He had no idea what possessed him to come all the way to the Center.
As soon as he got the address, Heo Nan-gyeom had rushed to the department store and taken charge of the situation. He’d immediately contacted the Center and reported everything. Jung Tae-seok was moved to the treatment room without delay. Meanwhile, Heo Nan-gyeom had taken care of Eun-jo and brought him along.
Through the glass window of the treatment room, Jung Tae-seok lay hooked up to machines, tubes trailing from him in all directions. A Guiding drug was being slowly administered from one side. His face was still deathly pale—and just looking at him made Eun-jo’s chest ache.
I was stupid. I only thought about losing my powers…
For him, losing his ability had been the end of the line. But for Jung Tae-seok and the other Espers, it was different. For them, it was like having their lifeline cut.
Sure, there were mechanical and drug-assisted Guiding methods, but they couldn’t even begin to compare to direct Guiding from a Guide. And the fact that Jung Tae-seok hadn’t even received those—all because he’d been trying to protect Eun-jo—filled him with rage.
Heo Nan-gyeom stood quietly by his side, watching over him like a sentinel, as if Eun-jo might collapse at any moment.
“What can I do?”
He barely murmured the words, but Nan-gyeom’s eyes shifted toward him.
“Are you asking to be blamed?”
“There’s nothing I can do. Being here… it’s not like I can make him better.”
Nan-gyeom didn’t look any better himself. It was clear from his face that he’d already gone through his own cycle of guilt and self-reproach. He stared down at Eun-jo in silence.
“You don’t need to do anything.”
The unexpected response pulled Eun-jo’s gaze away from Tae-seok and toward Nan-gyeom.
“So much has already changed, hasn’t it?”
His eyes were sharp, like he could see through everything. Eun-jo opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but the door slammed open.
Park Joo-hee, Director of the Esper Center, came to an abrupt halt when she saw the two of them. Her sharp gaze turned to the treatment room. She already knew everything—from Jung Tae-seok’s wave collapse to the loss of Guiding. The reports had arrived before she did.
“How the hell did it get this bad and no one reported a damn thing?”
One of the staff, who had rushed in behind her, quickly explained.
“None of Team A’s Espers came in for checkups over the past week. The research staff didn’t know either…”
“If they weren’t showing up, that should’ve been reported too!”
Raising her voice, Park Joo-hee sighed sharply and rubbed her temple.
Team A practically was the Center’s entire combat force. And if even Jin Mu-seong, the leader of Team B, was out of commission…
Her gaze landed on Eun-jo.
So he hid it on purpose.
The tear tracks still visible on Eun-jo’s face said it all. She’d heard rumors that he’d basically moved into the team office, but she hadn’t imagined it was for this. As Eun-jo stepped forward and bowed his head, stiff and pale, she braced herself.
“………I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
She meant it sincerely, but Eun-jo’s face only grew more ashen, as if he’d taken her words the wrong way. Ignoring it for now, she turned to the staff.
“Is drug-based Guiding going to be enough?”
“For now, yes. But if this goes on too long, we can’t guarantee anything…”
“Gather all related data. And get in touch with the Guide Center Director.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Just as she turned to leave, Eun-jo quickly stepped in front of her. Her brows lifted in surprise, eyes narrowing on his face.
He already felt like the title of Team Guide had been stripped from him. The way she seemed to distance herself made it all the more real. But even if he’d lost his powers, there were still things he had to do.
“I’d like to attend the meeting as well.”
“You, Guide Yeo Eun-jo?”
She didn’t sound thrilled. If Eun-jo showed up, the Guide Center Director, Jung Young-soo, would probably throw a fit. Just thinking about it made her head pound.
But before she could say no—
“I’ll go with Eun-jo, in place of the Team Leader.”
Nan-gyeom stepped in smoothly, flicking his fingers like it was nothing. With Park Se-yul away on a business trip, she had no excuse to refuse.
After a moment’s hesitation, Park Joo-hee sighed and nodded.
“Alright. Head up to the conference room.”
As her permission was granted, a quiet breath of relief slipped from Eun-jo’s lips. As she walked away from the treatment room, he bowed deeply to her retreating back.
Thud. The door shut behind them, and Eun-jo swayed on his feet. Before he could hit the floor, a firm arm wrapped around his waist, holding him up.
He looked up to see Heo Nan-gyeom’s face—so composed and clean-cut he could’ve walked straight out of a Center brochure. It was the same look he always had when watching from the team office. Steady. Unwavering.
If Tae-seok saw this, he’d get all jealous again and say he was gonna shove a stick up his dick.
Focus. Eun-jo had to pull himself together. His ability was gone—that was that. But he still had things to do. He didn’t even have time for self-pity.
Smack!
He slapped both his cheeks with his hands. Nan-gyeom’s eyes widened—just a little, but enough to be noticeable.
“…What? Surprised? The Yeo Eun-jo you know doesn’t slap himself?”
“He doesn’t.”
Even after regaining his balance, Eun-jo remained in Nan-gyeom’s arms for a moment before quietly pulling away. He ran a hand through his messy hair, straightened his clothes. If he was going to the meeting, he had to look presentable—at least a little like himself.
The dazed wreck who’d been staring blankly into the treatment room was gone. With his expression smoothed over, all traces of grief wiped clean, Eun-jo put his mask back on. Nan-gyeom watched quietly, saying nothing.
Eun-jo fixed his hair down to the last strand, then turned sharply to face the treatment room again. His eyes locked on Jung Tae-seok as he pressed a hand against his own brow.
“Just try waking up.”
Let’s see what happens when you make your older boyfriend cry.
He muttered the threat under his breath, voice dark and heavy. Then he turned back to Nan-gyeom.
“Thanks for coming with me. If I’d gone alone, Director Park definitely would’ve said no.”
“I was planning to go either way.”
He really can’t just take a thank-you, huh?
Even now, he had to deflect it. Eun-jo’s eyes narrowed in irritation. Yep. Spend more than five minutes talking to this guy, and he’d get under your skin.
“Yeah, well. Whatever.”
Just as he turned to follow after Director Park, Nan-gyeom reached out and gently took his wrist, turning him back around.
His fingers brushed against the corner of Eun-jo’s eye. The slow stroke of his thumb beneath it made Eun-jo flinch.
“…What are you doing?”
“You still have tear stains.”
As he looked at him, the data Nan-gyeom had read on Eun-jo flashed through his mind—how he’d gotten entangled with four Espers while Nan-gyeom was away. Some called him a vixen, said he seduced Espers on purpose.
But Nan-gyeom saw something else.
Just like now.
His lashes were still wet. The soft redness beneath his eyes, the droop in his gaze—it all made him look heartbreakingly fragile. But Nan-gyeom knew the truth.
Yeo Eun-jo wasn’t weak.
“I didn’t cry that much.”
Eun-jo mumbled as he rubbed his cheeks.
“I didn’t even realize I was crying. That’s why they’re still there.”
“I see.”
The more he rubbed, the redder his skin became. Nan-gyeom, unable to watch any longer, pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket and pressed it into Eun-jo’s hand. It had a little bear stitched into the corner. Eun-jo blinked, startled.
“Use this.”
Before Eun-jo could say a word, Nan-gyeom opened the door and walked out, his voice trailing behind like a whisper.
“I’ve never given anyone a handkerchief before.”
“……”
“You’re the first.”
What a strange man. Impossible to figure out.
