Han-gyeom continued to climax, feeling the scorching liquid Seo Won had released inside him spread throughout his body, soaking into every nerve ending.
The thing that had pierced deep inside him twitched several times, as though it had become his very heart. Every time it pulsed, not only did it strike his inner depths, but the prostate, crushed beneath the shaft, shuddered along with it—sending waves of terrifying pleasure coursing through him.
The relentless, drawn-out orgasm, the indescribable bliss, and the sharp, tingling pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen gradually numbed Han-gyeom’s body and mind.
“Haa…”
Seo Won’s blue eyes, submerged in a blissful haze, exhaled a deep breath. From where they were still joined so intimately, heavy guiding energy passed through him, showcasing the peak of ecstasy.
A new thrill surged within him at the realization that only one person in the world could transmit this kind of heat.
Still connected, Seo Won bent down and pressed a kiss to Han-gyeom’s flushed, luscious cheek. Han-gyeom responded with a flutter of his long lashes, seemingly pleased by even that small kiss.
As Seo Won’s lips moved up, they met damp crimson eyes—eyes filled with moisture.
A small, unmistakable sign that Seo Won was earnestly trying to guide him—something Han-gyeom couldn’t help but feel affection for.
If I licked those red eyes, I bet the tip of my tongue would be coated in something unbearably sweet.
Seo Won lowered his lips to Han-gyeom’s softly closing eyelids. The damp lashes tickled his lips, and the delicately raised ridge beneath them gently pressed back—almost like they were kissing in return.
Han-gyeom’s chest ached. His heart, threatening to burst, whimpered and cried out.
His previously shut red eyes opened, locking onto Seo Won’s deep blue ones. At that moment, a sharp tremor coursed through his heart.
Cha Han-gyeom…
Whether this resonance came from a previous imprinted partner or from deep within himself—it didn’t matter anymore.
My Guide…
All that mattered was who now trembled in sync with him.
It hadn’t been long since they lay side by side in bed, catching their breath after the high.
Soon after, Han-gyeom, still sluggish, quietly slipped off the bed. Aside from a bit of soreness in his hips and a tingling ache between his legs, there didn’t seem to be anything seriously wrong.
Probably because Seo Won hadn’t rammed into him recklessly or tossed him around like he used to.
He’s changed.
It had already been a week since the bombing incident at the product demonstration. This was only the second guiding session since then.
And the fact that both times had taken place not in the office, but in Seo Won’s bedroom—that alone was a major change.
Not having to do it on the hard desk or cramped office sofa naturally made the act far more comfortable.
Granted, Seo Won’s cock was still as big as ever, so it was just as overwhelming—but at least now he gave Han-gyeom enough room to breathe.
And whereas in the past, Seo Won had focused entirely on humiliating, sexually-charged stimulation from the start—just to ripen the guiding more quickly—now even that approach had shifted, adapting to Han-gyeom’s reactions.
He’d sometimes start gently now—or skip the dominance entirely.
Come to think of it, both times were without the control device.
Han-gyeom glanced down at his bare right wrist.
Even after returning to the estate, he had continued wearing the guiding control device out of habit, offering up his wrist without needing Seo Won to demand it.
But now, the device was little more than a bracelet.
When it came time to guide, it was always Seo Won who took it off himself. The black band carelessly tossed onto the nightstand was proof of that.
Still, the more striking change lay elsewhere.
“Where are you going?”
He hadn’t even taken a single step when his wrist was seized. Turning to look over his shoulder, he found Seo Won—already upright—gripping his wrist tightly and glaring at him.
“The bed’s a mess, so I’m going to clean up.”
Considering he was the one who’d soaked it in cum and fluids, saying something like that felt a little ridiculous, but he said it anyway.
Seo Won, even when they had sex in the office before bringing him here, would always wrap him in a blanket before laying him down. He hated dirtying the bed.
“It’s fine. I’ll just change the sheets.”
With that refreshingly blunt reply, Seo Won yanked him back. Han-gyeom ended up landing squarely on Seo Won’s lap, where strong arms immediately wrapped tightly around his waist.
“What if you start seizing again while you’re in the shower?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
“No. I’ll wash you later. Just stay put.”
Seo Won’s low voice was firm as he brushed his lips along Han-gyeom’s back. It tickled—sure—but Han-gyeom knew Seo Won wasn’t doing this without reason.
He focused on the faint pulses radiating from the mark on his back. In response to the resonance he’d been ignoring, Han-gyeom sent out a subtle wave of his own.
As the mark surfaced, Seo Won’s breath took on the same heat he had during sex.
Seo Won’s now-warmed lips pressed against Han-gyeom’s mark, tracing along its curves with reverence.
He kissed every ridge, every swell, and where the mark stretched longer, he followed with the tip of his tongue.
“Mmh…”
Just the touch of his hot lips and tongue made Han-gyeom flinch—but layered with the faint resonance Seo Won transmitted, even he couldn’t hold back a moan.
Quivering lightly, Han-gyeom let out a weary voice.
“If you need more guiding… can’t we just rest for a bit first?”
“No, it’s fine. We don’t have to. Just stay like this.”
It seemed Seo Won simply enjoyed exploring the mark.
Honestly, the guiding itself wasn’t all that exhausting anymore. Thanks to the softened way they had sex now—and the absence of the control device that once forcibly extracted his GP—everything was easier to bear.
Seo Won relied solely on Han-gyeom’s will and instinct, drawing from the natural flow of guiding energy.
This must be what a proper guide-handler relationship looks like.
Silently, half-mocking himself, Han-gyeom stroked the arm wrapped around his waist. Just as Seo Won traced the mark with his tongue, Han-gyeom ran his fingers suggestively along the Black Vein that covered half of Seo Won’s forearm.
“Did you know you’ve changed all of a sudden?”
At Han-gyeom’s question, Seo Won said nothing.
He didn’t pretend not to know. Probably because he was just as aware of it as Han-gyeom was.
“Why are you being so good to me?”
Again, Seo Won didn’t answer right away.
“Didn’t you used to hate me?”
“I did. At first.”
This time, a reply finally came.
“So you’re saying… you don’t anymore?”
“…Yeah.”
“Huh?”
Han-gyeom leaned the back of his head against Seo Won’s shoulder and looked up at him. Curiously, just this once, Seo Won didn’t meet his eyes and instead shifted his gaze elsewhere.
“Did I do something cute or something?”
He asked nonchalantly.
I know the ‘cute’ thing I did.
He asked despite knowing.
Seo Won’s walls were sharp and impenetrable. Most people couldn’t even approach him. Even if they got close, they’d end up sliced and torn by the jagged blades sticking out.
And yet, if you managed to break through those walls and enter, all you’d find inside was a sheet of thin ice.
Cracked to the brink of shattering—barely holding together.
The fractures spreading across the surface reminded Han-gyeom of the Black Vein etched into Seo Won’s body.
While he was in the research facility, Han-gyeom had seen countless forms of Black Vein.
Cases like Seo Won’s—where the vein had spread all the way up the neck—were always slated for disposal, without exception.
With just the slightest trigger, those people could be overtaken by the Black Vein and have it reach their brain in an instant.
And the last person they ever met… was always Cha Han-gyeom.
Han-gyeom guided them all. Even if it meant draining every last drop of GP from his body, he clung on desperately.
Because he knew.
Those who were about to become monstrous aberrations, or who stood on the edge of being scrapped—he was the only one who could save them.
The researchers threw those people at Han-gyeom for only one reason: to squeeze in one more experiment.
Even if they weren’t viable guides, transporting Espers to be used as test subjects required serious time and funding. Recycling those deemed disposable was more cost-effective.
So Han-gyeom would struggle to reduce the Black Vein with all he had, and then they’d go ahead and experiment again—until the black tendrils spread anew.
Then they’d toss the subject right back to him.
“Use your guiding to keep this one alive.”
And if the subject ended up losing control and dying anyway, they’d blame Han-gyeom for not guiding them properly.
I was young back then. Stupid.
Maybe if it were now, he’d snap back, ask them what kind of bullshit they were spewing.
But back then, trapped in an isolated facility, gaslit every day and run into the ground without mercy, he couldn’t even think straight…
He’d been handed that cruel task at a time when even the luxury of coherent thought had been stripped away—used and discarded without pause.
Those with Black Vein rising up to their necks, always teetering on the edge of disposal, were constantly on edge. They were irritable, violent, terrified—and yet desperately yearned for someone to save them.
Everyone standing at death’s door was the same.
But once Han-gyeom managed to suppress their Black Vein and get their names removed from the disposal list, they showed a different face the next time he saw them.
The thorns dulled.
Their sharp voices and aggressive behavior faded, tucked quietly away.
Even during guiding, their expressions changed—not tense or frantic anymore, but relieved, as though comforted simply by his presence.
It’s funny, really.
They had scorned guides, held them in contempt—right up until they were the ones with a ticking time bomb inside them.
And the moment he defused it, suddenly he became precious to them.
Ah… Without this guide, I’d be dead.
Because of this guide, I’m alive.
If I lose this guide, I’ll die.
That’s when contempt morphed into affection.
If not for Cha Han-gyeom, I’d be dead.
Because of Cha Han-gyeom, I’m still here.
Without Cha Han-gyeom, I won’t survive.
Every bit of affection Han-gyeom had ever known—had always started from that shift.
