Nabin curled into himself, trembling as he tried in vain to fight off the cold.
Thud.
“Ah…”
Something light brushed the top of his head. He tilted his face upward—white snowflakes were drifting down, filling the sky like scattered stars.
A few flakes landed on his flushed cheeks. Though the snow was icy, his skin was colder still, and so the touch felt oddly warm.
Forgetting the cold, Nabin parted his lips slightly and stared upward in wonder. Snow clung to his eyelashes, delicate and strange, as if the sky itself was resting on his lashes.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen snow. He had been born in winter. “I was so happy when you came to me in that bitter cold winter,” his father would whisper in his ear whenever the season came. Maybe that was why snow had always been one of the things he loved most.
Back when he worked at the establishment, he was occasionally allowed out once a week to visit his mother in the hospital, even in winter. But not once, not ever, had it snowed on those days. To stand here now, feeling the snow land directly on his skin and greeting it with his whole body—it had been far, far too long.
A smile touched his lips, one that came from deep inside.
It wasn’t the pitiful, forced grin he used to put on to hide his pain, to avoid another blow. This smile was real, and it felt entirely different.
His round eyes curved softly, carrying genuine warmth. Even the sting from Han Jigang’s harsh words earlier began to fade, soothed by the snow’s gentle greeting.
“Hey.”
But the brief moment of happiness, as the snow painted the sky white, ended the moment Han Jigang reappeared. He stepped back out through the mansion doors, calling Nabin as he came closer.
At the sound of Jigang’s voice, the smile vanished from Nabin’s lips as if it had never been there.
And yet, the sight of Nabin smiling in the snowfall lingered in Jigang’s mind, strangely captivating.
His heart was beating too fast, unnervingly so. When he’d first opened the gates and seen Nabin smiling like that, his whole body had frozen. He was an S-rank Fire Esper—he never felt cold—but on the coldest day of the year, it was as if something in him had broken.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
That idiot should’ve followed him inside when the door was open instead of just standing there staring. Jigang had almost left him, but then remembered those oversized eyes staring up from the bed earlier.
Annoyed, he’d come all the way back to the gate. He didn’t want a Dedicated Guide, didn’t like being forced into it by the Center Director, and his mood was already foul. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t get the image of that idiot’s smile out of his head.
He’s irritating as hell… so why do I keep looking at him?
Seeing him now, Jigang realized the smile Nabin had shown him earlier had been fake. But that unguarded smile just moments ago… wasn’t half bad. He crushed the thought before it could take root.
“If I open the door again, you follow me in. Immediately. Before I close it. Got it?”
“Y-Yes…!”
Jigang frowned, shaking off the strange sensation, and barked the words like a scolding. Nabin scrambled to grab his worn bag and hurried after him, just like a duckling trailing behind its mother.
Only after what felt like forever since arriving did Nabin finally set foot inside the place he would now be living.
“…It’s beautiful.”
The words slipped from him in awe. The mansion’s garden stretched before his eyes, breathtakingly lovely. Among all the sights he had ever seen, this was one of the most dazzling.
The snow-laden pine trees looked like nature’s own Christmas trees. His gaze drifted toward the swing swaying gently beneath one immense tree that seemed to have stood for centuries.
In his mind, he saw a much younger self, laughing brightly as his father pushed him on a swing. Without realizing it, his feet began carrying him toward it.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Jigang tapped him on the shoulder, stopping him from wandering off. To Jigang, it was a light touch, but Nabin staggered forward as though shoved hard.
He managed not to fall, but his startled, wide eyes turned up at Jigang. Embarrassed, Jigang covered it with a sharp, raised voice.
“Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Get inside. And don’t even think about that swing. There’s nothing here you’re free to touch.”
“…Yes.”
The words, colder than the snowfall itself, shattered his fleeting daydream.
Just moments ago, he had nearly forgotten himself, almost acting freely as though he belonged.
Most people he had met at the Center after being pulled from Kim Minsu’s grip hadn’t been kind. Only Kim Su-hyun and Noh Si-woo had shown him warmth. The rest were too busy, offering nothing but cheap curiosity or outright indifference.
But his mother’s new hospital room was comfortable, and there, people had treated him simply as a patient’s guardian.
Though meeting the Center Director and the S-rank Espers he was meant to Guide had been difficult, he must have secretly hoped things might be different—that no matter how hard, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the establishment.
But he had been wrong. Whether here or there, his situation was the same—like a butterfly pinned to a board, wings stilled, unable to move.
He was alive, yet told to live as though he were already a lifeless specimen.
The brief swell in his chest when Jigang came back for him deflated faster than it had grown. As always, Nabin folded away his aching heart, hiding it deep inside. Even having feelings was too much of a luxury for him.
“I-I’m sorry…”
“…Pathetic.”
“S-sorr—”
“Shut your mouth and just follow me. From now on, don’t bother speaking at all.”
Nabin bit down hard on his lips, pale from the cold, to stifle the reflexive apology. Years of abuse had left scars so deep he still couldn’t stop himself.
Jigang walked on for a long while before they reached the front entrance. The garden was so large it took time just to cross. He pressed his fingerprint to the scanner, unlocked the door, and jerked his chin for Nabin to enter.
Bowing silently, Nabin stepped through the doorway Jigang held open. The luxurious entryway made his old, battered shoes look pitiful.
He hesitated, fumbling as he pulled his frozen feet free of them. After neatly setting them aside, he stepped carefully into the mansion. Indoor slippers had been laid out, but he didn’t dare touch them.
Jigang didn’t offer him any either, slipping into his own pair and striding away. Nabin hurried after, afraid to lose sight of him.
Even without daring to linger, the mansion’s beauty was impossible to miss. It was the most magnificent place he had ever seen. The garden outside had been vast, but the interior was just as grand.
Paintings and sculptures as tall as his torso filled the halls, yet the space felt airy rather than cramped. Past the long corridor, a wide living room opened up, one wall made entirely of glass.
The sofa in one corner was larger than the bed he’d used back at the establishment. Beyond the glass stretched the snowy garden, like a living painting.
Nabin longed to linger, but Jigang’s strides were too quick. He had to rush to keep up, breath short.
Jigang passed through the living room into another corridor, walking a long while before finally stopping.
“This is your room.”
The room was tucked away in the farthest corner of the mansion. Unlike the bright, artfully lit halls and living spaces, this area was dark and hushed, cloaked in silence.
“The bathroom and washroom are through the door across the hall. Use them as you need.”
“Yes…”
“And remember this—stay in your room as much as possible. You can eat in the kitchen, but do it when I or the others aren’t around. Got it?”
Nabin nodded faintly. The meaning was clear—live quietly, like he wasn’t even there.
With nothing more to add, Jigang turned and left. On the way here, Nabin had noticed stairs leading to the second floor. The fact Jigang hadn’t even mentioned them made it clear he was never to go up there.
Slowly, Nabin looked around. This room felt cut off from the mansion, like an isolated island. Still, it had its own bathroom, and he was allowed to use the kitchen. That was enough.
Carefully, he opened the door and peeked inside.
Cough, cough.
Before he could even take in the space, a wave of dust rose to greet him. The room hadn’t been used in ages. His very first step stirred up a thick, gray cloud.
Covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, Nabin coughed through the haze. What he saw wasn’t a bedroom at all, but something closer to a storage room.
