Joo Cheong-gyeong’s territory wasn’t a place that could be discovered easily. The vast and desolate clearing was shielded from the occasional witness by an organization member gifted with perception-distorting abilities.
Of course, since this power fell under the category of mental manipulation, it was ineffective against individuals with strong mental fortitude. It also proved useless against Espers with similar abilities.
Joo Cheong-gyeong made a point of staying especially vigilant, particularly wary of those who might belong to the factions of Jang Hee-gang or Cha Eun-hyuk.
From deep within a thicket far removed from the building guarded by his men, someone was watching. A singular, obsessive gleam filled their eyes—a blend of caution and madness.
Before long, the gaze vanished.
“……”
It was a deathly quiet dawn.
One of the organization’s members pushed a cart down the corridor, loaded with food and clothing. Before long, he arrived at a door unlike any other in the facility—massive and impenetrable, like a steel fortress. It was originally assigned to Joo Cheong-gyeong, but now housed a Guide, locked up and kept under constant surveillance.
The member’s job was to deliver daily necessities when the Guide was asleep. Detecting no movement from within, he confirmed the occupant was still unconscious, then disengaged the lock and stepped inside.
Curled up on the bed lay the Guide. Even in darkness, his appearance shone with striking beauty. Despite the unmistakable haggardness of someone who had endured significant hardship, he was still breathtaking.
The member knew exactly who this young man was—a Guide capable of producing a level of guiding that could easily justify Joo Cheong-gyeong’s obsession. He also knew what had happened to the other operative who’d once tried to smuggle him out.
Just imagining the Guide speaking to him was unsettling. The thought alone sent a chill down his spine. The member quietly headed toward the table to carry out his task without disturbance.
And then—
WEEEE-OOOOHHHH—!
His vision turned crimson as the blaring alarm sirens roared to life. It was the sound that signaled the presence of an intruder. Except for during drills, this had never happened before. His face froze into a rigid expression. Reflexively, he glanced up at the ceiling—then toward the Guide.
The piercing noise echoed so loudly it rattled the skull, yet the Guide remained deeply asleep, as if unconscious. The stillness of his body struck the man as odd for a fleeting moment, but there was no time to dwell. He rushed out of the room in haste.
His destination was the location assigned to him in case of an enemy raid.
But perhaps due to his panic, the member made a few critical errors before disappearing from the room.
All personnel stationed here were armed at all times—precaution against Jang Hee-gang, who could nullify Esper abilities. Yet in his frantic turn, the man failed to notice that the gun holstered on his belt had snagged on the cart and fallen off. The blaring siren—loud enough to numb the ears—had masked the sound.
Worse still, in his haste, he had forgotten to engage the door lock after closing the bedroom door.
“……”
Moments after the Esper left, Cha Eun-soo’s tightly shut eyes snapped open. His pupils, dyed red by the strobing emergency lights, swept across the room.
“……!”
It didn’t take long for him to spot the gun lying on the floor. Climbing down from the bed, Cha Eun-soo hurried toward it. The weapon felt hard and cold in his grasp as he bent down to pick it up. His hands, awkward and cautious, wrapped around the unfamiliar grip, and he slowly began to move.
A glimmer of hope lit up his expression when he realized the door hadn’t been locked. He rushed to open it and stepped out into the hallway.
The corridor was empty. Since this floor was used almost exclusively by Joo Cheong-gyeong, the silence made sense. Still, with the constant fear that Joo Cheong-gyeong could appear at any moment, Cha Eun-soo kept glancing around nervously as he briskly made his way toward the stairwell.
KWA-DUDUDUDUDUM.
A deep rumble suddenly reverberated through the building. Startled, Cha Eun-soo froze and looked up.
It was the kind of powerful vibration that could crack the ceiling—evidence of a battle raging above.
A flash of fear crossed his gaunt face.
Then, just as suddenly, the tremor stopped.
The sirens went silent too.
In the now-quiet corridor, the only sound was Cha Eun-soo’s shallow, ragged breathing. He steadied his trembling legs and forced himself to move again.
“……!”
But before long, he was forced to stop once more. Someone stood ahead, still as a statue.
Just moments ago, that spot had definitely been empty.
With only the red warning lights flickering, he could just barely make out the figure’s large build. Instinctively, Cha Eun-soo raised the gun—not toward the stranger, but toward himself.
“Don’t come any closer. Or else…!”
His voice cracked out like a threat—but then faltered.
He was beginning to truly see the person before him.
Black tactical gear that melted into the shadows. A mask covering more than half his face. The uniform was similar, but not identical to those worn by the organization’s members. The exposed, sun-darkened skin, the slightly drooping eyes—they were painfully familiar.
“……”
So were the eyes—burning with a torrent of emotions.
His own heartbeat thundered in his ears. Slowly, Cha Eun-soo lowered the gun and parted his lips.
“…Bodyguard?”
The words came out in a voice wavering between certainty and disbelief.
“……Young Master.”
Shim Tae-seong finally answered, his voice thick with unshakable devotion.
Clatter. The gun slipped from Cha Eun-soo’s fingers and hit the floor.
At the same time, Shim Tae-seong’s eyes, once filled with desperate, burning emotion, went cold as they shifted to focus behind Cha Eun-soo.
“You always ruin my plans.”
It was Joo Cheong-gyeong—making no effort to conceal his presence as he appeared.
“If you’ve come here like this, then it means I’m free to eliminate you on the spot.”
The voice was cold as ice.
Back when he’d stolen Cha Eun-soo away, Joo Cheong-gyeong had trampled over Shim Tae-seong like a man mocking someone lulled by false peace. But now, Joo Cheong-gyeong wore the same eyes Shim Tae-seong once had—eyes that screamed he would never let his Guide be taken.
Yet, having once defeated Shim Tae-seong, he wasn’t entirely without confidence.
Believing Shim Tae-seong would need to physically reach Cha Eun-soo to take him, Joo Cheong-gyeong moved first to close the distance. His motion was so absurdly fast that only Espers of equal rank could perceive it.
But Shim Tae-seong was faster.
With a clean, effortless motion, he thrust out his arm.
The air behind Cha Eun-soo, who still had his back turned, split open like a blade had slashed through it. Before Eun-soo could even react, before he could turn toward the disturbance—
The rift widened in an instant, like a gaping abyss…
And swallowed him whole.
***
He woke up clutching his head. This second experience of teleportation was nothing like the first. It felt like his body had been momentarily compressed and then released—a strange, disorienting sensation. What little stamina he had left had been completely drained, and he’d blacked out during the transfer.
Blinking against the dizziness, he tried to rise, only to sway precariously. A thick, muscular arm steadied his stumbling frame.
Reflexively, he grabbed onto that arm and snapped his head to the side.
His eyes met Shim Tae-seong’s.
“Bodyguard…!”
A wave of relief washed over his face. It was genuine. He’d been terrified that Tae-seong might’ve left him behind to fight Joo Cheong-gyeong alone in the name of revenge—and that something terrible might’ve happened.
His eyes began to sting with heat. As he looked up at him with trembling lids, Shim Tae-seong gazed back with aching tenderness. With his free hand, he gently touched Eun-soo’s face.
“Young Master.”
“Uuh, hngh…”
Unable to hold back the tears, Cha Eun-soo threw his arms around Shim Tae-seong’s neck. Shim Tae-seong wrapped him tightly in return, pressing him deep into his chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hic, ngh…”
“For putting you through all of that… I’m truly sorry.”
The way he kept apologizing as though it were all his fault—it made him seem like the one who had suffered more. The dark circles under his eyes, the sharply defined jawline from too little food and sleep, the air of crushing exhaustion—
The gentle expression that used to soften the intimidation of his large frame had faded. Now, he looked darker, heavier—more dangerous than ever.
“This will never happen again.”
“……”
“Never again. Absolutely never.”
It didn’t sound like he was trying to reassure me. It felt more like a vow he was making to himself.
He cupped my face with indescribable tenderness, then gently pulled away.
I found myself staring into those dark brown eyes, lit with a strange, flickering light.
…Somehow, it was a little frightening.
There was something different about Shim Tae-seong now—no longer the obedient, endlessly patient man I remembered.
Wanting to avoid his gaze, I shook my head furiously as if even speaking a short reply was too much. All I could do was cry, as though I’d completely lost the ability to control my emotions.
I buried my tear-soaked face into the warmth of his broad palm and sobbed like a child. The tears wouldn’t stop, soaking his hand and dripping to the floor. My whole face felt like it was on fire, and the throbbing in my head only worsened.
After a long bout of crying, I mumbled,
“You… hic… You’re safe too… that’s a relief… sniff… I’m so glad…”
“……”
Shim Tae-seong remained silent for a moment.
Then he continued wiping away my tears for a long time, occasionally giving me sips of water, perhaps worried I’d become dehydrated. It felt like I was being cared for like a child—and honestly, it wasn’t the worst feeling.
But the truth was, I wasn’t the only one who needed care.
Shim Tae-seong’s condition was a wreck. His energy waves were in complete disarray—he needed guiding, immediately.
The chaotic turmoil I sensed through the skin-to-skin contact was devastating.
He had to be in excruciating pain… and yet he gave no sign of it. He was focused entirely on looking after me.
It was almost awe-inspiring.
