The moment he stepped out of the elevator, the first thing he saw was a massive dog.
“A dog?”
No, not a dog. A person. Specifically, Lee Sang-heon, an Esper from his team.
Okay, time-stopping and raising the dead—I’ve seen it all. But turning into a dog? That’s new.
Maybe he’d watched too many superhero movies, but while he’d gotten used to most Esper abilities, shapeshifters still threw him off. Especially when the dog in front of him looked so much like an actual dog.
Even in the novel, Lee Sang-heon showed up in canine form most of the time. There was one brief explanation for it. According to Lee Sang-heon himself:
“After my powers awakened, I realized living like a dog was just easier.”
“There’s no life better than a dog’s.”
“Don’t have to talk to people, and if someone pisses me off, I just bite them like a damn mutt.”
Yeah, he was an odd one, no doubt.
The dog stared at him with a blank expression, tail swishing lazily. Then it let out a short bark.
“…You want me to follow you?”
“Woof!”
“Or… you want food?”
“WOOF!!”
The louder the bark got, the clearer it was that he’d guessed wrong.
Then what the hell—
Eun-jo’s eyes flicked around, trying to figure it out. The dog’s expression changed again—this time, he looked downright offended. Like he couldn’t believe how dumb Eun-jo was.
With his tail lowered, the dog kicked at Eun-jo’s calf with a hind leg.
“Ow!”
The moment Eun-jo lifted his leg in reaction, the dog seized the chance to toss him onto his back.
Caught off guard, Eun-jo instinctively grabbed a fistful of fur. The dog shook his head in annoyance, then nudged Eun-jo’s hands down toward his belly instead.
“Where are we even going?!”
Still carrying Eun-jo on his back, the oversized dog sprinted down the hallway like a bullet. Tap-tap! Tap-tap! Despite his massive body, the soft slaps of his paw pads hitting the floor echoed adorably through the corridor.
At the end of the hall, he slammed the emergency stairwell door open with his head and flung Eun-jo off his back without warning. Eun-jo hit the cold concrete and tumbled across the floor.
“Ugh—what the hell is your problem…?”
Right then, a flash of brown hair shot through his field of vision—someone bolting down the stairs.
It was Jung Tae-seok, running away from him.
Eun-jo scrambled to his feet in a panic and chased after him, shouting,
“Tae-seok!”
“Don’t follow me!”
“You’re here because of me, aren’t you? Come on, just admit it!”
“Have you lost your mind?!”
Jung Tae-seok snapped back, leaping down four steps at a time. He was so fast, it felt like Eun-jo was chasing a damn monster. Had he been hiding around here this whole time?
Eventually, out of breath, Eun-jo gave up and leaned heavily against the railing.
When he looked back up, even Lee Sang-heon—who’d been standing at the stairwell entrance—was gone. Figures. He’d probably dragged Eun-jo all the way here just because he couldn’t stand watching Tae-seok ghost him like a damn statue.
“Fine. Go. Run.”
Let’s see how long you can keep this up.
Eun-jo slumped down onto the stairs with a frustrated mutter. Starting tomorrow, he’d start hitting the call button again. Or maybe he’d track him down at the Training Center. One way or another, this wasn’t over.
Resolve reignited, he steeled himself all over again.
***
That resolve didn’t even last a day.
4 a.m. at the Training Center.
The place should’ve been empty. Instead, three people were already there—all from Team A.
“What are you doing here?”
Park Se-yul, fully dressed in his formal uniform even at this ungodly hour, shot a sharp glare at Jung Tae-seok.
Tae-seok, in contrast, stood there in a tracksuit, shoulders raised in mock innocence.
“Just came for a morning workout.”
“There are plenty of other training rooms. Why this one?”
“…This one doesn’t have your name on it, does it, Team Leader?”
Without waiting for a response, Tae-seok strolled toward the gym equipment set up on one side of the room.
“Just pretend I’m not here. I won’t get in your way.”
Yeah, right. As if.
Eun-jo clicked his tongue inwardly, watching him grab the deadlift bar like he had any intention of actually working out. No doubt about it—he saw Eun-jo’s schedule on the call list and deliberately showed up.
Park Se-yul let out a short sigh. Maybe he didn’t want to bother kicking out someone who was technically “just exercising.”
“Fine. Let’s pretend we’re not here either.”
“…Sure.”
And that was when Eun-jo realized, with painful clarity, that he’d made a terrible mistake volunteering for this.
Training was no joke. They started with laps around the entire facility to build stamina, and Eun-jo nearly died. He might’ve been able to handle it before, but this body? It didn’t even know how to spell “fitness.” There wasn’t a single ounce of muscle on him.
Should’ve known when sex left me gasping like a fish…
Before he could even catch his breath, Park Se-yul dragged him straight into firearms training. Not exactly the warmest instructor, but surprisingly patient. Honestly, he might’ve been more effective than the action school coaches.
Still, Eun-jo couldn’t look too competent, so he made sure to fumble just enough—quick with the magazine changes, clumsy with the stance.
“You’re not an idiot.”
Park Se-yul gave a cool assessment and took the gun from his hands, smoothly ejecting the magazine.
“Not that I expect you to actually hit anything. By the time you recognize a monster, it’ll already be tearing your face off.”
He handed the empty gun back, stepped a few paces back, and casually rolled up his sleeves. Thick forearms, veined and solid, flexed under the light.
“Forget aiming. You’re better off using the gun like a tool—to create an opening. These models don’t break easily anyway.”
“……”
“Go ahead.”
“You want me to attack you…?”
Eun-jo blinked, startled.
Park Se-yul gave a short, mocking laugh, like he’d just heard the dumbest thing imaginable.
“You think that’d even count as an attack?”
Something flared in Eun-jo’s chest—something that hadn’t been there before. Not the territorial dominance Jin Mu-seong oozed, but a different urge entirely.
He just really, really wanted to punch that arrogant face.
Gripping the gun, positioning it with the barrel pointed outward, Eun-jo charged. He aimed straight for Park Se-yul’s face—
Only to be swept off his feet as Se-yul tapped his ankle, sending him crashing to the ground.
Thud.
Groaning, Eun-jo pushed himself up.
“Again.”
Goddamn it.
This time, he avoided exposing his legs and led with his shoulder, planning to crash into Se-yul’s side and hit him in the ribs.
Didn’t work. Before he even made it halfway, Eun-jo was flat on his back again.
“There’s nothing dumber than throwing your whole body at someone. If you’re weaker, you go for the vitals first.”
Again. And again. Every single attack failed.
Park Se-yul didn’t even break a sweat. He blocked Eun-jo’s strikes with a flick of his wrist or a calm push of the palm—effortless, efficient.
He was leagues above anyone Eun-jo had ever sparred with. Even the director at the acting school couldn’t hold a candle to him.
At some point, Eun-jo completely forgot he was supposed to be seducing this guy. With a tight fist, he went for Se-yul’s neck.
Off to the side, Jung Tae-seok looked visibly worried.
“Again.”
Park Se-yul shoved him back, palm pressing firmly against Eun-jo’s chest.
“Hngh…”
Eun-jo gasped, pushing himself up once more.
He looked like he’d been through a war. Face flushed, lips parted, panting hard.
Between his half-lifted shirt and waistband, red handprints stood out stark against his skin—each one a mark Se-yul had left. He’d been hit in the same spots again and again. The imprints were so vivid they’d probably bruise by tomorrow.
Is this a 19+ BL novel or a goddamn combat training manual?
Just as Eun-jo braced himself to charge again, something caught his eye.
…Wait.
There was a distinct bulge between Park Se-yul’s legs.
As Eun-jo continued to throw attacks, he kept glancing down. With each strike, each mark left on his skin, Se-yul’s pants grew tighter—his arousal slowly, shamelessly building, maybe even without him noticing.
His left thigh, thick and tense, stood out clearly beneath the fitted uniform. The tailored fabric clung to him, making everything that much more noticeable.
And above all, that contrast—his chiseled, ascetic face versus what was happening below—was just too surreal.
Poor guy. Would be nice if he realized it already.
According to the novel, Park Se-yul wouldn’t come to terms with his desires until long after Eun-jo was dead.
But Eun-jo? He had absolutely no plans on dying.
So I guess it’s on you to adjust, Leader.
Park Se-yul calmly adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and gave a slight tilt of his chin.
“Come at me again.”
This time, Eun-jo gripped the pistol tighter—and charged, not for Se-yul’s neck or ribs, but lower.
Right before impact, he let the gun slip from his fingers. With perfect timing, it dropped squarely between Se-yul’s legs.
A sharp inhale—
Then Eun-jo’s hand followed. He reached out and slowly ran his fingers along the inside of Se-yul’s thigh.
Starting from the bulge, he let his palm glide down the firm line of muscle, tracing toward the inner thigh in a smooth, almost sensual stroke.
In that instant, the muscle under his touch seized—tense as a drawn bowstring.
