As soon as he exited from meeting the old man and got into the car, Seo Won’s clone evaporated neatly in a matter of moments. A faint mist, laced with ice crystals, slipped gently out through the window he had left slightly open in advance.
Back in his office, having confronted the old man through his clone, Seo Won pressed his forehead with one hand and let out a sigh.
The reason why the old man knew about Cha Han-gyeom was obvious.
Yoon Jeong-ho, huh…
Everyone working in this mansion was someone who had sworn absolute loyalty to him. Whether it was due to an undeniable weakness or something desperately needed, every single one of them had entered a contract, so it went without saying that their lips were tightly sealed. That included Director Shin, the physician who visited regularly to check on both Seo Won’s and Cha Han-gyeom’s physical conditions.
The only person who came and went freely, whose lips weren’t sealed—as expected, was Yoon Jeong-ho.
I figured he’d find out eventually anyway.
Yoon Jeong-ho had always played the role of mediator between him and the old man. Even if they never met in person, they would exchange updates about each other’s condition through Yoon Jeong-ho—it was the default arrangement.
Bringing a Guide into the mansion in itself wasn’t much of a problem. What was suspicious to the old man was the fact that there was only one.
It had already been nearly two months since he brought Cha Han-gyeom in, and the fact that no additional Guides had been installed in the mansion probably seemed fishy.
Should I bring in more Guides, even just for show?
But he quickly shook his head.
There was no guarantee that outside Guides could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Even if they did, they would end up left to rot in some corner of the mansion, and sooner or later, the truth—that Seo Won only received Guiding through Cha Han-gyeom—would inevitably leak out.
More importantly, as long as there were people out there targeting Cha Han-gyeom, bringing outsiders into the mansion was something he had to avoid at all costs.
In the end, there was nothing that needed changing. All he had to do was keep Cha Han-gyeom by his side, just as he had been doing.
The only thing he absolutely could not allow the old man to discover was the Imprint tied to his heart.
If the old man learned that Cha Han-gyeom was the only one capable of Guiding him, he would not hesitate to resort to cruelty. He might even bind him in chains from head to toe, install Guiding control devices all over his body, and treat him like some livestock whose sole purpose was to provide Guiding.
Just imagining Cha Han-gyeom ending up in such a state made his blood run cold. It was a chilling thought, especially because the old man was more than capable of doing exactly that.
Abruptly rising from his seat, Seo Won walked toward the door and called out.
“Is Cha Han-gyeom still in the reception room?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Jung Ah-young responded immediately from outside and opened the door for him. Stepping out past the open doorway, Seo Won walked down the brightly lit corridor. Ah-young quickly closed the office door behind them and hurried to follow him.
Seo Won glanced down at his wristwatch, frowning.
“He’s late.”
“It’s only been an hour. They haven’t seen each other in ages—you should at least give them two. Just imagine how much they must’ve had to say.”
Ah-young giggled quietly as she recalled the oversized puppy that was Song Jae-woo.
In contrast, Seo Won’s expression was far from pleased. No matter how he tried to think about it, all he could focus on was the fact that Han-gyeom had been taken away from him for over an hour. Like a sulking child.
Seo Won’s pace toward the reception room quickened noticeably. With long, purposeful strides, he charged ahead while Ah-young kept pace at a short distance behind.
Just as Seo Won was about to enter the hallway leading to the reception room, he suddenly stopped in his tracks at the sound of voices coming from around the corner.
“Can’t we talk just a little longer? It’s been so long since we last saw each other.”
Song Jae-woo’s voice was filled with dejection.
Moments later came Han-gyeom’s calm, gentle reply.
“We’ll see each other again soon. Just don’t forget what I told you, and behave yourself until then.”
“…Okay.”
Though he hadn’t rounded the corner yet and couldn’t see them directly, Seo Won could easily imagine Song Jae-woo standing there with invisible ears and tail drooping low, his face clouded with gloom.
“If he ever does anything mean to you, tell me! I’ll help you find a way to cancel the contract, no matter what!”
Seo Won’s eye twitched at the sound of Jae-woo’s bold proclamation.
Cancel the contract?
Not a chance in hell.
The contract had countless hidden safeguards layered throughout to ensure that Cha Han-gyeom couldn’t easily challenge it. Undocumented ability users like him weren’t in any position to cite the law and raise objections to a contract like that in the first place.
More importantly, the one he’d be fighting against over that contract… was Seo Won himself. The heir to Kangsan Group, the largest corporation in the country. What could a rogue, undocumented ability user like Song Jae-woo—someone constantly in hiding—possibly do against him?
The situation was so laughable it almost warranted a sneer.
Then, Seo Won heard Han-gyeom’s voice.
“I’m not canceling it.”
Soft, yet firm—his voice struck Seo Won’s ears with quiet resolve.
“I’m going to take care of him completely.”
This wasn’t something said lightly.
“Right now, what he needs most… is me.”
There was weight in those words—an unseen determination threading through them.
“I need him too.”
And as Han-gyeom said that, Seo Won’s heart stirred—slowly at first, then deeper, more powerfully. The resonance of it became a kind of echo, a soft tremor rippling from somewhere deep inside him.
He already knew it. But hearing Han-gyeom say it—that he needed him—brought an overwhelming sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t contain.
An insatiable craving for possession and exclusivity rapidly filled him.
It felt almost like receiving a Deep Guiding.
Only then did Seo Won move. Turning the corner, he stepped into the hallway where Jae-woo and Han-gyeom’s voices echoed.
“Gah!”
Before Cha Han-gyeom, who had his back turned in that direction, could even notice, it was Song Jae-woo—facing him—who spotted Seo Won first and gasped. The mix of wariness and tension in Jae-woo’s eyes made him resemble a dog with perked ears and a raised tail, alert and on edge.
“You’re here, Director.”
Lim Du-hyuk, who had been standing guard a couple steps away and watching the two of them, bowed deeply toward Seo Won.
Once Du-hyuk straightened up, Seo Won gestured subtly toward Jae-woo.
“If you’re done talking, send him off.”
“Yes, understood.”
Du-hyuk responded immediately and reached for Jae-woo’s arm. Jae-woo turned to Han-gyeom with a startled look.
“Hyung, wait a second…!”
“Go on. Now.”
Han-gyeom gave him a soft smile, ignoring his plea.
“I’ll contact you later.”
“You better! Seriously! And if you’re feeling sick or need medicine, tell me!”
He wanted to shout it, but instead, he kept his voice at a controlled volume, repeating the words with firm insistence. Han-gyeom responded by raising his hand to shoulder height and giving a small wave.
Du-hyuk didn’t hesitate as he led Jae-woo away. Jae-woo’s wistful gaze lingered a few seconds longer before it disappeared down the stairs.
The moment Du-hyuk and Jae-woo vanished from sight, Seo Won’s arms wrapped tightly around Han-gyeom’s waist from behind. His still-thudding heart pressed flush against Han-gyeom’s back.
“What were you two talking about?”
“Just life stuff.”
The light reply should’ve been unsatisfying, and maybe it was. But Seo Won only buried his face into Han-gyeom’s small head, replaying the words he’d overheard just moments ago.
His heart, once it started to race, showed no signs of calming down. And it wasn’t just because their bodies were pressed together with only a few layers of fabric and the Imprint on Han-gyeom’s back between them.
That wasn’t it.
“I’m going to take care of him completely.”
“Right now, what he needs most… is me.”
“I need him too.”
Han-gyeom’s voice, laced with resolve, spoken when he thought Seo Won wasn’t around.
It wouldn’t leave his mind.
Maybe things would’ve felt different if the order of those words had been reversed.
If Han-gyeom had said that he was going to take care of Seo Won because Seo Won needed him in order to survive.
If that had been the case, Seo Won wouldn’t have been this overwhelmed.
But Han-gyeom had led with his own need.
Before anything else, he’d expressed his desire for Seo Won. And that—strangely, absurdly—felt good.
With Jung Ah-young nearby, Han-gyeom gave a faint smile, aware of Seo Won’s arms clinging tightly around him.
He figured that as long as Lim Du-hyuk was sticking close, every word exchanged between him and Jae-woo would end up in Seo Won’s ears. Which was exactly why he’d said things he knew Seo Won would like.
Sure enough, Seo Won had come running and latched onto him right away.
He’s simpler than he looks.
Maybe it was because he had no immunity when it came to things like this. From the bits of small talk he’d shared with Ah-young, Han-gyeom had gathered that for Seo Won, the word “affection” was practically foreign—so unrelated to him that it might as well not exist.
As Han-gyeom gently caressed the hands that were wrapped around him, his expression gradually began to harden.
“Uh… that’s weird. Something just felt off…”
“I-I don’t know if I should even say this, but…”
“It felt like… a bug crawling on me.”
Recalling what Song Jae-woo had said earlier, Han-gyeom’s eyes turned toward the hallway Jae-woo had disappeared into, a flicker of unease growing in his gaze.
