The day was mostly uneventful, peaceful to the point that it was hard to believe—let alone tolerate—that anyone could find something to complain about.
Three Guides and two Espers. The five of them lived together in a two-story wooden house, which, among all the detached lodgings under the Alliance HQ’s jurisdiction, stood out both in size and location. Perfectly south-facing, it soaked in sunlight from morning until late afternoon, filling the place with warm, comforting light.
“Thanks to you, I’m full. We’ll handle the dishes, so you two go on up and get ready.”
“We’ll leave it to you, then.”
“Oh, Julian. You come over here first and get your Guiding.”
While everyone else chatted over their cheerful meal, Julian stood out like a sore thumb—sulking, sipping his drink, a scowl tugging at his lips. He stared across the table at Lee Han-seo with something that looked suspiciously like regret before finally turning his back on him and facing the two A-Class Guides instead.
Park Woo-jun and Han-seo headed upstairs, fingers loosely entwined. The second floor, though lacking a kitchen, had its own bedroom, living room, and bathroom—enough to function as a separate living space. It had been Han-seo’s top pick the moment they saw the place.
They weren’t an official team, but let’s be honest—Han-seo was clearly the one calling the shots. No one had challenged his claim. Julian once asked if he could stay upstairs too, even offering to take the tiny side room instead of the main bedroom, only to get smacked down with, “Do you want to get kicked out of the house altogether?” That so-called side room was now their shared dressing room.
By the time Han-seo finally woke up and came downstairs, Woo-jun was practically ready to go, just brushing his teeth. Meanwhile, Han-seo was tearing through their wardrobe like a storm, pulling out outfit after outfit in a frenzy.
Maybe it was because his mother ran a high-end department store and made sure his closet stayed packed year-round with the latest fashion. Whatever the reason, Han-seo had a natural sense of style. Even when he threw on the first thing within reach, it always looked put-together thanks to the quality of the clothes.
“Hey, hey—can you grab that one for me?”
“Hmm? That gray hoodie?”
“Yeah, that one.”
If anyone saw this absurd scene—an Esper strong enough to tear dungeon monsters apart being used to fetch a hoodie from a high shelf—they might assume Han-seo was trying to cure his homesickness with a little fashion therapy in Berlin.
“How about this? Do I look sloppy enough now?”
But that assumption couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Uh…”
Woo-jun held up the hoodie to Han-seo’s chin, his face a mix of confusion and concern. He didn’t think he could give the answer Han-seo clearly wanted.
“No?”
“Mm… the print’s too sleek, babe…”
“Ugh! So what the hell am I supposed to wear today?!”
Han-seo groaned and flung the hoodie to the floor in frustration. It was dark-colored and loose-fitting—modest enough—but the bold logo and detailed stitching still made it look too put-together. Not nearly sloppy enough.
“Just thinking about getting teased again today is already stressing me out…”
Was it just a German thing? Or was it just the people at HQ? Han-seo had never actually explored beyond the base, so he had no way of knowing. But no matter what he wore, staff members always greeted him with a grin and a sarcastic, “Ah, the young master’s here.” These were people who wore stretched-out T-shirts that Han-seo wouldn’t even consider sleepwear—and yet, even when he threw on a basic hoodie or sweatshirt, he still looked like he’d stepped out of a luxury catalog.
Back in Seoul, everyone already knew which powerful family he belonged to, no explanation needed. But here, all they saw was raw, overwhelming power—none of the prestige or status that usually came with it. One older staff member had even gently pulled him aside and said, “We know you make good money, but flaunting your wealth every day might get you talked about,” as if offering some well-meaning advice.
For Han-seo, who had never intended to flaunt anything, that was a total shock. So that’s why the “young master” jokes had been getting worse. It wasn’t harmless teasing—it was a subtle warning.
What baffled him even more was that Woo-jun, who got his clothes from the same source, never seemed to get teased.
“Everyone here is so weird. Why is it only me? Why don’t they tease you? It’s not fair. It’s so unfair!”
“Mm… I think it’s just in your head.”
The truth was… no one teased Woo-jun because he didn’t react. But with Han-seo? The moment someone smiled and said, “Look who’s here,” he’d blow up, shouting and stomping in place. It was adorable. Irresistible. People who wouldn’t normally talk to him took it as an excuse to poke at him, just to see him squirm.
Woo-jun couldn’t bring himself to tell him the truth. That the teasing wasn’t cruel—it was their awkward way of trying to get close. Because what if it worked? What if Han-seo actually warmed up to them? The thought of watching that unfold was unbearable. Far better to let him fume and rage.
Julian aside—who was a whole other issue—Han-seo’s world had already grown far too large.
Of all the Guides, Han-seo was closest with Sara. Then there were Zhao and Vivian, his housemates. Even Simon and his Bonded Pair—despite Han-seo saying he avoided them because of how they reminded him of Kim Joon-young—ended up chatting with him every time they crossed paths, laughing like old friends. Add to that the other members of the U-Class task force, and the countless HQ staff members, many of whom Park Woo-jun had never even exchanged a word with.
Han-seo used to keep his circle small. Intentionally so. And most of the people in it—Kim Joon-young, Lee Jung-hyuk, Ryu Ho-yeon, Choi Jae-won, his parents—were also people Park Woo-jun knew well. Even counting them all together, they barely filled ten fingers. No one had to say it aloud to understand how narrow, how self-contained his world had once been.
Sure, he was brighter and more optimistic than Woo-jun in many ways—but still, Woo-jun hadn’t realized just how social Han-seo truly was until they came to Berlin.
Unlike Woo-jun—who needed no one but Han-seo—Han-seo was slowly carving out space for more people. Writing names beneath Woo-jun’s in his heart, one at a time, like a quiet list growing in delicate, careful handwriting. Woo-jun didn’t doubt his own name was at the top—bold, large, darkly inked. But still… the fact that there were other names listed at all made his chest ache.
“Han-seo.”
“Yeah?”
“….”
“What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing. You’re just… cute.”
“Cute?”
“Forget I said that. I meant cool.”
“You better watch it. I’ll let it slide this time.”
“Okay.”
“Gasp! Woo-jun, we’re late! We were supposed to meet Hanna early and head in together!”
And just like that, Han-seo tossed on the hoodie he’d thrown aside earlier and dashed toward the door, shouting the name of someone Woo-jun didn’t even recognize. Probably one of the Guides he’d been spending more time with lately.
Grabbing Woo-jun’s wrist, Han-seo hurried down the stairs, flung open the front door, and practically charged outside. Julian was already waiting and seamlessly joined them as they made their way toward the training grounds.
A while ago, Han-seo would’ve demanded to be carried. But he’d gotten a little more self-conscious these days, more aware of people watching. Even though he was out of breath, he kept running on his own, refusing to slow down.
Their first stop was the Esper training ground. These days, it had become routine—Han-seo dropping Woo-jun off there before heading to the Guide training hall. As usual, he planted two quick, dramatic kisses on both of Woo-jun’s cheeks and sprinted off again without looking back.
Just another peaceful, ordinary start to their day.
And yet, even as he stood there in the warmth of that normalcy, Park Woo-jun couldn’t help the way his chest tightened—the quiet, aching emptiness that wouldn’t go away.
