Seo Won gently cupped Han-gyeom’s cheek and brushed his thumb along the corner of his lips.
“I thought I’d seen you smile quite a lot.”
Facing Seo Won, Han-gyeom let out a quiet chuckle.
“Jae-woo really says the oddest things sometimes.”
Watching that small smile form on Han-gyeom’s lips, it was easy to believe that what Song Jae-woo had said was nothing but nonsense—at least, if you were only looking at what was on the surface.
Seo Won recalled the conversation he had with Song Jae-woo at the front door before the latter left the mansion.
Jae-woo had dragged his feet toward the door, shoulders slumped like dead weight, and Seo Won had said to him,
“Stop doing useless shit and just live quietly. That’s the best way to help Cha Han-gyeom.”
Maybe it was the way those sagging shoulders stuck in his mind that compelled Seo Won to speak again, this time to Jae-woo who had turned back with a dazed look on his face.
“Han-gyeom’s doing just fine without your concern, so don’t flatter yourself.”
“…Do you really believe that?”
A faint heat began to flicker in Jae-woo’s unfocused eyes, and a hollow smirk twisted his lips.
“Just because he eats and sleeps like a normal person doesn’t mean he’s living well. Have you ever actually seen him really smile?”
“You picking a fight with me?”
It wasn’t a line that warranted much of a response, but what Jae-woo said next made Seo Won falter for a moment.
“Since the day he moved into this place, I’ve never seen him smile from the heart. The only kind of smile I’ve seen… is the kind that looks like he’s given up.”
Jae-woo let out a sigh and ran his bare hand down his face, his gaze sharpening as he looked at Seo Won. It wasn’t exactly threatening, but defiance flared clearly in his eyes.
“It’s a habit of his, you know. When he wants to cry but can’t, he ends up smiling without even realizing it.”
As if mocking Han-gyeom’s habit, Jae-woo mirrored that same bitter smile.
“Let me give you one piece of advice.”
Jae-woo stepped up to Seo Won without hesitation, eyes locked on him like he was ready to rip him apart.
“I’m saying this not for your sake—but purely for his. So listen up.”
He exhaled deeply, his expression softening with pity as he pictured Han-gyeom in his mind.
“If he starts crying and it’s not because of a seizure… that means he’s really at his breaking point. It’s the kind of pain that makes you want to die. So don’t interfere. Don’t try to be helpful. Just make sure he takes his meds.”
Jae-woo didn’t yet know that Seo Won had the ability to help stabilize Han-gyeom during one of his seizure episodes. That was why he brought up the ‘medicine’ Han-gyeom always carried with him.
“Even back then, the only time he ever cried freely… was when he was seizing.”
They were apart now, so he couldn’t witness Han-gyeom suffering firsthand. But during the last five years, Jae-woo had seen it more times than he could count—and just recalling it seemed painful.
“At first, I thought he was crying because the seizures hurt too much. But I was wrong.”
His expression looked as though he was imagining the excruciating pain Han-gyeom went through during his seizures.
“He was using the pain.”
But the truth was—he knew something deeper, something more personal about Han-gyeom.
“He says when he cries without being in pain, he ends up hating himself. It reminds him too much of the old days, when crying was the only thing he could do… and he hates that.”
So instead of crying, all he could do was force a bitter smile, like he was trying to suppress even a fragment of his emotions.
Rubbing his now stinging eyes a couple of times, Jae-woo continued.
“Back then, I didn’t understand what he meant. But now I do.”
Even though he’d been in a state of Guiding addiction, he still retained every memory from that time.
Kang Woo-chan, needing to validate their actions to secure a firmer grip on Song Jae-woo, had told him that Cha Han-gyeom had been one of the test subjects trapped inside an Esper Association-affiliated research facility.
He hadn’t shared the full details of what happened inside, but it was clear—they too had escaped from a similar hell.
So Jae-woo couldn’t blame them. He couldn’t bring himself to resent them. All they had ever wanted was to save Han-gyeom, no matter the cost.
And even if their paths differed, Jae-woo’s feelings were the same. He, too, only wanted what was best for Han-gyeom. Even his desperate wish for Han-gyeom not to cry like he used to—that came from the same place.
“That’s why… if it’s what he wants, I’ll leave.”
The more he spoke, the shakier his voice became, revealing everything he was holding back.
“If I stay here just because I want to… and I end up being the reason he cries again… I don’t think I’d be able to take it.”
His guilt showed all too clearly across his face.
Jae-woo looked off to the side for a moment, as if picturing Han-gyeom, then muttered like a spell meant for himself.
“And… I don’t know what it is he’s trying to do, but… I don’t want to get in his way.”
With that, Jae-woo turned his back, as if he’d said all he needed to say.
Seo Won had no intention of repeating everything Song Jae-woo had just laid out. Words like that weren’t going to make Cha Han-gyeom smile sincerely, or allow him to cry freely when he needed to. Thinking about Jae-woo too much would only wear down his own emotions.
Still, maybe it was because of what Jae-woo had said that something in particular kept tugging at his mind.
“Has something like that happened before?”
“Something like what?”
“A panic attack.”
Finally catching on, Han-gyeom shook his head.
“It was the first time. You know how it usually goes—whenever I get pushed too far mentally, it leads to a seizure.”
From the pocket of his cardigan, Han-gyeom pulled out the tiny frozen apple he had tucked away earlier.
“Maybe because I had this, I ended up having a panic attack instead of a seizure.”
He said it almost with relief—but then his gaze dropped, eyes turning cold.
“If this had been back then, just hearing Kang Woo-chan say something that insane… it would’ve made my insides melt.”
He uttered those brutal words without hesitation. Even when talking about his own body.
That alone spoke volumes—just how horrifying Kang Woo-chan’s words must have been to Han-gyeom.
Seo Won recalled the face Han-gyeom had made while crying, like he was tearing his own chest apart.
“I… I wish they’d all just die… every single one of them…”
“Yeon-woo hyung… kill them all for me. Everyone… don’t leave a single one…”
“The power he had… it’ll never die…”
“I even took revenge on hyung…”
“He wasn’t supposed to die… but I killed him…”
“Yeon-woo hyung is gone… hic, he’s dead… Now, now I’ve got no one left…”
Just remembering that moment made it hard to breathe, his chest tightening with unbearable pressure. Not even during a seizure had Cha Han-gyeom cried like that—as if his entire world had collapsed.
No… maybe he had cried like that during his seizures. Maybe Seo Won had just never realized it.
He’d thought the tears were from the overwhelming pain—when he couldn’t even speak from coughing, when blood spilled from his lips, when his insides felt like they were rotting, when he couldn’t think, just hurt. That had to be why he cried… or so Seo Won had believed.
“The only time he’s been able to cry freely… was during a seizure.”
“He was using the pain.”
Maybe Song Jae-woo had been exactly right.
‘I never want to see that face again.’
Seo Won had never felt such crushing pain in his chest in his entire life. Not even back when his heartbeat used to falter, before the heart transplant, had he experienced anything so agonizingly suffocating.
A grotesque fear—more dreadful than any “curse.”
It was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.
‘What do I even know about Cha Han-gyeom?’
Seo Won’s gaze lingered on Han-gyeom’s face as his lips slowly leaned closer.
‘A survivor of the annihilated Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility, and the only remaining Guide. When he experiences psychological trauma, it triggers seizures caused by his research-induced PTSD. During those seizures, the organs created with the Imprint’s power begin to melt away—an extremely serious issue.’
Seo Won’s lips touched Han-gyeom’s. The soft contact gently moved, lips brushing naturally.
‘He was Imprinted to Song Yeon-woo, an S-rank Esper with immortality. The heart that had been separately preserved from Yeon-woo… that’s the one I received.’
Han-gyeom’s lips slowly parted as they pressed together, warm and full of life. His eyes, as always, were stained red with instinctive flush. Seo Won breathed in deeply, his lungs filling with the breath pouring from Han-gyeom’s mouth, meeting those blood-colored eyes that seemed to hold liquid fire.
‘After escaping the facility, he teamed up with Song Jae-woo and lived as an Unregistered Guide. For about five years, wasn’t it?’
Their lips remained connected as Seo Won extended his tongue past the seam, brushing against the small tongue that had been quietly waiting. Heat spread quickly between them, breath mingling in the space where words no longer existed.
‘Most of the money they earned was managed by Song Jae-woo… But in truth, Han-gyeom was earning it all for him. For Jae-woo’s future…’
Going over the fragmented facts he knew about Han-gyeom, Seo Won let out a sigh full of helplessness.
‘What a joke.’
If it came down to it, he could rattle off countless details about Cha Han-gyeom.
Despite being an Imprinted Guide, he had the ability to guide other Espers—a rare phenomenon. He could suppress an Esper’s ESP pathway and paralyze them, using that as a defensive mechanism to protect himself. His guiding sense was so exceptional, no one could compare.
There was plenty of information about his abilities. But there were also things Seo Won had come to learn just by being by his side.
On the surface, he seemed prickly and sensitive, but in truth, he was warm-hearted and full of affection. He had this habit of lowering his eyes prettily when he smoked. Physically, he looked fragile, but he had unexpected grit—and he was incredibly smart.
Or perhaps…
He knew exactly where to stroke inside his mouth during a kiss to make him let out that trembling moan. He’d long since figured out which parts of his body reacted most sensitively to touch.
“Hh, mmpf…”
Just like now—those swallowed moans were the signal that he was starting to get aroused.
