As soon as Han-gyeom’s body had fully recovered and the headaches had vanished completely, Seo Won began bringing him to the office every morning at the crack of dawn.
Normally, there was already a mountain of work waiting for Seo Won the moment they arrived, so Han-gyeom didn’t really have anything to do until around lunchtime. So, just like in the early days after they had made their contract, he would quietly sit on the sofa, watching Seo Won work—until he’d inevitably doze off.
Then, at some point, he’d wake up to find himself in a completely different position from how he’d originally been lying on the sofa.
Seo Won would be sitting there now, having somehow switched places with him without waking him up. Just like a mother swaddling her newborn in a cloth sling, he’d pulled Han-gyeom onto his lap, facing him, with his thighs as a seat. And just like that, he’d continue reviewing his documents as if nothing had changed.
Once he noticed Han-gyeom had woken up, only then would he finally set the documents aside. But instead of greeting him sweetly or asking if he’d slept well, he’d lean in and kiss him the moment their eyes met—like he’d been waiting for it all along.
That kiss always led to something more. Without fail, he would lay Han-gyeom back on the sofa, slipping his hand under his shirt or caressing the hem between his legs to stoke a fire that needed no coaxing.
The rest played out just like it had in those early contract days.
The only difference was that now, there was no more forced guiding. He didn’t treat Han-gyeom roughly, either. Not once did he pressure him with those forceful words urging him to guide—those had vanished completely.
Once their slow, gentle sex was over, they would eat together.
Seo Won was picky about a lot of things, but when it came to Han-gyeom’s meals, he was downright meticulous. Even back then, he’d insisted on varied and overly generous portions, citing nutritional deficiencies. But recently, he’d become even more exacting—watching with his own eyes to make sure everything was eaten properly.
As a result, they ended up eating every meal together. Clearly, he intended to keep a close eye on things himself.
Whenever Han-gyeom put his spoon down, Seo Won would always shoot him a disapproving look and urge him to eat more. A half-eaten bowl of rice was never going to sit well with him.
Was this some form of discipline? Or maybe he was hoping the post-meal exercise would work up enough of an appetite for another round?
Either way, it gave Seo Won a perfect excuse to have his way with him again. Sometimes he stopped at just some petting or hand play, depending on Han-gyeom’s condition—but in the end, he always left him thoroughly drained.
Completely exhausted, Han-gyeom would slump on the sofa with a cigarette, nodding off as the sunset spilled through the windows. Evening would arrive before he knew it. Maybe it was because he was so worn out, but every time he blinked, the scenery or his position would’ve changed again.
Especially at night—if he so much as dozed off for a moment, he’d always wake up underneath Seo Won, staring up at his face in the bedroom.
“At least he’s learned to be considerate, kind of.”
He came at him more often now, but it was always done with care and affection. When Han-gyeom was visibly worn down, Seo Won would sometimes just hold him in his arms and leave it at that. Even when the guiding was weak or interrupted, he never scolded him.
Watching him hold back, despite clearly being on the verge of bursting, would sometimes make Han-gyeom’s chest flutter for reasons he didn’t fully understand.
And yet, Seo Won’s obsession was growing worse by the day.
When Han-gyeom went out for a short stroll in the garden with Lim Du-hyuk or Jung Ah-young, he was only allowed to walk within the area that was visible from Seo Won’s office window. That restriction had been added recently. If he ever wandered out of view and came back, Seo Won’s nerves would be so frayed it was a miracle he didn’t lash out on the spot.
Because of the occasional visits from external guests to the office, Han-gyeom was sometimes asked to step out, but Seo Won’s reaction was always the same.
It was likely because he didn’t want to expose his important Guide to outsiders.
Still, there was one exception—Yoon Jeong-ho. Han-gyeom didn’t need to vacate the room when he was around. It seemed that, being close to Seo Won, Jeong-ho already knew far too much. Watching him throw subtle, almost unreadable glances at Seo Won—who was radiating that strange, possessive tension toward Han-gyeom—was actually rather entertaining.
“…Hyung. Hyung?”
Lost in thought, thinking about Seo Won, Han-gyeom finally looked up at the voice calling out to him. Jae-woo was staring at him with deep concern etched across his face.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not really sick or anything, right?”
Jae-woo’s voice was dead serious, almost alarmingly so.
‘I can’t blame him.’
After spending five years by Han-gyeom’s side, he’d seen a lot. Not just the seizures, but the vulnerable, fragile parts of Cha Han-gyeom as a person—Song Jae-woo had witnessed them all up close. Just being apart for this long was more than enough to make him worry sick.
First things first, he needed to do something about that face, practically dripping with worry.
Han-gyeom reached out and ruffled Jae-woo’s hair.
Du-hyuk twitched slightly at the corner of his eye but, fortunately, didn’t say anything and simply watched.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m really doing well.”
“…Well, that’s a relief.”
He gestured for Jae-woo to sit across from him, and Han-gyeom plopped down onto the plush sofa himself. Maybe it was a reflex from spending so much time in the office, but the moment he sat down, he felt like sleep was going to overtake him again.
To stay awake, he pulled out a cigarette. Startled, Jae-woo glanced nervously at Du-hyuk.
“Hyung! W-Wait! If you smoke—your fingers! Your fingers!”
Now that he thought about it, Jae-woo had been there that time when Seo Won had practically threatened him over the cigarettes.
Watching Jae-woo flail in a quiet panic, Han-gyeom instead held the cigarette confidently between his lips.
“It’s fine. He gave me permission.”
“Wait, seriously? Cigarettes?”
Jae-woo’s wide, surprised eyes slowly softened with visible relief.
“Well, that’s good. So he’s not completely unreasonable after all.”
It was like his mistrust and wariness toward Seo Won had dropped from a perfect 100 to a slightly more forgiving 99.
Before Han-gyeom could even pull out his lighter, a small flame flickered up in front of his cigarette.
Even though he didn’t smoke, Jae-woo still carried a lighter out of habit—for Han-gyeom. It had been a while since it got to do its job, and now it flared proudly.
The faint wave of nostalgia hit him—like he’d gone back to a time before entering this mansion. With a silent smile, Han-gyeom brought the tip of the cigarette to the flame.
Jae-woo quietly watched him. His gaze rested on Han-gyeom’s darkened eyes, hidden beneath lowered lashes, and then, with some hesitation, he spoke.
“You feel… different somehow.”
“Do I?”
Lifting his head, Han-gyeom let out a soft plume of smoke but didn’t press for details. Almost like he didn’t want to hear whatever answer might come, he kept the cigarette in his mouth and asked a different question instead.
“Did you get the money alright?”
“Yeah, I did.”
Jae-woo nodded firmly, then his expression turned cautious again.
“But… do I really have it all? Everything?”
“You’ve always handled the money up to now. And it’s not like I can go anywhere for a while anyway.”
“What’s the point of having that much money if you can’t even leave this place or use it?”
“Once I finish purging all the Black Vein, I’ll be able to move around more freely.”
Even so, he still had to return to Seo Won’s side within 24 hours.
The Subordinate must remain within the area designated by the Principal until the Principal’s health stabilizes. Once stabilized, the Subordinate may leave freely with the Principal’s approval. However, they must return within 24 hours to the Principal’s area of activity.
By now, Seo Won’s Black Vein had already retreated to his elbow, using the arm as a baseline. Once it passed the upper arm, crossed the shoulder, and thinned out beneath the collarbone, it would eventually disappear completely at the final point—his left chest, where the heart resided.
The rapid reduction of the Black Vein could largely be attributed to Han-gyeom’s exceptional guiding. But just as much, it was due to the internal changes within Seo Won himself.
Not only was he now fully accepting Han-gyeom’s guiding, but he’d also stopped resisting the natural resonance of the Imprint. He welcomed it willingly. That alone proved just how much he had begun to trust and open up to his Imprinter.
“Convenient, really.”
Because of the Imprint connecting him to Seo Won, Han-gyeom could clearly tell that it wasn’t just the guiding anymore—Seo Won was becoming intoxicated with him, Cha Han-gyeom, the Imprinter.
The subtle vibrations that had once barely tickled at his awareness were now stroking across his entire body, every time the heat flared up, as if coaxing and courting him.
There was nothing more accurate—or amusing—than analyzing the primal signals of the Imprint to grasp Seo Won’s emotional shifts, since the man never expressed them openly. Rather than fumbling through vague and awkward emotions, breaking down and savoring the resonance transmitted by his instincts felt far more reliable.
“How long will it take from here? Three months? Maybe it’ll be done in two.”
Thanks to Seo Won’s active cooperation, the timeline was shortening fast.
When they first started, he estimated they’d be able to hold out for about six months with just one vial of “medicine.” But at this pace, the end might come a lot sooner.
The thought made a bitter smile curl across his lips.
He felt like a terminal patient on oxygen support—laughably pitiful. Not just himself, but Seo Won too.
“Hold on to the money for me. Use it freely if you need to.”
Han-gyeom took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a slow, steady stream that grazed his lungs.
“Anything strange going on? Like, someone watching you? Or anyone asking about me?”
“There’s plenty of people looking for you. I mean, all the reservation phones and the ledger are gone, and you vanished too, so of course the shop shut down. But somehow, word got out, and a lot of folks have been pestering me, asking if they can still book appointments. It got to be such a pain that I ended up closing the office and moving house.”
“Good call. What about guiding? How have you been managing that?”
Han-gyeom had been particularly worried about Jae-woo’s guiding.
Due to security, Song Jae-woo had to put up protective wards around both his office and home on a daily basis. For someone like that, receiving proper guiding at least once every three days was an absolute necessity.
Since he didn’t have Han-gyeom, he’d probably either gone to a freelance Guide or spent more money to hire a dedicated one.
“Right! I was actually going to tell you about the Guide I met!”
Jae-woo beamed brightly.
“It’s someone I came across recently—they do this really unique kind of guiding.”
“Unique guiding?”
Han-gyeom repeated, frowning slightly, a sense of unease creeping in.
It wasn’t like Jae-woo had run into some Esper group targeting him like those terrorists had—but for some reason, the phrase “unique guiding” gave him a chill that he couldn’t shake.
