“It’s… because it’s so delicious….”
Nabin’s lips, wet with tears, trembled as he answered. Noh Si-woo leaned closer, studying the rolled omelet Nabin had just eaten. The lunchbox, brought from the Center cafeteria by Kim Su-hyun, was one Si-woo often ordered himself.
The cafeteria ladies were talented cooks, but not to the point of making someone cry from the taste. And yet, Nabin’s wide, tear-brimmed eyes shone with genuine emotion.
Just what kind of food has he been surviving on until now…?
Si-woo’s gaze dropped naturally from Nabin’s face to his thin wrist, visible beneath the hospital gown. The bone jutted out so starkly it was the most prominent he’d ever seen—completely devoid of flesh.
At first, Si-woo thought Nabin simply looked thinner because of his small face. But no, he was gaunt from not eating properly. Watching him swallow his tears while carefully picking at the meal, Si-woo felt his nose sting.
Sniffling, he opened the cap of a bottled drink on the table and handed it to Nabin. His hand shook as he accepted it with a whispered “thank you,” and Si-woo’s eyes filled with moisture in turn.
He thought back to the most delicious meals he’d ever had. Seeing Nabin moved to tears by a simple omelet made him want to buy him something better—no matter the cost.
After finishing the omelet, Nabin put a piece of inari sushi into his mouth… then froze. Normally, whenever he ate, pain hit before flavor did.
His mouth was always battered and torn from the constant abuse. Whenever food touched those wounds, searing pain stabbed through him, followed by the taste of iron. No matter what he ate, it always mixed with blood.
But this time… there was no iron tang. Only the rich, savory sweetness of food filling his mouth. No pain, just taste. The unfamiliar experience made him raise his hand, gently touching the corners of his mouth.
The skin there bore scars from endless tearing and healing. Usually, when his fingers brushed them, the ridges of brutal wounds sent sharp pain shooting through his brain.
But now, even when he pressed hard, it didn’t hurt.
That was when he remembered—the potion forced into his mouth before he lost consciousness. And the Healing Esper who had introduced himself when Nabin first woke up in the Center. He had said he treated him, too.
“Hhhk… hhhuuhh…”
Tears, which had briefly quieted while he ate, now spilled uncontrollably. Flustered, Si-woo scrambled through the room, found a box of tissues, and thrust them at him. They were soaked through in an instant.
“Everything really will be okay now….”
Nabin cried until his eyes were swollen. At the establishment, even when he wanted to weep, he wasn’t allowed to make a sound. Only now, with people showing him kindness, could he cry aloud for the first time in so long.
Si-woo turned his head, quickly wiping his own damp eyes. He’d never thought of himself as sentimental, but seeing Nabin cry left his heart aching, heavy as if it were soaked through.
His voice caught as he comforted him. Watching someone sob like that over a simple lunchbox made him wish—desperately—that only good things awaited Nabin from now on.
“Eat some more. You must’ve been starving.”
When Nabin’s sobs finally eased, Si-woo gently urged him to continue. But he had only eaten an omelet and one piece of sushi so far.
Worried Nabin might feel pressured eating under his watch, Si-woo casually turned away, pretending to scan the familiar infirmary.
Thanks to that, Nabin picked up his fork again and tried some of the other dishes. But after only a few bites, he had to set it down. The food was so delicious he wanted more, yet his body couldn’t take it.
“Are you already finished?”
“Yes… I’m full… I-I’ll eat the rest later….”
Still holding his fork, Nabin glanced nervously at him. The lunchbox was only half-empty. At the establishment, if he left food behind, it would simply be saved and served to him cold for the next meal.
The fluffy taste of the omelet lingered in his mouth. If he could eat food like this at every meal, he thought, he’d be happy. It was so good he had eaten more than usual.
“You barely ate… but it’s fine to leave it. Next time, I’ll bring you something even better.”
Even this humble lunchbox was the best meal Nabin had ever tasted. The food his father once made wasn’t remembered for its flavor, but as a faint, bittersweet memory of those long-ago days.
Of all the tastes he could recall, this was the best. And hearing there were even better meals out there brought a shy blush to his cheeks.
***
“Mom!”
At the sight of his mother in Kim Su-hyun’s arms, Nabin bolted upright in bed. Since eating, Si-woo had urged him to lie back and rest, but he hadn’t been able to.
Not knowing his mother’s fate, he’d felt guilty for eating at all—so guilty he nearly retched, as if to vomit the food back up. If Si-woo hadn’t been there, watching him with worry, Nabin might have run out of the infirmary entirely.
Each time he tried to rise, Si-woo rose with him, so Nabin stayed seated, trembling, gripping his hands together. Every time the dreadful thought struck—that his mother might already be gone—his chest seized painfully.
Si-woo, anxious himself, waited by his side for Su-hyun’s return. At last, the infirmary door opened, and Su-hyun stepped in, carrying a middle-aged woman in his arms.
He gently laid Nabin’s mother on the bed beside him. When he had left earlier, he had been tidy and composed, but now his hair was a wild mess, evidence of a fight.
His black clothes bore dark stains in patches. The metallic stench of blood pricked Si-woo’s nose, and he knew instantly—several people had died today.
Su-hyun was gentle with the weak, but merciless toward those who preyed on them. If they were the ones holding Nabin, then there was no question. Monsters like that—he would have cut them down without hesitation.
Despite his kind appearance, once he drew his blade, his cruelty was unmistakable. Si-woo could imagine it vividly: a sea of blood, corpses scattered until the spray soaked his clothes.
And yet now, Su-hyun smiled warmly at Nabin, like the gentlest man alive. Goosebumps prickled Si-woo’s arms, and he took a step back, rubbing them away.
“Mom…”
Nabin collapsed to the floor, clutching his mother’s hand. Thankfully, though her face was pale and her eyes closed, she seemed uninjured. The warmth of her hand brought relief flooding through him.
All he could think was: Thank God.
If only he had been rescued, while his mother was left behind in Kim Minsu’s hands, Nabin might have returned to him willingly.
For a while, Su-hyun stayed quiet, letting Nabin calm down, then spoke gently.
“Guide Kim Nabin, the Center has a special ward for treating people suffering from illegal drug addictions.”
“R-Really…?”
It was true. But not everyone was admitted.
“Yes. It’s for families of Espers and Guides affiliated with the Center—or those who once were. Since you’re now an official Guide, your mother qualifies. She can be admitted and treated there. It’ll be far better than any private hospital.”
The reason she hadn’t been admitted before was simple: treating her brought the Center no benefit. But now, everything had changed.
The Center Director regarded Nabin as invaluable—a rare Guide capable of lowering the Outbreak risk of the troublesome trio of S-rank Espers. With the Director’s authority permeating every corner of the Center, he would spare no cost ensuring Nabin’s mother received the best treatment while her son guided.
“Thank you… hhhuuk…”
Nabin dropped to his knees before Su-hyun, bowing his head again and again in gratitude. He didn’t know the politics behind it, but the fact his mother would now receive better care was enough to make him weep with thanks.
Startled, Su-hyun knelt too, worried the hard floor would bruise his fragile knees. Quick-witted Si-woo hurried over with a blanket and handed it to him. When Nabin still didn’t rise, Su-hyun slid the blanket beneath his knees.
The simple kindness only deepened Nabin’s gratitude. For the first time in so long, he felt glad to be alive.
Recently, even breathing had been too much. He had drifted into harming himself without realizing. His exhausted mind had whispered that death was easier than life. If not for the thought of his mother surfacing in those dark moments, Nabin might already have thrown himself away like discarded trash.
