After holding hands with Park Joo-hee and several other Espers, it became obvious—Yeo Eun-jo’s Guiding ability only manifested when he touched Heo Nan-gyeom. With anyone else, all he felt was body heat. No tingling. No surge of energy. Nothing even close to the sensation he felt with Nan-gyeom. Just to be sure, he even tried holding Jung Tae-seok’s hand in the infirmary. Same result.
So this potato’s my lifeline, huh?
Eun-jo glanced back at Heo Nan-gyeom walking a few steps ahead. The surprise that had flickered across his face earlier had vanished, replaced with a calm that felt almost unnatural. Maybe it was the crisp, deliberate way he walked, but there was a quiet weight to him. Their eyes met—and Heo Nan-gyeom came to a halt.
“We need to talk, don’t we?”
“…Yeah.”
He nodded without a word. Knowing full well that the potato wasn’t about to suggest an appropriate place, Eun-jo turned silently toward the team office. Steady, unhurried footsteps followed behind him.
When they reached the office, a mountain of shopping bags was stacked in front of the door. A giant ribbon on one of them read “Newlywed Festival” in bold lettering. Eun-jo pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Oh, for the love of…”
Team A was already infamous for being completely unhinged, but this? This Newlywed Festival business was at a whole new level. As Eun-jo glanced around, others who had already seen the sign quickly looked away, wearing strange, conflicted expressions.
One of them muttered under their breath, loud enough for him to hear, “Guess he’s married now.”
Well, not like marriage was ever on the table. Muttering to himself, Eun-jo started picking up the bags. Before he could gather them all, Heo Nan-gyeom stepped in and silently grabbed the rest. With his free hand, he opened the door and strode inside.
Eun-jo trailed behind, watching as Nan-gyeom neatly arranged the bags beside the sofa. Maybe it was the whole newlywed vibe, but he looked weirdly dependable—like a newly minted husband.
Honestly, if there were an award for “Most Likely to Pass the In-Laws Meeting with Flying Colors,” Heo Nan-gyeom would win without contest. Jung Tae-seok couldn’t hide his emotions, Park Se-yul was way too sharp, and Jin Mu-seong? Pure snake in human skin.
And Lee Sang-heon…
Eun-jo pictured a fluffy white dog in a bowtie, sitting primly in some upscale restaurant—and couldn’t help but laugh. A dimple tugged at his cheek.
By the time he looked up again, Heo Nan-gyeom had already organized all the bags, including the ones Eun-jo had been holding. Now, he was standing there, simply watching him.
“…Do you ever think about getting married?”
“Huh?”
The question caught Eun-jo off guard. It wasn’t about Guiding, or even the future—just something completely out of left field.
“Where did that come from?”
“No reason. Just… a personal question.”
Even Nan-gyeom seemed to realize how strange it was. His words stumbled slightly.
“Can’t a guy be curious?”
Marriage, huh. Sure, Jung Tae-seok and Jin Mu-seong kept bringing it up like it was some kind of competition, but Eun-jo had never seriously considered it. In his world, two men getting married wasn’t exactly common.
Eun-jo sat down on the sofa and looked up at him. The seat beside him was wide open, but Heo Nan-gyeom didn’t even glance at it.
“I didn’t used to… but now? I don’t know.”
“……”
“It’s kind of nice, having someone beside you when you sleep. You’ve seen it for yourself.”
He was probably thinking about the guys who’d cling to the edges of the bed and pass out without a second thought. A crooked smile formed on Eun-jo’s lips. Every time he smiled like that, Heo Nan-gyeom couldn’t help but think he looked just like the real ‘Yeo Eun-jo.’ The difference was subtle—but to anyone who noticed, it always felt like he was teetering on a ledge.
As he studied Eun-jo’s face, Nan-gyeom finally spoke, his voice calm and steady.
“I know you’re not the real Yeo Eun-jo.”
The smile slipped from Eun-jo’s face. For some reason, Nan-gyeom felt a twinge of regret as he watched it fade. Without another word, he lowered himself to one knee.
Even kneeling, he was so tall that their eyes were almost level. Meeting Eun-jo’s gaze, he quietly continued.
“Even after watching you all this time, my answer hasn’t changed. Same face, same body—but you’re not the same person.”
“……”
“I considered everything—amnesia, dissociative identity disorder, all kinds of possibilities. But the answer…”
“……”
“It doesn’t matter. Because the person standing in front of me right now is still Team A’s Guide, Yeo Eun-jo.”
Heo Nan-gyeom reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph, offering it to him. In the picture, a much younger ‘Yeo Eun-jo’ stood beside a slimmer, younger Heo Nan-gyeom. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning like kids without a care in the world. Their bright, unguarded smiles made them look even younger than they were.
Eun-jo accepted the photo carefully, and Nan-gyeom spoke again.
“…He was the one who pulled me back when I was lost after first awakening as an Esper.”
A faint smile flickered across Nan-gyeom’s face, only to disappear again.
“He introduced me to the Center. Even told me the kimchi pancakes in the cafeteria were the best thing on the menu.”
As he’d investigated everything that happened in his absence, what shook him the most was what Eun-jo had been put through. He hadn’t even been called properly for Guiding sessions. His pay had been stolen. Nan-gyeom had even gone as far as confronting Park Joo-hee over it.
An empty dorm. Stolen wages. Family showing up at the Center doors. Teammates who barely treated him like a human being. These weren’t mistakes caused by the “new” Eun-jo. They were all the pain hidden by the left-handed, quiet Yeo Eun-jo he used to know. The one who never got angry. The one who said nothing. The one who hid everything.
And Nan-gyeom hadn’t noticed—though if he’d just paid a little more attention, he might have.
“…So what now?”
“I don’t care who you were before.”
He reached down and gently took Eun-jo’s hand in his own.
“What matters is that from now on, I’ll protect you.”
The moment their hands touched, a familiar warmth stirred through Eun-jo—Guiding energy. The same presence he’d felt in the meeting room. It hadn’t disappeared after all. With a soft breath, he laced his fingers deeper into Nan-gyeom’s.
When he looked up, Nan-gyeom was watching him with calm, unwavering eyes. There wasn’t a trace of doubt in them.
The Yeo Eun-jo you knew is gone.
The thought pricked his conscience, but survival mattered more now. Eun-jo nodded.
“Then… please help me.”
Nan-gyeom didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to their joined hands.
“Whatever you need.”
“……”
“Use me however you like.”
He bowed his head again. It was a promise—not to the left-handed Eun-jo from the past, but to the one standing here now, who extended his right hand.
***
Jung Tae-seok came back the next morning.
Everyone else was off somewhere—some at the office, some on fieldwork—leaving Lee Sang-heon curled up asleep on the living room floor. Eun-jo sat next to him, gently rubbing his back in slow circles. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly time to meet Heo Nan-gyeom.
Quietly, he stood up and walked over to the small room nestled between Jin Mu-seong and Park Se-yul’s. That was where all of his things had been stored. Jin Mu-seong had argued that if the room were too big, he’d just hole up inside it forever—and everyone had agreed.
Out of habit, Eun-jo opened the closet and reached for his Guide uniform… then stopped.
“…Can I even wear this?”
Technically, he hadn’t been stripped of his license yet—but the doubt lingered. Better to avoid drawing attention. With a sigh, he grabbed a casual knit sweater instead.
Just then, the door creaked open.
A massive silhouette filled the doorway—Jung Tae-seok.
“……”
“……”
The drug-assisted Guiding seemed to have worked. He looked better than before—some color in his cheeks, a little more flesh on his face. He seemed physically fine. Eun-jo’s gaze swept over him quickly, then turned away.
When their eyes didn’t meet, Jung Tae-seok’s expression faltered. He stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. But Eun-jo didn’t say a word.
I told him not to use his ability. I made it perfectly clear.
So much for calling him “hyung.” He never acted like it. If he really saw Eun-jo that way, he would’ve told him how much the lack of Guiding was killing him. He would’ve asked for help.
The image of him pale as a ghost, whispering not to tell the Center, replayed in his mind—and Eun-jo’s heart twisted again. Honestly, it might’ve been easier if he’d gone completely off the rails like when they first met, crazed from needing a Guide.
As he pulled the sweater on and began sliding off his pajama pants, Jung Tae-seok finally cracked.
“Hyung…”
His voice was soft, almost feeble. Eun-jo paused mid-movement. After a brief silence, he resumed changing clothes. As his pale legs slipped into fresh pants, Jung Tae-seok grew visibly more anxious.
“Hyuuung…”
“……”
Steeling himself against the flicker of guilt, Eun-jo shut the closet. Then he grabbed the bag sitting off to the side, slung it over his shoulder, and walked straight past Jung Tae-seok without so much as a glance.
