He had definitely taken his hand. Even if it was just for teleportation, it didn’t make sense—because no one knew better than him how severe Hyun Tae-oh’s obsession with cleanliness was.
But Min Yu-hyun was different. That obsession didn’t apply to him.
Maybe the reason Tae-oh acted so curt and prickly toward Yu-hyun most of the time was because he didn’t want anyone to notice the tension between them. Maybe all those times he’d been harsh in front of him, refusing to even let Yu-hyun touch him, had all been for that very reason.
In the end, Hyun Tae-oh was close enough to Min Yu-hyun to hold his hand and take him home.
Once that realization sank in, he suddenly wasn’t sure what he was to Tae-oh anymore.
They’d lived practically like twins since childhood. For Tae-oh, who despised people, he had stayed by his side, looking after him. He had given up everything—what he wanted, what he could’ve done, what he should’ve done—just to devote himself entirely to Hyun Tae-oh.
Of course, he knew he had no right to call it unfair. In the end, it had been his own choice.
But if Min Yu-hyun is already there, then why me…?
Chi-yu’s legs gave out, and he sank to the floor. His heart felt like it was plummeting endlessly into a bottomless pit.
Seeing once again the special exception Tae-oh reserved only for Min Yu-hyun—it was like the sky itself had collapsed.
Even though he wanted to cry, he couldn’t. Instead, a bitter laugh, tinged with despair, escaped him.
***
“Regenerative mutant?”
Hyun Tae-oh asked as he skimmed through the classified Code X documents.
Across from him, Min Yu-hyun, reading through the same file, nodded.
“Is it anything like the one we sampled in Zone G?”
“No. It’s closer to the one we saw during that last emergency.”
That one had looked like a grotesque blowfish, its body bristling with spikes. It had taken them a great deal of effort to figure out that one slightly different spike among them was actually its heart.
But the newly discovered mutant felt like an upgraded version of that blowfish—twice as dangerous.
The fact that mutant beasts kept evolving into new forms left Tae-oh with a faint sense of unease.
“Still, this one’s a pain. We need to capture it alive, not just take a sample. Either way, we move now.”
“I’ll handle it alone.”
Tae-oh spoke while checking the creature’s location.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I got the same Code X order you did. If you ditch me again like last time and make me waste another teleport accessory, I swear I’ll tell the Bureau Chief everything and get you disciplined. So don’t even think about disappearing on your own.”
At that, Tae-oh raised his head.
Yu-hyun’s face was flushed with genuine anger, his brows drawn tight as he glared back. Tae-oh let out a long sigh.
He honestly couldn’t understand why he had to handle Code X missions with this guy.
Sure, capturing it alive instead of just taking a sample made it a little trickier, but it was still something he could handle on his own.
With an exasperated sigh, Tae-oh turned toward the door.
“I said we’re going together.”
Yu-hyun trailed after him, insisting.
Tae-oh clicked his tongue and shoved the pen in his hand toward him.
“Hold it.”
“God, seriously. The way you act, like I’m filthy or something…”
“Want me to leave you behind?”
“Ha, fuck.”
Grumbling, Yu-hyun snatched the pen, and in the next instant, Tae-oh teleported them straight into the subzone where the Code X alert had gone off.
***
Kang Chi-yu blinked down at the tablet the Guide Department Head slid across to him. He had only just managed to steady himself and was about to head home when the summons came. Now, sitting in the Director’s office, he realized he was facing a situation almost identical to before.
“Read it through and sign.”
Even the words were the same—down to the last syllable.
“…Excuse me?”
“Well, about the A Pair is Born production team…”
Seok Do-young dabbed at the sweat beading on his forehead with a handkerchief as he carefully laid out the situation.
After the 100th-episode special featuring Hyun Tae-oh, the long-running show A Pair is Born was set for a major overhaul. As part of the revamp, the pilot program Save My Pair, which had recently aired to great popularity, would be slightly reworked and introduced as a new segment.
Unlike the original format, where viewers voted to decide Temporary Pairs and the show filmed their everyday lives, the new version wouldn’t assign Pairs in advance. Instead, all participants would move into a shared house, and the first segment would follow them as they searched for the right Partner themselves.
In other words, while the old format showed the daily lives of Temporary Pairs chosen by audience votes, the new format would place three teams under one roof, where each would try to find their ideal match. If both sides agreed, they would become an official, permanent Pair.
Chi-yu stared intently at the tablet screen in front of him.
“Well, Guide Kang Chi-yu, your popularity has skyrocketed lately. The production team was honestly astonished.”
“……”
“So, they reached out to us, saying they want you as a fixed cast member for the first season of the revamped show. If you look carefully at the contract, you’ll see this isn’t the usual offer—it’s outside the standard terms. The guaranteed appearance fee alone is…”
“What about the other cast members?”
Chi-yu finally looked up and asked.
“They haven’t been confirmed yet, but most likely top-tier S-rank Espers.”
That might actually work in his favor.
With Tae-oh’s personality, there was no way he’d ever agree to a program where several people had to live together under one roof. And Chi-yu was at a point where he desperately needed to put distance between himself and Hyun Tae-oh.
If he accepted, not only would he secure a hefty payout, but he’d also get the one-year leave he’d been promised—enough time to slip away somewhere on his own. And if he was lucky enough to find an Esper who matched him well, he could form a Pair and finally break free of Tae-oh.
It wasn’t a bad deal at all.
He had already been on the show once before; doing it again wouldn’t be difficult.
“I’ll do it,” Kang Chi-yu said, picking up the pen to sign.
***
“What the hell were you thinking blowing it up?! The order was to capture it alive!!”
Min Yu-hyun shouted, staring at the regenerative mutant beast that had just been blown to pieces before his eyes.
“Regenerative” wasn’t just a name—it was a monster that could split itself apart to multiply, even without being cut. The sheer absurdity of it left him shaken.
The battle had been hellish. Yu-hyun, who was famous for looking immaculate even in combat, was now in tatters, proof of just how grueling the fight had been.
He hadn’t underestimated the mission, but he hadn’t expected it to be this brutal. His energy reserves were nearly spent.
Tae-oh had told him to get out of the way and go home, but with the creature multiplying out of control, Yu-hyun hadn’t even had the chance to use his teleport accessory.
Even so, he’d managed to protect himself by alternating between Sleep and Immobilization. Tae-oh, on the other hand, looked like a man who wouldn’t bleed even if stabbed, single-mindedly cutting down beasts without sparing a thought for protecting Yu-hyun.
Granted, his wide-range attacks had cleared swaths of monsters at once, keeping Yu-hyun from actually getting hurt. But if not for that, Yu-hyun would’ve been torn apart long ago.
Still… blowing off orders like this, what the hell is he thinking?
What had started as a single creature had multiplied into hundreds, their shattered bodies now piled like a mountain of flesh. Yu-hyun stared at the carnage, his head pounding as he wondered how they were supposed to explain this in a report.
“They said capture it alive. Do you even know what capture means?”
His frustration boiled over, and he snapped at Tae-oh.
“Don’t talk crap.”
Tae-oh peeled off his gloves with a look of sheer annoyance.
“Capturing a regenerative mutant isn’t child’s play. If they really wanted it alive, they should’ve sent in First Division, Team A.”
“They didn’t—because it was classified. That’s why the order went only to us!”
“And how the fuck do you capture something that just keeps splitting?!”
Tae-oh’s voice finally rose in anger.
Even for an SS-rank, some things just weren’t possible. There were monsters that could be captured, and monsters that couldn’t. A creature that multiplied endlessly—two into four, four into eight—how the hell were you supposed to identify and secure the original body?
“Who the hell gave this shit order?” Tae-oh growled, thumbing his comm and swearing into the line.
Yu-hyun, staring at the mountain of shredded corpses, had to admit the order was insane. They hadn’t managed to capture it, but they couldn’t go back empty-handed either. He pulled out a sample case, plucked a random piece of flesh with tongs, and sealed it inside.
“If it’s such a joke, then send those bastards out here and let them do the capturing themselves,” Yu-hyun muttered.
Meanwhile, Tae-oh’s face twisted as he argued with the Bureau Chief over comms. The report that they’d failed to capture it had clearly set the man off.
Even from where Yu-hyun stood, he could hear the Chief’s voice roaring through the line.
—“You’re the only SS-rank Esper in the Central Bureau! If not you, then who the hell is supposed to capture it alive?!”
“I told you, it’s not possible! Easy for you to run your damn mouth.”
—“Just put them all to Sleep and bring back the core body, that’s all it takes!”
“Oh, fuck off. What, you think the core walks around with a nametag? The moment we ran into it, it was already multiplying like crazy—how the hell am I supposed to pick out the real one and capture it alive?”
—“That’s why we assigned Guide Min Yu-hyun to you. With him—”
“What, you think Yu-hyun has clairvoyant eyes? If I can’t spot the core, how the hell is he supposed to?”
—“That’s why the two of you were supposed to coordinate from the start and—”
“Save it. We’re heading back. I’m covered in gore and it’s pissing me off.”
—“Wait! Tae-oh—!”
Tae-oh hung up on the Bureau Chief without the slightest courtesy, then turned to look at Yu-hyun. His eyes swept over him slowly, as if searching for something.
“What.”
“Teleport accessory.”
Yu-hyun pulled the charm from around his neck and held it up. Tae-oh gave a single nod—then vanished on his own.
It happened so suddenly Yu-hyun couldn’t even scream.
The fact that Tae-oh wouldn’t even teleport him—just because he didn’t want to touch him—made something inside Yu-hyun boil over.
At last, he exploded, bellowing into the empty air.
“HEY! HYUN TAE-OH, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!”
***
As soon as Hyun Tae-oh finished showering in the First Division’s private stall, he reached for his phone to call Kang Chi-yu. Just then, the worst possible timing—the Bureau Chief’s name lit up on the screen.
Clicking his tongue, Tae-oh reluctantly answered.
“What.”
—“Get up here.”
“I’m tired.”
—“You failed the mission, so the least you can do is drag yourself up here and file a report, you little shit.”
“Min Yu-hyun will handle it. He even collected the sample.”
—“You too, damn it! You too! Because of you I’m going to die before my time—”
The moment that familiar “because of you I’ll die young” line started, Tae-oh cut him off with a quick “I’ll be right up” and ended the call before it could spiral.
He knew how these things went—if the Chief got started, he’d lecture for over an hour. And if Tae-oh hung up on him mid-rant, the man would just keep calling back like someone possessed until he picked up. Best to avoid the headache altogether.
On his way upstairs, Tae-oh thought that when this was over, he’d call Chi-yu and maybe grab dinner together.
But when he walked into the Chief’s office, his brow twitched. Not only was Min Yu-hyun there, but also the A Pair is Born executive producer.
Why the hell was he sitting in on a meeting involving classified matters?
The Bureau Chief didn’t waste words.
“Do the broadcast with Guide Min Yu-hyun.”
So that was what this was really about.
Tae-oh’s brows furrowed, irritation plain on his face.
“What, make us a Pair just for the show—”
“Why the hell would I Pair with another Guide when I already have one?”
“What? Since when do you have a Pair?”
At that, every gaze in the room—the Chief, the producer, even Yu-hyun—snapped toward him.
Tae-oh leaned back against the sofa with a weary sigh and answered flatly.
“Kang Chi-yu.”
“That was a Temporary Pair. And that contract already ended.”
“Once a Pair, always a Pair. What’s this nonsense about ‘temporary’? I didn’t take you for that kind of man, Chief…”
“The way I hear it, that Temporary Pair of yours is about to form another Pair.”
The producer interrupted, cutting across his words.
Tae-oh turned to him with a look that said plainly, What the hell are you babbling about?
The producer continued smoothly.
“He’s agreed to appear on our new program.”
Tae-oh’s face went rigid, the shift so sharp it was obvious to everyone in the room.
The producer explained further about the revamped show—and then dropped the real bomb: Kang Chi-yu had already signed the contract.
Tae-oh’s expression twisted into something dark and dangerous.
“…What did you just say he did?”
