han-seo. Were you waiting long?”
The door to the counseling room clicked open, and a familiar face poked out—bright and round like the moon. Of course, it was Park Woo-jun.
“Sorry, the session went longer than expected.”
Ever since Woo-jun’s therapy sessions had stopped being a secret between them, he’d always looked like he wanted to go in together. But it was Han-seo who insisted on waiting outside today, sitting patiently in the hallway.
Woo-jun probably had things he didn’t want to share in front of him—and even if not, Han-seo didn’t want his own clinginess getting in the way of Woo-jun’s growth and healing.
Whether he understood the depth of that quiet consideration or not, Woo-jun often acted like a stubborn kid, always whining, Let’s go in together, I don’t want to leave you alone. But still, this was where Han-seo drew the line.
“I told you—no more saying sorry.”
“Oh—crap, I forgot. Sorry.”
Avoiding apologies had become a bit of therapeutic homework, recommended by the doctor. When Woo-jun immediately slipped and apologized again, Han-seo narrowed his eyes and gave a low, warning “Hey.”
This time, Woo-jun clamped his mouth shut, fidgeting awkwardly with his lips twitching but no words coming out, his eyes darting around like a guilty kid caught red-handed.
The sight was so ridiculous that Han-seo couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, enough. Let’s go already.” He laced their fingers together and tugged him forward.
They had less than an hour before departure to the A-Class dungeon. Time was tight—they still had to stop by the dorm to grab their gear.
As they walked hand in hand, swinging their arms gently between them, something unusual caught Han-seo’s eye—an unfamiliar envelope clutched in Woo-jun’s other hand. It looked thick, like a prescription bag. Han-seo immediately asked what it was. Up until now, Woo-jun had gone to therapy but never come back with medication.
“What’s that? What kind of meds?”
“Ah, it’s nothing serious…”
Woo-jun slowly relayed what the doctor had said. It wasn’t conclusive yet, but the doctor suspected that his regression symptoms—after the temporary loss of his Imprint—were tied to his sense of psychological security.
Normally, when a Guide and Esper maintained an Imprint, the Esper received a baseline level of emotional stability, even when Guiding wasn’t active. Now, without that safety net, extreme stress—mental and physical—hit him full force, and regression seemed to be his subconscious defense.
The doctor even mentioned that there was no need to bring up Amplifier side effects yet; the awkward speech patterns and clumsy movements from when Woo-jun first arrived could’ve been early signs of unconscious regression.
“So next time I have to use the Amplifier, the idea is to take a tranquilizer beforehand if it feels like side effects are coming. It’s not guaranteed to help, but worth trying.”
“Hmm… I mean, I’m fine with trying something new, but… is it safe? I thought Espers weren’t supposed to take any meds unless they’re made in the lab?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. The lab collaborated on these ahead of time—they’re a special high-dose formula made just for Espers. Oh, and don’t even think about taking any, okay? This stuff’s not for Guides. I’ll mark it clearly once we’re back at the dorm.”
“Uuugh, fine…”
Even as he nodded and kept walking, the buzzing from his phone refused to stop. It kept vibrating in his hand like a whining mosquito, but weirdly enough, the sensation had a bitterly satisfying edge to it.
***
“AAAGH!”
Lee Han-seo bolted upright with a scream. His face was a mess, drenched in cold sweat. Gasping for air, he glanced at the clock—it was still too early to be up.
Apparently, the doctor had been right. Since starting the tranquilizers, Park Woo-jun had been much more stable, even after using the Amplifier. And now that Han-seo was finally hitting his stride inside the dungeon, things should’ve been going smoothly.
So why the hell had he just had that kind of dream?
“What the… What kind of messed-up nightmare was that?”
It had been so absurd, it burned itself into his brain. In the dream, everything had started off normal—just him and Woo-jun, lounging around at their dorm like always. But suddenly, the entire building began to shake violently, like it was ready to collapse at any moment.
That part he could live with. But the real madness started right after.
As they scrambled to evacuate, the shoe rack and entryway were completely empty. Not a single pair of shoes to be found. Nothing to wear. Not even slippers.
And then—like some tragic comedy—dream-Han-seo and dream-Woo-jun just stood there barefoot, panicking in place, unsure of what to do. Before they could figure anything out, the whole building came crashing down on top of them.
Han-seo turned sharply to the side, instinctively looking for the culprit. Woo-jun was fast asleep, his face peaceful and relaxed from the tranquilizer. Pale skin, defined brows, high nose bridge—his annoyingly handsome boyfriend, looking like he belonged nowhere else but right at Han-seo’s side.
“Seriously? If there were no shoes, you should’ve picked me up and run barefoot. What kind of boyfriend just stands next to me panicking like an idiot?”
Maybe it was because he looked so blissfully unbothered, but even though it was just a dream, Han-seo found himself growing more and more irritated. He reached out toward Woo-jun’s perfect face, fingers curling like he was ready to pinch his cheek hard.
But right as his hand got close—
Woo-jun’s eyes snapped open with a sharp glint, like he’d been waiting for the moment all along.
“AACK!”
Han-seo screamed and flailed backward in panic, tumbling off the bed and landing hard on the floor with a loud thud. The soft bed traded for the cold, unforgiving floor—just perfect.
“What the hell?! You were awake?! Why would you pretend to be asleep and scare me like that?!”
“I wasn’t pretending. I was just lying next to you with my eyes closed.”
“Ugh, you’ve been so smug lately. You never let me win.”
“Hehe. Quit pouting and come here.”
Still sulking, Han-seo stayed flat on the floor like a squashed bug, flapping his arms and legs but making no effort to move. Woo-jun opened his arms with a small smile, waiting for him. Maybe it was the dream still messing with his head, but today, everything Woo-jun did rubbed him the wrong way.
Instead of giving in, Han-seo rolled away dramatically—right past the bed, past Woo-jun, all the way to the bedroom door.
“Forget it. I’ll just go out alone.”
His tone was sharp, all venom and no warmth.
“Baby, roll some more. You look so cute, like a little caterpillar.”
“Tch. You got a death wish today, huh?”
“Hehe.”
Getting called cute only made it worse. Scowling like he’d been deeply wronged, Han-seo sighed, then—feeling ridiculously generous—rolled himself over the doorway and down the hall, tumbling all the way to the kitchen like a human roly-poly.
Woo-jun crouched low and followed right behind, tailing him like a puppy chasing after its favorite squeaky toy.
