There were many Guides on-site working alongside the Espers dispatched to the field. Banteon, however, spent the past week enjoying a cozy room and good food at the Center because Delroz had refused guiding.
“I heard Esrante is the biggest sponsor of this restoration. Apparently, they made the largest donation during the previous village reconstruction too.”
“Their family’s big, so the amount is large—that’s all. It’s nothing special.”
“That’s not true. Didn’t you also donate under your own name, aside from the family?”
Banteon had met Rohan just before the incident occurred. He was able to recognize Rohan when no one else could, and Banteon was part of Rohan’s ultimate goal. It might’ve been an exaggerated suspicion, but perhaps the entire affair had been orchestrated to target him.
Even if that were true, no one would blame Banteon. It wasn’t his fault. Still, the lingering guilt clung like residue—hard to rationalize without doing something.
The separate donation had been an attempt to wash away that unease. It hadn’t been done out of grand goodwill. Just a small cost to hide a guilt that might be real.
When Delroz interpreted that gesture differently, Banteon turned his head away awkwardly.
“Well, it wasn’t that much.”
“There are plenty who wouldn’t even do that.”
Now he understood why Delroz had stayed behind to help with the restoration. Even actions that seemed out of character had their reasons. Since Banteon appeared to care about the incident, Delroz had voluntarily come to help with the aftermath. It stemmed from a misunderstanding, but it was, for once, a commendable act.
Banteon knew his own preferences well. His ideal type was firmly set: small, cute, lovable. Someone who’d blush just from a brush of the fingers, easygoing and innocent. If people could be graphed, Delroz would be on the extreme opposite end.
At this point, it was almost enough to resent Delroz.
If only he were a little smaller—or at least closer in level to Banteon—maybe they could have gotten attached and lived tolerably. Of course, given his personality and crude way of speaking, he couldn’t ever be a partner, but at least life would be more enjoyable than it was now.
“Even if you’re fine, don’t delay guiding. Make sure to receive it on schedule. You know your efficiency’s been unstable lately.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Then do it now before you go.”
“When your condition improves.”
Who decides to guide an Esper based on the Guide’s condition? Banteon stared at Delroz’s face, baffled by the indifferent attitude—this was a matter of his own lifeline, and Delroz cared less than Banteon did.
The unstable energy was visibly uncomfortable, and yet Delroz stubbornly refused to be guided.
Banteon shook his head and stood up. Talking in a sleep-deprived state only made him feel more exhausted. He’d even skipped a meal to stay on schedule after a restless night. The coffee on an empty stomach made his insides ache.
“Are you really not going to get guided today?”
“It’s not urgent enough to get it from someone who’s unwell.”
“I’m not that tired.”
“Check the mirror.”
Was it that bad? He glanced at his reflection in the window. His outfit was neat, not a single wrinkle, his hair perfectly groomed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. What did bother him more was the reddish aura shimmering like heatwaves around Delroz.
“You’re not planning to guide properly anyway. Just get it over with and go.”
“I really am fine.”
Banteon clicked his tongue, scanning Delroz again. If he kept getting turned down, forcing a guiding session would be awkward too. And he couldn’t exactly say, I can see your unstable energy.
‘He’ll figure it out himself.’
The one suffering from unstable energy would feel it more acutely than anyone else. If it got bad enough, Delroz would speak up. Banteon slipped the gloves he’d taken off back onto his hands.
“Then I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit.”
He wanted to head back to his room immediately, but there were timestamps recorded by the administration department. Finishing too early—or taking too long—would cause issues, so he had to match the assigned timeframe.
Banteon sat back down and quietly closed his eyes. The moment he did, the dizzying view settled into calm. He might not fall asleep in an uncomfortable chair in front of someone else, but sitting still like this was better than nothing.
He leaned back slightly in the chair, which didn’t even have a neck rest, and let his head droop.
In the dark behind his eyelids, something flickered. Then he felt a subtle shift. Something warm touched his gloved hand—cautiously, delicately. Fingers probed one by one, then gently supported his palm. Checking if the bandage remained under the glove. As if that tiny wound could still be there.
Delroz gripped the limp hand and gave it a light tug, steadying Banteon’s swaying shoulders and head. He slipped his arm under Banteon’s legs and back, lifting his body with care.
He cradled him in both arms.
“Mmm…”
Banteon stirred, half-asleep. His legs dangled awkwardly in the air and twitched as he tried to move. But then a soft sensation pressed against his back. The act of being gently laid down helped him relax again, slowly drawing him back into sleep…
“What the hell?”
“Oh, you’re awake?”
Even after opening his eyes, his vision remained unclear. Delroz’s back completely blocked the ceiling light, casting the area into shadow. As his blurry focus gradually returned, so did his half-submerged mind.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“You were nodding off so earnestly.”
“Ah…”
He hadn’t expected to fall into a deep sleep in such an uncomfortable place. He must’ve been more exhausted than he thought.
As he brushed his palm across the surface beneath him, he realized where he was lying. A plush texture that didn’t belong in a guiding room. The firm yet gentle resistance of a mattress pressed against his hand.
The place where Banteon was lying now was a bed in the adjacent room next to the guiding chamber. The moment he realized that, he sprang up like a coiled spring.
“What’s wrong? Just rest some more.”
“No… this place is kind of…”
Delroz’s furrowed brow deepened, seemingly not understanding why Banteon was suddenly trying to get off the bed in such a hurry. As Banteon tried to stand, Delroz gently pressed a hand to his shoulder.
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll even turn off the light. Just lie down for the remaining time. Don’t go trying to sleep in a chair again.”
“Wait a second. This room, this bed, it’s…”
Banteon started to explain but stopped himself. What else could be the purpose of a bed next to the guiding room? Knowing that obvious fact, he couldn’t just lie here comfortably.
He grabbed Delroz’s arm as he tried to lay him back down.
“This bed isn’t meant for resting.”
“You have a separate bed just for resting, then?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
Why was someone who clearly understood the implications acting so frustratingly dense? This room had been prepared for urgent guiding, where minimal contact and some padding might be needed. It was dimmer than the guiding room, and the unusually soft bed was perfectly tailored for that kind of use. A bed someone else might’ve rolled around in.
And Banteon was lying on that bed. With Delroz leaning over him like this—it was uncomfortable.
Under the dim lighting, Delroz’s shadowed nose bridge was so close it looked like it might bump into him. Faced with the unyielding stance of someone who wouldn’t budge until he got an answer, Banteon sighed quietly.
“Why do you think there’s a bed next to the guiding room?”
“What?”
Delroz, who had been glancing around while slightly lifting his waist, suddenly frowned. His slightly parted lips snapped shut, and he took two steps back. Even in the low light, his face was visibly flushed with embarrassment.
‘Good. He’s not an idiot, so he should’ve known.’
Delroz quickly straightened up. He stepped away from Banteon at once and turned his head aside.
“…I’m leaving first.”
Finally free, Banteon got up and smoothed out his wrinkled clothes. He adjusted his glasses properly and exited the room. From there, he could see Delroz standing in the center of the guiding room with his back turned. Even with Banteon’s presence behind him, he didn’t move an inch.
If that posture came across as embarrassment, would that be reading too much into it?
“It’s fine. You didn’t know.”
“So you… no, so nobles really use this kind of place too, huh. Even a place like this…”
“Better than dying, isn’t it?”
No matter how noble they were, no one clung to dignity or decorum in the face of soul-crushing pain. When teetering on the brink of a rampage, there was no time to return to their quarters. It was common procedure to be taken straight from the medical bay to the guiding room, and this room existed precisely for moments like that. Of course, even when it wasn’t an emergency, matched partners would occasionally use the room for more personal reasons—but he said nothing about that.
For someone like Banteon, who was familiar with the dynamics of matched partners, Delroz’s reaction felt oddly unfamiliar.
Those raised as nobles, Banteon included, didn’t blush over contact made for guiding. Physical contact between matched partners was the price of power, not a sin. From a young age, they were taught to see it that way.
“I thought nobles could act dignified even on their deathbed.”
“What kind of image do you even have of nobles?”
“You.”
“……”
It was impossible to tell if that was a compliment or an insult. At the very least, it didn’t seem like he thought Banteon was the type to fool around with an Esper in a place like this, so it probably wasn’t meant as an insult.
Even frowning, Banteon couldn’t read Delroz’s expression with his back turned. Over his shoulder, the digits on the clock came into view—nearing the end time. He’d apparently dozed in the chair for longer than expected.
