Because Lee Haru only guided S-rank espers? In truth, from what he had experienced firsthand, there was nothing to gain from guiding S-rank espers.
Sure, the salary might increase. But every last one of them treated him with utter disregard.
Even someone as mild-mannered as Haru had found himself on the brink of boiling over more than once.
“Do I look like I have that kind of free time to you?”
“That is not what I meant…”
“I do not have time. Go alone.”
You bastard.
He hurled a curse at the man whose face he could not even make out clearly. It made his blood boil that this scene was just a memory.
If only the bastard could actually see him—he would have screamed every profanity in his face without hesitation.
Even after the man turned his back and walked away with cold indifference, Haru could not shake off the lingering attachment.
He stood there like a statue, staring at the door the man had vanished through, the same scene looping endlessly. The only variation was that, at times, his vision blurred before returning to its usual sharpness.
“…He used to be kind to me.”
Was that really true? That bastard—kind?
Judging someone by a few words was foolish, but just from the glimpses he had seen of Haru’s memories, that man had already proven himself to be someone not worth dealing with.
Lee Haru raised a hand and scrubbed at his eyelids. Though the emotional pain felt raw and immediate, there was no physical sensation.
He stood there in place, silently trying to suppress the sorrow clawing at his chest—when the scene shifted again.
“Ah, it hurts… Please… Just a little gentler…”
All that filled his vision was a crumpled stretch of fabric. His surroundings rocked and swayed so violently it was impossible to grasp the situation right away.
Only when the crown of his head struck something did he realize he was face-down on a bed.
Someone behind him was driving into him relentlessly, their body pressed close. Every time the man’s solid frame rammed forward, Haru’s head knocked against the headboard.
There was no pain. But from the way his fingers dug so tightly into the sheets—knuckles jutting pale and rigid—it was clear how overwhelming the experience was.
He had not said “Stop.” All he had done was plead, his voice trembling and frail, asking if the man could be just a little gentler because it hurt so much.
“I told you—if you cannot handle it, say so. There are plenty of other Guides besides you.”
The ice-cold words from behind made Haru choke down the rising flood of emotion.
Without a word, he pressed his forehead into the wrinkled bed sheets and endured. The wet slap of flesh meeting flesh and the dull thud of his head against the headboard blended together, a grating assault on the ears.
It had to be excruciating. And yet, Haru did not utter a single sound—not even a moan. The man behind him was just as silent.
He gripped Haru’s hips as though emptying himself, sometimes yanking Haru’s head back by the hair, wrenching his neck.
By the time it felt like his heart was not just aching but bleeding, the crushing weight that had been bearing down on him slowly receded.
“Ugh…”
Only once the man was gone did Haru collapse, utterly spent, across the bed. Through his fading vision, he watched the man’s retreating back.
As if the only thing Haru had ever been good for was sex—as a tool for Guiding.
That man had never even shown his face properly. And because of that faceless figure, Haru held back the shattering grief and cried in silence.
It changed again.
Just as the weight of Haru’s sorrow had started to blend with his own, as if the tears might spill from his eyes too, something pale came into view—a delicate wrist.
The thin skin was laced with prominent blue veins. And when he saw the sharp blade gripped in the other hand, his heart plummeted.
…Do not do it.
He could already see what Haru was planning. He wished—prayed—that his voice could reach him. But Haru, without a trace of hesitation, brought the blade to that pale wrist.
***
“Huff… Haah…”
Even after jolting awake from the nightmare, it took ages for his ragged breaths to calm. Everything he had just witnessed swirled in chaos inside his mind.
The weight of the ring clutched in his hand felt like it was crushing his entire body.
“Ugh…”
He staggered to the bathroom, nausea clawing up his throat. Gripping the toilet, he vomited everything he had, his body left completely drained of strength.
“What the hell happened to you…”
He set the ring down beside the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face with desperate force. Only after rinsing the bitter taste from his mouth did his thoughts begin to reassemble.
Reflected in the mirror was a soaked figure—one that bore no resemblance to his original face.
That flawless, angelic face looked like it belonged to someone born into beauty, destined only to receive love and see good things in life… And yet, in every single one of Lee Haru’s memories, not a trace of joy could be found.
Without realizing it, his hand had begun to tremble. Though still pale, it looked, in his mind’s eye, like it was soaked in vivid red blood.
“I need to find out who that man is.”
Now that he was inside this body, he could not ignore the pain Lee Haru had endured. Doing so would gnaw at his conscience.
Just like in the dream, he slid the water-drenched ring onto the index finger of his right hand. And as he gently stroked the surface—just as Haru once had—a surge of emotion crashed into him like a rising tide, drenching him to the core.
***
“Thank you.”
After offering a polite farewell to the taxi driver, Lee Haru stepped out of the cab. As he tilted his head back, the towering edge of the building came hazily into view above him.
“Feels like I’m really home.”
Maybe it was because this was the very place where he had first regained consciousness in this world—his original home. For whatever reason, it carried a strange sense of familiarity.
“Wait, isn’t that Guide Lee Haru? What’s he doing back here?”
“Why else? His quarters are here.”
“No, I mean, he made such a scene just to get into the S-rank espers’ residence. You’d think he’d be haunting that mansion like a ghost by now.”
Yeah, yeah.
Even that kind of gossip… he realized, oddly, he had missed it. Loud voices rang out carelessly around him as he walked toward the building, as though the speakers had no concern about whether he could hear them.
Haru met the eyes of every person who ran their mouth.
Most flinched, going quiet and looking away immediately. A few doubled down, raising their voices or glaring back as if challenging him.
That little routine continued until he stepped into the elevator—only then did he finally find some solitude.
“Bet the place is covered in dust by now. Since I’m here, might as well give it a good cleaning.”
He approached the door to his unit and, without a moment’s hesitation, punched in the four-digit code.
On the first day he had inhabited this body, he had returned to the apartment after eating—only to realize he did not know the passcode. On a whim, he had entered four zeroes. Amazingly, that had worked.
As he stepped inside, a wave of cold air greeted him.
Only one person had been here in all that time: the Association employee who had discovered him bleeding and unconscious.
“Where was that place in the memory, I wonder…”
The scene where he had been toying with the ring while writing something—it looked like this bedroom. The memory where he had shyly asked to go out and eat, only to be coldly shut down—seemed like the Guiding office.
And that final place, where he had been treated like some kind of caged animal—he had never seen it before. It was completely unfamiliar.
“First things first… let’s find that notebook.”
The reason he had returned here was simple. What he had mistaken for a ghost’s wailing had turned out to be a signal from Lee Haru himself.
A cry to retrieve the ring that had been left behind in the basement.
The memories that had surged into him the moment he held the ring seemed, at first glance, to have no clear connection.
But that final vision had made one thing painfully clear: the man behind it all—the one who had pushed Haru to the brink—was that unidentified figure.
He had heard no shortage of malicious gossip about Haru since arriving here—dozens of stories and counting. Yet, not a single one of those voices appeared in Haru’s memories.
As if they had meant nothing to him.
In every memory, Haru’s gaze remained fixed on one man’s back.
He had never seen the man’s face clearly, but the voice—the tone—kept pointing toward a single individual.
He had to know. He needed to confirm whether that man had truly driven Lee Haru to his death.
“He was lying in bed while writing… so it’s probably in the bedroom.”
He switched on the light. The room looked exactly the same as when he had last left it.
Unlike the room assigned to him at the esper mansion, this one was so spacious it was impossible to take it all in at once.
He scoured every inch of the place—from the nightstand by the bed to each piece of furniture.
By the time sweat began to gather on his brow, he realized it was taking far longer than expected. He had assumed it would be easy.
“You really went out of your way to hide it, huh…”
Almost unconsciously, he rubbed the ring with his thumb—just like Haru used to do—and sank into thought.
Maybe Haru had hidden it in case someone else came across it. Considering it looked like a diary, that would make sense.
“If I were you, where would I have hidden it…”
Their personalities could not have been more different.
And yet, after peeking into Haru’s memories, he felt as though he might be able to think like him—just enough to retrace his steps.
