Thud!
Just minutes ago, Kwon Ho-eun had vowed that he wouldn’t get beaten again. Yet now, he was rolling all over the ground like a ragdoll.
“Out.”
“I’ll go again.”
His black trousers were covered in dust from being slammed around. Ho-eun was rolling across the artificial turf like a bowling ball, helpless against Bae Yeon-woo’s gestures. This was the same field where he’d taken his physical fitness test—wide, open, and covered in synthetic grass.
Unlike his intern days, where someone had thoughtfully prepared training clothes for him, this time, Bae Yeon-woo had looked him up and down upon arrival and simply said:
“You’re running, right?”
That one sentence was all the ignition needed. Still in his suit, Ho-eun sprinted around like mad. From a distance, it might’ve looked like kids playing tag, but the reality was far more brutal—if you got caught, you were met with a flying kick and sent tumbling to the ground. A high-stakes game.
“Pant, pant… Why are you so fast?”
“You’re just slow.”
Even though Ho-eun was running hard, legs pumping, Bae Yeon-woo still caught him with ease. Once he had Ho-eun’s arm, his grip strength made it impossible to break free—even for someone as sturdy as Ho-eun.
“In the field, that arm would’ve been sliced off.”
Yeon-woo finally released his hold. After a morning of teaching desk work, this was the afternoon session: real-world fieldwork training.
While field guides were usually placed in relatively safe zones, that didn’t mean they were completely safe. If you were up against an anti-government Esper—someone who acted on their own will regardless of circumstances—it didn’t matter if you were in a designated safe zone. The moment you were discovered, it was game over.
So then—what should a guide do in that moment?
Run. Run like hell.
“Again.”
“Phew…”
Taking a deep breath, Ho-eun darted away from Yeon-woo again. His movements were sharp—fast enough that you’d believe it if someone said he was a sprinter. But his opponent was an Esper. This level of speed wouldn’t be enough to survive. He was still getting caught with ease, even by another guide like Bae Yeon-woo.
Furious, Ho-eun grabbed a handful of turf, trying to hold back his frustration. His calves felt like they were going to burst, and his soles were on fire. But no matter how hard he ran, he kept getting caught.
As he lay on his back, staring up at the sky, he suddenly felt the hard sole of a dress shoe press against his head. Startled by the pressure, Ho-eun exhaled a ragged breath and shut his eyes.
“This is when your head would get blown off.”
Yeon-woo lifted his foot and yanked Ho-eun back up by the collar. Gasping, Ho-eun steadied his breathing and braced himself to run again.
“Relax your shoulders. You’re too focused on your breathing, so you’re losing concentration.”
Don’t waste energy on breathing.
Repeating Yeon-woo’s words in his mind, Ho-eun took the smallest breath possible and exhaled just as briefly.
As the soles of his feet pushed off the turf and he lifted into the air, he finally understood what people meant when they said “light as a feather.”
His body felt weightless. Unlike before, when he’d been sprinting with brute force, his strides were now smooth, like Yeon-woo’s, with minimal movement.
Just as he heard footsteps behind him, he felt a hand brush past the back of his head—but it didn’t catch him. Turning swiftly, he saw Yeon-woo standing there, his hand outstretched, grasping at air.
“Haah… haah…”
As soon as he stopped, the breath he’d been holding exploded out of him. He was even more breathless than when he’d been running nonstop.
Clutching his chest and coughing, Ho-eun dropped to one knee, gasping and pounding at his aching lungs.
“And this is when you die—again.”
Just when he thought he’d finally escaped, a chill touched the back of his neck. Startled, Ho-eun instinctively dropped to both knees.
He hadn’t even heard Yeon-woo’s footsteps. How could someone run that lightly? He had no choice but to acknowledge his defeat and reached out, parched, for water.
Yeon-woo grabbed a water bottle he’d stashed in the corner and handed it over.
Watching the way Ho-eun hastily gulped it down, letting water spill down his chin and neck, Yeon-woo was quietly stunned.
He’d known Ho-eun had above-average stamina, but even among guides, very few could regulate their breathing and run like that.
He’d succeeded once—now he just needed to build up duration.
With stamina like this, even with a D-grade, it wasn’t entirely insane for him to be guiding Do In-ho. But it still wasn’t enough. Even if his physical limits were high, the guiding limits would catch up eventually.
“If you want to lose an Esper, you’ve gotta run like that for minutes, not seconds.”
“Haaah…”
“Back in my day, we tied car tires around our waists and ran. You sighing already?”
“No, sir.”
Just when he’d been hoping for some praise, Bae Yeon-woo shoved him right back off the cliff.
Is this what they call a lion’s method of raising its cubs?
Ho-eun kept sprinting for hours, smacking his aching thighs and groaning from muscle fatigue.
***
“You done for the day?”
The evening sky looked like a freshly grilled pepperoni pizza. Covered in dust and grime from head to toe, Ho-eun gave his clothes a half-hearted shake and called.
—Yeah. I’m finished. What about you, hyung?
Even through the receiver, Do In-ho’s voice had a different vibe to it—steady, warm, with a hint of intimacy buried between the low tones and unhurried rhythm. That tone was clearly meant for one person only.
“Hyung. Over here.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around, he came face-to-face with the very voice on the other end of the call.
Do In-ho slipped his phone into his pocket and naturally stepped beside Ho-eun.
While Ho-eun looked like he’d been through a war, Do In-ho looked exactly the same as he had that morning. His tailored suit still looked perfect—he could’ve walked straight onto a photoshoot set.
“Haha… I look like a mess, don’t I?”
Ho-eun had been staring when he noticed the gaze from above. He looked up to meet Do In-ho’s eyes. Their eyes locked.
Only then did Ho-eun become aware of his disheveled appearance and awkwardly lifted a hand to smooth his hair.
“It’s fine.”
A large, firm hand gently patted the back of his head. The serious look on Do In-ho’s face made it seem like he didn’t even know how to joke—making it all the more absurd and somehow even funnier.
“No, seriously. I was looking up at the sky, and the sun looked like pizza for some reason. So I figured—tonight, it’s pizza. That okay with you?”
One perk of the Esper Corporation was that you didn’t have to push through packed crowds during rush hour. There weren’t many cars around the branch office either, so walking through the well-kept landscape felt peaceful.
“Yeah. I like that.”
“Hm?”
Focused on the scenery, Do In-ho hadn’t heard his answer. Ho-eun tilted his head up, eyes wide and shy.
“I said I like it.”
“…Oh! Pizza. Right. Didn’t know you liked pizza that much.”
Their hands brushed lightly as they walked, each touch like a jolt of static. Spotting a brightly lit pizza sign up ahead, Ho-eun hurried over like a pilgrim meeting their savior.
I see your face every morning, and I still haven’t built up immunity to how good-looking you are.
Even most famous actors couldn’t top that blank expression whispering “I like you.” It was just about pizza, and yet, why did his heart feel like it was riding a rollercoaster?
Ding!
Do In-ho naturally held the door open, and the chime rang as they stepped inside.
Inside, as Ho-eun studied the menu, his thoughts of Do In-ho finally quieted down.
“Picked what you want?”
“Cheese and pepperoni… and for the third?”
“You like shrimp, right? Let’s get shrimp.”
“Sounds good!”
As Ho-eun brought the menu to the counter, Do In-ho subtly positioned himself between him and the part-timer’s line of sight and placed the order first. Before Ho-eun could even pull out his wallet, Do In-ho had already handed over his card.
“Payment complete. By the way…”
“Ho-eun hyung. Wait outside.”
The part-timer looked like he had more to say, but Do In-ho cut him off cleanly, slinging an arm around Ho-eun’s shoulder and guiding him out.
Do In-ho had the kind of sharp, intimidating aura that made it easy for him to walk around alone without issue. But oddly enough, Ho-eun always attracted attention—probably because his voice and behavior from the PR video left people feeling warm and approachable.
“Looks like fall’s on its way. Sun’s setting faster.”
Do In-ho frowned slightly, and Ho-eun, catching the unguarded expression, tilted his head.
“Something wrong?”
“…No.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing. Tell me.”
Since the Incheon branch was surrounded by forest, the night sky, once cleared of clouds, showed off a surprising number of stars.
To Do In-ho, stars were just part of the scenery—something you saw every day when you opened a window. But people from the outside often got sentimental looking at them.
It was still baffling to him—why people got emotional over bits of hydrogen burning light-years away.
But those stars couldn’t outshine the man in front of him.
Looking at Ho-eun’s soft, open expression made him understand why some people turned poetic at the sight of stars.
That face made him want to be honest, even when he shouldn’t.
But his own honesty… was dirty. Filthy. No one had to teach him that—it was instinct. That if he revealed it, it’d ruin everything.
“Hmm?”
Warmth spread through his hands as Ho-eun gently took them, and a sweet guiding sensation flowed in.
Do In-ho carefully chose his words, wrapping his feelings in the prettiest packaging he could find, making sure the contents stayed hidden.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
“People recognizing you…”
“Recognizing me?”
“You’re my guide.”
Startled, Ho-eun’s eyes flicked up, but he waited—letting Do In-ho finish.
“It feels like they’re stealing you. I hate it.”
His slightly surprised expression softened.
“Oh, come on. They’re only acting like that now. You know me best.”
“……”
“Isn’t it enough that you know the side of me they don’t?”
Do In-ho’s voice melted through the cool night air like butter. Even the way his eyebrows twitched seemed to silently say it’s not enough, making Ho-eun smile again.
There was something so oddly innocent about that cold, serious face saying, You’re my guide. It was almost pure.
“Should I stick a label on my forehead? ‘Kwon Ho-eun, exclusive guide to Do In-ho’?”
“…Yes.”
“Wait—seriously?”
Ho-eun’s eyes widened, brows lifting in surprise. Do In-ho finally shook his head with a small laugh.
“People will stop recognizing me as much. It’ll be fine.”
Closing his eyes, Do In-ho nodded slowly.
But inside, a voice whispered: This isn’t enough. He shoved those squirming, ugly feelings deep, deep down.
A fake smile tugged at his lips. That was enough honesty for today.
It was just one video. People would forget with time.
“Pizza’s ready.”
As soon as Ho-eun walked out of view, Do In-ho’s smile dropped.
Watching him chat with the part-timer, Do In-ho’s cold gaze turned ice-sharp.
This time, though, he made sure his expression stayed unreadable.
