“…Nabin-ssi?”
On the other end of the phone, which Kim Nabin barely managed to hold, Noh Si-woo picked up on his strange, shallow breathing and called out desperately. But Nabin’s pupils were already unfocused.
Thunk.
The phone slipped from his hand as his body collapsed backward. The back of his head hit the floor with a heavy thud, yet his tightly shut eyelids didn’t move at all.
Only the leaves, torn by the storm and plastered against the window, silently watched over the room where Nabin lay.
***
“Hey, Kim Nabin.”
Han Jigang always knocked before opening Nabin’s door, calling his name first. Ever since he’d learned that this was the only place inside the mansion where Nabin could find real rest, he had been careful not to barge in.
It was almost hard to believe now that he had once hated Nabin to the point of disgust. Somewhere along the way, Nabin had seeped so deeply into his life that Jigang couldn’t imagine pulling him out.
It wasn’t just because Guiding with him felt good. The longer time passed, the harder it became to take his eyes off Nabin. Whenever they shared the same space, Jigang would catch himself staring without even realizing it, only to flinch when he noticed. Those moments were becoming more frequent.
And it wasn’t limited to when they were together. Even apart, thoughts of Nabin would creep in. During missions, or when visiting somewhere without him, that pale, clear face would suddenly float to mind.
Especially when something reminded him of Nabin. A faintly shining moon in the pitch-black night sky, or a wildflower blooming stubbornly in a crack in the concrete—such sights inevitably called him to mind.
Yet despite this, Jigang’s attitude hadn’t changed much. His voice when calling him was still curt, his actions as rough as ever.
Sometimes he was even more blunt, unsettled by how much he was changing. It was the same now—when knocking and calling drew no answer, his tone turned sharp.
“What the hell? Why aren’t you answering?”
Usually, if he called, there’d be a faint rustle inside, or at least a tiny reply barely audible if one listened closely. Today, there was nothing. Only the sound of breathing confirmed Nabin was inside.
Yesterday, apart from himself, the others—Tae Yishin and Gong Min—had received Guiding, but it had been weaker than usual. Even if Nabin’s stamina was fragile, they hadn’t pushed him so far that he should be lying lifeless like this. That thought made Jigang’s grip on the doorknob tighten.
He burst into the room—and froze. Nabin lay sprawled on the floor like a corpse. His face was so pale it had taken on a bluish tint, making the room feel like a funeral hall.
“Kim Nabin!”
Jigang rushed forward, scooping the frail body into his arms. Thankfully, he was still breathing—but only faintly. The fragile breaths could stop at any moment, like someone standing at death’s door.
“Hey! What’s wrong? Wake up!”
With trembling hands, he patted Nabin’s cheek, but his closed eyelids didn’t even twitch. He had no idea why Nabin had collapsed. In his panic, he pulled up his shirt to check, but found no wounds.
Yesterday, after Gong Min gave the last Guiding, Jigang had checked on him. He’d looked drained and vacant, but not enough to collapse. Jigang had dismissed it as the usual exhaustion from depleted Guiding mana…
“What the hell? Why is he like this again?”
Drawn by Jigang’s loud voice, Tae Yishin came in, asking curiously what all the fuss was about.
“I don’t know. He was already down when I came in.”
No one wanted answers more than Jigang. The only injury visible was a bump on the back of his head, probably from the fall—but still, he wouldn’t wake.
“Lay him on the bed first. Let’s check properly.”
Since Jigang was too flustered, Yishin spoke calmly. By now, he had accepted Nabin’s role in their lives.
To him, they were like crocodiles and plover birds—mutually necessary. They needed a Guide with high compatibility to handle their Guiding, and the Guide needed them to survive.
Unlike his personal dislike for Nabin, receiving Guiding from him wasn’t bad. That realization had changed how Yishin treated him. He didn’t go out of his way to be kind, but he no longer treated him brutally either.
Besides, even Yishin admitted the Guiding felt good. He fought down the violent urges that surfaced during it, controlling his strength so as not to hurt him seriously.
Just like yesterday. So why the hell is he like this now?
Yishin’s sharp eyes turned to Jigang. He himself had done nothing, and Gong Min hadn’t even arrived at the mansion yet. Naturally, the suspicion fell on Jigang.
“I didn’t do anything, fuck.”
But Jigang’s answer made it clear he was just as clueless. His temper was fiery, but lying wasn’t his style. At the moment, he was too focused on rubbing Nabin’s cold hands and feet to think of anything else.
One eyebrow raised, Yishin tapped his chin thoughtfully.
Then why is he like this? Yesterday, even Gong Min guided him more gently than usual…
A thought struck him.
“Did he try to kill himself? Maybe swallowed poison or something.”
“What?”
To Yishin, it seemed entirely possible. Nabin was weak, and every Guiding session left him visibly overwhelmed. Even with a body worn down from years of working in Guiding establishments, handling three S-rank Espers in a single day was enough to make him collapse repeatedly.
Unlike Jigang and Gong Min, Yishin had no interest in getting closer to him. He did as he pleased, regardless of how the Guide reacted.
But the other two actually tried to treat him well, and yet the Guide only trembled like a terrified little animal.
If it were Yishin, he’d use Jigang and Gong Min to secure comforts or advantages, to make life easier for himself. But Nabin seemed too timid—or too foolish—for that.
So maybe he’d simply reached his breaking point and tried to end it.
The suggestion was offhand, but Jigang’s face turned grim. He pried open Nabin’s mouth, checking the inside carefully.
He wasn’t an expert, but he knew the basic signs of poisoning.
Plenty of monsters used venom, sometimes even carrying it in their blood. Any Esper was expected to know at least the basics.
But Nabin’s mouth was clean. No swelling, no bleeding. Without a professional it wasn’t certain, but it didn’t look like poison.
His thin wrists showed no marks either. Which only deepened the mystery of why he wouldn’t wake.
“This is his phone, right?”
While Jigang was preoccupied with Nabin, Yishin scanned the room and found a phone on the floor. It was his.
He pressed the home button—it was fingerprint locked. Taking Nabin’s limp hand, he placed the thumb on the screen.
“Last call was with Noh Si-woo.”
Opening the call history, he saw the last contact. Without hesitation, Yishin dialed.
The line barely rang before a desperate voice burst out, as if waiting all along.
—Nabin-ssi! Are you okay?!
“This is Tae Yishin.”
—…Ah.
The moment he realized it wasn’t Nabin but Yishin, Noh Si-woo’s voice sank. He already hated the S-rank Espers even more than before, knowing how much Nabin suffered Guiding them. Just hearing their names now made his teeth grind.
“Where is Guide Kim Nabin right now, Esper Tae Yishin?”
But with Nabin’s safety in question, he couldn’t show that hostility. Forcing down his anger, he asked the most pressing question.
“And why the hell should I tell you that?”
—…
Yishin’s voice was smooth, almost sweet, but the irritation beneath it was clear.
Si-woo wanted to snap—What the hell are you talking about? Put Nabin on, right now!—but the bitter truth was that Nabin’s leash was in Yishin’s hands.
