Kim Su-hyun could easily imagine the kind of place where Nabin had lived before. The illegal guiding dens—where D-rank Guides were secretly sold off or driven by desperation to work. Judging by the scars and traces on his body, Nabin had clearly been forced to endure far too many Espers in a single day, more than anyone should.
Otherwise, he could never have been left with such deep wounds and lasting scars. Su-hyun’s gaze lingered, aching, on the faint lines at the corners of Nabin’s mouth, scars that were only now beginning to fade.
He was the same age as Su-hyun’s younger brother. What path could have led him to end up in such a place? Su-hyun’s chest tightened with pity. He should have felt relief that Nabin had at least made it to the Center, but the thought of the people this boy would still be forced to face only deepened his worry.
“…I’ll protect you.”
He couldn’t simply stand by. Nabin was a Guide who had already borne a merciless life. Su-hyun vowed to protect him, no matter what it took. With gentle hands, he brushed back the sweat-soaked strands of hair clinging to Nabin’s forehead and whispered softly.
He continued to heal until the very strength drained from his fingertips. Even with the full power of an A-rank Healing Esper, it took an entire day before Nabin finally stirred.
Su-hyun never once left his side. Only when absolutely necessary did he step out of Infirmary One to take care of matters, always returning immediately afterward. With wounds that severe, there was no way the mind would be left untouched.
The physical injuries had closed, but Su-hyun suspected the reason Nabin would not wake was because of the scars left inside.
No matter how long he waited, Nabin lay unconscious. Su-hyun kept checking his vitals, patiently waiting for him to open his eyes.
Then, near lunchtime, his long lashes trembled like butterfly wings. Through the small gap of his opening eyes, pale irises slowly appeared.
For a moment his gaze was hazy and unfocused, but then his pupils blew wide and his body began trembling violently—something Su-hyun hadn’t expected. He had braced himself for shock, but he never imagined a simple greeting would trigger a seizure.
“Guide Kim Nabin, you’re in Infirmary One of the K Ability User Center. My name is Dr. Kim Su-hyun, the physician in charge here and an A-rank Special-Type Healing Esper. Right now, you’re safe. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”
It was a textbook reaction from someone consumed by terror. Su-hyun had already guessed Nabin would show fear, judging from the scars, but his response was even more intense than expected.
Still, instead of freezing, Su-hyun steadied himself and poured everything into calming him down.
In a steady, calm tone, he repeated the same reassurance over and over, making sure Nabin understood he was safe here.
The blanket shrouding Nabin thrashed like it was caught in an earthquake, but gradually, with each repetition, the violent trembling began to subside. Su-hyun waited patiently, never rushing, until he began to calm.
“A-am I really safe here…? This isn’t… that place…? N-no…?”
His voice was faint, fragile, like the whisper of wind through leaves. But to an A-rank Esper, the words were crystal clear.
“Yes. You’re safe. No one here will harm you, Guide Kim Nabin. You can rest easy.”
Slowly, Nabin uncurled himself from the tight ball he’d made, his body still quivering. It was only because the warm voice beside him kept assuring him, again and again, that he was safe.
It had been so long since anyone had spoken to him with kindness. As his mind cleared, hazy fragments of what had happened before he passed out flickered back.
He had come to inside a violently rocking car, clutched in Kim Minsu’s arms. Not long after, the vehicle flipped with a deafening crash. Even now, he could still hear the chilling screech of metal scraping asphalt.
Pain split through his skull, and his vision bled red. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. In his daze, blinking blankly to grasp what was happening, he thought the car had caught fire—until a man with flame-colored hair dragged him roughly from the wreck. His head throbbed mercilessly, and pain shot from his arm through his whole body.
Two men’s voices reached him, muffled as though underwater. He was shifted into another person’s arms, and then something precious—a Healing Potion—was pressed into his mouth. He swallowed unconsciously, and the world went dark.
When he opened his eyes again, he was somewhere unfamiliar. Relief washed over him that it wasn’t that stinking den, but dread followed just as quickly—where had he been taken this time? A stranger’s voice alone was enough to send him spiraling into panic.
He hid beneath a blanket that smelled faintly of sun-dried cloth, frozen in place. Thankfully, the stranger didn’t yank him out or raise his voice. He only stayed close, speaking softly. At first, the words were meaningless noise.
All Nabin could hear was the deafening clatter of his own teeth. But slowly, fragments of the stranger’s voice slipped through:
Center. Infirmary. Esper. Safe.
Cautiously, he lowered the blanket. Through blurred vision, he glimpsed a man watching him with worry. Nabin quickly averted his eyes, letting them hover instead around the man’s lips, afraid to meet his gaze directly.
Ever since meeting Kim Minsu and being thrown into the mud, he had stopped meeting people’s eyes. Every time he did, something bad always followed.
Espers holding him would become more violent. Some would even snarl, “Looking into your eyes makes me lose control,” before venting their rage on him.
Even when they didn’t strike him, their eyes swirled with filthy desire, a mire of corruption that made him feel as though his head were being forced under swampy muck.
But this man’s eyes were different. The Healing Esper who’d introduced himself had an intelligent, refined look, framed by rimless glasses. He appeared to be in his late twenties—not much older than Nabin.
Instead of impatience or irritation, his gaze held a gentle smile, warm as spring sunlight. That warmth, like the faint scent of fabric Nabin clutched to his chest, softened his fear.
“Do you feel a little better now?”
Seeing that Nabin’s wariness had eased, Su-hyun tried to smile in the most harmless way possible. He was someone who often smiled anyway, so it wasn’t difficult to keep it natural.
Thanks to that, even as he sat up, Nabin’s shoulders slowly began to loosen. His wide eyes darted curiously around. The row of pristine single beds gave the place the feel of a hospital ward, but he was the only one lying there.
“Because your condition was critical, Guide Kim Nabin, we moved the other patients to Infirmary Two so you could receive focused treatment.”
Su-hyun explained gently, reading the confusion in Nabin’s eyes. But his words had the opposite effect. Believing he had caused trouble, Nabin’s shoulders curled in once again.
“I-I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I’ve been nothing but a burden…”
Su-hyun swallowed hard. That automatic apology—claiming fault even where there was none—was heartbreakingly familiar. And the way he instinctively raised his thin arm to shield his head, bracing for a blow, made Su-hyun’s chest ache.
If he could, he would find the bastards who had reduced Nabin to this and repay them in kind.
Nabin’s large eyes, made even more prominent by his hollow cheeks, brimmed with fear. Even Su-hyun, who was known for being fearless, felt a chill run through him as though Nabin’s terror were seeping into his own chest.
“Aren’t you hungry? I’ll go get you something to eat. Just wait here a moment.”
He changed the subject. Quite some time had passed since Nabin had fainted and woken again, and his frail frame made it obvious he hadn’t been eating properly for a long time.
He didn’t need a scale to know—his condition was alarming. He was severely underweight. Su-hyun resolved to make sure he ate well, at least until he reached a healthy weight again.
Leaving the infirmary, Su-hyun stopped by the Center’s cafeteria to ask for a meal box prepared with only easily digestible foods, then headed toward the administrative office.
Tysm for translating!