Han-gyeom moved his lips sluggishly.
‘Someone else?’
A beat late, another person came to mind.
‘Ah…’
Seo Won had probably thought of the same person. The reason he told him not to call him by name was simple.It felt too tender—almost unnecessarily so. It made him self-conscious, made his chest flutter… That was all there was to it.
Because of Seo Won’s words, Han-gyeom ended up recalling Song Yeon-woo after the fact. He furrowed his brows and turned his gaze away. It didn’t feel right to spell out all the reasons why he didn’t like it.
“Just… I don’t want to hear it.”
Seo Won, having no way of knowing Han-gyeom’s thoughts, could only associate his resistance with Song Yeon-woo.
That day when Han-gyeom, gripped by fever, lost control—and Seo Won had called out, “Han-gyeom-ah.” Han-gyeom had mistaken him for Song Yeon-woo and cried, as if facing the one person who could take in everything he had buried inside.
So of course he wouldn’t want to hear it. Because, to Han-gyeom, it was Seo Won who had brought about the final moment of Song Yeon-woo—the one person who should never have died.
Even so, Seo Won held Han-gyeom’s hand tightly and refused to let go.
“Han-gyeom-ah.”
He called him deliberately, knowing full well Han-gyeom didn’t want to hear it. Whenever he said it like this, Han-gyeom’s heart would always respond—just as clearly as the trembling in Seo Won’s own hand. Thump. Thump. The sound grew louder, and a flush of heat followed.
As the resonance deepened, the Guide’s influence over the Imprint intensified.
“Just pretend it’s Song Yeon-woo calling you.”
“…What?”
Han-gyeom’s eyes flew wide open, startled. Seo Won gripped the hand pressed against his chest even tighter.
“You know better than anyone how a Guide’s emotions deeply affect the efficiency of Guiding.”
Seo Won had intentionally brought up Guiding efficiency—for Han-gyeom’s sake, not his own.
“You’re aware of how much your emotions have shifted, aren’t you?”
Realizing that his heart had already begun to race, Han-gyeom didn’t argue any further. No—he couldn’t.
It wasn’t because thinking of Song Yeon-woo made his heart race. It wasn’t because the words “Han-gyeom-ah” had come from someone who sounded just like him.
Seo Won’s gentle voice had stirred Han-gyeom’s emotions before he even realized it. The tremors caused by that simple call were quietly piling up, little by little, slowly growing in weight.
Lately, this had been happening more and more often. Emotions Han-gyeom thought had dulled were starting to act up again on their own.
He didn’t want to lay bare every bit of this turmoil. He just wanted to believe, as Seo Won had said, that his heart was racing simply because Song Yeon-woo came to mind.
Once he confirmed that Han-gyeom had calmed down, Seo Won pushed him down and climbed onto the bed.
“Han-gyeom-ah.”
He lifted Han-gyeom’s shirt, which twitched at every call of his name, and pressed his lips to the pale skin beneath. Soft lips gently grazed over the red marks still visible on his body, teasing each one with featherlight kisses.
“Mmh…”
Between trembling black lashes, crimson eyes glistened and wavered with a heated moan.
“Han-gyeom-ah.”
Seo Won continued calling his name while kissing his chest. With every breathy moan, Han-gyeom’s body grew more flushed.
‘This is strange.’
Han-gyeom could feel himself heating up faster than usual. Maybe it was the persistent way Seo Won called his name. Maybe it was the way Seo Won so attentively, so thoroughly kissed him, as if not letting a single thread of his Guiding slip past.
Either way, the Guiding that spread from where their bodies touched was flowing with peak efficiency, caressing every part of Seo Won’s body. Proof of that was the fiery mark blooming red-hot right where Seo Won’s heart would be.
Overwhelmed by the resonation that made his body tingle, Han-gyeom felt himself growing hotter still. It wasn’t just arousal—there was a deep, soothing sense of comfort washing over him, so intense it pushed all thought from his mind.
“Han-gyeom-ah…”
How many times had he called his name? Did he even realize that with every call, it made Han-gyeom ache to resonate deeper?
But at the same time, a strange unease crept in. Like this resonance might vanish come morning, like it was nothing more than a fleeting dream…
His hazy mind reached out, arms wrapping around Seo Won. Only when their chests touched and he felt the brush of Seo Won’s breath against his ear did he finally feel at ease.
“Just… stay like this for a moment.”
He said it so Seo Won wouldn’t pull away on a whim, then closed his eyes. With sight now shrouded behind his eyelids, all his other senses sharpened.
The dark tendrils rooted in Seo Won quietly drifted through him—his other self, now peaceful, gently stroking every inch. With Seo Won’s body, there was no need to tense up and search for the paths where ESP flowed. There was no fear—only ease. The route felt so familiar that even in a half-dazed state, he could trace it effortlessly.
Perhaps that was why Han-gyeom was slowly getting drunk on the comfort being returned to him.
Thump, thump, thump.
His languid body caught a heartbeat just a little quicker than his own. Strangely, it felt even faster than when Seo Won left kiss marks on his skin.
‘His heart’s pounding like crazy.’
Han-gyeom kept his eyes closed, exhaling softly, guided by the comforting rhythm of that heartbeat.
It was only natural for Seo Won’s heart to race like this during Guiding. An Esper who accepted the Guiding of their Imprint—and even its resonance—was bound to feel euphoric as their body slowly became purified. There was no need to ask how blissful that sensation was.
And yet, Han-gyeom felt a twinge of unease. Because he knew that this heartbeat wasn’t driven solely by physical reaction. The emotional thread he had deliberately implanted—meant to be used for his own ends—was probably now wrapped so tightly around Seo Won’s heart it could squeeze it until it burst.
Strangely, a sense of self-loathing stirred within him. For trying to shake Seo Won’s emotions without regard.
‘What the hell am I thinking now…’
Just as his mind began to spiral into pointless thoughts, Seo Won shifted, still holding Han-gyeom close. Now it was Seo Won lying beneath him, with Han-gyeom sprawled on top, their chests pressed together.
When Han-gyeom moved to lift his head, Seo Won gently pressed it back down and patted his back.
“Just stay like this for a bit.”
Responding to his words, Han-gyeom relaxed his body and lay still atop him.
“Aren’t I heavy?”
“Have you seen your body?”
Seo Won replied so casually that Han-gyeom couldn’t help glancing at him out of the corner of his eye—then let out a soft chuckle and closed his eyes again. The hand patting his back felt surprisingly reassuring.
“Did your mom used to do this for you when you were little?”
He couldn’t picture Seo Won being cradled in his mother’s arms and soothed like this—at all. Han-gyeom hadn’t experienced it himself either. The only time he’d seen something like it was by chance, on TV or the internet—images of some stranger’s family.
“Not often. But when I needed it, she’d do this sometimes.”
“When you needed it?”
“When I couldn’t stand being alone.”
There was something odd about the way Seo Won spoke. Most people wouldn’t refer to their childhood self as ‘I’ in that detached way.
Puzzled, Han-gyeom then heard a faint, hollow laugh near his ear.
“I think I understand now.”
Unlike Seo Won, Han-gyeom didn’t understand a thing he was saying. He was too drunk on the soothing rhythm of that heartbeat—so warm, so pleasant—that even his mind had gone slack.
And like that, Han-gyeom drifted off to sleep on top of Seo Won’s chest.
By the time he awoke, the sun had already begun to set.
‘So much for getting any sleep tonight.’
Still half out of it, Han-gyeom stared into the glow of the dusk sky. He slowly tried to sit up—then flinched. Only then did he realize he wasn’t lying on a mattress, but on something else.
Something firm and warm.
Beneath him lay Seo Won, deep in sleep.
‘Seriously? Did he fall asleep like this?’
The fact that he had passed out in the middle of Guiding was absurd enough. But for Seo Won to fall asleep with Han-gyeom still draped across him like that? Now that was something else.
‘Isn’t he suffocating?’
Even if he wasn’t heavy, this was like trying to sleep under a blanket that weighed several dozen kilograms. And clearly, they had been like this for a good five or six hours.
Han-gyeom twisted his body, thinking he should hurry up and get off, but the strong arm wrapped around his waist didn’t budge, like a shackle. He began to wonder if Seo Won was even asleep—his strength was ridiculous.
“What the hell is with this strength…”
Grunting in frustration, Han-gyeom eventually gave up and flopped back down onto Seo Won’s chest. He let out a slightly winded sigh and stared at him, visibly annoyed.
‘But usually, he wakes up at the tiniest noise… Why’s he sleeping so deeply today?’
If not for the steady sound of breathing, Han-gyeom might’ve thought something was seriously wrong. Like maybe Seo Won had taken some weird drug and passed out, or fallen into a coma—or even died.
The thought sent a sudden chill up his spine.
Shaking his head to banish those morbid thoughts, Han-gyeom ended up just staring at Seo Won’s face.
‘He really hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’
Maybe his nerves were worn thin. No matter how much Guiding Han-gyeom gave him—enough to knock himself halfway unconscious—Seo Won could hardly sleep.
Even when he did manage to drift off, the moment Han-gyeom stirred or seemed like he was waking up, Seo Won would jolt awake in surprise. And if Han-gyeom, feeling strangely guilty, pretended to still be asleep, he’d hear it: the oddest sigh, laced with both relief and anxiety.
‘Is it because of that seizure…?’
That day, when he’d vomited blood in Seo Won’s arms and collapsed—it had probably become a trauma for him. Up until then, just being in the same space had been enough to keep any major seizures at bay.
Han-gyeom could now guess clearly why it had happened then. A mental shock so severe he’d practically destroyed himself. His mind had shattered so badly it stripped away even the faintest willpower to hold his body together.
But now, things were different. His mind was solid again—unshaken, unbroken. His purpose hadn’t changed either.
Which meant that even in front of Seo Won, it wouldn’t happen again.
‘So he could relax… just a little.’
Han-gyeom reached up and gently brushed aside Seo Won’s messy bangs. Bathed in the sunset glow, his golden hair shimmered as it slid smoothly beneath Han-gyeom’s pale fingers.
His fingertips traced past the golden-tinted eyebrows, down to the tired corners of Seo Won’s eyes. He was tempted to touch those beautifully fanned lashes, but stopped short—afraid of waking him.
Instead, he moved downward, placing a finger on the sculpted line of Seo Won’s cheekbone. From there, it glided down the sharp ridge of his nose, then slipped off at the tip.
Where it landed were lips tinged with red from the evening light, warm breath softly flowing from between them.
—Han-gyeom-ah.
That tender call that had slipped from between those lips was now lodged in his mind, refusing to leave.
He hadn’t wanted it. And yet, strangely, he didn’t dislike it.
No matter what he said—he wished Seo Won would call him like that again…
Startled by his own thoughts, Han-gyeom’s expression twisted.
‘What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of thought is that…’
He scolded himself and started to pull his hand away, when Seo Won, who he thought was sound asleep, suddenly gripped his wrist tightly.
