Seo Won wasn’t much different. He was the only one who could guide Seo Won, but Cha Han-gyeom had a contract. A contract that pretended they stood on equal ground, allowing Seo Won to deny that he was teetering on a thin sheet of ice—fooling himself into thinking he could control Cha Han-gyeom at any moment.
But there was a serious flaw in that contract.
All actions were to be carried out at the discretion of Party A. Party B was obligated to provide proper guidance whenever Party A wished. To do so, Party B had to wear the guidance control device at all times, and once worn, it couldn’t be removed without Party A’s consent.
At the time, Seo Won was in no condition to even request guidance. The control device that would allow him to receive it even without giving a command—he had taken that off himself.
Cha Han-gyeom was neither obligated nor properly positioned to guide Seo Won.
And yet, Han-gyeom had stepped forward on his own—shielding Seo Won, pulling him from danger, and guiding him with everything he had for an excruciatingly long time.
Regardless of the contract.
Seo Won had to know. Cha Han-gyeom could survive even if Seo Won died.
If Seo Won had a seizure, Han-gyeom could scrape up the ashes left from his rampage, synthesize them into more “medicine,” and survive.
Seo Won desperately needed Cha Han-gyeom. But Han-gyeom didn’t desperately need Seo Won. Whether he lived or died—it didn’t matter.
He had to face the truth and make it through the brink of death. Only then would he truly feel the weight of the devotion poured into him.
Disdain only needed to become fondness.
Then, the heart of the former Imprinter would transform that into “affection” on its own. If it was a heart that couldn’t help but yearn for the one it had imprinted on, then, as it had been from the very beginning, it would do anything—anything just to focus solely on Cha Han-gyeom.
All that was left for him to do now was to keep poking at Seo Won’s emotions without pause.
“If I wait for your answer, we’ll be here all night.”
With a detached voice, he pulled away the back that had been resting against him. Letting go of Seo Won’s arm, Han-gyeom stood and looked down at him.
“Anyway, you just want to treat me well, right?”
Wrapping an arm around Seo Won’s neck, Han-gyeom locked eyes with him boldly and said,
“Then while you’re being so generous, grant me a favor.”
Seo Won, who had been staring silently at Han-gyeom towering over him, tugged him by the waist. They hadn’t been apart long, but it was as if he wanted to close that little distance right away—his chest pressed up against Han-gyeom’s again.
“I want a smoke.”
“Why cigarettes?”
The moment he spoke, a low voice shot out in response. It was clear that single remark had stirred up a sudden wave of irritation.
Seo Won hated cigarettes. Because they were harmful to the body. More precisely, he had an extreme aversion to anything that could threaten his life.
The reason he had stopped Han-gyeom from smoking wasn’t so much out of concern for Han-gyeom’s health, but more due to secondhand smoke. It was an oddly cute level of worry, considering it came from a physically robust esper who hardly ever got sick.
That’s how sensitive Seo Won was about his own life. Even if it was a Guide he’d once looked down on with contempt, he would still welcome it into the mansion—so long as it meant he could survive.
Han-gyeom had asked for a cigarette, fully aware of that side of Seo Won.
“I get dizzy a lot and have no appetite since I quit.” He murmured like a child making a small, sullen complaint, then lowered his gaze with quiet resignation. “When I’m alone, I start thinking about bad stuff… I figured maybe this would help.”
The sharp glint in Seo Won’s eyes softened immediately.
He’d never once considered the withdrawal symptoms that might come from quitting. Now that he thought about it, this wasn’t something he could just flat-out refuse.
Han-gyeom getting dizzy wasn’t anything new. Even the slightest mishandling made him feel lightheaded, and sometimes, he’d be walking just fine only to suddenly have to stop and steady himself against a wall.
The loss of appetite was another serious issue. He hadn’t eaten much even when he first arrived at the mansion, and now, it was worse. He couldn’t even finish half a bowl of rice per meal—no wonder he’d grown so gaunt. And maybe… he’d get even thinner.
But the bigger concern was those “bad thoughts” Han-gyeom might be having. Seo Won feared that asking him to elaborate might unintentionally leave a wound somewhere invisible. So instead, he simply weighed things out carefully in his mind.
A cigarette probably wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Yes, cigarettes were harmful. But in Han-gyeom’s case, they likely wouldn’t cause any real damage. His internal organs were still functioning in pristine condition.
And they always will.
As long as Seo Won stayed by his side, Cha Han-gyeom’s organs would remain flawless—free from any illness. There wouldn’t even be a sliver of a chance for something like a cigarette to do any damage.
At some point, Seo Won had completely stopped thinking about the secondhand smoke he’d inhale himself. All that filled the scale in his mind was Han-gyeom—his needs, his condition.
After silently weighing every side, Seo Won let out a small sigh.
“…Fine.”
“Really? I can smoke?”
Han-gyeom’s voice brightened as he brought his face closer to Seo Won’s.
Seo Won froze at the sight of his gleaming eyes. He watched, breath caught, as those jet-black pupils curved into a beautiful shape right before his eyes.
“I’ll just have a little. Thank you.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Seo Won slid a hand to the back of Han-gyeom’s head and pulled him in. Han-gyeom’s lips met his without the slightest resistance.
As they kissed, the corner of Han-gyeom’s lips curled ever so slightly. Did Seo Won even realize? That he was the one, with his own hands, gently unfastening each of Han-gyeom’s ironclad defenses—one by one. For someone he had once looked down on as just a lowly Guiding tool… far more than that person ever deserved.
***
The next day.
Han-gyeom was summoned to Seo Won’s office the moment he finished breakfast.
“You’re starting early today.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt as soon as he stepped inside.
In the past, Seo Won would summon him only to leave him sitting for hours, doing nothing. But ever since the guiding had shifted into sex, the moment he entered, it was always “take your clothes off.”
Though lately, Seo Won hadn’t even bothered calling him to the office. When they had sex in the bedroom, it was always late at night—after all the day’s business had been wrapped up.
So it had been quite a while since Han-gyeom had last set foot in the office.
Just as he reached the third button, Seo Won—now standing close—gently grabbed his hand to stop him.
“That’s not why I called you.”
“Then why?” Was there ever a day he wasn’t summoned for guiding?
As Han-gyeom tilted his head in confusion, Seo Won took his hand and placed something in his palm. A rectangular silver case, engraved with a refined, luxurious design.
A cigarette case?
It looked expensive—seriously expensive. Sitting atop it was a Zippo lighter from a well-known high-end brand.
“Smoke in moderation.”
It wasn’t a warning telling him to quit. It was, quite literally, an honest suggestion to keep it moderate.
Han-gyeom looked down at the cigarette case and lighter in his hand. He’d expected something like a cheap pack of cigs from a convenience store—he never imagined he’d be handed something so indulgent.
He pressed the side button on the case, and with a satisfying click, the lid flipped open. Inside were twenty cigarettes, lined up perfectly in rows.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I just picked something.”
“Just picked something”…? These go for 20,000 won a pack!
The clerk at the convenience store he used to frequent was a smoker, and from time to time, they’d chat about cigarettes. Once, this very brand had come up. The clerk had said they stocked them, but no one ever bought them because they were so ridiculously expensive.
And now, the kind of person who would buy that was standing right in front of him: Seo Won.
For the first time, it truly hit him—he was being kept inside the mansion of a young chaebol heir.
“Can I smoke one now?”
“Do whatever you want.”
With permission granted, Han-gyeom pulled a cigarette from the case and placed it between his lips. He opened the Zippo lighter—a first for him—and lit the equally unfamiliar luxury cigarette.
As he drew in a breath, the tip of the cigarette burned slowly with a soft crackle.
The smoke bloomed and quickly filled his lungs.
It had been a while since he’d last had a cigarette, and the taste struck him as surprisingly novel. Unlike cheap cigarettes, there was no foul aftertaste—only a clean, refined sharpness that lingered refreshingly on his tongue. Then, just as it sank deeper into his body, a dark, intensely rich aroma spread like ink.
After circling through his lungs and gliding smoothly back out, it left behind a bold and lingering depth in his mouth.
“So this is what expensive cigarettes are like?”
When inhaled, it was mild and crisp. But as he exhaled, the flavor deepened, transforming into something more sensual—like a slow caress trailing over his insides.
Not bad at all.
Casually, with the ease of habit, he slipped the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and took another long drag. As he let it out again, he felt like he finally understood what this cigarette was trying to offer—what it wanted to show him.
Maybe it was because it was so slim, but even after two long pulls, there was still plenty left.
A bit lacking in quantity, though.
At this rate, maybe five—no, four drags would be enough to burn it down to the filter. He figured he could easily go through a whole pack a day.
Even if we’re not doing any guiding… I’ll probably end up coming back just for the cigarettes.
