He didn’t sleep a single minute last night.
Jung Tae-seok was already on edge after finishing his morning training. The whole time, he couldn’t get yesterday’s image of Eun-jo out of his head. That deathly pale face. That faint smile, like he was about to vanish. The bloodied tissue in his hand.
Shouldn’t I have just ignored it like always?
Their relationship had always been distant—almost nonexistent. Yeo Eun-jo never showed up for training or anything else, and Tae-seok had hated him for it.
Unless this is all Kim Min-jae’s doing…
Or maybe Eun-jo hadn’t come because he’d been seriously sick. Tae-seok’s thoughts spiraled into a tangled mess. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t leave his mind alone—it was eating him alive.
“Ha…”
He raked a frustrated hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. The staff member walking ahead of him toward the treatment room flinched and stiffened.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“……”
“Should I go ahead and schedule a Guiding session…?”
At the word Guide, Tae-seok came to a sudden stop. For the first time, his gaze shifted to the staff member he’d been pretending didn’t exist.
“Which Guide are you talking about?”
“Uh… Guide Kim Min-jae, of course…”
“Kim Min-jae?”
“Yes, is something wrong…?”
Tae-seok walked right up to him, towering over the man with a look of utter disbelief—like he’d just heard something insane.
“Isn’t Yeo Eun-jo our team’s Guide?”
“Ah…”
The staffer glanced nervously at his tablet and started scrambling for excuses.
“Guide Yeo Eun-jo said he wasn’t feeling well today. Besides, Guide Kim Min-jae usually handles things well, so…”
“Pretty sure team Guides are supposed to take priority.”
“W-Well, sure, but Guide Kim Min-jae is ranked higher, so…”
When the excuse didn’t work, the staffer switched tactics—rambling about how competent Kim Min-jae was. The whole thing felt surreal. Tae-seok had never once asked to be paired with Kim Min-jae, yet here they were.
And then came the most absurd claim of all: that Eun-jo had asked Kim Min-jae to take his place.
Tae-seok let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
“You’re saying he—the guy who’d show up even when he was the one sick—he said that?”
His voice turned ice-cold. The staffer froze in place, visibly shrinking under the pressure.
Tae-seok stared him down, muttering through clenched teeth.
“How much of this am I supposed to ignore?”
It was so obvious now, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier. Whatever the reason, the Center and Kim Min-jae were clearly in bed together.
And all this time, Tae-seok had been blaming Eun-jo. He’d snapped at him, pushed him away, spat cruel words at him…
“Ha… fuck.”
The curse slipped out before he could stop it. The trembling staffer instinctively backed away.
That’s when a familiar voice hit Tae-seok’s ears.
Instantly, he turned and rushed to the railing. Looking down, he spotted Eun-jo walking out of the Center’s bank on the first floor. He was holding a bankbook and a card, looking strangely light, almost carefree.
Like someone settling their affairs before they die.
Ah.
He didn’t even think—his body just moved. As Tae-seok vaulted over the railing, the staffer shrieked behind him.
“E-Esper Jung Tae-seok!”
Tae-seok dashed toward Eun-jo. Faster than he’d ever run, even during a mission through the gate.
***
Bzzz—
He’d barely taken a few steps when his phone buzzed. A glance at the screen showed a single, glaring name: Mom. Eun-jo had expected it to take at least a day. But apparently, she’d tried to use the card while shopping and found out right away it had been canceled.
Letting out a slow breath, Eun-jo answered the call.
“Hello?”
— Eun-jo, I just tried to pay at the department store, and the card didn’t go through.
Her voice was gentle, but the irritation beneath was clear as day.
— Who convinced you to switch cards?
“No one.”
— Don’t lie. Didn’t your aunt say she works at a card company? If you were going to change it, you should’ve gone with her. At least then there’d be some benefit.
Even now, she was trying to angle for a better deal. Eun-jo let out a dry laugh. The fact that it never crossed her mind he might have canceled it completely—it was so typical of her.
— While we’re at it, I was thinking of getting a credit card too. You said there’s a bank at your Center, right? I hear their limits are better…
“Mom.”
Her voice kept going, dragging endlessly, until Eun-jo cut in—sharp and firm.
“I’ve canceled both the card and the account.”
— W-What?
“I won’t be sending you any more money.”
While she was stunned silent, Eun-jo seized the moment and continued.
“It’s time you stood on your own. Work. Earn your own money—with dignity.”
I’m hanging up. Without waiting for a response, he ended the call. Her number immediately popped up on the screen again, but Eun-jo calmly hit decline. Then, one by one, he added his family members to the block list. He’d need at least six months of peace and quiet—no contact, no drama.
“Phew…”
Cold sweat beaded on his skin. Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, he tightened his grip around the bankbook. He didn’t need a mirror to know—his face must’ve looked bloodless.
It was the account summary he’d seen at the bank.
What a damn pushover.
Even with his sky-high salary, the numbers shocked him. Eun-jo had been making a fortune—between the base Guide salary, bonuses for serving on Team A, hazard pay, special allowances… it all added up fast.
And I just gave all of it away…?
Not just to his family—Kim Min-jae had managed to take a chunk, too. Unbelievable.
Sure, it wasn’t money he’d personally slaved away for—but the sheer amount of it made him physically ill.
Staggering from the shock, Eun-jo nearly tipped over—only to feel a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder.
“Hyung.”
He looked up to see Jung Tae-seok staring at him, his eyes filled with worry. His face was ghostly pale, like he was about to collapse. Now what’s wrong with him? Eun-jo blinked in confusion.
Tae-seok’s gaze swept over him from head to toe, then landed on the bankbook.
“What were you doing at the bank just now?”
“It’s nothing.”
Worried Tae-seok might find out just how pathetic he’d been, Eun-jo quickly stuffed the bankbook back into his pocket.
“Just closed a few accounts. Some of them matured, that’s all.”
“Closed them…?”
“No point keeping accounts I don’t need.”
Useless.
That word hit Tae-seok like a blade to the chest. The hand on Eun-jo’s shoulder started to tremble.
“Why? You got something that’s matured too?”
“……”
“Want me to go to the bank with you?”
Eun-jo tilted his head slightly, playing dumb. Tae-seok’s expression twisted even more. He stared down at Eun-jo in silence for a long moment—then slowly bent down.
