Delroz, who had already blocked his ears, couldn’t hear a word being said. As far as Banteon was concerned, Keslan was already someone sorted out and shelved in the back of his mind. He had neatly folded that memory away, and now that it was being dragged back out, it only left a sour taste.
“Keslan has nothing to do with me. I have no intention of seeing him again.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
Delroz’s crooked smirk deepened. Banteon, his head beginning to throb, weakly waved his hand in dismissal.
“Think whatever you want.”
“I will.”
It would take some time before Keslan returned. By then, the truth would reveal itself. Hopefully, Delroz’s followers would wag their tails, scrambling to take credit. But even though they had only exchanged a few words, Banteon already felt worn out—as if he’d been guiding for hours.
‘What the hell is this?’
Turning his gaze, Banteon closely examined Delroz’s surroundings, prompted by the sudden thought of guiding. That’s when he noticed something off. Even though quite some time had passed since they held hands and the guiding had been ongoing, the red energy swirling around Delroz still spun violently.
It had already been long enough for their joined palms to go numb. He had seen the energy begin to subside at first, but even now, residual power lingered. The guiding was progressing far too slowly.
This was a first. Even on the verge of a rampage, the speed had been faster than this. Troubled by the strange situation, he frowned and feigned ignorance as he asked Delroz,
“I think we’re past the usual guiding time—how are you feeling?”
“Hmm…”
Delroz furrowed his brow, staring seriously at their clasped hands.
“I do feel better than before.”
Trailing off, he flexed and opened the hand that wasn’t holding Banteon’s. As expected, he clearly knew something was off—that the guiding wasn’t going smoothly.
“But something’s still off. I don’t feel… clear.”
Was it because they had been apart for so long? Or maybe lingering side effects from treatment? Whatever the cause, this was turning out to be a much bigger problem than he’d thought. Only Banteon could guide Delroz. And they still didn’t even know why that was.
If Banteon’s guiding efficiency declined under these conditions, there would be no one left who could calm Delroz. This wasn’t just about whether he liked the guy or not—it was a matter of stability.
“We don’t have much choice. Give me your other hand too.”
He didn’t like it, but he was ready to try guiding with both hands. Even after Banteon’s request, Delroz showed no signs of extending his other hand. Instead, he tilted his head, intrigued.
“Will using both hands really change anything?”
“More contact means faster processing.”
“That’s not what I was taught.”
He hadn’t even been at the Center that long—how much could he possibly know? At Banteon’s annoyed glare, Delroz merely shrugged.
“Guide Handbook, Article 2, Section 3. In an emergency where epidermal contact proves insufficient, mucosal contact is permitted, even under temporary contract.”
“…”
“That’s what it said, right?”
Banteon nearly dropped the hand he was already holding. As absurd as Delroz’s bullshit was, it wasn’t completely baseless. According to Center protocol, if skin contact wasn’t enough, that was indeed one of the allowed alternatives. Not that it was relevant now, but still.
“Doesn’t that make me a model student?”
Maybe this was why people said half-educated students were the most frustrating. The clause Delroz quoted referred to situations where both parties mutually consented in an actual emergency.
This wasn’t an emergency, and above all, Banteon had absolutely zero intention of agreeing.
“Cut the crap and just give me your hand. Do you see any emergencies here?”
“Well, I feel uncomfortable.”
Banteon knew better than anyone that Delroz wasn’t in any serious condition. The red energy was certainly agitated, but it wasn’t to the point of impairing his movement or behavior.
He couldn’t say what he’d seen aloud, so all he could do was click his tongue in frustration. He knew it was all an act, but he still couldn’t argue back.
“So what, are you saying we should kiss right now? You and me?”
Even as the words left his own mouth, the idea made his skin crawl. Neither of them wanted to head down that road.
Delroz had always been a textbook heterosexual—from birth, with plenty of experience to reinforce it. He used to recoil at even the slightest touch from another man.
Sure, the Guide Awareness Syndrome might be clouding his judgment for now, but sexual orientation wasn’t something that changed so easily.
Ah.
A flash of realization struck him. That’s right—orientation was fixed. If Delroz was forced into a situation where he had to kiss another man, it might just snap him back to reality. Shock therapy, in a way.
“Then go ahead. Do what you want.”
Daring him with a “go on if you can” attitude, Banteon watched as Delroz froze, his body going stiff. As expected, his eyes wavered, shaken by the completely unexpected response.
Just as predicted.
He was all bark, no bite. Delroz was a dyed-in-the-wool heterosexual through and through. Banteon inwardly scoffed at the sight.
“Now give me your damn hand.”
Banteon grabbed Delroz’s remaining hand and gave it a tug, telling him not to get hung up on a kiss he wouldn’t even go through with. Delroz allowed himself to be pulled without resistance. Once their hands were joined, the guiding became noticeably smoother than before. The earlier confusion had just been due to the unusual slowness of the process. The idea that mucosal contact might be necessary—such a revolting assumption had never even crossed his mind.
As he watched the red energy swirling between their fingers, Banteon thought that perhaps this would end sooner than expected. But just as that thought crossed his mind, a shadow loomed over him.
“Banteon.”
A low voice grated on his ears.
“Banteon. Look up.”
“Why are you calling me… what a pain—”
Something soft but firm pressed against Banteon’s lips. The cool sensation spread like fire, freezing his body in place. His lower lip trembled under tension, bitten by something—or someone.
As he snapped back to his senses and tried to pull away, his wrist was seized tightly. He opened his mouth to shout, but a hot tongue shoved its way inside, ravaging the inside of his mouth.
“Mm…!”
There wasn’t a shred of tenderness in it. The revolting sensation scraped along his spine, past his ears and down his back. All the while, Delroz rubbed his lips against Banteon’s hungrily, digging in deeper. A strong hand clamped around Banteon’s head, locking it in place.
Only when Banteon was on the verge of bursting from held breath did Delroz finally pull back. His lips throbbed from the roughness.
“Haah…”
He exhaled the breath he’d been holding in. And in contrast to his own ragged breathing was Delroz’s infuriatingly calm and composed face.
“Are you insane?”
“Didn’t you give me permission?”
Delroz responded shamelessly, standing in front of him as if nothing were wrong.
“You told me to go ahead, didn’t you? I just did what I was told. So why are you mad?”
“…”
Banteon’s anger, ready to explode, suddenly cooled. He had been the one to challenge Delroz—to go ahead if he could. He hadn’t thought things were this serious. That it would actually come to this.
Getting kissed because he made the wrong call… the humiliation hit rock bottom.
Delroz finally pulled away, but his expression was unreadable. As he gazed quietly down at Banteon, his eyes shimmered—gold streaked with crimson, radiating a strange kind of beauty. The moment Banteon’s eyes landed on those firmly shut lips, another wave of irritation surged up.
“If you’re done doing whatever the hell you wanted, get off.”
Although their lips had parted, Delroz’s hands were still wrapped around his waist. Their torsos were pressed together, and the body heat radiating from him was unbearable.
Delroz wasn’t still—he was advancing.
The shadow of his face crept closer. That high-bridged nose nearly brushed against Banteon’s, and the heat from his mouth loomed in again. Sensing the impending contact, Banteon hastily shoved at his chest.
“What the—! Stop—Ah…!”
The shouted protest never reached its end. Once more, Delroz’s lips crashed into his, parting his teeth and invading. The thick base of his tongue surged in like it meant to steal every last breath, plunging deep with brutal force. Banteon’s body jerked at the suffocating intensity.
Frantically, he reached out over the desk, groping around until he found a thick hardcover book amid the neatly stacked papers. Grabbing it, he swung it directly at Delroz’s head.
The heavy volume struck Delroz’s face and tumbled to the floor. But Delroz didn’t flinch; he merely raised his head slowly, unfazed.
Banteon panted, finally catching his breath, and glared at him with naked resentment.
“You’re the worst.”
At first, Banteon had tried to tell himself that this was partly his fault—that he’d provoked him and just had bad luck. But the repeated, unsolicited advances had gone far beyond what could be brushed off with lenience. They were disgusting. Revolting.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes—reflexive, from holding his breath too long. Crying because of a kiss. Nothing could be more pathetic. He clenched his lips tightly, forcing himself to hold it back.
“Get the hell out. Now.”
“You’re… bleeding…”
Delroz wasn’t even looking at him anymore. His eyes had shifted to Banteon’s trembling hand, still quaking from throwing the book.
Somewhere in the scramble, maybe while reaching for the book, he’d gotten a paper cut near his index finger. A thin, long scratch had opened, and tiny beads of blood welled up from the split skin.
“How did you even get hurt? There wasn’t a weapon…”
Apparently ignoring the command to get lost, Delroz grasped Banteon’s wrist with a serious look. The warmth of that contact made Banteon try to pull away in haste, but even that wasn’t easy. The wound tore a bit further from the movement, and more blood dripped out.
Paper cuts weren’t deep, but they stung—and they lingered. With his index finger injured, even picking up small objects would be annoying for a while. That added annoyance only worsened his mood.
“What are you staring at? Never seen a paper cut before?”
“Paper? You’re saying paper did that to you?”
