Unlike yesterday, Bae Yeon-woo didn’t say much during lunch with Ho-eun. Instead of chatting, he quietly offered him more meat and kept eating in silence.
Resting his chin on his hand, Yeon-woo watched Ho-eun eat—and damn, the food was vanishing fast.
He couldn’t help but wonder if half of Ho-eun’s paycheck was going straight into food. The guy kept ordering extra rice like he had a bottomless stomach, and a metaphorical target mark started forming on Yeon-woo’s forehead.
“You’ve eaten enough to be full by now, haven’t you?”
“I’m just really hungry today.”
Glancing at the near-empty plate of boiled pork, Yeon-woo hit the bell on the right side of the table and called over a server. He added one more large serving of boiled pork to the order and silently traced the character 忍 (patience) into his palm.
Humans really are fickle creatures. Whoever came up with “people are different going into and out of the bathroom” deserved a Like button. Yeon-woo would’ve clicked it.
He was the one who said those harsh words yesterday, and he was the one who took Ho-eun out for a good meal as a way of apologizing—but seeing the guy chow down so enthusiastically made Yeon-woo wonder if he’d worried for nothing.
“Good thing you joined the field team.”
“Huh?”
“Your food expenses would be insane otherwise.”
Ho-eun paused mid-chew and glanced at the pile of empty bowls next to him. Normally, he’d have eaten a moderate amount when dining with a regular person, but after everything that happened that morning, he hadn’t been able to control his appetite.
Scraping together the last spoonful, Ho-eun popped it into his mouth and finally set down his spoon.
“Thanks for the meal, Assistant Manager.”
Yeon-woo’s pupils twitched mid-sip. That was… not the kind of thing he’d expected to hear after the meal.
Relaxing his previously stiff expression, Yeon-woo flicked an eyebrow.
“Meat really does give you energy.”
“Seriously, don’t thank me. It’s a company card.”
Grumbling as he said it, Yeon-woo’s mouth twitched into a small pout. Ho-eun, watching this live performance of him suppressing a smile, thought to himself that the assistant manager was one hell of a tsundere.
***
Back at the Incheon branch, Yeon-woo ordered Ho-eun to meet him at the training hall in ten minutes.
Unlike yesterday, Ho-eun used the break to change into training gear, just in case. He wore the comfortable tracksuit set they’d given out during the physical exam, complete with sneakers. For some reason, it made him feel like he could move a lot better.
While Ho-eun was fully suited up, Yeon-woo hadn’t even changed out of his office clothes. Maybe this was what it looked like when you were one of the chosen ones.
“Let’s get speed training down by the end of the week.”
“Is there more training after speed?”
“There’s a bunch. But weapon handling and close combat are mandatory.”
“This is really starting to feel like special agent training.”
“Not far off.”
Stretching out his long limbs, Yeon-woo looked over at Ho-eun like he was ready to go. A strange tension passed between them.
“Phew…”
Taking a deep breath, Ho-eun steadied himself. The image of the Guide’s grave from that morning burned fresh in his mind.
If you can’t get out of a dangerous site properly, you die.
The moment he became a field agent, he’d made an unwilling friend named Death. And it was the kind of “friend” you couldn’t cut ties with—you just had to avoid when possible.
As if cutting off all unnecessary thoughts, Ho-eun held his breath and launched forward. Maybe it was the workout clothes, but his body felt light today.
Sensing movement behind him, Ho-eun grit his teeth. His lungs screamed for air, and his calves felt like they were about to explode—but he pushed through it.
Flap—
He caught the faint sound of a dress shirt flapping. Yeon-woo was behind him. He could feel the assistant manager’s presence reaching for the back of his neck—like they were playing a game of tag. The chase had begun.
Yeon-woo reached out as he closed in. Ho-eun was definitely faster than yesterday, but Yeon-woo still had the upper hand in terms of raw speed.
Maintaining his pace with the ease of someone out on a brisk walk, Yeon-woo finally decided to stop holding back and picked up the pace.
Yesterday, he’d only lost because he was being careless—there would be no such slipup today. As he reached to grab Ho-eun’s collar, the younger man suddenly broke away from the path.
“!!!”
Ho-eun jumped off the ground and kicked off a wall—vaulting clean over the outer barrier of the training area.
Yeon-woo looked up at him with a deflated sigh. If Ho-eun had kept running, he would’ve definitely been caught. But he’d pulled off a clean relocation using parkour.
Parkour—an acrobatic movement style that uses the terrain and surrounding objects to shift positions fluidly. It’s a skill only a small number of highly athletic people with strong spatial awareness can pull off.
Even back in school, Ho-eun had never climbed a wall. But now here he was, perching precariously on top of one. He hadn’t planned it—it was instinct. He’d realized that if he kept running in a straight line, he would definitely get caught.
A cool breeze brushed over his sweaty forehead. Ho-eun looked down at Yeon-woo, panting hard.
I did it!
His lips curled into a triumphant smile.
“Get down.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t get all smug just ‘cause you succeeded once. That kind of attitude gets you killed in the field.”
Ho-eun, who’d been expecting praise, pouted as he jumped down from the wall. To Yeon-woo, Ho-eun’s smug face looked like someone with barely any skill acting cocky. Embarrassment crept up on him.
“Well… not bad.”
As Ho-eun wiped the sweat off his neck and glanced at Yeon-woo, the assistant manager’s cheeks twitched behind the hand covering his mouth.
When he finally dropped his hand, he wore a perfectly neutral expression.
“Must mean I’m just that good at teaching.”
“Haha…”
Ho-eun, thinking he was about to get complimented, visibly wilted. Even his hair looked deflated. The sight gave Yeon-woo a pang in his chest, but he stuck to his principle: criticism over praise. That was his training style.
“Focus.”
Smack. A sharp flick to the forehead jolted Ho-eun. Yeon-woo had somehow closed the distance and landed a clean hit. A red bump started to form where he’d been struck, and Ho-eun rubbed it with a wince.
“Now we’re working on cutting down your sprint time. Get ready.”
Yeon-woo pulled a whistle from inside his shirt and blew it hard. The sharp sound filled the space, and Ho-eun quickly returned to the starting line.
Nearly two hours passed as Ho-eun shaved down his time over and over again. Eventually, he collapsed onto the ground, totally spent.
“Hahh… hahh…”
Hoarse gasps tore from his throat. Yeon-woo checked the numbers on his tablet—his sprint times were down, and his breath control had improved. It was the most progress Yeon-woo had ever seen in a single day. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Assistant Manager… I really can’t run anymore…”
Ho-eun’s pitiful whining made Yeon-woo strike a thoughtful pose, hand on his hip. Normally, he’d offer a break right away. But since Ho-eun asked first instead of pushing through… it kind of killed the mood.
Back in my day, Yeon-woo thought, we swallowed our complaints. Kids these days just blurt them out.
“One more.”
His cold tone left no room for debate. Ho-eun had to swallow his tears and run again.
Finally, after completing the last lap, Ho-eun collapsed onto a bench. Yeon-woo handed him a card.
“Go eat with your intern buddies.”
“…Huh?”
“For dinner. Use that.”
Usually, the cards Yeon-woo handed out were blue. But this one was black. Holding it with both hands, Ho-eun glanced down at the name—Bae Yeon-woo, written in English.
It was his personal card.
“Thank you…”
Ho-eun bowed deeply. Yeon-woo kicked a nearby rock with his shoe.
So this was a “warm iced Americano.” Warm… but cold. He flipped moods like two-toned origami paper.
Or maybe… his attitude’s been consistent all along?
Ho-eun pulled out his phone and texted the other interns.
He’d been meaning to buy them dinner to thank them for their help with the promo video. Seeing the card reminded him. Replies came quickly—they weren’t busy.
“Let’s wrap it up here.”
Stretching his stiff neck, Yeon-woo checked his guide watch. Ho-eun sat up and brushed off his pants.
If there was one perk to being a Guide, it was the flexible hours. Unless you were out in the field, you only needed to hit 40 hours a week. That meant on slow days, you often finished early like this.
“Oh, by the way. Tomorrow morning, Nam Woon-soo and I have something else to do, so use that time to guide Do In-ho.”
They were just leaving the training hall when Yeon-woo casually tossed out the comment. Ho-eun stopped in his tracks.
Alone… with Do In-ho.
“Why’s your face turning red?”
“Huh?”
Ho-eun touched his cheek. His skin was burning hot.
“Wait—did you tell him yet?”
“Tell him… what?”
“The filming thing.”
Yeon-woo frowned as he stared at Ho-eun’s dazed face. After that whole counseling session this morning… and yet, judging by that expression, Ho-eun had completely forgotten.
“If it’s just about communication between partners, there’s no need to overthink it.”
“R-Right…”
“Unless you’re hesitating because Do In-ho might take it the wrong way?”
Ho-eun hesitated. Take it the wrong way? He didn’t quite get what Yeon-woo meant.
The reason he hadn’t told In-ho right away was simple. If Ho-eun got exposed, that would naturally raise the danger level for his partner, Do In-ho. That meant he’d be putting him at risk, too.
“There’s something I always tell new Guides—set clear boundaries with your Esper.”
“….”
“If you don’t, they start to think the Guide feels the same way.”
Yeon-woo’s words hit like a complicated math problem. Couldn’t solve #1, looked at #2—also unsolvable. And Ho-eun had picked liberal arts specifically to avoid math.
The assistant manager’s words… they sounded like Korean, but they were probably numbers in disguise. Otherwise, why the hell couldn’t a native speaker like him understand them?
“Let’s go.”
A light tap on his shoulder snapped Ho-eun out of his thoughts.
Yeon-woo’s hand, quick to disappear, had been colder than expected. But the heat lingering in Ho-eun’s cheeks quickly began to fade.
