When Nabin finally came to, he looked better than expected—enough to give Jigang a fleeting sense of relief. But that feeling vanished quickly. Nabin behaved like someone who couldn’t care less whether he lived or died. Even the most basic human instincts seemed absent, as though he were sinking into the flow of time itself.
“Are you planning to die on purpose?”
No matter how harshly Jigang pressed him, it made no difference. Nabin acted as though his fear had been sealed away beneath a layer of numbness.
“…I’m sorry.”
Once, the sound of Jigang’s raised voice would have made him tremble uncontrollably. Now, even when Jigang shouted, Nabin only flinched a beat too late and whispered apologies, admitting fault as though nothing else mattered.
Jigang swallowed the sigh threatening to escape. While Nabin stayed alone at the villa, Jigang hadn’t only been away on missions. He had gone to the Center, asking the Director to prevent Nabin from guiding Tae Yishin.
“Esper Tae Yishin has already been punished appropriately. Let that be enough. You know the Outbreak Risk Index can’t be managed by machines alone. By now, your Guide should be used to handling three Espers. Overlook it just this once.”
“…But—”
“Come now. Esper Tae Yishin is practically like your brother, isn’t he? It doesn’t look good if the two of you keep clashing over one Guide.”
Jigang wanted nothing more than to punch the Director for talking down to him like that, but Guides belonged to the Center. Just as Espers were bound to its authority, so too were Guides.
Even as an S-rank Esper, Jigang couldn’t overturn the system that upheld the stability of the country. There was, however, a rare alternative: assigning a Guide to a single Esper as a Pair.
“Then just let me Pair with Kim Nabin alone.”
“You know better than anyone that isn’t possible.”
He qualified for a Pair contract. The depth of emotional resonance between him and Nabin worried him, but their Match Rate was more than high enough. Yet, if Jigang entered such a contract, Tae Yishin and Gong Min would lose Nabin as their Guide.
The Director had brought Nabin into the Center precisely because he matched with three S-rank Espers. If his Match Rate had only been high with Jigang, perhaps the Director would have granted it as a favor.
But both Tae Yishin and Gong Min needed Nabin desperately. For the Director, managing the Outbreak Risk of three S-rank Espers was far more valuable than indulging just one. Unless another Guide appeared with equally strong compatibility, Nabin had no choice but to continue Guiding all three.
“Eat something, at least.”
Jigang reheated the breakfast he’d made earlier and set it in front of Nabin. Since apologizing, Nabin had done nothing but stare blankly at the floor.
Never had Jigang felt so powerless. His pride as an S-rank Esper seemed worthless. At the very least, he had wanted Nabin spared from Guiding Tae Yishin—but he hadn’t been able to change a thing.
Today, Nabin was scheduled to visit the Center for a Guiding mana evaluation. Just as Espers had their Outbreak Risk monitored and reported, Guides were required to undergo regular, detailed examinations of their Guiding mana.
Though rare, Guiding mana could sometimes increase—or diminish. The Center, and especially the Director, hoped for an increase. Only then could Nabin safely continue managing the three S-rank Espers.
Normally, a D-rank Guide would either guide D- or C-rank Espers or live quietly as an ordinary civilian. Guiding someone four ranks higher was nearly unheard of. Nabin’s situation was an extreme exception.
The reason was simple: unless the Match Rate exceeded 90%, the Guiding effect was weak, and the risk of developing Mana Depletion Syndrome was high.
It was a condition that sometimes appeared when a low-ranked Guide attempted to guide a high-ranked Esper—the very illness Nabin was most vulnerable to.
Jigang could already feel the difference. Each time he received Nabin’s Guiding, its effect seemed weaker. High-ranked Guides could control their mana flow, even during physical contact.
But for a D-rank like Nabin, once touch was made, his mana flowed out whether he willed it or not.
Since coming to the villa, Jigang hadn’t demanded intense Contact Guiding. The most he’d done was hold the dazed boy, stroke his hair, or rub his back.
Yet even then, the faintest threads of Guiding mana seeped into Jigang. It was a tiny trickle, barely perceptible, but the flow was undeniably diminishing.
Mana Depletion Syndrome was exactly what its name implied: the Guide’s mana was exhausted, with no cure. The only hope was natural recovery, but worldwide, only a handful of cases had ever been recorded.
As Nabin quietly accepted spoonfuls of food, Jigang stroked his hair and smiled faintly. Even if his mana drained away completely, Jigang had no intention of letting him go.
Perhaps… Nabin even wanted the illness. To him, never again having to guide S-rank Espers—including Jigang—might feel like freedom.
But Jigang’s conclusion was different. Even if Nabin ceased to be a Guide, it wouldn’t matter. Countless nights spent holding him had led to the same realization: I need Kim Nabin.
And Nabin needed him too. If his mana vanished, the Center would never keep supporting him.
Jigang had already learned how astronomical the costs were for his mother’s treatment. Without the Center, they couldn’t possibly afford it—Nabin’s savings wouldn’t last a month.
Jigang was prepared to take on that burden himself. He knew how deeply Nabin cherished his mother. If he ensured her care continued, perhaps Nabin would choose to remain by his side willingly.
Gong Min’s feelings were unclear, but Tae Yishin likely wouldn’t care about a mana-less Guide. If that happened, Jigang was ready to live quietly with Nabin here in the villa, just the two of them.
“…I’m full.”
“Alright, let’s stop here.”
Nabin whispered it shyly, as though testing Jigang’s reaction. Half the plate was already empty, though Jigang had hardly noticed while feeding him.
Smiling with quiet pride, Jigang praised him with his gaze. By now, Nabin should have grown used to those smiles, but every time, he still flushed with embarrassment.
Whenever those dew-bright eyes trembled, Jigang found it impossible to look away. More and more, he caught himself staring like a man under a spell.
At length, Jigang pulled himself back to reality. As much as he wanted to stay like this forever, there were things to be done.
“Today’s your checkup at the Center. You remember, right?”
“…Yes.”
The staff had texted his phone about it a month ago, so of course Nabin knew. Jigang had also reminded him that morning: they’d head to the Center in the evening, so he should be ready.
Nabin had no freedom to go to the Center on his own. He needed permission from the Espers even to leave the villa. Only on days like this—when he had an appointment—could he stop by the hospital ward and see his mother.
That was why he lived counting down the days. Even now, in his daze, the thought of seeing her today was the one thing he clung to.
“You’ll visit the ward too. I’ll give you plenty of time.”
“…Really? Is that okay?”
“Of course. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ll take care of other business while you’re there.”
Jigang knew well what his mother meant to him. He knew the only reason Nabin hadn’t given up entirely was because he worried about leaving her behind.
Already, color had returned to his face at the thought of seeing her. A bittersweet ache lingered in Jigang’s chest, but stronger than that was relief—Nabin was coming alive again.
“…Can we go now?”
Nabin finally gathered his courage. Just as Jigang expected, his mother was the reason he could keep living. No matter how exhausted he was, one look at her, safe and cared for, gave him new strength. Even his heavy, waterlogged heart felt lighter, if only briefly.
Clutching Jigang’s pinky with delicate fingers, he looked up at him with desperate eyes. In the dim crimson glow of his gaze, a small storm was rising.
