Filming for the A Pair is Born Season 3 special had begun. As soon as the news spread, fans went wild at the idea of Hyun Tae-oh and Kang Chi-yu appearing together on a real romance program.
Aside from short interviews at the very beginning, everything was filmed freely. Any footage the participants didn’t want aired could, of course, be cut. And cameras were never installed in spaces that might invade their privacy, such as bedrooms and bathrooms. This protection of personal space was one of the reasons A Pair is Born had long been beloved by Ability Users.
Naturally, the more cuts they requested, the more the producers felt like their veins were drying up. But those boundaries were untouchable, and no one seriously complained about them.
***
“Ridune work today?”
Chi-yu asked as he tapped the schedule on the tablet. Since becoming a Pair, they had been working side by side on everything. Compared to their first recording, it felt far more natural for him to check the schedule like this.
The Production Director was already thinking it might be fun to put together a feature comparing Chi-yu from the 100th-episode year-end special with the Chi-yu from this new Season 3 special.
“Yeah. Do you want to stay home with Catdog and Hayangi? I don’t think it’ll take more than half an hour.”
Tae-oh spoke while slipping into his uniform jacket.
Chi-yu stood, straightened Tae-oh’s slightly crooked tie, and said,
“We’re on camera, Tae-oh.”
In reply, Tae-oh brushed his lips against Chi-yu’s forehead and nodded.
“I know.”
“You know, but you’re going alone? We need to get more footage, don’t we?”
“What’s the point of filming Ridune work?”
“People would love to see you harvesting Ridune.”
“They’ve already seen it.”
“Every time would feel new to them.”
“Would it?”
“It feels new to me every time.”
Chi-yu gave up trying to argue. Instead, he used the one phrase that always worked when it came to handling Hyun Tae-oh: “Me too.” Because if it was something Chi-yu wanted, Tae-oh would always do it.
“Yeah? Then let’s go.”
As expected, Tae-oh agreed instantly.
***
The Ridune Tae-oh harvested was exceptionally valuable. Most Espers possessed only a single attribute—or at most, a primary and one derivative. For example, Beom Do-il had originally been a pure Water-attribute Esper, but he could also wield Ice to some extent as a derivative of Water.
Most A-rank Espers and above had two attributes in this way. But Tae-oh possessed an unusually large number of abilities, and the manifestation of his energy waves was entirely different.
Where most Espers produced Ridune of a single color, the Ridune Tae-oh harvested shimmered in a unique blend of hues. It resembled a rainbow, though not vivid and glaring, nor soft like pastels. It carried a mysterious, exquisite beauty—and that beauty alone gave it immense worth. A simple broadcast of him collecting Ridune was enough to guarantee soaring ratings.
Some argued that all Ridune harvesting should be left to him, given how valuable it was. But only those ignorant of rarity would ever suggest such a thing.
The reason Tae-oh harvested far less Ridune than most Espers was precisely because of its rarity.
Ridune wasn’t just a vital modern energy source—it was also a gemstone more valuable than diamonds. The wealthy often bought Ridune harvested by Tae-oh simply to display as ornaments.
One way or another, his Ridune was already priceless for its beauty alone. With rarity layered on top, it became even more valuable. And naturally, the more of it that entered circulation, the more its value would fall. Regulating the amount he harvested was only logical.
***
“No matter how many times I see it, it’s beautiful.”
Chi-yu thought so too—Tae-oh’s Ridune was the most beautiful of all. Of course, his personal taste leaned toward the transparent, crystalline Ridune that Yoon Do-jae harvested, like flawless diamonds. But that was a secret he’d never dare let slip. If the words Do-jae’s Ridune is prettier ever came out of his mouth, there was no telling what kind of monster Hyun Tae-oh might turn into.
“Looks just like Kang Chi-yu.”
“…What?”
“Beautiful. Every time I look.”
Tae-oh grinned mischievously as he said it.
Chi-yu let out a helpless laugh and shook his head a couple of times.
“Five?”
When Tae-oh asked, Chi-yu quickly checked the tablet.
“Yeah, five.”
“Then it won’t even take thirty minutes.”
Tae-oh sent out his waves again, continuing the harvest.
Chi-yu found himself staring at him. Suddenly, the whole scene felt strangely unreal and miraculous—like all his memories up to now had briefly been set aside.
After all, the person he had secretly loved for longer than he could remember was now, completely and undeniably, his lover. Even the sight of the initials carved into Tae-oh’s nape whenever he changed or washed still struck him as surreal.
Truthfully, he had never once imagined becoming a Pair with Hyun Tae-oh. Tae-oh, who had always hated people, in this kind of relationship with him? The idea had never crossed his mind. Nor had he ever considered that two childhood friends like them could one day cross the line and become lovers.
It all felt dreamlike—and at the same time, his chest trembled with overwhelming joy.
Noticing his expression right away, Tae-oh asked,
“What is it?”
“…Nothing. It just feels strange, the way we ended up like this.”
“Mm?”
“I don’t know. It just suddenly hit me—how did it happen?”
Chi-yu rubbed his nose with a finger and gave an awkward smile.
“Don’t mind me. Just weird thoughts.”
“It’s fate.”
Tae-oh’s expression was nothing short of confident.
“…Fate?”
“Yeah. From the moment we met at eight years old, to the moment we fell for each other. All of it. In the end, we were destined to spend our lives together.”
It was a blunt, clear answer—exactly what you’d expect from Hyun Tae-oh.
Chi-yu’s smile brightened.
“You’re right. It’s fate.”
***
The moment Chi-yu teleported home, he pressed his lips to Tae-oh’s. Just hearing the word fate had made Tae-oh so unbearably dear to him that he couldn’t hold back.
That first kiss must have flipped a switch, because Tae-oh didn’t let him go until late into the night. The last thing Chi-yu remembered was Tae-oh asking, “Should we stop?” He must have blacked out right then.
When he opened his eyes, Tae-oh’s gaze said everything—how badly he’d panicked, how deeply he’d worried.
“You okay?”
Even in his cracked, rough voice, the worry came through.
“….”
Chi-yu wanted to ask the time, but he couldn’t move his lips. His body was that drained.
“I’m sorry. I lost control….”
Tae-oh’s face was etched with guilt. His eyes were bloodshot, proof of how he’d tortured himself while Chi-yu was unconscious.
“…Water….”
He wasn’t thirsty, but he forced the word out—just to ease some of Tae-oh’s guilt.
In an instant, Tae-oh snatched a bottle from the nightstand. Then he carefully lifted Chi-yu into his arms. Cool water touched his lips. Tae-oh must have used his ability to keep it chilled, not knowing when Chi-yu would wake.
It was these little things he loved. These small, thoughtless gestures…
“Here, take this. The professor left it.”
…Wait, what?
“…Professor? Professor Myung Jun-su was here?”
Chi-yu managed to rasp out.
Tae-oh nodded as if it were obvious.
“Of course. You collapsed—I was terrified. I brought him right away. Take the medicine first.”
Chi-yu stared at the yellow pill in Tae-oh’s hand, then glanced down at himself.
He saw me like this…?
As if reading his thoughts, Tae-oh slipped the pill into his mouth himself and pressed the water to his lips.
“Don’t worry. No one else saw. I covered you up.”
He even had the nerve to sound smug about it.
“You didn’t tell him why, did you?”
Chi-yu asked cautiously.
“I said I got a little too worked up.”
Tae-oh nodded.
Chi-yu’s expression froze.
“I’m sorry. Just forgive me this once, okay?”
Since morning, Tae-oh had been clinging to his arm, looking genuinely desperate. Neither of them seemed to care that they were still on camera.
“I won’t call the professor again. I’ll go myself and get the medicine—”
“Forget it. For the next month, don’t even think about anything except Contact Guiding.”
“No, I can’t do that. What if my eyes turn gold again because I can’t get Guiding?”
“Take the medicine.”
“If I take it too often, side effects—”
“It’s safe. Once a week is enough.”
“That’s only because you’ve been Guiding me.”
“I’ll give you Radiant Guiding.”
Chi-yu raised his hand as if to seal the deal.
“No kissing either?”
“Especially not kissing.”
Chi-yu’s voice was firm.
Tae-oh looked like his world had collapsed.
“No. That’s the one thing I can’t give up. Really, I can’t.”
“It’s time to brush Catdog. Move.”
Chi-yu tried to pry his arm free from Tae-oh, who had wrapped himself around it. But Tae-oh clung like it was his lifeline.
“Of all things, telling me I can’t kiss you—that’s like telling me to die. You know that, right?”
“You won’t die just because you can’t kiss.”
“I will. I swear I will.”
“You went over ten years without even touching me and survived just fine.”
“That was different.”
“How? My feelings for you were the same then as they are now.”
Both of them froze—Chi-yu because the words had slipped out, Tae-oh because he’d heard them. Flustered, Chi-yu scooped Catdog into his lap and started brushing its fur, pretending to focus only on that.
Tae-oh just stared at him for a long time.
“Chi-yu.”
“…What.”
“Just kill me. I’d rather die by your hand.”
“…What?!”
“If you’re not even going to let me kiss you, just kill me. I want it so badly I could die, and holding back feels worse than death. Just kill me. Please. Just do it.”
He was throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old.
Chi-yu frowned and gave him a look. Even Hayangi and Catdog seemed to be staring at Tae-oh with pity.
