“Fine, I’ll stop. I’m leaving.”
At the warning in that low voice, Tae Yishin swallowed the sigh that was about to slip out. Raising both hands in a small gesture of surrender, he backed slowly out of the room, leaving Nabin behind.
Only when Tae Yishin had disappeared completely did Gong Min draw Nabin into his arms like a child and sit on the bed.
The faint scent of body wash lingered—Tae Yishin must have bathed him. Even so, Nabin’s face and back were slick with cold sweat.
His pale hair, damp and clumped together, looked darker than usual. When Gong Min brushed the overgrown bangs back from his forehead, skin as flawless as untouched snow came into view.
Unable to resist, Gong Min pressed his lips to that whiteness, like leaving the first footprint on a fresh snowfall.
“…Kim Nabin.”
Even with his lips still touching him, calling the Guide’s name only made those long lashes quiver faintly. Nabin showed no sign of waking. He should’ve been Guided after coming back from a mission, but forcing more from his already exhausted body felt wrong. Holding him close like this was better.
A delicate thread of mana seeped from Nabin’s skin into him. It was so faint it barely counted as Guiding, yet it was enough to calm Gong Min’s raging energy. What had been like a wild colt suddenly became gentle, as if soothed by the touch of its master.
It wasn’t nearly as much as when their bodies fully joined, but it was more than enough. The unique scent of Nabin filling his lungs, the fragile body that fit perfectly in his embrace—these alone settled the storm in his head.
Even unconscious, Nabin felt the steady warmth surrounding him. Thanks to Gong Min, he could drift a little deeper into dreams, forgetting his terror for a while.
All night, Gong Min held him close. Each time Nabin whimpered like he was caught in a nightmare, Gong Min pressed a soft kiss to his pale forehead.
But dawn came, and with it, a mission outside Gyeonggi. Reluctantly, Gong Min forced himself to leave. Nabin, fast asleep in his arms, breathing softly like a child—something he never would’ve done while awake—remained etched in his mind.
At last, Gong Min laid him gently on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. When Nabin’s brows knit faintly, as though he sensed the loss of warmth, Gong Min smoothed the wrinkle away with his fingertips.
“…I’ll be back soon.”
If he stayed longer, he knew he might forget the mission entirely. Stroking Nabin’s cheek one last time with tender care, Gong Min hurried out of the room.
As soon as he was gone, Nabin curled up into the corner of the bed. His hand stretched forward, clutching at the blanket as though to hold onto the fading warmth, but found only rough fabric. His breathing grew ragged as his eyes flew open.
“Haa… ha…”
His unfocused gaze flicked anxiously around the room until, realizing no one was there, he finally curled in on himself.
He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d blacked out. Judging by the clean state of his body, Tae Yishin must have applied a Healing Potion and washed him. Only cold sweat remained; the dried bloodstains were gone.
Even knowing he was alone in the small room, the suffocating sensation lingered—that something massive and unyielding was still tearing into him. Hugging the blanket tightly to his chest did nothing to ease the shivers.
“Cold…”
At last, he got up and crawled into the small closet he hadn’t touched in a long time.
Back when he worked at the illegal Guiding den, Kim Minsu used to lock him in there as punishment. The space was too cramped to stretch out or bend properly, so small he could hardly sleep. Even with eyes open, it was pitch black, the only sound his own breathing—a place designed to drag out primal terror.
Nabin had always obeyed Kim Minsu’s orders desperately, just to avoid being shoved into that darkness. The trauma left him with a lingering fear of tight, unlit spaces.
And yet, ironically, when his mind blurred and fear overwhelmed him, he instinctively sought out small places, like an animal returning to its nest. Only inside, with his own breath echoing around him, did the panic finally ease.
His heavy eyelids soon slid shut. Though clammy sweat dried on his skin and his body shivered from the cold, his breathing there was calmer than when he’d been lying in bed.
“Kim Nabin.”
Light seeped into the cramped space only after dawn. Returning to the mansion, Han Jigang washed the monster blood from his body and came straight to find him.
He expected to see Nabin in bed, but found only a mound of blankets bunched up like a curled figure. Touching it, he felt no warmth. His gaze shifted naturally to the closet.
Opening the door, he found Nabin asleep in an uncomfortable position, head resting on his knees. Fresh tears still clung to his reddened eyes.
A shadow deepened on Han Jigang’s brow. He knew what the closet meant to Nabin—a refuge he slipped into half-consciously whenever reality grew unbearable.
Just yesterday, before leaving the mansion, Nabin had seemed fine. As far as Jigang knew, he hadn’t gone near the closet in a long time.
When Nabin had broken down upon hearing of Kim Su-hyun’s death, Jigang had sworn never to let such a thing happen again. He’d even endured Tae Yishin calling him crazy for being so cautious, restraining himself so Nabin wouldn’t be hurt or frightened. His first mistake had left their relationship in tatters, but he was gathering every last shred of patience to try and put things back together again.
So why… is he like this now?
Jigang brushed away the dampness at Nabin’s eyes. He seemed to have cried himself to sleep. Even touched, his eyelids only fluttered faintly, his clear eyes hidden away like a snail in its shell.
“…Who did this to you?”
He knew there’d be no answer, but the frustration forced the words out. There were no obvious wounds—maybe he hadn’t been hurt, or maybe someone had already healed him with a Potion.
“Tae Yishin, that bastard.”
His husky voice was rough with irritation. That smug face came to mind, always smiling slyly instead of answering when told again and again to treat Nabin well. Gong Min had been careful around him too. Which left only one culprit.
But unless he caught him red-handed, grilling Tae Yishin would be useless—the bastard would just wriggle away like an eel. Jigang smoothed the moisture from his fingertips and scanned the room.
If Tae Yishin had done this, maybe some trace remained. His sharp eyes landed on the bouquet lying near the door.
“This is…”
Even in the dark, the flower shimmered faintly violet. Pasquinum—one of the rare blossoms Ryu Somin cultivated behind the mansion. Its roots were still caked with dirt, abandoned carelessly, painting the scene clearly in his mind.
Nabin would never have pulled it out himself. Ryu Somin must have taken him to the garden and gifted him the flower. Tae Yishin had seen them together, grown spiteful, and taken it out on Nabin.
“That son of a bitch…”
Jigang turned toward the door, ready to storm over to Tae Yishin, who was no doubt sleeping soundly.
“…Hhh.”
A faint groan stopped him in his tracks. The fire in his chest cooled. Even if his anger wasn’t aimed at Nabin, letting him see it would only frighten him more.
“Hey, you awake?”
His tone was brusque, but the way he lifted Nabin into his arms was gentle, like cradling a child. Jigang then noticed he was wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and underwear.
He looked for the blanket he usually gave him to cover up while sitting on the swing. Though it looked ordinary, it was an Artifact with heating properties, enough to keep the wearer warm.
He’d planned to take Nabin out to the garden, to hold him on the swing until he calmed down. His own body ran hot, but still—he couldn’t take chances. Nabin’s stamina had been fading lately; if he caught cold in the chill air, it could be dangerous. Common illnesses like colds often resisted Healing Potions.
Normally, Nabin kept that blanket neatly draped over the sofa. But no matter how he searched, it was nowhere in sight. With no choice, Jigang pulled out a fresh sheet and wrapped it around him.
“Esper…Han Jigang-nim?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
At the tender touch, Nabin stirred. Still half-asleep, he blinked slowly until he realized whose arms he was in. Startled, he flailed instinctively.
