“Mutant, you said?”
Professor Myung Jun-su, after greeting the emergency medic who had treated Hyun Tae-oh, checked the state of his bandaged arm while also running tests to see if any virus had slipped in.
“Yeah, regenerative type.”
“Wow, that must’ve been one hell of a fight. But how much suppressant did you take?”
“Not much.”
“Cut the crap. You’re showing withdrawal symptoms and you call that not much?”
“I’m filming PairBorn right now, Professor. Could you watch your language?”
When Tae-oh pointed at the camera clipped to his jacket lapel, Jun-su’s tiny eyes bulged wide.
“What? You should’ve said that first! We can’t cut this out? Let’s reshoot. Hold on, let me fix my hair—”
“They’ll edit it out, just keep going.”
“Oh, good, they’ll edit. Still, I wouldn’t mind showing up at least once. All the PairBorn cast are Central Bureau people, but somehow none of them ever step into the ward. A number-one show like that ought to feature us now and then…”
Muttering to himself, Jun-su began stitching up Tae-oh’s wound with a laser pen.
“But seriously—don’t touch suppressants for a while.”
“…”
When Tae-oh stayed silent, Jun-su, who had been chatting like an old friend, turned his head toward Chi-yu.
“Tae-oh’s temporary Pair, right? Your name is…”
“Guide Kang Chi-yu,” he answered quickly.
Jun-su nodded, then addressed him.
“Alright, Guide Kang. Even if it’s temporary, you’re his Pair, so keep an eye on him. No suppressants for now. He’s already showing signs of addiction—if it worsens, he could start coughing up blood.”
At those words, Chi-yu’s face went pale. He nodded quickly.
Jun-su gave him another glance.
“Why are you staring at my friend like that? Creepy.”
The unexpected comment from Tae-oh left Jun-su dumbfounded.
Staring at him incredulously, Tae-oh continued,
“Why do you keep sneaking looks at my Guide? Like some pervy old man—ah!”
Smack.
Before he could finish, Jun-su slapped him hard on the back.
“You little brat. Who are you calling a pervy old man?”
“Ow! Can a doctor just hit a patient like this?!”
“Patient, my ass.”
“The camera’s rolling.”
“You said they’d edit it out.”
“I won’t let them.”
“Then I’ll sue if this airs as is.”
“Go ahead. You think I’m scared?”
“You punk, no matter how good you are, you’ll never—ah, fuck. Guess you really are better.”
At that, Tae-oh frowned incredulously.
“Ha… why would the Creator give powers like that to a punk like you? Zero manners.”
“Stop calling me punk, punk, punk. Or I’ll really let this air uncut.”
“Try it, asshole. If you do, I’ll expose every stunt you pulled when you joined and every mess you made in the ward—”
“We’re finished, Professor. I’ll handle the post-care.”
The assistant doctor carefully took the laser pen from Jun-su’s hands.
“Ah, fine.”
Jun-su stepped back a couple of paces, arms crossed, then watched as Yang Ha-rim began post-treatment, making sure not to touch Tae-oh more than necessary.
“See? He’s such a pain that even post-treatment looks like they’re handling toxic waste.”
Jun-su jerked his chin at Ha-rim while speaking to Chi-yu, who gave him an awkward smile.
“But wait—you said friend?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Wow. Didn’t think that brat could have a friend. What, Academy days?”
“No. We were neighbors growing up.”
“Unbelievable. How did you put up with that rotten temper all these years? You’ve got the patience to save the world.”
“…Ha ha.”
“No wonder. That explains why he touches you so naturally. You two must be used to it.”
Used to it.
Jun-su’s words made Chi-yu think familiarity might be the word that best described him and Tae-oh.
Yes, familiarity.
That’s why Tae-oh had kept him close for so long. And Chi-yu, mistaking that familiarity for something more, ended up falling for him.
Because Tae-oh treated him as special, Chi-yu made Tae-oh special to him too. The feeling grew until it became a one-sided love.
“Normally, being Pairs with a friend would be awkward, but considering how unusual he is, it might actually work out better this way, Guide Kang.”
“…Maybe.”
“For now, he absolutely can’t touch suppressants.”
“I understand.”
“And also, well… This might sound inappropriate, so it feels awkward to say—”
“It’s fine, go ahead.”
“If you know it’s inappropriate, don’t say it in the first place.”
Both Chi-yu and Tae-oh shot back at once.
Jun-su glared briefly at Tae-oh before turning back to Chi-yu.
“From what I can tell, you’re not S-rank…”
“Confirmed as B-rank.”
“…Ah, so that B-rank in the 2nd Division was you, huh? His friend?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, nice to meet you. I actually wanted to see you.”
“Why would an Esper doctor want to meet a Guide?”
Tae-oh cut in sulkily.
“Dr. Yang, stitch that brat’s mouth shut too,” Jun-su muttered before looking back at Chi-yu.
“You know how, with him being SS-rank, Guiding is like pouring water into a bottomless bucket?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why I think the Guiding stage needs to be raised.”
“…”
“Even if he were just S-rank, in his condition he’d need Stage 2 or higher multiple times a day.”
“…”
“But you’re B-rank. You learned this at the Academy, right? The bigger the rank gap, the more frequent the Guiding required. Ideally, you want someone of equal rank.”
“Yes.”
“Of course, even a temporary Pair is better than nothing, but right now he cannot take suppressants. And he still has to keep working, keep filming PairBorn.”
“Yes.”
“So what I mean is… hmm.”
Jun-su hesitated.
Even if Tae-oh was unusual, and even if it was fortunate that the only person he could touch—his childhood friend—was his temporary Pair, suggesting Stage 3 between friends felt like crossing a line.
But it was fact: he could no longer take suppressants, and a B-rank Guide alone couldn’t sustain him. Raising it to Stage 3 was the only realistic option.
And with the PairBorn broadcast, the timing was perfect. If this stabilized him to the level of ordinary Espers, that would be the best outcome.
Still, that was just Jun-su’s selfish hope as his physician—to ease his constant anxiety over the boy’s instability.
Honestly, even suggesting Stage 2 saliva-contact Guiding between childhood friends felt like a sin.
He chewed his lip, lost in thought.
“Why stop halfway? Just say it.”
Of all people, Tae-oh pressed him. Jun-su frowned.
“Hey, how would you know what I’m about to say? Give me a sec. I need to think this through before—”
“You’re telling Chi-yu to raise the Guiding stage because I can’t take suppressants, right?”
The very thing Jun-su had agonized over came out of Tae-oh’s mouth like it was nothing—casual, light.
Jun-su stared. Chi-yu did too.
Switching his gaze between them, Tae-oh then grinned like a mischievous kid.
“See, Chi-yu? Even Professor Myung says we should go Stage 3.”
Since when?
“Would you really be okay with Stage 3?”
Before Chi-yu could answer the professor’s cautious question, Tae-oh suddenly stood up.
Startled, Ha-rim jumped back, hurriedly setting down the instruments he’d been using.
“No need to worry, Professor. We already agreed on it ourselves. We’re done here, right?”
When he asked, Jun-su glanced at Ha-rim. Ha-rim nodded, so Jun-su nodded as well.
“By the way, how much Guiding will it take for my eyes to go back to normal?”
The sudden interest, from someone who had never cared about such things before, left Jun-su momentarily stunned. Stroking his chin, he replied,
“That’s something the Guide Department Head would know best. But theoretically—since you’re SS-rank and your Pair’s B-rank—if you did three Stage 3 sessions a day for about a month, they should revert.”
“You heard that, Chi-yu?”
Heard what, exactly?
When Chi-yu glared at him, stiff-faced, Jun-su squinted, amused, watching the two of them.
“Esper Hyun Tae-oh.”
At that moment, Ha-rim handed over a small pillbox.
“Painkillers. Take them if your stitched arm starts to hurt from overuse.”
Expressionless, Tae-oh nodded once, accepting the pillbox, still talking about Stage 3 as if it were nothing.
Because of that casual exchange, Chi-yu’s face flushed hot, and he instinctively ducked his head.
Jun-su, glancing from Chi-yu’s burning cheeks to Tae-oh, noticed something unusual: the SS-rank Esper was smiling faintly, unconsciously, at the sight of his Guide.
It was the most relaxed he’d ever seen him. So gentle, looking at Kang Chi-yu, it made Jun-su wonder if his eyes were deceiving him.
So it’s not just childhood friends after all, huh?
A faint smile tugged at Jun-su’s lips.
