2) delicate
A strict order came down for Ji Gwan-young and Choi Tae-hoon.
‘You two must become close.’
An order that sounded like something you’d give elementary school kids who kept fighting was, in fact, desperately necessary for this barren Pair who had only exchanged contact information after having sex for the first time and leaving the residence. While trading phone numbers with Ji Gwan-young, Choi Tae-hoon couldn’t hide the shocked look on his face at the realization that he had slept with a man whose contact information he hadn’t even known.
But that abstract phrase—become close—wasn’t something that could be accomplished just by declaring, “Starting today, you and I are becoming friends, done deal!”
In other words, even if Ji Gwan-young returned to the film set that had temporarily halted production, and Choi Tae-hoon began receiving training and aptitude testing at The Center while awkwardly exchanging updates about their lives, that didn’t mean they would suddenly grow close.
—What did you do today?
—Um… same as usual. Mental care counseling in the morning, then Center training and aptitude testing in the afternoon. Ah. Apparently I’m well-suited for Guide education.
—That fits you. Maybe because you have a lot of younger siblings.
Still, they did learn a little more about each other.
Ji Gwan-young was slightly surprised by the way Choi Tae-hoon took meticulous care of his younger siblings without ever seeming annoyed by them, while Choi Tae-hoon inwardly clicked his tongue after realizing that Ji Gwan-young had an almost bizarre lack of trust or expectations toward people.
Esper Ji Gwan-young and Guide Choi Tae-hoon had personalities that seemed to stand at opposite extremes. It was so difficult to find common ground between them that, even setting aside their relationship as a Pair, it was hard to understand why they had ended up sharing a Name at all.
Lying on his bed, Tae-hoon stared blankly at the dark screen of his phone.
Fundamentally, Ji Gwan-young was quite kind and gentle. Judging only by his usual behavior, he was so unfailingly polite and considerate that Tae-hoon sometimes wondered, Does this person honestly see me as some kind of child? Of course, like that time at The Center, he occasionally pulled absurdly mischievous pranks, and every now and then he would suddenly catch Tae-hoon off guard like this too.
“Going to sleep?”
“Ugh, you startled me!”
Laughing softly, Ji Gwan-young entered the bedroom without making a sound.
At first, Tae-hoon looked bewildered to suddenly see the man he’d been messaging only moments ago standing in front of him, but before long he let out a deflated laugh. Honestly, after suddenly starting to live alone following a lifetime in a noisy, crowded household, he had gotten into the habit of always leaving the TV or radio on just to hear human voices, so inwardly, he was glad to see him.
Ji Gwan-young dragged a chair from the table over beside the bed and sat down leisurely, crossing his legs before shrugging.
“What about filming?”
“I finished all my scenes before coming.”
“You’ve worked hard this late. Being an actor isn’t exactly an easy job either.”
Online, articles about the daily life of “Esper Ji Gwan-young,” who had returned to filming, appeared at least once or twice every single day. Ji Gwan-young was interesting not only to ordinary people and Guides, but even to fellow Espers.
That was thanks to the title of actor, which instantly overturned the common perception of Espers as little more than strange superpowered beings.
Apparently, he had already received several movie and drama scripts built around concepts that only an Esper could portray. Sometimes Tae-hoon found himself wondering whether the man in front of him had continued acting solely because of his own request.
“Well, it’s not bad.”
“…Even though you hate dramas and movies?”
“Haha.”
And it was true. Ji Gwan-young disliked practically everything related to the profession of acting. He didn’t even properly watch the projects he himself appeared in. More than once, Tae-hoon had widened his eyes after bringing up one of Gwan-young’s previous works only for him to casually reply, “I don’t know. I haven’t watched it. It’s different from the script, though?”
That Esper really has absolutely no interest in people.
It almost felt as if the part of him capable of human affection had been cleanly carved out.
…Why?
For the first time, Choi Tae-hoon found himself genuinely curious about the man named Ji Gwan-young.
Before he realized it, Gwan-young had leaned closer and was idly playing with the edge of Tae-hoon’s ear with his fingertips. By now, this was one of the stranger habits Tae-hoon had at least partially grown accustomed to.
Whenever they were together like this, Ji Gwan-young would let his hands wander over Tae-hoon’s face, hair, and shoulder line. At first, Tae-hoon used to stiffen every time, but after realizing that these actions weren’t necessarily demands for sex and were simply… that and nothing more, he gradually relaxed.
To be honest, this was far more comfortable than sex.
“Ji Gwan-young-ssi.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a schedule tomorrow?”
“No. I’m off.”
Ji Gwan-young slowly slid his hand from Tae-hoon’s ear along his jawline before lightly tapping his nicely shaped lips.
Without realizing it, Tae-hoon let out a small puff of laughter at the touch before continuing. Seeing that smile, Gwan-young’s eyes curved faintly as well.
“Then how about we try getting closer tomorrow?”
“Sex?”
“……Ji Gwan-young-ssi.”
“I was joking. Right, what should we do?”
Did people become more shameless with age?
Watching the lazy smile on the face of the man six years older than him, Tae-hoon sighed before speaking.
“Anything. Hmm… for starters, I want to get out of The Center or the residence.”
“Agreed. I’m sick of them.”
For some reason, Ji Gwan-young found the people at The Center extremely bothersome. Whenever he was there, the man who could normally maintain flawless politeness would become subtly crooked around the edges.
Tae-hoon thought it over carefully. There was a reason the Pair had only ever traveled back and forth between The Center and the residence until now.
The public still didn’t know that Ji Gwan-young’s Guide was another man. The only information released about Tae-hoon was that he belonged to The Center and was the person connected to him through their shared Name. Because of that, Tae-hoon had no choice but to be cautious.
There weren’t many options available to them yet. Ji Gwan-young’s fame also made crowded places difficult.
“…Your house, Ji Gwan-young-ssi?”
Gwan-young smiled faintly, almost like he was frowning.
“Why there?”
“There’s not really anywhere else to go. Besides, don’t celebrities usually stay home whenever they’re caught up in a scandal?”
“A scandal.”
“Isn’t this a kind of scandal too?”
Sometimes Ji Gwan-young’s tone became strangely different like this. Instead of his usual formal speech, he would slip into a slightly arrogant, casual manner of speaking.
While talking with him, Tae-hoon had gradually begun to suspect that this might actually be Ji Gwan-young’s natural way of speaking.
At his Guide’s words, the Esper lifted the corners of his lips faintly, as if he couldn’t help it.
Then he added quietly,
“If you want to go.”
***
There wasn’t a single person in South Korea who didn’t know the Jayoung Group.
Almost everyone also knew the name of the only son left behind by former Chairman Ji Young-hoon and his wife, who had died in a helicopter crash.
Sitting in the eerily spacious drawing room of the mansion, Choi Tae-hoon watched Gwan-young prepare tea and refreshments.
Actor Ji Gwan-young was not only a beloved celebrity adored by the public, but also the tragic protagonist of the kind of family history gossipmongers loved to talk about.
The only son of a chaebol family.
A man who had been thoroughly abandoned amidst the vicious fighting among relatives after his parents died, eventually forced to hand over the Jayoung Group to the uncle his father had hated with all his heart.
And in the end, he himself became a clown.
Tae-hoon also knew the single condition Ji Gwan-young had stubbornly demanded to the very end after inheriting only half of half of half of his parents’ estate.
It was this mansion—the one where they now sat facing each other.
Only after learning that Ji Gwan-young was his Esper had Tae-hoon belatedly searched online and through various media outlets, all of which endlessly dissected the tragic leading actor’s private life.
The coverage had been so blatantly invasive that Tae-hoon had frowned just reading it, almost feeling guilty for looking it up in the first place.
Yet apparently, Ji Gwan-young never responded to any of it.
“I wonder if the black tea will suit your taste.”
“Uh, every summer I cold-brew tea bags pretty often. My younger sister likes it.”
“That’s good, then.”
Tae-hoon wasn’t particularly perceptive about people, but he wasn’t dense either.
Ever since entering the mansion, he had noticed that Ji Gwan-young’s attitude had changed in a very subtle way.
Still, he couldn’t tell exactly what kind of change it was.
“There’s tea, but I don’t really have anything to serve with it.”
“This alone is more than enough.”
“Sorry. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a guest over.”
But there was one thing Tae-hoon had realized: a strange sense of discomfort.
Nowhere in this massive mansion was there a single employee. For a place this large, it felt like there should at least be a live-in housekeeper or two, but just like the desolate atmosphere Tae-hoon sensed, there was no one.
Tae-hoon’s gaze fixed on Gwan-young as he poured black tea into elegant cups with impeccable posture.
Sensing the stare, Ji Gwan-young met his eyes and smiled faintly.
When expressionless, he was impossible to read—there was no telling what he was thinking or feeling—but whenever he smiled like that, he gave off an incredibly warm impression.
Tae-hoon picked up the teacup Gwan-young had slid toward him and took a sip.
He still wasn’t comfortable with silence around the man in front of him. Maybe because they had slept together before truly getting to know each other, awkward silences felt especially difficult to endure.
“…Uh. So, I guess you don’t employ anyone. The house is really huge.”
“There are people who come by once or twice a week to take care of things.”
“Then do you make your own meals and all that?”
“Well. I just sort of manage however I can.”
The loose answer didn’t match his perfect appearance at all, drawing a faint smile onto Tae-hoon’s face.
By now, Choi Tae-hoon occasionally smiled like this in front of Ji Gwan-young.
Of course, Gwan-young never missed a single one of those moments.
“That’s impressive. You look like someone who’s never even gotten his hands wet.”
“My family isn’t as grand as people make it sound.”
That answer abruptly jabbed straight into the corner of Tae-hoon’s mind occupied by thoughts of Ji Gwan-young, making him unconsciously clamp his mouth shut.
At that, the long, narrow eyes curved slightly thinner.
Fidgeting with the teacup in his hands, Tae-hoon thought he truly had no idea what the smiling man in front of him was thinking.
He couldn’t even tell whether the burning heat creeping across his back right now was because the tea was too hot or because his body itself was heating up.
It was then that Gwan-young spoke in a low, leisurely voice.
“We came here to avoid people anyway, didn’t we? Isn’t this more comfortable?”
“……Yeah. I guess.”
That tone again.
Tae-hoon nodded awkwardly at the slightly crooked tone—the same one he thought he’d heard back then too, when heat had overwhelmed him to the point of dizziness.
Ji Gwan-young always spoke gently to him, but for some reason, Tae-hoon thought this unfamiliar tone suited him far better.
It might have been contradictory to think that such an arrogant, almost condescending manner of speech fit a man who looked so flawlessly refined and perfect it bordered on artificial.
But Tae-hoon honestly voiced what he felt.
“That suits you better.”
As if asking What are you talking about?, Gwan-young tilted his head slightly and raised one eyebrow.
“I appreciate you speaking politely to me, but… somehow, the way you speak casually like that suits you more.”
“…..Ah.”
“Maybe because you’re older than me. Just speak comfortably.”
