“Wow, why’s it so packed today? Is something going on?”
Just as the sit-up scene was wrapping up, Kang Chi-yu turned at the sound of a familiar voice coming from the entrance.
Standing at the doorway was Lee Jun-hyung, who actually looked like he’d come to work out, only to stop short, startled by the sudden crowd.
Behind him was Yoon Do-jae, which reminded Chi-yu how often the two of them had been showing up together lately.
“Oh, they’re filming A Pair is Born? Hey, there he is! Kang Chi-yu!!”
Jun-hyung raised his hand high and waved enthusiastically as he headed over. Do-jae followed right behind him.
Chi-yu, suspecting something might be going on between them, glanced around in search of Beom Do-il.
The moment Jun-hyung appeared, Do-il’s ears turned bright red. He quickly pulled out a compact mirror in the corner to check his reflection.
They had been friends since Esper Academy, but once Do-il started liking Jun-hyung, a lot changed between them. Jun-hyung seemed aware of Do-il’s feelings, yet since he never tried to go beyond the blurry line of “just friends,” it was obvious he didn’t return them.
So every year, Do-il just kept setting new records in one-sided love.
And since that reminded Chi-yu of his own feelings for Tae-oh, he always found himself sympathizing with Do-il.
“Man, TV really is scary. Who would’ve thought I’d live to see Hyun Tae-oh doing sit-ups.”
By then, Hyun Tae-oh had already knocked out 120 sit-ups. Sitting on the board, he paused to catch his breath, then looked up at Jun-hyung.
Jun-hyung, too, knew better than to get too close to Chi-yu when Tae-oh was around. Unlike Do-il, he kept his distance.
It was like he knew the right boundaries, and thanks to that sense, Tae-oh found him less irritating than most.
Of course, the bigger reason was that Jun-hyung, like Chi-yu, was also a Guide.
Espers and Guides often paired regardless of gender, but Guides couldn’t pair with Guides, nor Espers with Espers.
So for Guide Kang Chi-yu, Guide Lee Jun-hyung was nothing more or less than a male coworker.
“You’ve got a strand sticking up back here.”
At that moment, Yoon Do-jae pointed calmly at Chi-yu’s hair sticking up in the back.
Before Chi-yu could even reach for it, Do-jae smoothed it down instantly using his wind ability.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Chi-yu touched the back of his head, bowing politely to Do-jae.
“The fuck—who said you could touch him? You got a death wish?”
Tae-oh suddenly growled at Do-jae, his face dark with irritation.
The noisy atmosphere turned cold in an instant.
Do-jae, unbothered, replied evenly, “I didn’t touch him.”
He turned his palm up, spinning a small whirlwind in his hand.
“His hair was sticking up, so I pressed it down with this. It’s a broadcast—you should look neat, right?”
“Ah… haha. Thanks.”
Chi-yu gave another awkward laugh, bowing again before lightly tapping Tae-oh’s knee—the one practically pinning him in place—as a signal to let it go.
Worried Tae-oh might pick a fight over nothing, Chi-yu quickly threw out a question.
“So, when did you two get close?”
“Not close.”
“Not close.”
The answer came from Tae-oh and Do-jae at the exact same time.
Chi-yu turned to Do-jae.
Do-jae tilted his head slightly down to meet his gaze.
Do-jae was strikingly handsome in his own right, though in a different way from Tae-oh or Min Yu-hyun.
His bright gray hair, perfectly suited for a wind-type Esper, paired with his stoic expression, gave him a slightly cold aura.
Of course, if cold looks were ranked, Tae-oh would still take first place. But Do-jae—nicknamed the Central Bureau’s FM for his steady, taciturn, almost frustratingly upright nature—wasn’t far behind.
Still, despite always wearing that neutral expression, he didn’t actually come across as stiff. There was a quiet warmth and kindness buried beneath the calm.
Maybe he was what you’d call a truly decent person. Maybe someone like him could actually be a friend to Hyun Tae-oh.
Chi-yu couldn’t help but think Do-jae might be able to quietly put up with even Tae-oh’s strange, prickly personality.
It struck him as a little ridiculous that he was sitting here debating whether the Central Bureau’s FM Yoon Do-jae could become Tae-oh’s friend.
He wasn’t Tae-oh’s mother—so why was he already worrying about finding him someone who could be there once he himself was gone?
While lost in that thought, Chi-yu kept his eyes fixed on Do-jae. Do-jae, caught off guard but unable to look away, awkwardly returned his gaze.
It wasn’t until Tae-oh, irritated by the sight, called Chi-yu’s name sharply that the stare was finally broken.
“Chi-yu.”
Startled, Chi-yu flinched and turned his head, his expression oddly conflicted.
Noticing how Chi-yu seemed subtly different after Do-jae’s arrival, Tae-oh quickly got to his feet and addressed the camera director.
“This should be enough footage, don’t you think?”
“Ah…”
“You can fill the rest with the gate.”
Leaving the flustered director behind, Tae-oh took Chi-yu’s wrist and pulled him up—firmly, yet gently.
Then, without a word, he teleported them straight home.
“Hey, you can’t just leave like that!”
Chi-yu scolded him for teleporting home without even saying goodbye to Lee Jun-hyung and Beom Do-il. Tae-oh only gave him a dissatisfied look before turning on his heel and disappearing into the bathroom.
Chi-yu blinked a few times in confusion, then shook his head with a muttered sigh.
“What the hell is he upset about this time…”
***
After coming back from filming in the training hall, Tae-oh had been sulking—and he stayed that way through the entire gate shoot.
That night they’d kissed—and nearly gone further—for Guiding, he had seemed like his usual self again. But by morning, his expression had cooled, like he was brooding over something new.
That coldness only deepened when Yoon Do-jae was assigned to the gate that had opened in Tae-oh’s zone.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The moment Tae-oh spotted him, his brows pulled tight, his voice sharp with hostility. Do-jae, however, remained utterly composed, unfazed by the blunt irritation.
“The Bureau Chief told me to support.”
“Bullshit. Support? In my zone?”
“I turned down a regular slot on A Pair is Born. He said I should at least show up here.”
Clearly, the Bureau Chief had been determined to push Do-jae into the show. Since Do-jae refused the fixed role, the Chief must’ve decided to at least slot him into this special episode featuring Hyun Tae-oh.
Given Do-jae’s reputation as the Central Bureau’s model Esper—perfect ability, perfect looks—it wasn’t hard to see why the Chief wanted him on screen.
Especially compared to Hyun Tae-oh: world-famous SS-rank Esper, but with a personality scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“Who the hell gave the go-ahead?”
Annoyed, Tae-oh pulled out his phone, clearly intending to call the Bureau Chief directly.
Chi-yu let out a small sigh and quickly turned to Do-jae. It seemed better if he didn’t overhear Tae-oh’s heated phone call.
“Esper Yoon Do-jae, why’d you refuse? Most people would kill for a fixed spot on A Pair is Born.”
“I don’t want to Pair—even temporarily—with someone I don’t care for.”
“Ah, but you could’ve just asked for the Guide you wanted.”
If Tae-oh had been able to, then surely Do-jae—known for both his strength and his looks among the S-ranks—could too.
“The Guide I want is already paired with another Esper.”
“…Oh, I see.”
“Though that arrangement won’t last much longer.”
“Oh? Their contract’s ending?”
“Not exactly, but close enough.”
“Oooh, then when it does, you can Pair with them and take the slot.”
Chi-yu grinned brightly.
Do-jae only looked at him in silence.
“Anyway, the Bureau Chief must be in a hurry. If he’s pushing you into the broadcast like this, he clearly just wanted your face on screen.”
Do-jae’s unwavering stare made Chi-yu uncomfortable, so he turned to look at Tae-oh still on the phone, then forced a smile back at him.
“Well, just do your best to stand out. Might be a little uncomfortable with that brat over there, but still.”
“Not uncomfortable at all.”
That crisp, FM-like response made Chi-yu’s lips curve even higher.
Meanwhile, Tae-oh’s voice kept rising as he argued with the Chief, curses spilling between his words.
With another sigh at Tae-oh’s impossible attitude, Chi-yu turned back, only for Do-jae to suddenly ask,
“Do you remember me?”
The question was so unexpected that Chi-yu blinked wide-eyed.
“…What?”
“Ah. As I thought, you don’t.”
“…Sorry?”
“No, it’s fine. I knew you wouldn’t.”
“…? What are you—”
“What now?”
Before Chi-yu could finish, Tae-oh ended his call and stepped to his side, glaring fiercely at Do-jae.
Do-jae met the glare calmly, asking as if nothing was wrong, “Are we splitting the zone, or working together?”
“Working together? Don’t make me laugh. You think I do teamwork?”
“I know you don’t. But I was deployed as support—I can’t just stand around.”
“Not my problem.”
“True. But at least cut me some slack. It’s not like I volunteered for this.”
His steady, rational words—more persuasion than argument—took just a bit of the edge off Tae-oh’s anger.
Chi-yu found himself thinking again that if anyone could handle Tae-oh’s temperament, it might be Do-jae.
“Fine. Just don’t get in my way.”
“I’m S-rank too. I won’t.”
“Shut up.”
Clearly, becoming friends would have to come first.
Chi-yu sighed quietly, shaking his head.
It was strange—Tae-oh kept insisting he didn’t like him, yet he never treated Do-jae with the same cold dismissal he gave others. Still, it wasn’t friendliness either. Something in-between.
Normally, if Tae-oh didn’t like someone, he wouldn’t even speak to them—he’d act like they didn’t exist. By that measure, Do-jae was already in a better category.
“Funny. People say I’m quiet.”
“Bullshit. You’re loud as hell.”
“Mm. Guess I just can’t stay quiet around you.”
“Ha. What the fuck was the Chief thinking, sending you?”
“He said we should get closer.”
“Ugh, fuck. That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. Honestly, you’d be easier to deal with if you just hated people across the board.”
“Then disappear.”
“How many times do I have to say it? I’m here to support.”
At this rate, they’d keep snapping at each other until the gate closed on its own.
Chi-yu finally stepped in.
“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s clear it first. And remember, the cameras are rolling. Even if they cut it, rumors spread—you can’t stop that.”
At his words, Do-jae nodded like a well-behaved student, which only made Tae-oh click his tongue in annoyance.
***
Inside the gate, the beast cleanup ended so quickly and easily it hardly even seemed like usable broadcast footage.
With an SS-rank and an S-rank Esper working side by side, there was no need for real teamwork—clearing a gate took no time at all.
Chi-yu filmed them from a distance.
Partly because Tae-oh had once again locked him down with a defensive barrier, leaving him unable to move around freely. But mostly because, really, what could a mere B-rank Guide contribute when two powerhouses like them were inside the same gate? He’d already resigned himself to that fact.
Instead, he decided the best help he could offer was capturing them on camera as clearly as possible. He even borrowed Tae-oh’s own cam, holding two mini-cameras at once to focus on Hyun Tae-oh and Yoon Do-jae.
Aside from the way Tae-oh whisked him into his arms and teleported them straight home before Do-jae even got the chance to say goodbye, the day passed without incident.
Left alone in an instant, Do-jae let out a small, helpless laugh. Then, near the spot where the barrier had been, he noticed a phone lying on the ground.
He knew immediately, instinctively, that it was Kang Chi-yu’s.
A slow smile tugged at his lips.
This would give him another chance to approach him.
Chi-yu might not remember him—but Yoon Do-jae remembered Kang Chi-yu vividly.
Back when he had only just joined the Central Bureau, he’d once been dispatched during an Emergency Assembly.
At the time, clueless and inexperienced, Do-jae had thought emergencies were mandatory. Without even pressing the approval button on his tab, he had teleported straight to the site.
Because he moved the very moment the alert went out, he arrived alone—forced to fight until he was nearly pushed into a rampage.
He survived only because more Espers eventually arrived, giving him just enough of an opening to teleport to the Guide ward. By then, though, he had already taken heavy damage.
And the Guide stationed there at that time had been Kang Chi-yu.
Chi-yu had guided him relentlessly, holding him together while he teetered on the edge of losing control.
Do-jae had blacked out partway through the Guiding. When he finally came to, he was lying in a hospital bed in the Esper ward, and the doctor informed him he had been unconscious for three full days.
Afterward, he tried several times to approach Chi-yu to thank him. But every attempt was blocked—because Hyun Tae-oh was always right by his side.
Tae-oh would glare daggers and freeze up the moment anyone got too close, and because of that, Do-jae had never managed to properly speak to Chi-yu, much less thank him.
Only recently, for reasons he didn’t know, he realized Chi-yu wasn’t always with Tae-oh. He’d wanted to take the chance to get closer, but back then Lee Jun-hyung and Beom Do-il were with him, and the timing hadn’t been right.
Still, working often with Jun-hyung led him, unintentionally, to grow a little closer with Beom Do-il as well. Through that, he found himself slowly building connections with Chi-yu’s friends first—a fortunate coincidence.
And from there, I finally began talking to him, little by little. Today… today was the most we’ve ever spoken.
Turning Chi-yu’s phone over in his hand, Do-jae thought,
Maybe with this… I’ll finally get the chance to be closer to him.
***
“Hey, you really shouldn’t be acting like that. Do you keep forgetting we’re in the middle of filming?”
Chi-yu scolded Tae-oh, who had teleported them straight home without even saying goodbye to Yoon Do-jae.
Looking completely unfazed, Tae-oh turned to the main director waiting at the house and asked if they were done for the day. The main camera director gave a nod.
“We’ll show the edited cut to the cast before it goes on air. The assigned PD will come by later to explain everything in detail. For now, if there’s anything you want removed, just check it and let us know.”
At his words, both Tae-oh and Chi-yu nodded. The director bowed politely in farewell.
“Thank you for your hard work, even if the shoot was brief.”
Chi-yu returned the smile with a cheerful bow of his own.
“Thank you for your hard work, directors.”
