He couldn’t have been more than thirty.
Outwardly, he looked about the same age as Seo Won—perhaps even indistinguishable. With neatly combed-back hair and a gentle, easygoing smile, his face radiated kindness. He wore a tidy suit, seemingly chosen to match the old man’s preference for formality, just like the other servants in the mansion.
But he wasn’t like the other servants. Although he served the old man voluntarily, Seo Won knew just as well as anyone else in the mansion—no one could force this man to do anything.
A man who gave off an unsettling, impossible-to-like aura.
Seo Won had always thought of him that way: a man who looked as if he hadn’t aged a single day since the first time they met.
“Welcome. Must’ve been a long trip,” the man greeted warmly, flashing the exact same smile, in the same voice he’d used when they first met—back when Seo Won had been only seven.
Seo Won didn’t return the greeting. He just stared at the man silently, eyes sharp and unblinking.
“Doesn’t it get tiring, always glaring like that?” the man chuckled, approaching while pushing the old man’s wheelchair. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Creating a double takes effort, too. You’re awfully cautious.”
At that, the old man’s haggard face twitched ever so slightly. He wasn’t looking at the man who spoke so casually—it was Seo Won he now stared at, with piercing intensity.
“Still as rude as ever, I see.”
“As you know, I’m a busy person. Gotta let the real body keep working, don’t you think?” Seo Won replied coolly, jerking his chin toward the man.
“Mr. Ha Tae-soo, please step out. I need to speak with my grandfather alone.”
Standing across from Seo Won with the wheelchair between them, Ha Tae-soo maintained his smile as he replied, “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“No. Get out.”
To be perfectly honest, Seo Won loathed Tae-soo. Yes, it was thanks to his help that Seo Won had survived with a new heart, but that didn’t matter. He simply couldn’t trust Ha Tae-soo as a person.
As he locked eyes with Tae-soo, Seo Won couldn’t help but recall the day they first met—when he was just seven.
“Hey, kid.”
“…”
“Your mom’s gonna die soon. What was it—twenty-eight minutes left?”
The words were too absurd and cruel to be said to a child, let alone out of nowhere. But they had come true. Exactly twenty-eight minutes later, his mother collapsed and drew her last breath.
And Ha Tae-soo, smiling all the while, had murmured as he ruffled Seo Won’s hair:
“Let’s meet again at your grandfather’s mansion. Try not to die before then.”
He was the kind of man who could say something so cold and heartless to a sobbing child, kneeling before his mother’s lifeless body. A man who confirmed someone’s death as though just ticking off a task—then turned away humming a tune.
That fleeting encounter with Ha Tae-soo ended just as abruptly as it began.
And now, they had met again—right here, in this very mansion.
“Remember me? It’s nice to see you again.”
Ha Tae-soo hadn’t changed at all since their reunion in the mansion Seo Won had been dragged to as a child, clueless and frightened. Not just in appearance—but in that same unsettling composure.
It was only then that Seo Won realized the kind of connection Ha Tae-soo had with this family. And from that moment on, he became an unwilling participant in the ‘contract’ Tae-soo had made.
That made him hate the man even more.
It wasn’t enough for Tae-soo to manipulate this family as he pleased—he’d entangled Seo Won’s life too, and even now, he seemed to be scheming for more.
Seo Won could see it all clearly… and yet, he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.
Because as long as that link between the old man and Ha Tae-soo remained intact, Tae-soo was a man who simply couldn’t be killed—not for good.
“Let him hear it. It won’t matter.”
“Didn’t you call me here because you wanted to speak in private? If that was a mistake, I’ll be on my way.”
“…Some things don’t change with time, like your lack of manners.”
The old man looked displeased with Seo Won’s continued defiance, but at the same time, he found it strangely satisfying. Better that than someone who just nodded along without ever speaking their mind.
“Tae-soo, wait outside for a bit.”
“Understood.”
Without a word of protest, Ha Tae-soo lowered his head in obedient acknowledgment and followed the old man’s instruction. It was a stark contrast to how he had behaved just moments earlier when speaking with Seo Won.
With a slight smirk, Tae-soo shot a playful look at Seo Won before turning to the door. Though he hadn’t said anything aloud, the esper who had been waiting outside opened the door at just the right moment.
After Ha Tae-soo left the room—
Seo Won spoke again, his face hardening even more.
“Looks like he’s become your personal butler now.”
“That wasn’t the plan, but I suppose it turned out that way. There’s a purpose behind it.”
“A purpose, you say…?”
The old man looked toward the door Tae-soo had exited through, only half-listening to Seo Won’s question, before lifting his gaze up to meet him.
“You’ve grown, haven’t you? Hurts my neck just looking up at you.”
At thirty-three years old, Seo Won found the comment absurd. He wasn’t still growing.
But he knew exactly what the old man meant—it wasn’t about height. It was about stature. About who was looking up to whom.
Wearing a scowl that mirrored the old man’s own habitual expression, Seo Won pushed his wheelchair gently, positioning him across from the sofa before sitting down himself.
“Didn’t I always tell you? You need to learn how to hide your expressions.”
“I know. But if I did that, you’d just like me even less, wouldn’t you?”
His sharp retort wiped the mild scowl off the old man’s face, replacing it with a hollow, dry laugh.
“That’s true. Trying to have a real conversation while staring at some fake expression just makes me feel like I’m being lied to.”
Seated on the sofa across from the old man, Seo Won only furrowed his brow more deeply, as if to make his displeasure even more obvious.
“Then why do you keep that man so close?”
“You know why. Because he’s necessary.”
“Even so, there’s no need to keep him that close, is there?”
The old man let out a faint chuckle at Seo Won’s words and reached toward the teacup already set on the table. Alongside it was a rather elegant-looking teapot that suited his vintage tastes.
But before his hand could reach it, Seo Won moved first—setting up the teacup and tilting the teapot filled with warm black tea.
The old man pulled his hand back, a curious smile curling on his lips.
“You know what they say—keep your enemies closer than anyone else.”
Seo Won’s hand paused mid-pour. His eyes stayed fixed on the teapot, but his gaze shifted upward toward the old man.
“Do you actually consider Ha Tae-soo an enemy?”
“Who knows. But I certainly wouldn’t call him an ally, either.”
The old man had said things like this before—veiled, cryptic remarks laced with meaning, as though he were posing the question right back at Seo Won.
“For someone who’s not an ally, the number of espers has grown noticeably. Isn’t that thanks to the ‘contracts’ Ha Tae-soo orchestrated?”
“That’s right. But Tae-soo only facilitates the contracts. The terms are decided between the contracting parties—between the employer and the contracted.”
“And yet I’ve seen, more than once, how the facilitator inserts himself into those very terms.”
Even as Seo Won spoke with razor-sharp edge, the old man didn’t get angry. He only offered a silent smile in response.
If anyone else had been present, perhaps things would have been different. But when they were alone like this, the old man rarely showed any strong emotion toward him. If anything, he was gentle. Tender, even.
Seo Won figured he was likely the only one who knew this side of him.
After all, the only person the old man truly trusted was Seo Won—no one else.
After filling the old man’s teacup to the brim, Seo Won poured his own.
As the steam rose from the tea, it suddenly reminded him of Han-gyeom’s cigarette smoke. And naturally, what followed was the image of Cha Han-gyeom, gently lowering his lashes as he savored the taste of a cigarette.
I’ve lost it.
Even now, in this situation, his mind kept conjuring up Han-gyeom.
“Won-ah.”
The old man called out gently.
The sudden voice startled him, like he’d been caught mid-thought. Seo Won’s hand pressed the teapot a little too firmly onto the glass table, making a soft clink as it landed. The old man smiled faintly.
“I heard you brought in a Guide to the mansion.”
Seo Won fell silent, watching the old man lift his teacup.
If this hadn’t been a projection, he might’ve shared a leisurely cup of tea with him. But even though it was said to be made from unmelting ice, any food or drink carrying warmth only interfered with maintaining the clone.
“And it’s not like you brought in several—you let in just one child.”
Despite the kindly smile on the old man’s lips, his gaze toward Seo Won was frigid. And Seo Won, staring back, couldn’t help but feel a surge of tension ripple through his chest.
“May I ask what exactly that means?”
“What else could it mean to bring in a Guide? It’s for Guiding, of course.”
“Then why not take in multiple Guides like you used to? That would be more efficient, wouldn’t it?”
The wrinkles at the corners of the old man’s eyes twisted ever so subtly, like a trap being set. Seo Won, having met that gaze more than a few times before, felt his eyebrow twitch instinctively.
“That child—would you mind if I met them?”
There was a glint in the old man’s eyes, razor-sharp and gleaming. It was the kind of glint that could only come from someone who despised espers—especially Guides—with a visceral intensity.
