Eun-jo darted down the opposite escalator and slammed the red button. It was the emergency stop. With a soft shuuung, the escalator ground to a halt, and the child’s mother immediately rushed over to Jung Tae-seok.
“The infirmary—no, call 911—!”
“It’s alright.”
A large hand cupped the child’s chin. Everyone stared, entranced, as the bleeding stopped and the wound slowly sealed shut. Even the child, who had been wailing moments ago, blinked up at Jung Tae-seok in awe as the pain faded.
“Th-That’s Jung Tae-seok… the Esper…”
An employee recognized him and gasped, blurting out,
“Esper-nim, what are you doing here…?”
“Shopping for bedding.”
Jung Tae-seok replied nonchalantly, eyes fixed on the child’s chin. Only after confirming it had completely healed did he hand the child back to the mother.
“I used my ability to heal him, so there won’t be any scars. If he says it hurts later, just pretend to put on some ointment.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The mother bowed repeatedly, clutching her child, and hurried away. Only after she disappeared from sight did Jung Tae-seok finally turn to look for his Guide.
In that short span, Eun-jo had run hard enough to be drenched in sweat. His hair clung to his forehead. Jung Tae-seok gently brushed it back, and Eun-jo finally exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
“The kid… is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Not even a scratch left.”
Eun-jo wiped his forehead, eyes lingering on the spot where the mother and child had vanished.
“Thank goodness.”
As a crowd began gathering around Eun-jo, Jung Tae-seok stepped in front of him protectively. Even though the emergency was over, more and more people were showing up—likely drawn by the name “Jung Tae-seok” someone had shouted earlier.
Click, click—camera shutters went off in rapid succession. Jung Tae-seok frowned and pulled Eun-jo close, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
“To the lingerie store…?”
“That can wait.”
The lingerie store was a lost cause by now. Jung Tae-seok went back to retrieve the bags they’d abandoned and led Eun-jo toward a stairwell he’d scoped out earlier.
No one ever used the stairs in an eight-story department store. As the heavy metal door creaked open, the dim stairwell lights flickered on. Jung Tae-seok peered down to check the path below before moving forward.
“Ugh…!”
Suddenly, his vision warped. His large frame lurched forward, and Eun-jo, alarmed, rushed to catch him.
“Jung Tae—!”
Before he could finish, they were both yanked down the stairs.
Crash! Bang! Thud! Their bodies tumbled violently, bouncing down the steps in a tangled mess. Jung Tae-seok gritted his teeth, shielding Eun-jo with his body as they hit the ground. They finally came to a stop when Jung Tae-seok’s back slammed into the wall at the next landing.
“Ugh…”
Eun-jo groaned and lifted his head. Jung Tae-seok’s face was ghostly pale.
“Jung Tae-seok, are you—?!”
Eun-jo cupped his cheek and flinched at the coldness. He could feel the clammy sweat, the ragged breath. His eyes widened in panic.
“This is because of the wave disruption, isn’t it?”
“…No.”
His stomach turned. His chest tightened like he was being squeezed from the inside. Any Esper would recognize it—the crushing pain, the suffocating pressure. Jung Tae-seok bit his lip hard, yet still reached out and placed a hand on the back of Eun-jo’s head.
The dull, bone-deep ache in Eun-jo’s shoulders and back—pain from slamming into the stairs—began to ease. Beneath his clothes, the bruises were already starting to heal. Realizing he was using his ability, Eun-jo grabbed his wrist in alarm.
“Why the hell are you using your power right now?!”
“Because I want to.”
“Jung Tae-seok!”
The more you used your power, the more your waves tangled. It was basic 101 for Espers. The Center drilled it in: if your wave patterns start to knot, if your overload risk spikes, you stop everything and lie flat.
And Jung Tae-seok knew that. But his hand didn’t move. His face only grew more ashen, like he was draining the life out of himself. Watching it happen, Eun-jo shouted at him in desperation.
“Stop! I said stop!”
As Eun-jo’s pain faded, Jung Tae-seok looked like death itself. It was no different from transferring all the pain to himself. No matter how hard Eun-jo pulled or struggled, he didn’t break the contact.
“Don’t do this! Please, stop!”
Eun-jo pushed at his chest, pounded it with his fists—but his power didn’t stop. Nothing worked.
Out of options, he grabbed Jung Tae-seok’s hand and wrapped himself around him. Just like that day in the training center—he clung to him, body to body. Back then, it had worked. Back then, just sharing body heat, just holding him, had been enough to ease his pain.
But now… now, he was only hurting him.
That truth hit hard. Eun-jo couldn’t breathe.
“Please… please…”
Tears welled up and spilled over. He clung to Jung Tae-seok’s collar, sobbing without realizing it.
“Please, sniff, just stop…”
Only when the healing was completely finished did Jung Tae-seok finally release him. Eun-jo felt the shallow breaths against his cheek where they were pressed together.
He’d been missing for a week. And even after that, they hadn’t been able to do any proper Guiding. His waves must’ve been completely tangled by now. Eun-jo reached out, trying to feel for anything inside his chest—but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The emptiness crushed him. He bit down on his lower lip in despair—only for Jung Tae-seok to gently brush his fingers there, coaxing it free.
“Are you hurt?”
“When… when’s the last time you got Guided?”
His voice came out hoarse, shredded. Jung Tae-seok cleared his throat, but the sound didn’t change—still broken, still raw, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
“If I don’t get Guided by you, then who else is there?”
An Imprinted Esper couldn’t be Guided by anyone else. Calling it a lifeline wasn’t an exaggeration.
He wanted to go back and punch his past self—the one who thought it was cute that at least neither of them could cheat. Eun-jo squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and pushed himself upright.
“Go to the Center. They’ve got meds there, at least.”
He supported the back of Jung Tae-seok’s head with one hand and wrapped the other around his shoulder. As he helped him up, Jung Tae-seok collapsed into his arms like dead weight.
“They can take a reading, give you the meds. Okay? I’ll stay with you till then…”
“Hyung.”
With his forehead pressed against Eun-jo’s shoulder, he grabbed his collar. That small gesture made Eun-jo freeze mid-sentence.
“Are you hurting? Can’t move?”
“If I say I need meds, they’ll start asking questions. Then I’ll have to talk about you.”
“…Why does that matter?”
“Because then it’ll be official. That I’ve lost my ability to be Guided.”
“……”
His vision blurred again. To keep it from showing—to play it off like he was just being clingy—Jung Tae-seok rubbed his face against Eun-jo’s shoulder.
He still smelled sweet. Whether or not he could Guide anymore, the scent that clung to Eun-jo hadn’t changed. Neither had the feeling behind it.
“I just need a bit of rest.”
“……”
“Just a little…”
Thud—his head dropped, lifeless like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Tae-seok.”
Eun-jo’s blood ran cold. One of the stairwell lights flickered out. The air turned sharp, the darkness swallowing the space.
His hands shook as he patted Tae-seok’s shoulder.
“Don’t screw around. Jung Tae-seok.”
“……”
“I’m cold. Let’s go to the car. Just sit for a bit, okay?”
Still no answer. Eun-jo gently cupped his cheeks and checked his face. He looked like he was peacefully sleeping—if not for the chilling cold of his skin.
Rest wasn’t going to untangle that wave. Not unless the Imprint was broken. He couldn’t get Guided by anyone else. The meds weren’t optional—they were the only shot he had.
It took several fumbling tries before Eun-jo finally managed to pull the emergency pager from his pocket. He hovered over Park Se-yul’s name, then stopped.
There’s no way Park Se-yul didn’t know.
If he hadn’t reported it to the Center, then no one else had gotten the meds either.
They’re all in on it.
Which meant the others might be in the same condition as Jung Tae-seok.
He stared down the list of saved contacts, then finally tapped the name at the very bottom.
The dial tone rang several times. Then, a low voice answered.
—“Heo Nan-gyeom speaking.”
“Please… help me.”
There was only one person he could trust now.
