“All right then. I’ll come too.”
“Yay~”
Hye-seong beamed, cheering softly.
“I was actually worried you weren’t going to show up.”
“Of course I have to. The Director would be really disappointed if I skipped out.”
“Right?!”
I knew it. I’m glad I said something. With a soft smile, Hye-seong seemed to pause in thought for a moment, then met Yoo Ji-ho’s eyes again.
“It’s a company dinner with the Director, and Yoo Ji-ho, you’re coming too? I’m really looking forward to it.”
“It’s definitely going to be fun.”
Nodding with sparkling eyes, Hye-seong happily tossed the remaining nuts into his mouth.
Then he quietly watched Yoo Ji-ho, who looked like he was holding back a laugh.
Tilting his head, Hye-seong stared at him like he was trying to memorize every detail of the moment.
I’m glad he’s in a good mood.
Just yesterday, Hye-seong had been feeling anxious because no one was giving him a clear answer. But not anymore.
This moment, after all, was a miraculous opportunity that had been handed to him.
It was a little bittersweet, yes—but not something he’d pinned his hopes on, so the looming goodbye didn’t feel quite so sad. In fact, it felt like he’d been gifted a full month.
That meant tonight’s dinner would be the second farewell gathering since he joined the Center.
Hye-seong was fully prepared to calmly accept whatever words would be said at the dinner. As long as he got to say goodbye to Yoo Ji-ho, that would be enough.
***
“You—what the hell are you doing here…?”
Director Shin muttered in disbelief upon suddenly finding himself alone with Yoo Ji-ho.
He’d left work earlier than anyone else to get to the dinner venue first—only to find Yoo Ji-ho already there.
It was like stepping back in time. Just one month ago.
The same place where, while Yoo Ji-ho had been asleep, Hye-seong had done Contact Guiding and run off. The same spot.
This was the very restaurant Yoo Ji-ho had stormed into to confront Director Shin.
“Hey! You ever heard of opening a door with your hands?”
Just like back then, Yoo Ji-ho made his entrance today by dramatically flinging the door open from afar.
“And you still don’t answer your phone at times like this.”
Every time he tried to unwind after leaving work early, this brat always showed up out of nowhere.
“I’ve told you more than once.”
“……”
“The things I hate the most are waiting on people and running around trying to find them.”
Yoo Ji-ho flashed a small smile.
“Though today, you were easy to find.”
“How’d you even know about this dinner?”
“Our white knight of a Guide told me. Said there was a dinner tonight, and that maybe the Director just forgot to tell me.”
“……That little punk.”
Only now did Director Shin piece the situation together.
He didn’t think to keep Hye-seong quiet about it. After all, not inviting Yoo Ji-ho to this kind of event was so obvious to everyone—especially the Director’s Office staff—that he hadn’t even considered secrecy necessary.
“Hye-seong’s funny, right? Oh wait—did you really forget to invite me?”
“O-of course not. I was totally going to invite everyone.”
As if. There was no way. Director Shin had zero intention of seeing Yoo Ji-ho here, and he was certain the feeling was mutual. He’d bet every rare orchid in his office on it.
“You trying to pull some shady-ass trick behind my back by setting this whole thing up?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You even dragged the temp here.”
“Look at this guy. We just thought it’d be nice to have dinner with the people we see every day. What’s the big deal?”
With smooth ease, Director Shin gave a natural response, raising his glass and pretending to sip water to mask his face.
He’d only planned to ask Hye-seong a few questions, now that his temporary term was almost over.
Like how Yoo Ji-ho was doing. Whether he was scheming some way to sneak out again. What exactly was going on. Why the Center had been so damn peaceful lately. Too peaceful. Whether he was being threatened. How Ji-ho seemed to feel about all this…
He’d wanted to dig into those things—but the whole plan had collapsed from the start. Accepting this, Director Shin asked frankly:
“So what’re you going to do? You know the kid’s getting anxious. Why haven’t you given him an answer?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Thinking, my ass. If you’re still hesitating, it’s already over. Starting Monday, let’s make Hye-seong your official Pair Guide. Got it?”
“If my rejection symptoms are improving to the point where I don’t even need him, do I really need a Pair Guide?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, do I really have to lock myself into a long-term partnership like that? How long do you think he’s going to believe I’m a decent person?”
Director Shin frowned. He didn’t follow the logic.
“Isn’t having a pair better than bouncing around to a bunch of different Guides?”
“……”
“You still hate being around lots of people, don’t you?”
But maybe he really was conflicted. From Director Shin’s perspective, Ji-ho genuinely looked confused.
Well, maybe what was harder for Ji-ho wasn’t being around multiple people—it was appeasing them. Director Shin asked cautiously:
“Is it that hard just to be nice to him? The kid still doesn’t seem to know anything.”
At that, Ji-ho glanced down at the table and hesitated for a beat before replying.
“It’s doable. For now, at least.”
“Re~ally?”
Director Shin perked up at the unexpected answer, and Ji-ho let out a soft laugh.
“It’s funny, watching him misunderstand.”
“…What?”
Director Shin stared at him for a moment, then suddenly gave a dry laugh. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.
“If things keep going like this and your shitty personality gets exposed, then just cut him off when that happens. There are plenty of ways to keep people quiet—why are you the one worrying?”
“…Huh. You’re right.”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Ji-ho murmured as he slowly nodded. Watching him, Director Shin muttered almost to himself:
“Once he finds out the truth, he’ll probably bolt and disappear on his own anyway.”
“……”
Shit. Director Shin flinched. Ji-ho’s gaze had suddenly turned sharp.
After staring forward in silence for a while, Ji-ho finally spoke, sounding oddly relieved:
“Yeah, I can just cut him off later. When I get tired of him.”
As he said this, he casually opened the menu, looking far more at ease than before. Watching him, Director Shin couldn’t help but marvel.
The guy’s planning to fire someone, and he looks that relaxed. What a devil.
No wonder people kept forgetting—forgetting that to Baek Hye-seong, this guy is an angel.
“Should we order the most expensive booze?”
The graceful curve of Ji-ho’s lips gleamed like he was genuinely looking forward to something.
That look sent a chill down Director Shin’s spine.
For a brief second, he had a gut feeling—this situation might not be going the way he thought it was.
“Huh? Uh… sure, do whatever.”
Director Shin pretended to take another sip of water while stealing a glance at Ji-ho.
So he’s content right now, huh?
That realization made the corner of his mouth twitch.
Yeah, if Ji-ho wasn’t okay, he would’ve barged into the Director’s Office right at quitting time, slammed the door, and declared that he was done with this bullshit once and for all.
But Esper instincts don’t lie. Ji-ho might’ve already been completely taken by Baek Hye-seong’s Guiding, without even realizing it.
Reports said that Ji-ho was in the best condition of his Esper life, and even just by looking at him, he seemed to have fully accepted the current situation.
It didn’t look like he was forcing himself to deal with someone he didn’t like just to keep a promise.
His mysterious rejection condition improving was great news from the Center’s standpoint.
But that didn’t mean they had any reason to cut a well-adjusted Pair Guide. The Center generally preferred to maintain the status quo, if possible. As long as Ji-ho didn’t pull a 180, this current arrangement could probably continue.
Which meant all Director Shin had to do was sit back and enjoy the show.
Relaxing, he grinned.
“He’s probably waiting for an answer, so if you’ve made up your mind, don’t drag it out—tell him soon.”
“Things are always better when they’re dramatic.”
Casting one last glance at the devil who enjoyed tormenting others, Director Shin suddenly looked up. Someone was approaching.
The door opened, and Dr. Na entered with the other staff—and with Hye-seong.
He froze like a statue.
“……”
“Hello!”
And behind him, Hye-seong gave a polite bow when he saw Ji-ho. The contrast between the two couldn’t have been starker.
Hye-seong looked overjoyed, unable to take his eyes off Ji-ho. Even though they’d already seen each other earlier, it was like meeting him twice in one day was still a miracle.
Director Shin turned back to Ji-ho. Ji-ho was pulling out the chair next to him and casually speaking to Hye-seong.
“You guys seem surprised. Told you—they really did forget. If it weren’t for you, Hye-seong, I would’ve missed out.”
“Really? I’m so glad I said something. Hehe…”
Dr. Na and Director Shin, now seated side by side, stiffened like wooden statues at the sight.
An uncomfortable silence fell between Dr. Na, who couldn’t hide his fluster, and Director Shin, who kept sneaking glances at him.
Only Ji-ho kept smiling brightly across the table. Then Hye-seong, eyes wide, started giggling along.
The two of them looked like night and day to the others. Pure black and white.
As far as they could tell, Ji-ho looked like he was just biding his time to bite Hye-seong’s head off—but apparently, Hye-seong didn’t see it that way.
“Dr. Na, take a drink. Might as well relax now that we’re here.”
“Make it a full pour, please.”
Tonight’s dinner may have gone off the rails, but at least the two of them seemed to be getting along. That was something, and they clinked glasses in silent resignation.
***
“Hye-seong, I’ve been cleaning up that bastard Ji-ho’s messes for ten years, you hear me? Ten years!”
“……”
“When he was a kid, I even bought all the juice he ever begged for—me! Bwahaha!”
The fast-paced drinking session naturally wrapped up with a drunken rant from Director Shin.
Late at night, after everyone had gone home, the Guide Dormitory at the Yeouido Center was lit by the soft glow of street lamps and the lights seeping from windows.
Standing in front of a bench by the street trees, Hye-seong clasped his hands politely and faced Yoo Ji-ho—who had walked him back—to offer one final farewell.
His expression was solemn.
“Before I go in, there’s something I need to confess to you, Yoo Ji-ho. First, I want to apologize for hiding this from you all this time.”
With that overly formal line, Hye-seong bowed deeply with hands clasped. His head dipped at a diagonal until he nearly lost balance and wobbled slightly.
Meanwhile, Ji-ho sat on the bench with his legs crossed, watching the whole scene with fascination. His expression might have seemed indifferent at a glance—but it wasn’t.
