At first, it had probably been nothing more than a clumsy curiosity—born out of doing close-contact Guiding with Nabin, whose Match Rate was unusually high. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore that, however awkwardly, they were falling deeper under his spell.
All three reacted that way, but the one who had changed the most was Han Jigang, now standing in front of Ryu Soh-an. Beneath the bright sunlight, his fiery red hair blazed, impossible not to notice.
Of everyone, Soh-an least wanted Jigang anywhere near Nabin. If, by some chance, Jigang managed to recall the time still alive in Nabin’s memory, Soh-an had no idea what kind of disaster might follow.
The Han Jigang Nabin remembered hadn’t just been cruel; his behavior had been so erratic, so alien, that even to Soh-an, who had known him for years, he’d seemed like a stranger.
Even now, when Soh-an blocked his path and tried to speak, Jigang acted as if he’d forgotten he existed. His eyes were fixed on the figure hidden behind Soh-an, locked in place like nails driven deep.
“…Who are you?”
His face was still, expressionless, but his eyes—flashing each time his lids blinked—raged like a storm. The air itself seemed ready to be pulled into them.
And then the pressure hit. It poured out of Jigang’s body in a wave, his emotions surging so violently that his mana rose in answer.
The fresh grass in the garden bowed low around him, pressed down as if by an unseen force.
Soh-an summoned his own strength, wrapping Nabin in mana. He hoped Nabin would get up, retreat into the safety of the mansion, but one glance told him otherwise. Like Jigang, Nabin seemed frozen in shock, unable to move.
He sat hunched in on himself, frail body trembling, vacant and unresponsive.
That left Soh-an no choice. He had to be ready to draw his blade against the man who had once been like a brother to him. The resolve stabbed through his chest, sharp as the knife he was preparing to wield.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Even with steady treatment, could Nabin really face the nightmare of his past when it came alive before his eyes? He had once convulsed so violently at catching the faintest trace of Ryu Somin in Soh-an that blood had stained his lips.
Soh-an had believed that the fragile mind once shredded to pieces was growing stronger with proper care. But judging by his reaction now, if Nabin so much as locked eyes with Jigang, anything could happen.
He tightened the barrier around Nabin, condensing his mana into solid form in his hands, ready to strike.
Healing Espers were usually weaker in combat than offensive ones. Many carried Artifacts to make up the difference.
But Soh-an preferred to fight with his own power. He wasn’t on par with Telekinesis Espers, but he had a gift for shaping the mana within his body into visible, tangible force.
The faint swirl of energy around his hands grew larger, thicker, with every passing moment.
“Go back, hyung. Now.”
Soh-an was prepared to fight, but he knew the truth—if it came to a real battle, he couldn’t win. Still, he couldn’t let Jigang get close to Nabin. He just needed to hold out until Hayan returned.
He knew what his defiance must look like to Jigang. And yet, Jigang had truly cared for him once. For all his fiery temper, he had tried to treat Soh-an well.
So maybe—just maybe—he could keep him at bay until Hayan came home. No—he had to.
The wounds carved into Nabin’s soul could never be erased. Soh-an could help them close, but the scars would remain.
Nabin was a miracle—living his second life. In this one, he deserved happiness more than anyone.
Whether it was blood kin or a brother-like friend, Soh-an was determined to block anyone who threatened that happiness. The years of turmoil within him hardened now into unshakable resolve.
“Ryu Soh-an. Move.”
The tragedy was that Soh-an wasn’t the only one carrying such thoughts. Jigang too had been tormented ever since he woke—haunted by nightmares he couldn’t remember.
If he knew the cause, at least he could find a solution. But the memories slipped away, leaving him powerless.
He had even considered going to someone with hypnotic powers, to drag those memories out of his subconscious.
And yet, the clue had been right in front of him all along. Today, Jigang felt he’d found it—the shape of the nightmare’s box, and the key to unlock it.
After the day Soh-an lost control and attacked them, Jigang decided he couldn’t just sit still. He started investigating his movements.
At first, he thought it would be easy—just a bit of digging and he’d uncover the cause of Soh-an’s strange behavior. But Soh-an, like prey constantly wary of predators, was on edge at all times, and the investigation slowed.
Besides, they couldn’t spend all their time tailing him. Jigang and the others still had missions to complete.
And after every mission, they had to use the Guiding machine to lower their Outbreak Risk Index. That was unavoidable, and it further slowed the pursuit.
“Don’t you think Ryu Soh-an seems back to normal now? Do we really need to keep following him and losing sleep?”
Tae Yishin’s suspicion quickly faded as Soh-an began looking more and more like his old self. Gong Min wasn’t much different—he just stared silently, siding with Yishin in his own quiet way.
Normally, Jigang would have dropped it too. But it felt like he was trapped on a runaway train.
A gut instinct gnawed at him. He couldn’t shake the sense that his unsettling dreams and Soh-an’s strange behavior were connected by some unseen thread.
That feeling was the only reason Jigang kept going, even as Yishin and Gong Min lost interest.
On the surface, Soh-an’s life looked unchanged. As a Healing Esper, he was stationed mostly at the Center, treating the injured brought in or dispatched to those who needed him, rather than sent on monster hunts.
But Jigang learned Soh-an had requested to be excused from combat missions for a while.
When he pressed the Administration Office staff for details, he discovered the truth: Soh-an was actually going on dispatches more often than before. Not for fighting, but to treat someone.
There shouldn’t have been that many urgent cases needing his personal attention, yet he was leaving almost every day.
Suspicious, Jigang checked the patients’ names. They seemed ordinary enough, but something about it unsettled him. Some he knew, some he didn’t—but it didn’t make sense that all of them had trauma severe enough to require Soh-an’s care.
“Jigang, you follow him today. Tomorrow it’s my turn, and the day after it’ll be Gong Min’s.”
At first, the three of them had taken turns tailing him. But they found little to report. Soh-an was, indeed, visiting patients exactly as his logs said.
The only oddity was his behavior—normally absentminded, he now scanned his surroundings like a meerkat standing guard.
If they’d had a wind Esper, maybe stealth would have been easier. But none of the three had such a gift. They couldn’t risk using too much power, or he’d sense the mana flow, so they relied on physical stealth alone—and it was far harder than expected.
Even as a Healer, Soh-an was still an S-rank Esper. And with his heightened vigilance, following him without being noticed grew harder every day.
After a week, Yishin began dropping out, making excuses or shadowing him half-heartedly. Gong Min shortened his own hours too.
To them, Soh-an seemed back to normal, and they hadn’t found anything suspicious enough to keep at it.
Only Jigang refused to quit. And his persistence finally paid off—he discovered a mansion Soh-an had been visiting every day.
