Lee Haru tightly clasped Ji Yeon-woo’s hands in both of his own as he watched him sob like he could barely breathe. He couldn’t help but feel a burning resentment—who in the world had burdened Ji Yeon-woo with such a tragic backstory?
There must be a limit to the amount of pain a person can endure. But Ji Yeon-woo had been forced to experience suffering he should never have known, and from far too young an age.
The one memory he’d cradled like a treasure—his only source of solace—had now turned into a horrifying curse. Just imagining how much his heart must ache was unbearable.
“Let’s find a way through this together. That bastard will pay for what he’s done.”
Now he understood why Hong Seong-jun had sided with Black’s leader. The two of them were the same: irredeemable, human garbage.
Zero, who had dragged Ji Yeon-woo into hell since childhood, and that scum who drove someone to their death just because his feelings weren’t returned—neither one could be considered worse than the other. They were two sides of the same rotten coin.
“Do you really think so…? Will I really get to see him suffer?”
The pain was so excruciating, it felt like he’d rather rip his heart out than endure it any longer. Every time he recalled the memories he’d shared with that man—the man who had committed unforgivable acts so casually—it felt like his entire life was still rotting in the gutter.
Even as he spoke to Lee Haru, Ji Yeon-woo felt like he was grasping at straws.
Lee Haru was a fellow Guide, like him. He’d shared his story to warn Haru about how dangerous Zero truly was, but deep down, perhaps he’d simply wanted someone to console him.
But the moment Lee Haru didn’t dismiss his words and instead said they should do something together—it was like a healing balm had been gently spread across his ravaged heart.
He was no longer alone. He had escaped that nightmare, and he had finally met someone who genuinely empathized with his pain.
If Lee Haru had only offered empty, perfunctory comfort, Ji Yeon-woo might have regretted opening up the moment he finished speaking.
But Haru had truly listened. He had resonated with every word. Ji Yeon-woo couldn’t afford to lose someone like him.
If Zero ever caused Haru to lose his life, Ji Yeon-woo would abandon the life he had fought so hard to keep.
Even though Haru was clearly afraid, he had stood unflinchingly in front of Zero to protect him.
There was no guarantee such a thing wouldn’t happen again. As long as that man was alive, he would keep coming for them—over and over again.
“Absolutely. He will die a painful death.”
Lee Haru tightened his grip on Ji Yeon-woo’s hands as he spoke. No matter how you looked at it, Black’s leader was never meant to be the protagonist.
More likely, his fate was to be dealt with by the real leads. Even if the story veered off into different paths, the original narrative had already been broken beyond repair. They would make sure the flow of events ended with that bastard’s death.
There wasn’t a single thing Ji Yeon-woo had said that was wrong. As long as Zero was alive, both their lives hung by a thread, flickering like candle flames in a storm.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the man didn’t seem to sync well with Ji Yeon-woo during Guiding.
Despite being entirely fixated on Ji Yeon-woo, the moment he tried to Guide him, his attention had suddenly shifted to Haru.
Even the initial kidnapping had clearly been a reckless move for someone like Zero.
And the result? Black’s entire base had been obliterated.
“I really hope so.”
Ji Yeon-woo’s voice trembled faintly. Lee Haru quietly patted the back of his hand until the shaking subsided.
Everything was still uncertain, but the two had steeled their resolve. After crossing a deadly line together, a powerful bond had formed between them.
Their emotions might have differed in color, but the desire to protect each other remained the same.
That fragile moment of peace was shattered when the door suddenly burst open.
When Lee Haru saw who entered, the strength drained from his hands. Ji Yeon-woo’s eyes filled with a different kind of sorrow than before.
“Time’s up. Come on, Lee Haru.”
Yu Je-hyun had been standing in front of the hospital room, checking the time on his watch every thirty seconds.
He had deliberately refrained from eavesdropping on their conversation. He had been curious, yes—but not enough to intrude on their privacy.
However, the moment the hour that Jin Sung-joon had specified passed, he opened the door. Enduring that hour had been twice as hard as clearing an S-rank dungeon.
“Can’t I stay just a little longer?”
“No. You haven’t been awake for long. You still need to undergo tests.”
Yu Je-hyun could tell from the atmosphere that their important talk had come to a natural end.
Still, a surge of irritation welled up as he caught Ji Yeon-woo’s sidelong glance. It was obvious to anyone that Ji Yeon-woo had feelings for Lee Haru.
He had already been uneasy about how often Ji Yeon-woo kept asking for Haru—and now, seeing the way that bastard looked at him, it mirrored his own gaze.
He stepped up to Haru and opened his arms, wanting Ji Yeon-woo to see Haru willingly walk into his embrace.
He wanted confirmation—confirmation that he was the one Haru relied on most right now.
Though his face remained calm, he couldn’t stop the slight tremble in his fingertips.
What if Haru turned away from him? What if he chose Ji Yeon-woo instead? The thought twisted his mind into knots.
Even though this wasn’t some kind of confession where he was waiting for an answer, the tension was suffocating.
And Ji Yeon-woo felt it too. At first, he’d thought Haru had feelings for Kang Min. But then Haru had told him that the man had actually been Hong Seong-jun in disguise.
That gave him some relief—but only for a moment.
He couldn’t forget the look that passed between Haru and Yu Je-hyun when they reunited. The tenderness in their eyes, like lovers finally reunited after a long separation, had instantly made him feel like an outsider.
Even now, Haru’s gaze was fixed on Yu Je-hyun. He wasn’t trying to be greedy with Haru’s heart.
He just desperately wanted to be with him, even if only for a little while.
That was why Ji Yeon-woo had desperately clung to the tips of Lee Haru’s fingers as he slowly moved away.
Lee Haru’s gaze turned back to him. But faced with those puzzled eyes, the courage Ji Yeon-woo had just barely mustered melted away like snow.
“…Thank you for coming today.”
His soft whisper of gratitude was met with a gentle smile from Lee Haru. The warmth they’d shared was fading, bit by bit. Even so, Ji Yeon-woo merely tucked his fingertips into his palm.
“I’ll be back soon. Get some rest.”
After offering his farewell, Lee Haru exited the room alongside Yu Je-hyun. The weight of Ji Yeon-woo’s lingering gaze pressed heavily against his back.
Lost in thought, Lee Haru followed where Yu Je-hyun tugged him by the arm, letting his feet move on their own.
“Don’t you think the room is way too big? Mine too, and Guide Ji Yeon-woo’s room—it’s just a single-patient room, but it feels bigger than most eight-person wards.”
Lee Haru suddenly stopped in his tracks and met Yu Je-hyun’s eyes as he voiced what had been on his mind.
“What kind of talk is that now?”
Yu Je-hyun’s brow twisted, sensing something ominous.
“I get scared sleeping alone, you know. So I was thinking… instead of using separate single rooms, maybe Guide Ji Yeon-woo and I could share one.”
“Denied.”
“Why?”
“You really need to ask?”
Lee Haru nodded like that answer was exactly what he expected. Now that the situation was right in front of him, Yu Je-hyun found himself unable to say much.
He wanted to say he simply hated the idea of Haru sharing space with another guy—but wasn’t sure if he even had the right to say such a thing.
There had been a moment, a chance to confess—but he’d missed it. And now, it didn’t feel like he could just say, “I like you,” either.
As Yu Je-hyun remained silent, Haru tilted his head slightly.
“Are you bothered by the idea of me staying in the same room as Guide Ji Yeon-woo?”
The question struck dead center. Yu Je-hyun’s eyes wavered, and facing that head-on, so did Haru’s.
“To me, Guide Ji Yeon-woo is really just like a younger brother…”
Yu Je-hyun immediately interjected. From his perspective, Ji Yeon-woo clearly had feelings for Haru.
“But you don’t know if he feels the same way. And people—when they live together and share a space—they can start to develop feelings that weren’t there before.”
Lee Haru listened quietly, then abruptly asked,
“Has that ever happened to you, Esper Yu Je-hyun?”
“What?”
“It just… sounded like you were speaking from experience.”
“That’s never happened to me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I see.”
What was that? Haru seemed to accept the answer, but something about it left a strange feeling in Yu Je-hyun’s chest. He reached out and placed a hand on Haru’s shoulder, lowering his head.
Haru’s head naturally tilted back in response. At this angle, just a little more and their lips would touch.
“I really hate being touched by people. No one’s ever been in my room except you. That’s the truth.”
