Baek Woo-gyeong’s words sent a fresh chill rolling through the room. As the cold deepened, Ho-eun wished he’d misheard.
“Because he’s a D-Class Guide, it’s okay if he dies.”
Hosoo let out a dry, disbelieving laugh at Baek Woo-gyeong’s remark. His crimson eyes flickered with rage. Baek simply shrugged, as if to say, Why are you so worked up about this?—the same way he had when he’d previously suggested re-evaluating Kwon Ho-eun’s Guide ranking.
“Hah. So that’s what this was all about.”
Hosoo muttered to himself, almost like realization had just dawned.
“We’ll notify you of the filming date and details through staff.”
“Ah? Uh… okay.”
“Let’s make you a piece of bait that even the Tiger can’t resist.”
Baek Woo-gyeong smiled a smug, irritating smile. Caught off guard, Ho-eun reflexively mirrored the smile, almost automatically.
***
Who was the one who eagerly filmed the PR video? Kwon Ho-eun. Who hoped it would be selected and featured? Also Kwon Ho-eun. And who forgot to delete their old YouTube channel? Still Kwon Ho-eun.
All of this—everything—was Ho-eun’s doing. He had no one to blame but himself. And in this very blame-yourself situation, Ho-eun found himself once again calling out to the god he’d been talking to a lot lately.
“Maybe… I should write a will first.”
“Yeah. You might die any day now, so get on it.”
Instead of training like he was supposed to, Ho-eun sat in the conference room writing a will, like a student writing a letter of apology. He didn’t half-ass it this time either. He even kindly included the passwords to his bank accounts.
“Well, I guess it’s come to this—better start anti-government combat training or something.”
At Hosoo’s comment, Ho-eun paused mid-signature and looked up. If he had puppy ears, they’d have perked right up.
Tsk. Hosoo clicked his tongue.
“You’re actually excited to train?”
“Yes! It feels like I’m learning something productive!”
Hosoo recalled Ho-eun’s profile. Up through middle school, he’d studied martial arts—so it made sense he wasn’t averse to physical work.
“Have you introduced yourself to Guide Bae Yeon-woo from your team?”
“Guide Bae Yeon-woo…? No, not yet.”
“Team 1 used to be a dedicated anti-government task force. It was run by Team Leader Nam Woon-soo and Assistant Manager Bae Yeon-woo.”
“Wait, Esper Nam Woon-soo is the team leader?”
Ho-eun thought of Nam Woon-soo’s bumbling demeanor. He seemed so scatterbrained—was he really different in the field?
“We’ve got some time before the anti-government side makes a move. I’ll forward your training schedule to Bae Yeon-woo.”
“Yes, understood.”
Ho-eun stepped out of the conference room, closing the door behind him. This whole mess had started the moment that video went live. He could feel the weight of his phone in his pocket—it was probably from all the messages piling up inside.
What am I even going to say to In-ho?
He couldn’t picture how Do In-ho would react. Would he look shocked? Or angry? The thought of it alone made Ho-eun drag his feet as he walked out of the building.
“At least I didn’t have to see his face right away…”
Every morning, Do In-ho was busy rushing around—he was always working on something. He’d once told Ho-eun that if he handled things early, he could spend time with him at night. Ho-eun never had the heart to ask what he was always doing.
“Excuse me, aren’t you G Guide from the PR video?”
Lost in thought, Ho-eun turned to find a stranger approaching him.
“…Sorry?”
“It’s you! That voice—I’d recognize it anywhere from the video!”
The person seemed like a regular employee from the branch office, judging by the name tag on her uniform.
“Ah… ha-ha. I guess I’ve got a pretty distinct voice, huh.”
“I really enjoyed the video. Shame we couldn’t see your face, though. You’re really good-looking in person.”
“Eh? Oh, no, not at all… Where do you work? I should buy something to thank you.”
“Oh, come on, I mean it! Hey, could I maybe get a picture?”
The staff member extended her phone. Ho-eun hesitated. The PR video had become a hit, and people were now connecting G Guide with the mukbang YouTuber HOKET. As the video’s popularity surged, so had curiosity about the people featured in it.
I didn’t think someone would actually ask for a photo…
Just as he was growing visibly uncomfortable, someone suddenly stepped in front of him protectively.
“Photography is prohibited within the Esper Association premises.”
“I—! I’m so sorry!”
The low, steady voice from behind made Ho-eun’s heart race. He hadn’t expected to hear that voice so soon. He was too scared to turn around. This felt like one of those horror movie moments—where turning around always led to a jump scare. Except in this case, the scary thing was Do In-ho, and he was more than enough to make Ho-eun feel like a horror protagonist.
“Are you okay, Ho-eun hyung?”
“Ah! Uh… y-yeah.”
When Ho-eun didn’t turn around, Do In-ho came up and gently grabbed him by the shoulders. Avoiding his gaze, Ho-eun finally looked up, reluctant and hesitant.
But Do In-ho wasn’t angry. He didn’t even seem surprised. Instead, he looked down at Ho-eun with nothing but concern.
“I just heard about your identity leak. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”
“No, it’s me… I should’ve deleted the video. Now it’s blown up into something huge.”
All the dread and embarrassment he’d felt about running into In-ho vanished. His pale face returned to its usual color. As In-ho leaned in to make eye contact and softly reassured him, a refreshing breeze swept through Ho-eun’s heart.
Maybe the breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers—Ho-eun felt like he might get drunk off the sweetness of it all.
“From now on, we should go out together.”
“It’s fine. People will forget about the PR video eventually.”
“Still, I don’t feel right leaving you on your own.”
“You really don’t have to… Ah.”
He suddenly remembered the other video shoot. The one Baek Woo-gyeong had proposed. If he brought that up now, it would kill the warm, peaceful mood immediately. Considering how poorly In-ho reacted last time he showed him a video, maybe In-ho was worried that any issues with his teammate Guide would end up hurting him, too.
“Um… What if they ask me to film another PR video?”
“Then I’ll stop them—no matter what. I don’t want people seeing you.”
“Uh… Okay.”
Yep. He really hates the idea that much. Ho-eun licked his dry lips. That made it even harder to bring up Baek Woo-gyeong’s proposal. Knowing Do In-ho, he’d take action to protect Ho-eun—and end up on Baek’s bad side.
Right. That guy’s the Chairman of the Guide Corporation… What if he holds a grudge and assigns In-ho to something awful just to get back at him?
“…Was that too much? Did I say something that made you uncomfortable?”
In-ho’s voice had turned soft and uncertain, clearly reading the changes in Ho-eun’s expression. Alarmed, Ho-eun quickly grabbed In-ho’s hand in both of his.
“No, no! I’m just—really touched. That’s all. Wow, seriously. I must be really lucky, huh.”
In-ho gave a faint smile at their clasped hands.
“Did everything go okay? You left right after breakfast.”
Ho-eun gently let go of the hand. It wasn’t like he needed guiding right now, and holding hands for too long might make In-ho suspicious.
“…Not much progress, to be honest.”
He looked up. In-ho’s face had gone rigid, like he was handling something difficult. He opened and closed his fist, visibly holding himself together.
“There’s really nothing I can help with?”
“Nothing… Well, maybe just one thing.”
In-ho reached out and tucked a strand of Ho-eun’s hair behind his ear. The closer they stood, the stronger In-ho’s scent seemed to grow. Ho-eun instinctively held his breath.
“Whenever you go somewhere, text me where you’re going. Just a quick heads-up.”
In-ho whispered each word slowly, like it was a very important request, his voice brushing right by Ho-eun’s ear. His earlobe flushed red.
“O-oh! Got it!”
Ho-eun reflexively covered his right ear and took a step back. That low, velvety voice still echoed in his head.
Where the hell did he learn this stuff? For someone who supposedly lived like a monk for ten years, In-ho sure was good at physical contact. If Ho-eun were a woman, he might’ve completely misunderstood that gesture just now.
“Were you heading back to the dorm?”
Ho-eun cleared his throat and replied. He tried to recall his usual expressions but ended up moving stiffly, like a marionette on tangled strings. He turned toward the dormitory.
“What about you, hyung? Can I come with you?”
His neck stiffened instantly. So much for creating distance—In-ho closed the gap again, walking beside him.
Their arms were close enough to brush. Ho-eun kept opening and closing his mouth, unsure what to say. In-ho felt like a keychain stuck to his bag, constantly hovering—just like when he’d first woken up in the hospital.
“We live in the same dorm. Why wouldn’t I?”
“That’s… not what I meant.”
The season was changing. The green leaves were fading, the sun that once baked the asphalt now cooling under autumn’s wind. Seeing In-ho standing in front of him brought back memories he couldn’t quite place.
The location was almost the same. This was where he’d first met Do In-ho after arriving at the Esper Association.
Back then, even with his large frame, In-ho had looked small—shoulders hunched, eyes fixed to the ground. Seeing him then, Ho-eun had simply wanted to help.
Now, just like the changing seasons, everything had shifted—the person standing before him, and the relationship between them. Ho-eun smiled, understanding what In-ho was trying to say.
“You promised.”
In-ho’s eyes wavered, full of restless urgency, like stormy ocean waves. Ho-eun didn’t ask for clarification. He just answered.
“That you’d take responsibility.”
The waves stilled. In-ho smirked slightly. Just knowing that Ho-eun remembered—that alone soothed the anxiousness, irritation, and jealousy that had been building all afternoon.
When In-ho first heard that Ho-eun’s identity had been exposed, his mood had plummeted. He’d rushed to the dorm only to be greeted by an empty room and the crushing sense of helplessness.
“Thank you.”
In-ho pulled Ho-eun into a natural embrace. Then he gently unfastened the necklace that had been hanging around Ho-eun’s neck for ages—a tracker only Guide Corporation staff could access.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a present.”
In one smooth motion, In-ho burned the old necklace. A necklace that didn’t share a Guide’s location with their team’s Esper was useless. He replaced it with a new one, set with a blue gemstone, and fastened it around Ho-eun’s neck with a satisfied smile.
“What the—? Is it some kind of special day? I didn’t get you anything…”
The taut string of tension finally snapped. The new necklace had cut it clean. Ho-eun fidgeted with the blue gem between his fingers.
“…It looks good on you.”
He had no idea that Do In-ho was watching him like a predator waiting by its snare. Silent, deliberate, and calculated—the kind of trap you only realize you’ve walked into after you’re already caught.
