“Haaah…!”
Feeling as if his chest was being crushed, he shot up in bed. It felt like something had been pressing down on him, but when he looked around, there was nothing there.
Yet the suffocating sensation refused to go away. He pounded his chest with his fist.
“What the hell is this…”
That’s when he noticed something hanging heavily from his arm. Following the attached line up with his gaze, he eventually found the IV drip at its end.
His mind was sluggish, still fogged from sleep. Only after a long moment did he finally remember: he had entered Cha Jae-woo’s house, and the instant the man touched him, he had passed out cold.
“Shit…”
He was seriously losing it. He had just said he felt a little weak! He had insisted there were no major health issues! Yet the second Cha Jae-woo laid a hand on him, he had collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut—what kind of bullshit was that?!
Honestly, he had never fully trusted the Guide Association President’s words. He had seen too many posts online about Guides whose bodies had been ruined. But now, waking up like this after fainting, all his pent-up resentment toward Jang Gijun exploded.
Yeah. He had known, deep down. Still, if he had realized his body was in such a fragile state that a mere touch could make him pass out, he never would have signed that damn contract.
At this rate, it wasn’t Cha Jae-woo who was going to die—it was him. And what was the point of the money if he ended up dead before he could spend a single cent of it?!
He shook his head vigorously, trying to pull himself together.
‘This isn’t the time for this kind of thinking.’
The thought that dominated his mind was simple: he needed to cancel the contract immediately.
Screw the money. Screw everything.
Cha Jae-woo’s circumstances… well, sure, he felt a little guilty. But honestly, it wasn’t something he could fix anyway. He didn’t have the luxury to pity someone else when his own life was on the line. First and foremost, he had to get out of here—before the only body he had was completely wrecked.
Maybe because he was so panicked, his body moved clumsily. He first tried to remove the IV that was in the way. However, when it came time to actually pull out the needle, he hesitated.
In dramas and movies, people always yanked it out and made a dramatic escape, but it looked like it would hurt like hell. He couldn’t summon the courage.
Instead, he started carefully peeling off the adhesive tape. His touch was so cautious it almost made a mockery of his own frantic desire to get out of here immediately.
“You should probably leave that alone.”
“AAAH!”
At the sudden voice, he jumped out of his skin. The scream that tore out of his throat was practically a lion’s roar, and he instinctively curled into himself.
He had thought he was alone. The room had been so quiet, and his mind was still foggy. Pressing his hand against the bed to steady himself, he turned his head toward the source of the sound.
And there he was. Standing not too far away, exuding such a strong presence that it was laughable he had ever thought the room was empty—Cha Jae-woo.
“S-since when…?”
“Since when was I here?”
“Y-yeah…”
“From the beginning.”
‘From the beginning… when exactly was that?’
Since he hadn’t heard the door open, it must have been before he even woke up. But that wasn’t the important part right now. He quickly changed the question.
“How long… how long was I like this?”
Only after the words left his mouth did he realize how awkward his phrasing was, but there was no time to correct it.
Because Cha Jae-woo was already striding toward the bed where he sat awkwardly perched.
Having collapsed the last time they made even the slightest physical contact, his body reflexively tensed up.
Fortunately, Cha Jae-woo didn’t come close enough to touch him. He stopped at a distance where the lamp on the bedside table illuminated his face clearly—but nothing closer than that.
“Three hours.”
“Three hours?!”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, three hours…”
The actual contact had lasted less than a few seconds, yet he had been knocked out cold for three whole hours because of it. It was ridiculous. There was no doubt about it now—he had to cancel the contract. The thought, which had momentarily slipped from his mind when he locked eyes with Cha Jae-woo, returned with full force, this time with a sense of absolute conviction.
“Um, so, about that… I’m really, really sorry, but…”
Saying it directly to the person involved made him feel all the more guilty. He wasn’t an Esper himself, so he didn’t know the specifics, but he had heard that not being properly guided was excruciating for them. That it was like living with an incurable disease, every day pure agony, and that when they used their powers, it became almost unbearable. And yet, here he was, about to tell Cha Jae-woo that he couldn’t be his Guide. A wave of guilt came crashing down, heavy and overwhelming.
But surely, even if it wasn’t him, another Guide would eventually show up. Maybe not someone who could match their synchronization rate as well as he did, but as long as it was over 50%, it would be considered decent. There was still a large portion of the population that hadn’t been tested for their Guide potential yet. He had just rushed through it, eager to get it over with. Who knew—someone with a higher rank and a better matching rate than him might appear any day now.
Thinking that way made him feel lighter. Honestly, even if it was just a flimsy excuse, he didn’t care anymore.
“After collapsing like that… it really hit me hard, you know…”
“What hit you?”
“Uh, well… like, you realize a person can die… just like that. You know?”
Cha Jae-woo gave a slight nod.
Thankfully, he seemed to understand his position. From what he had heard in the media, Cha Jae-woo’s temper was supposed to be worse than trash, but maybe those were just exaggerated rumors. Although, to be fair, considering the first impression he had made just a few hours ago, it wasn’t exactly stellar either…
“So, uh, I’m really sorry, but I think I need to cancel being your Guide…”
Every alarm inside him was blaring at full blast. He had to run—now, before it was too late. After all, even Cha Jae-woo had seen firsthand how he had collapsed instantly, so surely he and the Guide Association would understand.
At least, that’s what he thought.
“You signed a contract, didn’t you? You think you can break it that easily?”
Unfortunately, it was a naïve thought. Only then did he remember the contract he had signed with his own hand.
Become Cha Jae-woo’s exclusive Guide and live in his house. That was the only condition. In return, he would receive a signing bonus of 100 million won and a monthly stipend of 2 million won—essentially, a salary.
The rank difference between them was massive, and being his exclusive Guide had seemed absurd at first, but the amount of money was enough to make him reconsider.
On top of that, he had been struggling, barely scraping by while juggling two part-time jobs and dealing with a mountain of student loan debt. It would’ve been strange if he hadn’t been tempted. The final push had been a pang of sympathy for Cha Jae-woo’s situation—but the truth was, money had played a major role in his decision.
‘I totally let the money blind me.’
But now he had come to his senses. Scraping by was better than dying. He was someone who wanted to live long, even if it meant living humbly.
“I did sign it, but…”
“You didn’t see the penalty clause?”
He was about to innocently ask, Can’t I just cancel it?, but clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence.
‘Penalty clause? Was there such a thing?’
Frantically, he tried to recall the details of the contract.
‘I don’t think there was one… or was there?’
Truthfully, he couldn’t remember. Jang Gijun had kept pushing him to just sign it quickly, and in the rush, he had only skimmed it. Still, he had at least tried to read through it, albeit hurriedly, but for some reason, he couldn’t recall anything about a penalty fee.
Maybe there really wasn’t one? It was about money, after all. Even if he had been distracted, he wouldn’t have let something like that slide so easily. He had always been sensitive about financial matters, living the way he did.
“Want to take a look?”
Just as he was beginning to convince himself there was no such clause, Cha Jae-woo’s voice cut in. A sheet of paper fluttered in his hand, catching his eye.
He nodded quickly. Since Cha Jae-woo had the contract on hand, there was no need to rely on fuzzy memories. It would be better to confirm it with his own eyes.
Cha Jae-woo tossed the contract toward him, almost casually. Thanks to that, there was no need for them to get any closer. It wasn’t exactly a friendly gesture, but it was still much better than making physical contact. Maybe Cha Jae-woo was more considerate than he looked.
“…”
Either way, he immediately began scanning the contract.
The contents were familiar: He was supposed to provide Guiding services to Cha Jae-woo, and in return, the other party would pay him a set amount. His eyes moved quickly down the page.
“No way…”
But then he spotted it. A clause he had absolutely no memory of.
The penalty clause.
There it was, plain as day—a condition stating that if he broke the contract due to a change of heart, he would have to pay back double the signing bonus.
It was an absolutely brutal term that he could have sworn hadn’t been there when he first signed.
“…This can’t be happening.”
Lim Haeyul struggled to keep his mind steady. But, of course, it didn’t go the way he wanted. Double? Double meant two hundred million won. Was he insane? Where the hell was he supposed to get two hundred million won?!
‘If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t be living like this!’
Panicking, he read through the contract again and again. But no matter how many times he checked, nothing changed. It was exactly what he had just read.
Had he been so blinded by money that he hadn’t even noticed the penalty clause? No—that couldn’t be. He was certain he hadn’t seen anything about a penalty.
His mind was starting to drift into a haze.
“…Huh?”
It happened then. Blinking rapidly to clear his dazed eyes, which he hadn’t even properly opened while reading earlier, his sluggish mind finally began to catch up. He looked at the contract again.
At a glance, it didn’t seem any different from the one Jang Gijun had brought. Strictly speaking, it looked identical. But this wasn’t the same contract he had signed. He wasn’t just relying on the vague memory that there hadn’t been a penalty clause.
There was a far clearer, undeniable difference that he suddenly recognized—a critical detail that distinguished the contract he had originally signed from the one Cha Jae-woo had just handed him.
“This… This has a seal impression. I clearly remember signing with a pen back then!”
That’s right. He had signed the contract with a pen. Jang Gijun had been rushing him so much that he hadn’t even had time to look for a seal. He was certain of it.
Which meant—this wasn’t the contract he had signed. It had definitely been tampered with.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure!”
“Really?”
“…Y-yeah. Really.”
But the confidence in his voice quickly wilted. Under Cha Jae-woo’s relentless, pressing gaze, Lim Haeyul found his resolve buckling.
‘…I am sure, though.’
He hadn’t used a seal. There hadn’t even been an inkpad in the house. Jang Gijun hadn’t brought one either.
There was no chance his memory was wrong.
He shook his head vigorously.
‘Don’t get distracted. Stay sharp, Lim Haeyul.’
He knew for certain. There had been no inkpad, no seal. His memory wasn’t mistaken.
“Is that so? That’s strange. Jang Gijun said it was your signature.”
Cha Jae-woo’s expression grew lazy, like he couldn’t be bothered to continue the conversation.
Lim Haeyul bit down hard on his lip, then hurriedly looked around for his phone. He needed to call Jang Gijun immediately.
But where had he gone? After dropping him off at Cha Jae-woo’s house, had he just abandoned a collapsed person and left? If so, that man was shameless on a level beyond imagination.
A stream of curses brewed inside him, unable to find their way out of his mouth.
He scanned the room frantically. Finally, he spotted his phone resting neatly on the bedside table.
The fact that it had been right under his nose and he hadn’t noticed it proved how rattled he was.
“Uh…”
He reached for the phone without hesitation.
But he never managed to grab it. His thumb, stretched out toward the device, caught his eye.
It was red. Strangely, among all five fingers, only his thumb was vividly stained. It looked almost like something had smeared on it.
As realization struck, his heart began pounding violently in his chest.
Without thinking, he pressed his thumb against the pristine white bedsheet and rubbed it hard.
And then he froze, speechless. Trailing from his thumb was a bright red stain—something unmistakably familiar.
Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Cha Jae-woo.
“Why?”
The man, who had seemed so listless moments ago, was now smiling faintly.
In stark contrast, a cold chill spread through Lim Haeyul’s chest.
‘This… This red stuff on my thumb… It’s like… ink…’
The words he wanted to say caught in his throat.
He finally understood what it meant to be utterly speechless.
Pobre bebé lo engañaron profundamente~