Time continued to pass.
Since the day I clung to Joo Cheong-gyeong, begging him in tears, he hadn’t shown himself once. I figured he must be torn between the urge to listen to me and the firm conviction that he couldn’t—leaving him in a deeply conflicted, agitated state.
But as the days went by and he still didn’t appear, I realized it wasn’t just that.
“He hasn’t touched his food again today.”
The large, empty conference room had been cleared of all other members. One of Joo Cheong-gyeong’s most trusted aides stood beside him, reporting in a low voice.
Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, Joo Cheong-gyeong gave a slight nod.
“I know.”
“Shall I have someone administer some nutrients at least?”
“……”
Joo Cheong-gyeong lightly tapped his thigh with his fingers. His lowered gaze was filled with visible hesitation.
After a moment, he slowly shook his head.
“Leave him be. No one should come face-to-face with him.”
He intended to isolate me.
In this place, where there was nothing and no one to rely on, he wanted to push me to seek him out. Just as he desired me, he wanted me to desire him just as much. So much that I’d never dare utter those words—let me go—again.
“If he’s asleep…”
“He’ll wake if pricked with a needle.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong reached out and tapped a device resting upright on the table with his long fingers. The dark screen lit up, and a live video feed appeared—showing me, curled up in bed inside the bedroom.
“……”
Right on cue, I opened my eyes, ending the use of my third sight. There was no way that camera had been there originally. It must’ve been installed secretly while I was unaware. No matter how much I looked around, it was hidden so well I couldn’t find it.
I sat up, unfolding my curled body. On a table in the distance sat a beautifully prepared meal. I had assumed the food would be sparse in such a secluded place, but it was a full, luxurious spread. Every time I appeared to be asleep, someone would quietly slip in and set the table like this.
I climbed out of bed and walked over to the door. I grabbed the handle and twisted, but it only gave a rattling shake, refusing to turn completely. The lock could only be operated from the outside.
If it were an ordinary wooden door, I might’ve tried ramming into it. But this one—bright white with an almost metallic gleam—was made from something hard and unyielding.
I banged on the door with all my strength.
“Isn’t anyone out there?”
My voice, weakened from barely eating aside from a few sips of water, came out thin and frail.
…Nothing but silence.
Thud, thud, thud. I pounded the door again, desperately repeating my plea for anyone, someone, to come.
I kept going until my hand wasn’t just sore but throbbing with pain.
Eventually, my skin turned red, then raw, until drops of blood welled up on my torn knuckles.
But in the end, I got no response from the outside.
Gasping for breath, I slumped down with my back against the door. It was important—even now—to make a show of my regret, to let it be seen.
“Haa, ha… ugh…”
Was this punishment for pushing him too far?
Or maybe… maybe I’d simply outlived my usefulness, and now he was just abandoning me.
“Hic… Hrk…”
Suppressing sobs, I buried my face in my palms, letting out muffled whimpers between ragged breaths.
I was terrified—terrified not only that I wouldn’t be able to return home, but that I might remain trapped like this indefinitely.
Unlike when I was first taken, there wasn’t even anyone to talk to anymore. No one to confront. This was the kind of environment that could drive someone to madness.
…To be honest, I’d known. I’d known from the start that things would probably turn out like this.
And yet I’d still said something so pathetically unrealistic to Joo Cheong-gyeong: “If you stop being a terrorist and let me go, I promise I’ll treat you sincerely.”
The reason I’d said it was clear.
It wasn’t just that I couldn’t go on like this—I also knew there wasn’t much time left before Hyung and Jang Hee-gang clashed.
In the end, I’d taken a gamble on the sliver of a chance that Joo Cheong-gyeong might grant my wish. Whether it was my guidance ability or my body, he was drawn to me. I hoped, maybe, just maybe, that draw would sway him toward peace.
Then again… who knows? Maybe it’s too early to say. Sure, he’s trying to control me now, molding everything to his liking, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay this way forever. Who can say how he’ll feel, seeing me like this—falling apart from sorrow, anxiety, and mental strain?
Ah.
But even if things do change…
Will it happen before Shim Tae-seong gets here?
Shim Tae-seong, who’d barely slept, had been tearing through countless places in search of me—and somehow, he was actually getting closer to this area.
His inhuman instincts, his absurd physical abilities, and his sheer willpower made it possible.
He was chasing nonexistent traces, operating purely on instinct—“Maybe there was a trail here?”—and calculating every possible path from there, checking each one. Watching him work made you remember exactly what his original profession had been.
With Shim Tae-seong closing in, it felt like only a matter of time before he found this place. And naturally, I began imagining what it would be like—when he and Joo Cheong-gyeong came face-to-face again.
“……”
My body trembled.
On the camera, it would probably just look like I was shaking from crying.
***
Night fell. In the quiet dark, a mechanical click echoed as the lock disengaged.
The firmly sealed door swung open, and the thin body inside slumped backward. It was Cha Eun-soo, fast asleep while leaning against the door.
Joo Cheong-gyeong, who already knew he’d be in that state, stepped in without a hint of surprise and dropped to one knee, catching him gently in his arms.
Cha Eun-soo looked heartbreakingly fragile as he lay there, nestled in Joo Cheong-gyeong’s embrace. His eyes were raw and swollen, his cheeks even more gaunt than before, and one corner of his mouth was visibly inflamed—likely from stress. He had cried himself to sleep, and the warmth still clinging to his skin lingered on Joo Cheong-gyeong’s fingertips as he lightly brushed away the dried streaks of tears.
A flood of conflicting emotions swept over him.
He used to think even Eun-soo’s tearful face was beautiful—but now…
Shaking off the strange tightness in his chest, Joo Cheong-gyeong gently lifted him up. He’d always been light, but in just a few days, he’d become even lighter. He had once considered forcing him to eat, but in the end, he decided against it. If the goal was to make him feel abandoned, then intervening wouldn’t help.
Carrying him deeper into the bedroom, Joo Cheong-gyeong laid Cha Eun-soo down flat on the bed. His brows furrowed, and his body stirred restlessly, as if caught in a bad dream.
A faint, broken sound slipped from his parted lips.
“Nn….”
“……”
Even his perfectly sculpted eyebrows trembled slightly, contorting in unease. A single beam of moonlight slipped in through the window and fell softly across his face, giving it a sorrowful grace. Joo Cheong-gyeong, watching him silently, murmured under his breath.
“Maybe not as much as I do… but still…”
For an Esper, a Guide is a lifeline. But for a Guide, an Esper is not. No matter how much he longed for Cha Eun-soo—and even now, with him finally in his grasp, craving everything he was—Eun-soo didn’t even understand what those feelings were.
Joo Cheong-gyeong hated that.
He wanted Cha Eun-soo to crave him too, even if it wasn’t as much as he did.
And so what if it was selfish? His greed had always served him well—had always helped him get what he wanted.
If he could take away the mental space to think about anyone else, he believed Eun-soo would eventually desire him too. Cha Eun-hyuk, his family, the bodyguards… whoever it was. Before any thoughts of going back to them could form, he needed to lead Eun-soo into feeling utterly, hopelessly alone.
If he were trapped in a place this strictly controlled, with no one to even exchange words with?
Then surely—surely—he would start to long for even the smallest interaction with Joo Cheong-gyeong.
“……”
…But how laughable it was.
Because now, watching him tremble in fear all alone, Joo Cheong-gyeong felt a knot of discomfort twist in his gut. His heart clenched with helpless pity.
When he saw the footage of Eun-soo pounding the door until his skin split and bled, it had taken every ounce of effort to control his expression. He had nearly rushed to him on impulse—just to stop that self-harming act.
Reaching out, Joo Cheong-gyeong took his Guide’s limp hand and gently raised it. Then, avoiding the injured area—where even a normal person would feel intense pain—he pressed a soft kiss to an unbroken part of the skin.
The thought that this small wound was nothing compared to the agony he’d inflicted when he had forced himself inside—that didn’t even occur to him in this moment.
In fact, the opposite.
Joo Cheong-gyeong found himself surprised by just how soft he’d become when it came to this one person. But it didn’t feel wrong.
Not when it was Cha Eun-soo.
Not when it was his Guide.
It had become a given now. A truth he no longer questioned.
“Eun-soo-ssi…”
A sigh, full of reluctant affection, slipped from his lips.
The situation—that he had to push someone so precious to this point—was agonizing. A mix of frustration and grief boiled in his chest.
It wasn’t like he wanted to keep his distance from Cha Eun-soo. If it were up to him, he’d spend the whole day devouring him—touching him, tasting him, over and over.
There wasn’t a single part of this Guide’s body that didn’t please him. And watching from afar would never be enough.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cha Eun-soo’s smooth, rounded forehead.
In response, Eun-soo instinctively turned onto his side, seeking warmth, and nestled into Joo Cheong-gyeong’s arms as if drawn to him.
If only it had been conscious instead of instinctive…
Despite the lingering regret, the gesture still felt endearing. Sweet, even.
Joo Cheong-gyeong reached out and wrapped his arms around Eun-soo’s slender back, then buried his face in the spot where his neck met his shoulder. The soft, warm skin pulsed gently against his lips.
That familiar scent filled his nose, stirring his senses. It felt like an invitation—a temptation to end his self-restraint after days of abstinence.
But of course, he had to endure it.
At least until Cha Eun-soo came to him willingly, of his own volition.
And when that moment came—when he could truly call him his—then he would smother him with affection every single day, so much that even a full twenty-four hours wouldn’t feel like enough.
With that perfectly imagined future playing in his mind, the Esper smiled to himself.
Hahaha i think that’ll never happen vro