Drowsy afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the half-closed blinds. It was bright enough to sting the eyes, but Julian Moore didn’t bother shielding himself. Instead, he sat there, soaking in the warmth with a soft smile, letting the golden light melt across his face. It had just passed four o’clock. The sky, straddling the line between afternoon and evening, was a stunning pale blue streaked with soft orange hues, like watercolor brushed across a canvas.
It had been so long since he could just sit back and admire how sunlight felt on his skin, how the brightness painted the world in something beautiful. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had this kind of peace. All he knew for sure was that this view—this warm, familiar scene—was something he’d once thought lost forever, stripped away the moment he awakened.
And all it took to get it back… was a bit of fulfilled Guiding.
Just like that, Julian had stepped into a paradise that shouldn’t have existed.
Like chugging a cold soda after a hard sprint that left your chest burning. Like calming your racing heartbeat with deep, steady breaths. Like grabbing a fistful of your favorite snacks and crunching into them without a care. Like burying your face into soft sheets and falling into peaceful sleep.
All those little heavens he thought he’d lost as a teenager—thought he could never return to—were welcoming him back now, as if to say he’d finally come home.
Julian tilted his sun-warmed face into the shade and let his eyes drift. At the edge of his gaze was the person who had dragged him up from hell and flung him headfirst into this heaven. Lee Han-seo. The guide sat there wearing his usual unreadable, businesslike expression, completely focused on the Guiding.
Who was the first person to call them “Guides,” anyway? Julian found himself wondering that as he watched shards of sunlight tumble across Han-seo’s face, filtered through the blinds just as they had through his own.
When you thought about how Guides pulled people out of despair and set them gently back into their lives… the word “guide” really did feel perfect.
“……”
“……”
Sadly, his so-called guide seemed to think of him as little more than a piece of misplaced luggage—definitely not someone he’d chosen, not someone he wanted.
Still, Julian wasn’t the type to get discouraged. If he were that easily cowed—if he gave up on what was his just because someone looked at him wrong—he would’ve died a dozen times by now.
At first, he just looked like an ordinary, unremarkable East Asian guy. Nothing more, nothing less…
No… even back then, he’d had something soft, something kind of cute about him.
Julian stared, transfixed, at how the sunlight danced on Han-seo’s thick, inky lashes, glittering like dust motes. Han-seo continued Guiding him, and with every passing moment, Julian’s once-turbulent waves of energy settled—taking on steadier shapes, gentler textures, wrapping around him like peace.
It wasn’t fair. Not even close.
That this incredible, rapturous Guiding could only belong to one person. Just because they happened to be born in the same country. Just because their Matching Rate was a little higher. Just because Park Woo-jun met him first.
Why had fate placed Lee Han-seo beside Park Woo-jun instead of him?
The more he was Guided, the stronger his longing grew—an ache that reached deeper with every session. But reality didn’t care. The bond between Park Woo-jun and Lee Han-seo was unshakable. There wasn’t even a sliver of space for anyone else to slip through.
So all Julian could do was wait in silence, skimming off scraps of Guiding like leftover crumbs—just enough to survive. Circling around Han-seo, hoping for another taste, another moment.
But everything changed after Charlotte’s death… and after her Guide decided to return home.
The Guides, Han-seo included, had begun to shift in subtle ways. In group meetings, everyone sat in silence, dazed, staring into nothing. Julian didn’t know what Ronnie had said before she left—didn’t really care to know—but his instincts stayed sharp.
Because deep down, he knew: this was temporary. Just a moment of chaos. A small crack in the wall.
And if he didn’t move now, the opening would vanish.
In fact, some of the others were already bouncing back, like nothing had happened. Judging by Han-seo’s usual fire, even his drift wouldn’t last long.
Julian glanced down at the slender hand resting lightly on his palm—smaller than his own by a joint or two—and gently moved his fingers. Normally, Han-seo would’ve shaken him off in an instant, like swatting away a boundary being crossed. But these past few days… he just sat there, dazed, blinking slowly, doing nothing.
It was like he didn’t even notice Julian had intertwined their fingers.
Julian held his hand for a moment longer, then slowly—deliberately—slipped his fingers free. This time, he swept his thumb across the back of Han-seo’s hand. The skin there was impossibly soft, so delicate that it felt almost criminal to touch it with his callused thumb.
Just one step more. Just one more…
He didn’t even realize he was repeating that thought in his head as he turned his palm—like a snake coiling in—and just as he was about to grasp that fragile wrist, easily enclosed in one hand—
“……What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ah, nothing. Just… noticed how thin your wrist is.”
Guess this is as far as I get today.
Julian, who’d already felt the Guiding values stabilize long ago, quietly let go and pulled back. He raised his hands beside his head with a little wave, pretending innocence, but Han-seo’s narrowed eyes didn’t ease for even a second.
Han-seo recorded the changes in Guiding levels on the chart, then left the isolation room without a word. Not even a goodbye.
“If you keep hating me this much, what are you gonna do later, Han-seo?”
Julian muttered the farewell for both of them, staring into the space where Han-seo had vanished.
Maybe fate had always sided with Park Woo-jun.
But the way things were going now… it felt like the tide was turning in Julian’s favor.
Humming to himself, he opened his inbox and checked the email he’d just received one more time.
[How’s Berlin? Are you doing okay? I’m really glad someone’s stepped up to Guide you, even if it’s only temporary. You wouldn’t believe how happy we were when we heard.
Oh, and about what I suggested before—remember? The team-based Guiding system. It looks like it might actually happen. Now that the UK has officially pulled out of the Alliance, the whole organization’s scrambling.
They actually sent me a formal interview request. Wanted to know how many Espers I could handle at once, what the difference in Guiding output looked like by rank… The questions were ridiculously detailed. Some of them I didn’t even know the answers to myself—I had to consult the research team.
Not that it’ll change much for me. I’ve already been working in a team-based Guiding setup for a while. But once this gets out? People are going to completely flip.
Anyway, the whole team misses you. Stay healthy—and I really hope we’ll get to meet again. I’ll reach out again soon, Julian!]
The message came from an S-Class Guide in the U.S. who currently managed five A-Class Espers simultaneously as a team. Back when Julian first arrived—before they could find a proper Guide match—he’d temporarily joined that same team.
That man had always treated his S-Class status as a calling. From the start, he’d argued that high-level Guides should abandon the inefficient one-to-one Pair system and support Espers through a team-based model instead.
Of course, the idea never really gained traction. Espers were naturally possessive when it came to their Guides, and that territorial instinct always killed the momentum.
But now, the timing was perfect.
And Julian had no intention of letting this chance pass him by.
***
“What did you just say?”
Lee Han-seo stared, stunned, like he hadn’t heard right. He repeated the words out loud, trying to make sense of them.
“They’re abolishing the Pair system? And only for S-Class Guides?!”
“Guide Lee, please—calm down. Like I explained just now, nothing’s being implemented immediately. For now, it’s only a one-year pilot program, and once we compare the results—”
“Pilot program or not, how the hell am I supposed to stay calm?! You just dropped this bomb with zero warning!”
There were limits to how much someone could take. Han-seo, visibly shaking with fury, finally snapped and shouted in Korean. The staffer, who had been wearing a strained, awkward smile, now had sweat visibly beading down his face.
There were only six S-Class Guides left in the entire world. And two of them were elderly, well into their seventies—practically retired from fieldwork. That meant only four were still considered active assets.
Meanwhile, the number of S-Class and A-Class Espers had long since passed the hundreds. Even just counting the unpaired ones, dozens were still left without a Guide.
The imbalance had always been a problem—one everyone quietly tiptoed around. But after another S-Class Guide died, and as dungeons grew more dangerous and frequent, the international community had clearly decided it was time for drastic action.
And just in time, one of the remaining four S-Class Guides had already proven that it could work—successfully running a team of five Espers long-term. That same Guide had also been publicly advocating for other S-Class Guides to step up and use their abilities for the good of humanity.
So now, the plan was to start with the S-Class and use them to break ground. Once the precedent was set, the A-Class would follow. If it worked, this could be the historic breakthrough that finally resolved the global Guide shortage.
…Or so the higher-ups believed.
But from Han-seo’s perspective, it was complete and utter bullshit.
“Bring me the Director. Now.”
“I’m not leaving until I grab him by the collar or rip his damn hair out—so get him out here!!”
