Tae-oh handed Chi-yu a fresh strawberry smoothie—his favorite. Since it definitely wasn’t something stocked in the dorm fridge, Chi-yu couldn’t help but ask,
“Where’d you get this?”
“Brought it from home.”
Apparently, in that short span, Tae-oh had teleported back and forth. Chi-yu looked at him with a face that clearly said: Why would you go through all that trouble?
“It’s not like I was dying to drink it. You didn’t need to teleport for it.”
“Then just save it for later.”
“That’s not the point. Why go out of your way like this…?”
“If it’s about you, it’s never out of the way.”
“……”
“Is there anything else you want? I can get it for you in under a minute.”
Chi-yu let out a small laugh.
“Are you trying to seduce me with food now?”
“I could seduce you with other things too.”
“Other things?”
“That.”
Tae-oh whispered it low—just loud enough for Chi-yu to hear—and then flashed a bright smile. Chi-yu immediately shot him a sharp look.
Just then, a staff member announced to the resting Espers and Guides that they would be given 30 minutes to get to know their partners better before the next game.
“The second game is a classic: Jjamppong vs Jjajangmyeon. It’s a compatibility test. The production team will give you two options, and you’ll each choose one at the same time. The pair with the most matching answers wins.”
“Wait, isn’t that kind of unfair?” Beom Do-il muttered, sounding bewildered. “We’ve never worked together, and we only met because of this show. How am I supposed to know if my partner likes jjamppong or jjajangmyeon more? I like jjamppong, but if I say jjajangmyeon because I think they prefer it, and they say jjamppong because they think I like it… What even is that?”
He frowned in disbelief—even he found the situation ridiculous as he explained it out loud. Especially after being nagged endlessly by Min Yu-hyun to win every single game, the pressure on him was intense.
If his partner had been Lee Jun-hyung, he could’ve won with his eyes closed. But with Min Yu-hyun? He didn’t know a thing about him, didn’t want to, and saw no reason to. They’d only met for this program. Sure, they were both from the Central Bureau, but they worked in different departments, and once this week was over, they’d never have to deal with each other again.
The Production Director nodded once and explained,
“Which is exactly why we’re giving everyone thirty minutes. Use the time however you’d like to get to know each other better so you can improve your odds.”
Do-il puffed out both cheeks in frustration. There was no reason for him to waste thirty minutes learning anything about Min Yu-hyun. And even if they coordinated, there was no guarantee the producers would pick the words they prepared for.
All he could see in his future was a half-hour of Min Yu-hyun foaming at the mouth to win—and him suffering through it.
While Do-il was wallowing in dread, Yoon Do-jae saw the thirty minutes as a golden opportunity. It was the perfect excuse to slip in some strategic questions disguised as gameplay and learn more about Kang Chi-yu—especially what he liked.
As if sensing exactly what Do-jae was thinking, Hyun Tae-oh leaned in close to Chi-yu and whispered,
“Don’t answer anything. Just text with me for the next thirty minutes.”
“What are you even talking about? Don’t you want to win?” Chi-yu whispered back.
“As long as you keep your mouth shut, that guy won’t get anything right. I’ll win.”
“What makes you think you know Jun-hyung that well?”
“He’s been following you around since Esper Academy. I’d know.”
“He did not follow me around.”
“He and Beom Do-il tailed you all the time. Don’t deny it. Anyway, don’t say a single word to that bastard.”
“Stop making stuff up. And don’t text me.”
“If you ignore my messages, I’ll bite your cheek later. Hard. I’ll leave a huge bite mark.”
“What?!”
As they bickered, the Production Director told everyone to head to their preferred partner’s room and spend the next thirty minutes getting to know each other.
Yoon Do-jae walked over and glanced at Tae-oh, who was stuck to Chi-yu like glue, before asking,
“Where would you like to go?”
“Ah…”
Chi-yu was about to ask Do-jae where he preferred, but Do-jae spoke first.
“Would it be alright if we used your room, Guide Kang Chi-yu?”
“What? Hell no. Why the hell would you go up there?”
Tae-oh, listening from the side, immediately scowled. Chi-yu gently tapped his arm and stood up.
“Let’s go.”
“What?! No. Don’t joke around. Why would you bring him into your room?”
Tae-oh looked up at Chi-yu with a deadly serious expression.
“Why do you even care?”
“Why wouldn’t I care? In your room, where you and I were doing all kinds of things on that bed until morning—”
Chi-yu slapped a hand over Tae-oh’s mouth. He darted his eyes around, clearly aware of the nearby cameras, and whispered,
“Your mouth. Shut it. Please. Your mouth.”
Tae-oh gently grasped Chi-yu’s hand, lowered it slowly, and pouted like a child.
“You can’t use our room.”
“It’s my room.”
“Still. It’s the room we sleep in. Just use his room.”
“…”
“Please?”
He squeezed Chi-yu’s hand tighter, practically begging. Chi-yu gave him a conflicted look, then turned to Yoon Do-jae and asked,
“Um… would it be alright if we used your room instead, Esper Yoon Do-jae?”
Disappointment immediately washed over Do-jae’s face, but he quickly composed himself and nodded.
“Of course. If it’s inconvenient for you, my room is perfectly fine.”
Tae-oh didn’t seem thrilled by that. His eyes narrowed even further.
“Why not just stay here? We’ve got cameras, people around—do it right here.”
That ridiculous logic was the last straw for Chi-yu. He shook off Tae-oh’s hand and called out to his partner.
“God, seriously. Jun-hyung, can you come get him?”
Jun-hyung, lounging on the couch and playing a game on his phone, looked up at Tae-oh, then at Chi-yu, and let out a short sigh. Without lifting his eyes from the screen, he replied,
“Like he’s gonna listen to me. Just let me know when it’s over.”
Lee Jun-hyung—forever the calmest person in the room.
***
Once inside Do-jae’s room, Chi-yu gave it a quick once-over. The rooms were all furnished the same—plain and functional—but Do-jae’s felt rigid, sharply arranged. It was just so… Do-jae. Cold and impersonal, yet spotless and neat.
Even in a temporary space, his personality showed. Chi-yu found that fascinating.
“Please, have a seat.” Do-jae gestured to the sofa near the window.
“Ah, thanks.”
As Chi-yu sat down, Do-jae placed two drinks on the table—Chi-yu hadn’t even noticed him carrying them—and sat across from him.
“I didn’t know which you’d like, so I brought both.”
Mango juice and orange juice. Chi-yu muttered a quiet thank-you, picked up the mango juice, and opened it. He sipped slowly to ease the awkward air in the room. Do-jae seemed just as awkward—he took a sip of orange juice and swallowed with a dry gulp.
“I’ll get the answers right.”
“Huh?”
“For the game.”
“Oh.”
“If you tell me the things you like, I’ll memorize them and answer accordingly.”
“Ah…”
“The questions the producers prepared probably aren’t too tricky. Let’s start with the basics?”
“Sure.”
Chi-yu nodded.
“Favorite number?”
“One.”
“Favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
“Favorite season?”
“Winter.”
“Between spring and fall?”
“Fall?”
“Favorite fruit, besides peaches?”
“Oh—I like strawberries.”
Do-jae nodded.
“This one’s pretty broad, so it helps if you list more. Especially for multiple choice.”
“Right… um, aside from strawberries, I like sweet fruits. Not really into sour ones, and I don’t like mushy textures—except strawberries.”
“Ah, so strawberries are the exception.”
“…Yeah, I guess.”
There was a story behind that. Back in Esper Academy, when Chi-yu had a huge crush on Tae-oh, the first thing Tae-oh ever brought him was a box of strawberries. He’d gone to a strawberry farm for work and tried some there. They were so delicious, he’d thought, Chi-yu has to try these, and brought some back.
And they really were delicious. Tae-oh, seeing how much Chi-yu enjoyed them, assumed he liked strawberries and kept bringing him strawberry-flavored drinks and snacks. Eventually, Chi-yu started loving strawberries so much, it was like he’d been conditioned. His feelings for Tae-oh bled into his love for strawberries. Before that, he hadn’t liked soft fruits at all.
“So… your favorite weather—”
Bzzzzt! His phone vibrated loudly. Even without checking, Chi-yu knew it was Tae-oh.
As soon as he’d thought about strawberries, he’d started missing him. And like clockwork, a message appeared. It was uncanny.
But before he could check, he made eye contact with Do-jae and quickly responded,
“Ah, weather? I like rainy days.”
“Same. I really like the rain, too.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Then your favorite—”
Bzzzzt!
Another buzz. Chi-yu had a bad feeling—if he didn’t reply, Tae-oh was going to spam him every ten seconds.
But what really made him anxious was the thought that Tae-oh might barge into Do-jae’s room if he didn’t get a response.
“Just a sec.”
Chi-yu picked up his phone and checked the message. Do-jae, meanwhile, just stared at him in silence. No matter what he did, Tae-oh always got to Chi-yu first.
It was starting to feel impossible to leave an impression—Chi-yu already seemed halfway gone.
And if Chi-yu did like Tae-oh, then Do-jae knew he’d have no choice but to back off gracefully. He wasn’t the type to wedge himself between two people with mutual feelings, nor to take what wasn’t his.
But like he’d said before, he still wanted a fair chance. Just the opportunity to try.
So in moments like this—when it was just the two of them—he wished Tae-oh wouldn’t interfere. He wanted Chi-yu to focus on him for once.
Maybe it was selfish. But if not now, he’d never get another chance. And with that realization, Yoon Do-jae found himself growing desperate.
“Guide Kang Chi-yu… would you mind not replying to that message?”
It was a plea—and even he knew how unfair it was.
