Min-hyung’s expression was tinged with regret. “It’s unfortunate, but that’s impossible.”
Seo Won’s brow twitched. The resolute tone in Min-hyung’s voice was unmistakable. “This barrier is innate. I’ve had it wrapped around me since before my ability awakened.”
Awakening typically occurred around the age of ten. That meant Cha Min-hyung had possessed this kind of defensive barrier long before that, even before he’d realized he was a Guide.
Min-hyung’s pupils glowed a faint red, and a soft crimson aura began to emanate from his entire body. He was releasing GP over the invisible barrier surrounding him.
“This doesn’t deactivate even when I’m not using GP. Whether I’m conscious or not, it’s always active.”
If one looked closely, they could see that the GP he was releasing wasn’t flowing directly along the surface of his body. Instead, it drifted just slightly above it, as if moving across something transparent.
“All innate S-rank Guides across the world possess this barrier. A portion of GP, without the owner’s will, undergoes its own refinement process and evolves into this kind of transparent membrane that protects the body.”
“That’s why it’s even more necessary,” Seo Won said, his voice betraying a sense of urgency.
Even though Min-hyung’s barrier didn’t guarantee Cha Han-gyeom’s safety, considering that the ones targeting him this time were Espers, it would undoubtedly offer some help. If Han-gyeom could instinctively block the abilities of Espers, it would significantly reduce the danger he was in.
But Min-hyung shook his head bitterly.
“As I said, this is something you’re born with. Only Guides who were S-rank even before their awakening possess this ability.”
A privilege granted only to innate S-rank Guides. An absolute defense to protect them from Espers.
“If the Imprinted can’t use this, it means he’s not an innate S-rank Guide.”
Seo Won clenched both fists tightly.
Cha Han-gyeom’s ranking wasn’t recorded anywhere. Nothing about him was ever confirmed, all that was known was that he was the only Guide from the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility.
If Min-hyung’s words were true, then Cha Han-gyeom was not an innate S-rank Guide.
“All the Ability Analysis Research Facilities focused primarily on researching S-rank individuals, and on creating beings who could rival them.”
Seo Won lifted his face, which had darkened, and met Min-hyung’s gaze. The black pupils that had now withdrawn their GP stared back at him.
“Especially when it came to Guides, they were probably subjected to brutal experimentation and forced to endure all kinds of test materials just to create something that resembled the innate S-rank Guide’s barrier.”
Min-hyung didn’t hold back—even when what he said could come across as harsh. And yet, he didn’t look away from Seo Won.
“The Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility was the last one standing. Which means… it was also the one that conducted experiments the longest.”
Seo Won’s expression was far from good.
He had known, of course, that Cha Han-gyeom had endured relentless torment from early childhood up until five years ago. But hearing it laid out so plainly, in someone else’s words, struck him differently. The weight of it settled in his chest, dragging his mood into somber depths.
In contrast, Min-hyung, who had just confirmed it, oddly looked somewhat relieved.
“If he’s from an Ability Analysis Research Facility, then he likely possesses a similar ability.”
The moment Min-hyung spoke, Seo Won recalled Han-gyeom’s power. A unique ability that constructs layer upon layer of GP within an Esper’s ESP pathways upon contact, blocking their flow entirely. Along with it, a phenomenal power that could nullify the very abilities manifested by the ESP itself.
Min-hyung, catching the subtle change in Seo Won’s expression, let out a faint smile.
“Perhaps I can be of help.”
He tried to recall the few classified documents about the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility—one of the most information-scarce labs in existence. What came to mind instead was a memory from the now-defunct First Ability Analysis Research Facility.
“Shall we make a trade?”
He shut his eyes tightly, as if trying to force away the image of a small child that lingered in his mind’s eye. When he opened them again, his face had become completely serious.
“There’s someone I’m looking for. If it’s you, President Seo, then even if it takes time, you should be able to find them.”
His expression barely changed as he spoke, but there was something desperate flickering deep in his gaze.
Seo Won picked up on it instantly and gave a firm nod, no hesitation.
“Understood. No matter what it takes, I’ll find them. So tell me—how can you help my Guide?”
Min-hyung glanced down at his own body. He had been told the injury would take eight weeks to heal, but if he pushed himself, he might be able to move within two.
“As soon as I recover enough, I’ll visit your estate in person.”
He could, of course, ask Seo Won to bring the Imprinted to the hospital directly. But the room he was in saw constant foot traffic from Esper Association officials, all of them using “visiting the patient” as an excuse to scope him out.
It was best to avoid letting Seo Won’s Imprinted be seen by those people. So Min-hyung planned to move on his own, even if it meant pushing himself beyond what was safe. After all, any escapee from a place like that would likely be terrified of the Association.
‘Come to think of it… your way of referring to the Imprinted has changed, hasn’t it, President Seo?’
He used to call him the Imprinted of his “heart,” not his own. But now Seo Won had begun calling Cha Han-gyeom my Imprinted or my Guide without hesitation.
Min-hyung found himself feeling relieved once again. Ever since he’d realized Seo Won’s heart was already Imprinted, his biggest concern had been whether the man could truly cherish someone else’s Imprinted as his own.
It seemed that worry had been unfounded.
Judging by how devotedly the Imprinted had been guiding Seo Won, perhaps he, too, held that same deep affection. At least, that was what Min-hyung chose to believe.
***
Seo Won slowly opened his eyes, silently replaying the conversation he had just shared with Cha Min-hyung through his projection.
Cha Han-gyeom’s ability to block ESP channels was, in a way, the worst kind of counter an Esper could face. With just a part of his body making contact, GP would flood into the opponent through that point of connection, installing a barrier that felt like it was slicing straight through their internal channels.
If that ability could be refined and reshaped into something akin to Min-hyung’s defensive barrier, then no Esper would be able to threaten Cha Han-gyeom again.
It’s definitely Espers who are after Cha Han-gyeom.
All four of the assailants they had encountered were Espers. From a purely utilitarian standpoint, Han-gyeom’s greatest “value” lay in his Guiding. Which meant that, moving forward, it was highly likely that more Espers would come hunting for him.
Was it that time? Did someone spot him then…?
He recalled the product demonstration event they had attended together. That had been the only time Han-gyeom had been exposed to the outside world prior to the yacht party, so it was the most logical conclusion.
While ability users were already rare worldwide, Guides were even rarer. It was only natural that Espers would covet a powerful Guide.
Han-gyeom had temporarily guided him at the demonstration event, and afterward, they had moved on to the hotel. Without that Guiding, Seo Won might very well have lost control during the transition.
And if the terrorists had witnessed Han-gyeom’s swift and precise Guiding then, it was no surprise they would fixate on him. Still, even with that, it was hard to understand how they’d had the audacity to attack a yacht party filled with Esper Association executives.
Seo Won looked down at Han-gyeom, who was sleeping with his back nestled against his chest. He had offered his arm as a pillow, and without protest, Han-gyeom had quietly laid down and fallen asleep almost instantly.
He gazed at the younger man’s pale, unblemished back. The Imprint wasn’t visible, but that didn’t matter. He remembered its location, shape, every delicate curve etched into his memory.
Seo Won leaned in and pressed his lips between Han-gyeom’s shoulder blades, leaving a faint mark on the exact center of the hidden Imprint. Then, with the tip of his tongue, he traced the invisible curve once more.
“Mmngh…”
A soft sound escaped from between Han-gyeom’s lips. Maybe it tickled—because just as Seo Won finished tracing the shape, Han-gyeom shifted lightly in his sleep.
Smiling faintly, Seo Won carefully turned him over. When Han-gyeom, half-asleep, rolled into a position facing him, Seo Won pulled him tightly into his arms.
Their hearts, pressed together, slowly began to synchronize. Seo Won’s Imprint, which had been faintly pulsing with restless energy, responded with a quiet hum of resonance.
“Cha Han-gyeom.”
He whispered his name.
The only reply was the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Seo Won watched his face in silence, then leaned in toward his lips. He gently ran his tongue across Han-gyeom’s soft, crimson lips, and as though reluctant to let even his breath go to waste, began swallowing his warmth one breath at a time.
“Mmph… nghh…”
More than just sleeping breath now—Han-gyeom let out faint moans as well.
Seo Won accepted it all without hesitation, continuing to kiss him with a lingering, teasing sweetness.
Even as he continued, Seo Won couldn’t take his eyes off Han-gyeom.
He stared intently—even at the faint flickering of his lashes in sleep, even at the subtle twitches of his eyes beneath closed lids.
He’s mine.
Seo Won’s blue eyes, once calm, now shimmered with an intensity that went far beyond mere possessiveness or desire—they burned with a madness that bordered on obsession.
I won’t let anyone have Cha Han-gyeom.
No matter who the opponent might be, what Seo Won had to do remained unchanged. He had to keep Han-gyeom from being taken.
That was all that mattered.
