Kim Su-hyun hesitated, uneasy about leaving Nabin in Noh Si-woo’s care. Si-woo didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Was it really safe to entrust Nabin to him while he went out? But there was no time to linger. Shutting down the illegal Guiding business could wait—rescuing Nabin’s mother could not.
If something happened to her, Nabin would break down even faster than he already was. He was the kind of man who gave everything of himself for his family, no matter the cost. Just from that, Su-hyun could sense how much his mother meant to him.
“Guide Kim Nabin, this is Esper Noh Si-woo from Infirmary One. He’ll stay with you while I’m gone. He’s someone you can trust, so don’t be afraid.”
Su-hyun introduced Si-woo to Nabin, who sat hunched and trembling. Beside him, Si-woo smiled so broadly it seemed his whole face had softened. Oddly enough, that smile seemed to work—some of the fear in Nabin’s expression eased away.
“…Okay. Please… come back safe…”
Nabin whispered, his quiet words easing Su-hyun’s worry. Su-hyun answered with a smile instead of words, then cast Si-woo a look full of trust and request before hurrying out of the ward.
“Let me introduce myself again. I’m Esper Noh Si-woo, from Infirmary One.”
Even though Su-hyun, the person he’d relied on most here, had just left, Nabin managed not to panic. It was because Si-woo’s eyes were as gentle and clear as his smile.
Nabin knew well that appearances meant little. Even Kim Minsu, despite all the cruelty he had inflicted on him, had looked disarmingly kind.
He couldn’t meet people’s eyes, but he’d grown perceptive in other ways. Like weak animals at the bottom of the food chain, who survive by blending in or sharpening their senses, Nabin had learned to study anyone who approached him carefully, just to survive.
Though he hadn’t known them long, both Su-hyun and Si-woo felt different. They seemed kind. At least, he was fairly sure they would never strike him or force him into harsh labor just because they found him troublesome.
“Um… excuse me…”
Looking at Si-woo, who stood a little apart with a reassuring smile, Nabin suddenly remembered something he had forgotten.
Back when he worked as a Miner, he had once nearly been killed by an A-rank monster wolf. Mr. Kim, the older man with him at the time, had stepped in front of him, but an ordinary human could never withstand an A-rank monster’s attack. Nabin had frozen in panic, unable to react at all.
If not for the Esper who saved him, Nabin would have died that day. Even in the dim dungeon, the man’s snow-white hair had stood out. He had even given Nabin a gift—an Artifact with a butterfly-shaped pendant that looked undeniably precious.
Afraid Kim Minsu might take it, Nabin had hidden it in his mother’s hospital room.
That pendant was one of the few good memories he had to cling to. Whenever he visited his mother, he would take it out like a treasure and gently run his fingers over the shimmering butterfly.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Noticing Nabin had something to say, Si-woo crouched down so their eyes met. The gesture, gentle and unhurried, reminded Nabin of Su-hyun—like they might have been brothers.
“I… I have a favor to ask…”
“What is it? It’s fine, you can tell me.”
Si-woo’s warmth gave Nabin courage. It was something he should have asked before Su-hyun left to rescue his mother, but in the fluster of meeting Si-woo, the thought had come too late.
“M-my mom’s hospital room… in the bedside drawer, there’s an Artifact with a butterfly pendant… C-could you please ask him to bring it?”
For someone so withdrawn, it was an act of bravery. Curious, Si-woo realized it was just a request for an Artifact. Yet Nabin, as though ashamed of asking for anything at all, couldn’t keep his eyes steady, his gaze flickering nervously.
Without hesitation, Si-woo pulled out his phone and called Su-hyun. Thankfully, Su-hyun answered almost immediately, and Si-woo relayed Nabin’s request.
Hearing the call from beside him, Nabin’s face brightened with a faint flush. The thought of seeing both his mother and the pendant again sent a warm breeze through the cold weight in his chest.
“Esper Kim Su-hyun says not to worry. By the way… could you tell me your name?”
Though he already knew Nabin’s name, asking directly was like creating a real bond.
Nabin hesitated, lips trembling soundlessly. Si-woo didn’t press, simply waited, patient and calm. He didn’t know everything about Nabin, but he knew one thing for sure: this man carried too many wounds.
He had to be careful—every word, every gesture mattered.
“I-it’s Kim Nabin…”
At last, those small lips parted, and a name that suited his delicate face slipped out. Si-woo’s smile widened.
“Nabin? That’s a beautiful name—like a butterfly.”
He meant it. Like a butterfly flitting to flowers, “Nabin” felt like a word meant just for a Guide. At the admiration, a blush touched Nabin’s pale cheeks.
No one had ever told him his name resembled a butterfly before. Since Lee Hayan had given him that butterfly pendant, butterflies had been one of his favorite things. To be told his name resembled something he loved stirred his heart, and the warmth spread across his cheeks.
“Wow…”
It was like watching a wilted flower suddenly lift its head and bloom. Si-woo found himself staring, mouth slightly open, captivated. Once his eyes caught the color in Nabin’s cheeks, he couldn’t look away.
But then the blush drained, leaving Nabin pale again. Realizing he’d stared too intently, Si-woo flustered, waving his hands as he apologized.
“I’m sorry!”
Seeing Nabin’s eyes tremble with new fear, guilt crushed him. He felt as though he’d made a terrible mistake.
“I-it’s okay…”
But that apology only unsettled Nabin further. To him, being apologized to just for being looked at was strange—almost incomprehensible. Su-hyun and Si-woo were both too kind.
As shaken as Si-woo, Nabin bowed repeatedly, pale as a sheet, murmuring that it was fine. Si-woo too kept apologizing until it felt endless. Desperate to break the cycle, he glanced around.
Nabin’s face was paling by the second. Then Si-woo spotted the lunchbox Su-hyun had left—the meal he had brought back from the cafeteria for Nabin.
“You must be hungry. I should’ve given you this first… You’ve been skipping meals, haven’t you?”
“…Ah.”
Thankfully, Nabin froze mid-bow and looked at the lunchbox. Si-woo opened it carefully and offered it. Inside were simple, easily digestible dishes, neatly and colorfully arranged.
But Nabin only stared blankly, making no move to take it. The food was arranged so prettily it felt wrong to disturb it.
His father’s cooking had been like that too, back when he was alive—always full of care. Since then, everything Nabin had eaten had been miserable in comparison.
Even while working in the establishment, he had been fed on time, but it was always the same—thin, watery soup with unidentifiable ingredients, or lumpy rice balls.
This meal was different. Bright greens, yellows, and reds blended harmoniously, the lunchbox like a miniature garden.
“Is there something here you can’t eat?”
Since Nabin just kept staring, Si-woo asked gently. If there was, he was ready to fetch something else from the cafeteria.
But Nabin startled, shaking his head violently. Being picky with food? That was unthinkable for him. Hurriedly, he picked up the fork and speared a slice of rolled omelet stuffed with cheese and ham.
The moment it touched his tongue, it melted. The taste was so good, so long forgotten, that tears stung his eyes. He froze, hardly chewing, swallowing down the sudden wave of emotion.
“…Is it… not good?”
Si-woo’s face twisted with concern as silent tears slipped down Nabin’s cheeks. If he hadn’t seen it, he might not have realized Nabin was crying at all.
If only he knew the reason, he might’ve been able to fix it. But he couldn’t even guess. Was the omelet that bad? Did an eggshell get mixed in? His thoughts ran wild.
But as far as he knew, the cafeteria ladies here were excellent cooks. Most employees preferred eating inside the Center rather than going out, precisely because the food was so good.
