Han-gyeom pressed his throbbing forehead, glaring at Jae-woo.
There was still a dazed look of confusion on Song Jae-woo’s innocent face, as if he truly had no idea what was going on.
For the majority of unregistered ability users who had never received formal training at the Esper Association, the concept of an “Imprint” between an Esper and a Guide felt more like an urban legend than a reality.
They might be aware of the merits and demerits of an Imprint, but most had no idea how one was even formed. Living with the constant anxiety that the Association could come for them at any moment, they had no reason to care about something like an Imprint that would bind them to someone for life. To them, it was nothing but a bothersome shackle.
That’s why Han-gyeom had warned Jae-woo many times, out of concern for him.
He’d told him, again and again—never, ever receive deep guiding from another Guide.
Even if it did happen, he shouldn’t let himself be swayed by a fleeting emotion. And if, by some chance, he ever felt the desire to form an Imprint, he had to erase that feeling, no matter what.
But all those warnings now felt meaningless, considering how ridiculously straitlaced Jae-woo was.
He was the type who would outright refuse any intimate act for the sake of efficient guiding unless it was with someone he truly loved. He’d even get deadly serious when Han-gyeom joked about doing deep guiding with him, going pale on his own.
With how he was, Han-gyeom had never once thought Jae-woo would want deep guiding—let alone an Imprint.
So what the hell had happened?
“Did he get Imprinted without even realizing it? But how?”
No matter how hard he racked his brain, there was no answer.
Even during his time at the Fourth Ability Analysis Research Facility, he’d never heard of a Guide who could imprint someone without the Esper even knowing.
“…Hyung. Am I… broken or something?”
Jae-woo’s voice trembled with anxiety as he studied Han-gyeom’s pale face. But more than worrying about what was happening to his own body, it seemed he couldn’t bear seeing Han-gyeom so shaken because of him.
Han-gyeom couldn’t bring himself to say the words, “You’ve been Imprinted.” Not with that look on Jae-woo’s face, like he was about to cry.
“…No. You’re not.”
He shook his head, lips tightening with heaviness.
“Don’t meet that Guide again.”
“Huh? Oh… okay?”
From Jae-woo’s reaction, it seemed all but certain that he had been Imprinted. But based on the circumstances alone, it just didn’t add up. An Esper who neither understood what an Imprint was nor opened their heart to it couldn’t be Imprinted—especially not without deep guiding.
The only theory Han-gyeom could come up with was that a psychic-type Esper had used that Guide as a conduit to mess with Jae-woo’s mind. Maybe they’d brainwashed him so that receiving guiding from anyone besides his designated Guide would trigger Imprint-like symptoms.
And the only ones capable of doing something like that…
Were the same people who had been after him all along.
“They’re probably tied to a dangerous group. Don’t ever meet them again. And if they know where you live…”
“…”
“…move. Immediately.”
“Ha, but…!”
Flustered, Jae-woo couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
Even for someone who had always nodded obediently at everything Han-gyeom said, the experience of such a divine level of guiding made it hard to agree so easily this time.
And Han-gyeom knew that—which is why his voice grew even firmer.
“Listen to me, Song Jae-woo. If that had just been a normal guiding session, would you have ever rejected mine?”
“Ugh… Still, that person… they didn’t seem like the type to do something like that…”
His expression turned indignant, as if he himself had just been accused of something.
Jae-woo wasn’t someone who opened up to others easily, but once he accepted someone, he had a tendency to become blindly devoted. If Han-gyeom didn’t draw a clear line right now, he’d end up getting swept up by that strange Guide again.
So Han-gyeom shared his suspicions and tried to pull him back. He explained that it was highly likely that other Espers had worked with that Guide to hypnotize or brainwash Jae-woo, and if that was the case, the best course of action was to get away from them immediately.
“If that’s true… then why me?”
Jae-woo asked with a puzzled look. He couldn’t understand why anyone would go to such lengths to mess with him specifically.
Han-gyeom hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he had no choice but to reveal the truth about the people who’d been targeting him. He admitted he still didn’t know why they were after him, but as long as he stayed in this estate, they couldn’t touch him—so they were likely going after those around him instead.
Jae-woo’s expression shifted instantly. The innocent, teary-eyed look was gone, replaced with deep concern for Han-gyeom and a simmering resentment toward the unknown terrorist group.
“…Okay. I’ll do what you said.”
More than anything, Jae-woo couldn’t bear the thought of Han-gyeom getting caught up in trouble because of him.
He reached out and grasped Han-gyeom’s hand. The sensation from earlier likely still lingered, so even touching his Guide should’ve been difficult—but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
“You be careful too, hyung. I can’t say I love that this place is supposedly the safest, but… we signed a contract, so that guy will protect you.”
Jae-woo forced a bitter smile, thinking of Seo Won.
To him, Seo Won was nothing more than an arrogant, cold-hearted chaebol bastard—but even he couldn’t deny that Han-gyeom was safe here because of him.
Suddenly remembering something, Jae-woo asked with concern in his eyes.
“Come to think of it… how much of the medicine do you have left?”
Han-gyeom froze.
If he meant that medicine—it had already been shattered to pieces by Seo Won a long time ago.
His eyes darkened, and his lashes trembled faintly. That medicine had never been just medicine, so whenever it came up like this out of nowhere, it sent his mood plummeting.
And with it, came the flood of emotions he couldn’t escape.
His true feelings for Seo Won.
Han-gyeom forced a smile, carefully hiding the turmoil within.
“…I still have plenty.”
“That’s a relief. If you ever run out, just let me know. I’ll go see Dr. Jung right away.”
The “Dr. Jung” Jae-woo referred to was an unregistered Esper and a back-alley doctor who had looked after Han-gyeom’s physical condition for the past five years. There was probably no one who understood Han-gyeom’s body better.
Jae-woo believed that the medicine Han-gyeom took came from that very doctor.
But Han-gyeom had no intention of telling Jae-woo the truth about the “medicine.” That’s why he had asked the doctor to go along with the lie—so that naïve Jae-woo would continue to think the medicine was something he could always get, as long as he had money.
So all Han-gyeom could do… was smile.
Because something like the real medicine—was now out of reach.
***
At that very moment, while Han-gyeom was meeting with Jae-woo…
Seo Won’s double was already deep within a grand estate.
Though Seo Won’s own mansion was so large and expansive it could leave the average person speechless, this estate still put his to shame. The scale and grandeur were utterly staggering.
Seo Won eyed the neatly dressed man leading him.
‘Is he an Esper?’
The face of the old man he was about to meet surfaced in Seo Won’s mind.
That man had once abhorred ability users to his core—and now, even his household staff were all Espers. It was likely the influence of that special ability user he’d kept by his side for the past few years, but seeing such a dramatic transformation unfold little by little was still absurd.
After walking for quite some time, they finally arrived at a private lounge, located in the very heart of the estate—a secluded sanctuary designed solely for the estate’s master, offering peace and stillness.
The Esper man who had guided Seo Won paused in front of the door.
He didn’t knock. He didn’t even announce Seo Won’s arrival. He simply turned and looked at him.
“He says you may enter.”
It seemed the man had a telepathic ability. He must have already communicated with the elder inside and received permission.
Reaching out, the man pushed open the door. The large doors parted from the center, their sheer size befitting the opulence of the mansion.
Seo Won stepped past him and walked into the lounge. Behind him, the doors closed with a soft thud.
As he looked around the interior of the lounge, Seo Won instinctively furrowed his brows. It had been nearly a year since his last visit, but the space had changed—too much.
“Feels more like a botanical garden.”
It looked like someone had transplanted an entire greenhouse into the room. Every corner was filled with lush, vibrant plants in a riot of colors. The scent of flowers and greenery tickled his nose in a strangely pleasant way. He found himself oddly grateful there weren’t any actual trees in here.
“If you were going to do all this, why bother keeping a garden outside?”
As Seo Won spoke without restraint, a feeble voice echoed from the corner of the flower-filled room.
“As you know, my body isn’t what it used to be. I’d love to stroll through the garden, but only if I had the strength to do so.”
Moments later, a white-haired old man slowly emerged from behind a partition, seated in a wheelchair.
His body was so emaciated, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he stopped breathing at any moment. He looked utterly haggard—like simply producing sound was all his body could manage. The frail man seemed to struggle even to keep his eyes open, his eyelids drooping under the weight of exhaustion. A thin blanket covered his thighs, and on top of it rested one lifeless hand. A long tube was inserted into the back of that hand, connecting him to a transparent IV bag hanging from the stand attached to his wheelchair.
But Seo Won wasn’t looking at the old man.
His sharp gaze was locked on the man who had appeared behind the wheelchair, pushing it forward.
