Director Shin shook his head with disbelief, silently impressed. Goosebumps rippled across his arms at the sight—it was like watching someone with a tail wagging behind them. How exactly had he managed to lure the kid over? Whatever the method, it was nothing short of sorcery.
What the hell was Baek Hye-seong so worried about, anyway? From Director Shin’s perspective, Yoo Ji-ho looked perfectly fine. That was probably because the version of Yoo Ji-ho he was most used to seeing was the one who always looked tense and exhausted.
Still, there was a very specific reason why he hadn’t been able to leave his office despite being absolutely starving. He couldn’t trust that pretty-faced menace—who had no sense of shame, no morals, and not a single shred of decency—not to cause trouble in this sacred space.
“Oof.”
Eventually, Director Shin’s stomach growled loud enough to echo.
Immediately, Yoo Ji-ho glanced over at him with a look of utter contempt. But the glare didn’t last long. Hye-seong awkwardly chuckled and tried to shift the subject.
“Yoo Ji-ho, did you eat lunch yet?”
“Oh, wanna eat together?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Director Shin jumped in.
“Hey, that reminds me—Dr. Na’s been obsessed with that new chicken noodle soup joint just down the block. Hye-seong, you been there yet?”
“Oh! No, not yet! I’ve heard great things though. Dr. Na’s recommended it a bunch.”
“Oho, then how about the three of us grab a bowl together—”
“Hye-seong, let’s just grab something tasty and eat at home. I’m too tired to go out.”
Yoo Ji-ho cut him off. Hye-seong, who had been looking at Director Shin across the table, turned his gaze back to Yoo Ji-ho.
“Then you should eat at home, but Director Shin was saying he wanted—”
“Oh, we can pick up some cake on the way too. You get to choose.”
“Me?”
Yoo Ji-ho stood up without hesitation.
“Yeah, a cake for just the two of us.”
“Uh…”
While Hye-seong sat there in a daze, Yoo Ji-ho reached under his arm and lifted him straight up, then dragged him out the door without a second thought.
Left alone, Director Shin clutched his empty stomach and gnashed his teeth in Yoo Ji-ho’s direction.
***
Every time the glass bottle tilted, tiny glowing stones inside tumbled down in a soft cascade.
Hye-seong lay on the bed, fiddling with the bottle as he waited for sleep to come. The Gate crystal Yoo Ji-ho had given him was perfect for calming a stormy mind.
The bottle wasn’t filled with water, but oil. And the stones floating within slowly shimmered in hues of pink as they drifted. It was mesmerizing—enough to draw out a quiet gasp every time he looked. The way something could glow so beautifully in the dark was almost magical.
Maybe it was because it came from the darkness…
Yoo Ji-ho had said he needed time to think, but he hadn’t really given Hye-seong the space to do any deep thinking of his own. The room he was lying in right now was inside Yoo Ji-ho’s private residence—the room that had been prepared specifically for Hye-seong.
Maybe that’s why he kept hesitating. Even though he knew the answer, just being close to Yoo Ji-ho made him want things he shouldn’t.
Bzzz—
A soft vibration buzzed from the pager he’d left on the nightstand. When he sat up to check it, the name glowing on the screen was none other than Yoo Ji-ho.
He hesitated for a few seconds before moving to answer.
“……”
—Did I wake you?
He held his breath after accepting the call, and for real, Yoo Ji-ho’s voice came through. Hye-seong’s eyes immediately widened.
“N-No, I wasn’t sleeping…”
He bit down on his lip mid-sentence. His voice had come out sounding nervous—plain as day.
“Uh, um, did you… need something?”
“Need something?” God, why did he say it like that? It sounded like he was annoyed by the call or something. Talking to a superior always made him feel awkward as hell.
Why can’t words ever be unsaid once they’re out? Thinking that, Hye-seong shifted to a more upright sitting position and listened intently.
—I was wondering if I’m thinking too much.
“……”
He was calling in the middle of the night to ask something like that? That wasn’t fair. Especially when Hye-seong’s head was already on the verge of exploding from overthinking everything about Yoo Ji-ho.
“Yeah. I think you’re doing fine.”
He answered honestly. A soft chuckle came through the line.
—Just kidding.
“Ah…”
So it was a joke. Stunned, he just sat there blankly. Then came another quiet laugh.
For a moment, Hye-seong forgot he was being teased—completely focused on the sound of that laugh.
They’d spoken at dawn before, just not over a device like this. And somehow, hearing Yoo Ji-ho’s voice through that thin stream of sound made it feel oddly unfamiliar. And wonderful. So wonderful, he wanted to hear it every day.
It probably would’ve sounded even clearer over the phone.
Kneeling on the bed, he brought the pager closer to his ear. Aside from the occasional breath, there was nothing but silence.
Even though Yoo Ji-ho had called him first, he’d only dropped that one random joke and hadn’t said anything else.
Hye-seong was just about to say something—feeling the creeping unease—when:
—I can’t sleep.
“……”
Hye-seong froze, concern beginning to cloud his face. There were so many questions packed into that one sentence.
He’d been sleeping just fine until now. So why now?
And why say something like that to me…?
“Yoo Ji-ho.”
He couldn’t help but ask, cautiously.
“Then… am I supposed to…”
As his words trailed off, Yoo Ji-ho answered first.
—I’m waiting for you.
Those words pulled Hye-seong forward like a magnet.
His room was just down the hallway on the same floor. He’d walked this corridor dozens of times, but this was the first time he’d been summoned like this in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s why his steps felt hesitant.
When he quietly opened the door, he saw Yoo Ji-ho sitting on the edge of the bed, back turned to him.
Hye-seong slowly approached and sat beside him.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is your insomnia back? Even after being guided?”
Yoo Ji-ho said it seemed like it. Though he didn’t sound entirely sure.
Sitting next to him, Hye-seong fell into thought.
But I just guided him earlier. Why is this happening…?
All the guiding he’d done for Yoo Ji-ho since coming to his house had been like pouring water into an already-full cup—again and again.
Despite the wide rank gap between them, Yoo Ji-ho had never left him alone. With the amount of guiding they’d done, even the short session earlier had stabilized his wave pattern completely.
If he still couldn’t sleep, something else must be wrong.
Yoo Ji-ho let out a faint sigh—barely audible—then finally spoke.
“I know I said I’d give you space, your own room and everything… but knowing you were nearby made it impossible not to call. I’m sorry.”
He was clearly one of the strongest people alive, and yet, in moments like this, Hye-seong couldn’t help but look at him with pity.
Shaking his head, Hye-seong reached out a hand.
“Good thing I didn’t leave then. This way, I can come right over when you need me.”
“……”
A small white hand settled gently on top of a larger one. Yoo Ji-ho stared down at it without saying a word, as if lost in thought.
Even though his energy levels had dropped since they’d returned from Jeju, Yoo Ji-ho had still been receiving steady guiding from Hye-seong.
But for his condition to deteriorate this much—this fast—was a bad sign for an Esper. A very bad one.
What was stranger was that when Hye-seong had checked his wave pattern earlier that morning, everything had looked perfectly normal.
“Did you have trouble sleeping last night too?”
“Yeah.”
“……”
He couldn’t always be at his side, so a little bit of time apart shouldn’t have triggered such a sharp decline.
Maybe… maybe Yoo Ji-ho really did need a better Guide.
Instead of falling into despair, Hye-seong clasped Yoo Ji-ho’s arm with both hands. He had to do what he could—right now.
Even with just that gentle nudge, Yoo Ji-ho quietly laid down on the bed.
“Ah…!”
And just like that, he pulled Hye-seong down with him.
Arms wrapping around him from behind, Yoo Ji-ho reached forward to take his hand.
“I won’t do anything. I swear… I won’t do anything.”
“……”
“Just stay like this. Just for a moment.”
The voice was desperate, even if it shouldn’t have been. Hye-seong found himself frozen in place.
Yoo Ji-ho’s long, slender fingers brushed against his palm, then slowly traced over each of his fingertips.
