Cha Han-gyeom, caught off guard by the unexpected kiss, instinctively pushed Seo Won away. Seo Won offered no resistance and pulled back without a word.
Han-gyeom touched his lips, staring at Seo Won in disbelief as he questioned him.
“This is my cigarette, isn’t it? I thought you hated smoking because it was bad for your health.”
“I did.”
“Then why?”
If it had been anyone else, it wouldn’t have been worth interrogating over something like this. Han-gyeom himself had once been a non-smoker, as had most people. Becoming a smoker due to some turning point wasn’t exactly rare.
But when it came to Seo Won, it wasn’t something that could be dismissed so lightly. This was a man who had clung to life with an obsession bordering on madness.
What Han-gyeom got in return for his puzzled question was a dry, emotionless reply.
“I was curious.”
Seo Won’s eyes dropped, shadowed and unreadable. His cold fingers gently brushed Han-gyeom’s lips.
“What the cigarette you smoke tastes like.”
With that, Seo Won turned and disappeared into the dressing room, leaving behind only the familiar scent of tobacco.
‘Again…’
Han-gyeom stood frozen in place, still where he had confronted Seo Won, biting down on his lip.
The anxiety that had naturally faded while he held the frozen apple began to resurface, creeping back with unnerving persistence. What kept looping in his head were Seo Won’s darkened gaze—and that familiar yet acrid stench of smoke.
‘I keep getting anxious…’
It felt like Seo Won was slowly sinking into his own darkness—and pulling Han-gyeom along with him.
Was that what this maddening sense of unease was stemming from?
He could feel a strange emotion clinging to the edges of his anxiety, something formless yet refusing to be ignored. It was climbing steadily, riding the wave of dread toward the surface.
‘…I don’t want this. I don’t want to think about it.’
He didn’t want to know what lay at the end of this growing fear. He had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to find out.
Almost in defiance of that thought, a sudden tickle crept up his throat.
“Cough… Huh…?”
Han-gyeom let out a faint cough, looking momentarily dazed.
A chill shot down his spine. Then came the unmistakable sensation—an uneasy grinding in his gut, as if his insides were twisting.
A prelude to a seizure. One he knew all too well.
Han-gyeom instinctively turned toward the dressing room where Seo Won had gone.
They had just been together. They had just kissed. In any normal situation, an episode like this would be unthinkable. Yet something felt off in his body.
‘Just like in the car last time… What the hell is going on…?’
All he’d done was catch a whiff of Seo Won’s cigarette. That was it. Just that—yet it was enough to trigger the onset of a seizure?
It hit him then: he had grown dangerously weak.
Han-gyeom held his breath, forcing himself not to cough, and quickly turned his body away. He blocked out the thoughts bubbling up in his mind and headed straight for the bed.
Even though the very core of the ESP he so desperately needed was standing right there in the dressing room, he deliberately avoided looking.
Just like in the car that time—he was afraid that even if he embraced Seo Won, the seizure wouldn’t stop.
What if he ended up coughing up blood until Seo Won’s chest was soaked through again? What if he couldn’t breathe, hacking endlessly, and collapsed from the sheer distress of it? What if he saw the helpless look on Seo Won’s face again—he might faint on the spot.
‘It’ll get weird again.’
He wasn’t talking about himself.
It was Seo Won who would change again.
Just like last time, when he couldn’t stop the seizure no matter what he did—Seo Won had made that same strange face.
A face twisted in agony, as though it were him being torn apart from the inside and dying.
After that day, Seo Won had clearly changed.
He had poured his entire being into guiding, and every touch had grown more careful, as if handling delicate glasswork. He had become a man so utterly devoted, it felt like he would offer his life if that was what Han-gyeom wanted.
People don’t change so drastically without reason.
Han-gyeom believed the reason was that seizure he’d had in Seo Won’s arms. From someone who shut himself away in Seo Won’s bedroom, it was a natural conclusion to draw.
Han-gyeom hated that Seo Won was changing.
He was already struggling to adjust to the shift. If Seo Won became even more unrecognizable, it felt like something vital would break.
Like the path he was meant to stay firm on would start to shake.
Rushing to the bed, Han-gyeom reached out toward the ice apple that now sat alone and hollow.
Covering his mouth with one hand, he hugged the frozen apple tightly to his chest. Just in case Seo Won noticed, he even pulled the blanket over himself and curled up, exactly as he had before Seo Won had walked in.
‘It’s just a bad mood. That’s all it is.’
Responding to his will, the transparent ice apple in Han-gyeom’s arms began to darken once again. Quickly turning pitch-black, the apple rapidly devoured the creeping anxiety within him.
And in that moment, what surfaced in Han-gyeom’s mind was Seo Won’s face.
That face of despair when even his power couldn’t stop the seizure. That haggard look when he woke from the fever. Those shadowed eyes sinking deeper at the sight of a wound on Han-gyeom’s foot from stepping on debris.
But that expression—of suffering in his place—wasn’t new. He’d seen it even before that.
“If there’s someone you want dead, I’ll kill them for you. If you need someone to comfort you, I’ll be that person.”
“I’ll stay by your side until the day you die…”
“Please, stop crying.”
Did he even understand what those desperate, almost reckless vows meant?
Feeling the warmth of Seo Won’s energy gently envelop his body, Han-gyeom shut his eyes tight.
While Han-gyeom remained curled under the blanket…
Seo Won, having finished a cold shower, stood still—his eyes resting on the white mound on the bed where Han-gyeom remained hidden beneath the covers.
‘Is he mad because I came in too late?’
Seo Won intentionally made some noise as he approached the bed, but Han-gyeom remained motionless. Curled up under the blanket, he showed no sign of coming out.
“Cha Han—”
Seo Won was about to call his name when he suddenly stopped, noticing the faint sound of breathing.
Reaching out, he carefully lifted a corner of the blanket. Though light was surely seeping in, the one huddled beneath remained deeply asleep, completely still.
Seo Won sat on the edge of the bed, gently holding part of the blanket up, peering inside. The covers served well as a curtain, blocking the overhead light.
He quietly gazed at Han-gyeom, who breathed evenly beneath the blanket. As if simply watching him brought peace—or perhaps, as if watching was the only thing he could do.
“Mmm…”
In his sleep, Han-gyeom flinched slightly, his eyes twitching as he shifted. And with that movement, Seo Won could finally see what he had been clutching so tightly while curled up.
A completely transparent ice apple, now void of any aura, caught Seo Won’s eye. Knowing that Han-gyeom had fallen asleep holding something he made—as if it were a cherished stuffed toy—sparked a warmth in his chest. Even if he knew he had no right to feel that way.
But something about his slumber seemed troubled. Han-gyeom frowned in his sleep, squirming restlessly, as if something was bothering him.
‘Is he having a bad dream?’
Seo Won slipped his free hand into the blanket. If he could directly infuse the ice apple with his energy, it might help ease Han-gyeom’s mind and body.
Just as a swirl of black aura began to form at Seo Won’s fingertips, aimed toward the apple, Han-gyeom, still half-asleep, suddenly grabbed his hand. The force of it caused the apple he had been holding to tumble and roll away.
“…”
Han-gyeom’s hands clung tightly to Seo Won’s firm one, his cheek nuzzling against the back of that hand. The crease between his brows smoothed out, and his once-fragile, wavering breath quickly steadied into calm.
Seo Won, silently watching Han-gyeom sleep with the most serene expression in the world, offered his hand without hesitation—willing to give it for as long as necessary.
***
The next day.
While Seo Won skipped meals and locked himself away in the study, Ah-young quietly slipped into the bedroom.
Inside, Han-gyeom sat on a chair, lost in deep thought, smoking a cigarette. Because of it, he was a beat late in reacting to her arrival.
“Ah, you’re here?”
“You were thinking so hard you didn’t even notice me come in? I knocked several times, you know.”
“You did? Sorry about that.”
Han-gyeom offered a sheepish smile, still struggling to erase the image burned into his mind.
When Han-gyeom opened his eyes early that morning, he found himself still buried under the blanket—tightly clutching Seo Won’s hand.
For some reason, Seo Won had fallen asleep right in front of him, his hand slipped inside the blanket, while the rest of his body lay outside, sprawled carelessly.
‘What if he catches a cold like that?’
The weather had turned chilly. He could’ve just shared the blanket. Or Han-gyeom could’ve woken him up if needed.
Of course, Espers had sturdier bodies than ordinary people or Guides. A little cold like that wouldn’t make them sick. Still, Han-gyeom couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Not only had he hogged the entire blanket, he’d also held on to Seo Won’s hand all night, keeping him from moving anywhere.
Seo Won woke up just as Han-gyeom was starting to let go out of guilt. The moment their hands parted, Seo Won grabbed him back with a gasp, eyes snapping open.
The way he sat there, breath heaving, eyes filled with raw anxiety, reminded Han-gyeom uncomfortably of himself, back when things were worse. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been able to push away that fragile, trembling hand.
Seo Won soon regained his composure and apologized for startling him, then left early for the study. He told Han-gyeom to get some more rest since he looked tired, but insisted on going, claiming he had work to do.
‘He was up late working yesterday too, and now he’s back at it again like some kind of work addict…’
“Han-gyeom. Han-gyeom?”
Han-gyeom, his head still clouded with thoughts of Seo Won, didn’t respond until Ah-young called out to him multiple times.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… Sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s fine. But it’s about time, so here—this is for you.”
Ah-young gently looped her hair tie around his wrist like a bracelet, her way of passing it to him.
“If someone else picks up again, that means the investigation isn’t done yet, so just hand it back to me. You can hang up anytime, it’s totally fine to just chat casually too.”
“I will.”
Han-gyeom didn’t expect much this time either.
Ever since he’d made the request, every time he called, Woo-chan had never once been available—always off somewhere in the middle of the investigation. Instead, he’d end up talking to a few familiar voices he’d met on the cruise. Most of those calls, really, were about 99% filled with complaints about Seo Won or concerns for Han-gyeom.
So naturally, he figured it would be one of those people again today.
—Hey, Han-gyeom. I’m sorry I’m so late, huh?
But this time, it was Kang Woo-chan himself.
