Ryu Soh-an’s thoughts shifted quickly. It wasn’t that Hayan was acting strange. With someone like him, it was only natural not just to talk more, but to give everything you had—your heart, your soul, even your very organs.
Nabin, worried that Hayan might not be eating enough because he was too busy looking after him, stopped mid-bite. He carefully speared the prettiest cut of steak and held it out. His cheeks were flushed pink, like a ripe peach.
Soh-an froze, the steak in his mouth forgotten, and just stared at him. He had never once felt envy in his life… but in that moment, he envied Hayan more than anyone else in the world.
Though shy, Nabin couldn’t take his eyes off Hayan. The fork in his hand trembled slightly, his fingers quivering. That alone showed just how much courage it had taken for him to do this. And the more Soh-an realized it, the heavier his envy grew.
“It’s good.”
Nabin had probably meant to place it on Hayan’s plate, but instead Hayan closed his hand over Nabin’s and guided the fork straight to his mouth. Soh-an wished he could switch places with him, even for an instant.
Why does this hurt so much…?
They were all sitting at the same round table, sharing the same meal. Yet in Nabin and Hayan’s world, Soh-an might as well have been invisible.
Even the premium Hanwoo steak, cooked perfectly medium—his favorite—felt tougher than rubber between his teeth.
***
“We didn’t end up buying any furniture today.”
“I’m sorry…”
Nabin immediately blamed himself. If he hadn’t been so frightened of crowds and clung to Hayan the whole time, they could have visited more stores.
“No, Nabin. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Every time Nabin apologized, Hayan’s chest tightened as if he couldn’t breathe. Nabin said sorry for things that weren’t his fault, watching Hayan’s face with anxious eyes. Hayan wished that even if Nabin felt uneasy around the world, at least with him, he’d feel safe. But he swallowed the selfish desire down.
A message came from the informant he’d hired to investigate Nabin’s past. The man asked how he should deliver the information. Hayan decided he would meet him later tonight, once Nabin had fallen asleep.
If he could just understand a little of the life Nabin had endured, maybe he could comfort him better.
He wasn’t used to consoling anyone, so his clumsy efforts frustrated him. The most he could do now was take advantage of a red light, turn toward Nabin, and gently stroke his hair.
“Let’s just pick something online when we get home.”
Furniture was easy enough to buy online. Today’s outing was never really about shopping—it was an excuse to spend time with Nabin.
Hayan silently renewed his vow: from now on, every word and gesture toward Nabin had to be chosen carefully, almost like self-censorship. What seemed light to him might weigh heavily on Nabin’s shoulders.
“…Okay.”
The gentle tone and the soft stroke of his hair seemed to reach him. Nabin lifted his head a little, met Hayan’s gaze, and answered. His eyes still trembled faintly, but they no longer looked anxious.
***
“Esper Lee Hayan, here’s a housewarming gift.”
“Thank you.”
After they left the department store, Ryu Soh-an drove behind Hayan and Nabin. He hadn’t stayed close all day for no reason—he wanted to try treating Nabin.
At their first meeting, Nabin had suffered a seizure before Soh-an could even touch him. Today, with Nabin’s permission, he hoped to at least attempt the lightest touch, even just fingertips brushing.
After parting ways in the parking lot, Soh-an had wandered the department store alone, picking out gifts. Though he chose carefully for Hayan, he spent three or four times longer selecting Nabin’s.
He retrieved the neatly wrapped boxes from his back seat and handed Hayan’s over first—a diffuser from a famous brand, safe and appropriate for a housewarming gift.
It wasn’t as though Hayan looked pleased to see him, but technically it was Soh-an’s first time visiting his mansion.
When he gave Hayan the gift, he moved casually, without hesitation. But when the moment came to hand Nabin his, his fingertips shook over something so small that he had to swallow dryly, again and again.
“This one… is for Guide Kim Nabin.”
The difference between the two gifts was obvious. Hayan’s came in a simple logoed paper bag. Nabin’s was carefully boxed and tied with a pale pink ribbon—wrapping he had paid extra for.
In truth, he had only bought Hayan’s to make Nabin’s gift less conspicuous. If he gave only Nabin something, it might have been too burdensome.
“…For me?”
Nabin tilted his head slightly, puzzled at the gift offered to him. Soh-an wanted to shower him with presents, the way Hayan had bought him clothes earlier.
But he restrained himself, afraid that Nabin would see it not as kindness, but as pressure.
“Yes. It’s nothing extravagant… I hope you’ll accept it.”
The box trembled in his hands, as if alive. He’d agonized over it since yesterday, when he first met Nabin.
Too expensive, and Nabin might try to return it. He had circled the department store five times before deciding on something that expressed goodwill without being overwhelming.
Though he’d known what item to buy, the wide range of prices and designs had dragged the choice out. He always shopped slowly, but this was the first time he had ever spent so long picking something out for another person.
Nabin hesitated briefly, then accepted the small box. It was just the right size to hold in both hands.
The neat white box wrapped with a pink ribbon stood out, charming in its own way, as though the wrapping itself carried the giver’s heart.
Aside from his early childhood, Nabin had never received such a prettily wrapped present. The clothes Hayan bought today were gifts too, but they hadn’t felt like this—like an honest-to-goodness present.
Soh-an’s resemblance to Ryu Somin still unsettled him, but refusing such an earnestly wrapped gift was impossible for someone like Nabin.
…What’s their relationship?
Ryu Soh-an. Ryu Somin.
Their names, their faces—they could have been brothers. But Nabin lacked the courage to ask. He had never seen Soh-an before returning here.
If he really was Somin’s brother, or another healer, then surely Nabin should have run into him—whether in the treatment ward when Esper Kim Su-hyun had healed him, or even in the mansion.
The questions kept rising, but he buried them deep, as he always had. Curiosity itself felt like a luxury.
The days when he had survived only by not thinking, by enduring, still clung to him like scars on his wrists.
Clutching the gift box, Nabin slipped quietly behind Hayan. Soh-an didn’t look unkind, but speaking face-to-face with strangers was still too overwhelming.
And Ryu Somin had approached him once too, with gentle eyes and a kind smile. Nabin had truly believed his intentions were good.
Since childhood, Nabin had lived hyper-aware of others’ moods, quick to sense either goodwill or malice. But Somin’s malice had been so thoroughly wrapped in kindness that he had realized too late.
If Somin had never revealed his hostility, Nabin might never have known at all.
The resemblance—the face, the sky-colored eyes, the kindness—everything mirrored that memory. No wonder Soh-an triggered such an instinctive aversion in him, stronger than toward anyone else.
And though he felt guilty for reacting this way to someone who was, technically, a stranger, he couldn’t stop himself. Nor did he know what to do about it.
“Nabin, let’s go inside. Esper Ryu Soh-an, you too.”
Hayan’s eyes flicked to the box in Nabin’s arms. The sight of the pretty wrapping brought back a memory—when he had given Nabin an Artifact.
Back then, of course, there had been no ribboned box. He had slipped it on Nabin’s wrist casually, without ceremony. Compared to Soh-an’s sugar-sweet gesture, the difference was undeniable.
Even the clothes they bought today had been sent directly to the mansion. Though he had brought Nabin to the department store, Hayan hadn’t once given him anything directly, hand-to-hand.
Realizing that hit him hard. He had never seriously tried to win someone’s heart before, never put in the effort.
That it was Nabin who now stirred such feelings—he was glad. But because it was all so new, his clumsiness frightened him. He worried that, without meaning to, he might hurt him.
