After Julian Moore obediently disappeared, the rest of the shoot wrapped up in a flash—so fast it made the long hours up to that point feel like a joke.
It seemed the main reason was pressure from a Ministry of Foreign Affairs official, who had shown up to inform the prickly director that their esteemed guest needed to fly back tonight. They emphasized that the visit was due to an extremely critical diplomatic matter, leaving no room for refusal.
Even when Lee Han-seo and Park Woo-jun were just standing around awkwardly, the director kept repeating lifelessly, “Okay, okay, cut,” and somehow managed to finish everything in under two hours.
“I mean, seriously? It could’ve ended this quick and easy, and instead they ran us ragged all day? Isn’t that insane? Should we just hand off all future shoots to another Pair? Huh? What do you think?”
Han-seo kept tossing out questions while changing clothes, but Park Woo-jun didn’t respond. Not out of rudeness—he just seemed so deep in thought that he hadn’t even registered Han-seo speaking. Given how subdued he’d been since earlier, it wasn’t all that surprising.
Han-seo fell silent and tried to see it from Woo-jun’s perspective. If another Guide suddenly showed up out of nowhere and started acting overly friendly toward Woo-jun, with clearly questionable intentions…
God. That would piss him off.
Just imagining it made his blood boil. Still, he had to admire the way Woo-jun was doing his best to avoid creating a scene, mindful of his position as the symbolic face of all Espers in the country.
Han-seo had deliberately waited until Julian passed out completely, just to make sure nothing stuck in his memory. Even if it didn’t, the media’s endless replays of that day’s drama must’ve sparked some wild fantasies in him anyway.
Things had calmed down a bit after Han-seo and Woo-jun became an officially Imprinted Pair, but that didn’t mean Espers had stopped trying to charm him over the years. It wasn’t just one or two—there’d been plenty. Even Kim Joon-young, who now worshiped the ground Lee Jung-hyuk walked on, had briefly seemed to consider Han-seo as a potential Pair when they’d first entered the Center.
“Baby, let’s go. Time to head out.”
Sensing that calling out wouldn’t be enough, Han-seo linked arms with him and nudged him gently. Woo-jun, mid-buttoning his shirt, froze for a second like he’d just come back to earth, then responded with a delayed, “Mm.” Han-seo smiled like everything was fine and finished buttoning up his shirt for him.
“What’s this? Can’t even dress yourself? Is our Woo-jun still a little baby?”
Normally, when Han-seo pulled this kind of overly sweet act, Woo-jun would get embarrassed but secretly enjoy it. But today, even his signature “baby attack” fell flat. Woo-jun managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—it left a weird, bitter aftertaste.
Sheesh. What can you do, Park Woo-jun? Even having a boyfriend who’s too capable can be a problem. Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of him soon.
Instead of saying it out loud, Han-seo promised himself silently and tightened his grip on Woo-jun’s hand.
The car Han-seo had driven was being moved by a Center staffer. The two of them got into a 14-seat minibus, guided by an official who’d been waiting for them. To their surprise, the inside of the vehicle was already packed—with Julian Moore waving excitedly and beaming like an idiot.
Besides him, there was the temporary Guide who’d accompanied him from the U.S., medical staff standing by with suppressants and paralytics, a physical-enhancement Esper ready to restrain him if needed, an interpreter, Ministry of Foreign Affairs personnel, and staff from both nations’ Centers. Just seeing all the people hanging off this guy was exhausting.
Han-seo didn’t even bother hiding his annoyance, openly scowling. Julian, of course, didn’t notice—or didn’t care. He just smiled, grinning like he was having the time of his life.
As soon as the two of them took their seats directly across the aisle from Julian, the vehicle started moving. When Julian tried to make conversation, Han-seo blatantly ignored him and turned to someone else instead. Luckily, one of the Korean Center officials onboard was someone he knew from the International Exchange Bureau.
“So actually—”
“Mr. Ahn. Where exactly are we going?”
Mr. Ahn, who was only in his second year on the job, looked like a deer in headlights as every eye on the bus snapped toward him. Since everything had been arranged so last-minute, the senior staff were all tied up elsewhere, and he’d been pushed into this role. As expected, Han-seo’s voice came out razor-sharp.
“Uh… the Ministry of Foreign Affairs made a reservation at a restaurant, so we’re on our way there now.”
“Shouldn’t this kind of schedule have been communicated in advance? Is this how the International Exchange Bureau usually operates? Director Yoon’s aware this is how things are being handled, right?”
The tone wasn’t just, He knows, right?—it was more like, He knows and still let this happen, huh?
Mr. Ahn wilted under the pressure, cold sweat forming on his brow.
Meanwhile, the interpreter—who’d been quietly watching the tension rise—started doing his job. As instructed earlier, he relayed Han-seo’s words to the Americans, who were just blinking cluelessly, clearly not understanding a thing. No filters, no sugarcoating—just a straight-up translation.
The Foreign Affairs rep tried to avoid eye contact but froze when Han-seo’s sharp glare landed on him, suddenly finding the view of the Han River outside the window very interesting.
“S-sorry, Guide-nim. But, uh… we didn’t get the details until after the flight landed…”
“Excuse me? An S-Class Esper from another country enters our borders, and you only find out after they’ve landed? Wow. Our national security is just top-tier, huh.”
“Tsk… Well, because of the U.S.–Korea military treaty, Espers who leave the country within six hours of arrival aren’t required to go through reporting procedures. I mean, technically. It’s never really applied before—Julian Moore is the first case like this. But, um, he absolutely insisted on meeting you, Guide-nim, no matter what…”
“Oh, wow. So you just brought him straight to me? No heads-up, no consultation? That sounds totally reasonable. Guess my opinion doesn’t matter, huh? Ah, right—I’m just a government employee. So if they say jump, I should just jump. Silly me. I forgot I don’t get to have free will or personal boundaries. If they say meet, I meet. If they say die, I die. Got it. Thanks for the reminder.”
Every biting word from Han-seo landed with surgical precision. When he got this sharp, Park Woo-jun usually stepped in to smooth things over—so Mr. Ahn clung to that hope, sending him a pleading look from behind Han-seo.
But today, Woo-jun didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even glance his way.
Because truthfully, no one on that bus was angrier than Park Woo-jun.
They weren’t just any Pair—they were Imprinted. And someone had dragged in an outsider Esper to meet his Guide without permission? That was beyond outrageous.
Sure, maybe Julian Moore’s sudden visit couldn’t be helped. Fine. But even then, standard protocol would’ve been to ask Han-seo first if he was willing to meet. Set a proper appointment. Maybe arrange a short chat or meal. That was how this should’ve been handled.
But Woo-jun could guess what really happened. After Han-seo had guided Julian during the dungeon incident, both Korea and the U.S. had gotten a PR windfall—boosts to their images in disaster response and Esper management. Now they wanted to squeeze out one more headline, spin this into another diplomatic “win.” Probably thought, It’s just lunch, what’s the harm?
That’s the problem with painfully naive civilians. They think it’s all just politics and photo ops.
To put it in relatable terms: this whole situation was like walking up to a happily married couple and saying, “Hey, that guy over there wants to have an affair with your spouse. Mind grabbing dinner together? If things click, he’s hoping to break you up. No biggie—it’s just a meal.”
And Julian Moore? He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. He wasn’t here to say thank you and leave quietly. No—he’d made his intentions crystal clear from the moment he showed up.
Esper-Guide Pairs—especially Imprinted ones—were inherently closed and exclusive. That wasn’t some Korean quirk; it was universal. Julian knew better. He wasn’t new to this. The fact that he came all this way anyway said everything.
“Don’t be mad. I just missed you so much.”
“You need to shut up. And use formal speech—I told you.”
“Formal speech? Mm, Korean still hard.”
“Then don’t talk. I don’t like fake friendliness.”
“So harsh. I went through so much just to see you, Han-seo. It wasn’t easy getting permission.”
“Okay? And how is that my problem?”
Julian put on an exaggerated pout, making a show of fake crying. Han-seo let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh and shouted toward the driver.
“Driver! Turn the car around. We’re going back to the Center.”
“G-Guide-nim!! But he came all this way…”
“What’s the point of sharing a meal when we’ve got nothing to say? Woo-jun and I are returning. The rest of you can enjoy your friendly dinner without us.”
Han-seo’s refusal was crystal clear and ice-cold. A firm line drawn in the sand.
We’re solid. You don’t belong here. Don’t even dream of squeezing between us.
It was a silent warning, but loud enough for anyone with a brain to hear.
If Park Woo-jun stepped in, it would escalate—two S-Class Espers clashing emotionally, possibly sparking a full-on international incident. That’s why Han-seo had to end it himself. He only hoped Julian had enough sense to back off now.
Sure, thinking back to how pitiful Julian had been—practically worked to death like a slave—did stir a flicker of human sympathy. But Han-seo had no intention of playing savior.
He gave his all only for the person he loved—and who loved him back. He wasn’t in a position to waste time or energy on someone who’d bolt the moment a better Guide came along.
“Driver! I said turn the damn car around! If you don’t, I swear I’ll open this window and jump out!”
“Eek…! O-okay! Okay, please—just sit down first!”
Mr. Ahn, who knew Han-seo was the type to follow through, went pale as a ghost. And so, the minibus veered off the main road and headed down Olympic Highway instead.
“You’re so cold. Who knows when we’ll see each other again?”
“Good. I hope we never do.”
“Hee~ We’ll see. It’s not always up to you, you know.”
Even as Julian backed off, lips still pouted, he kept smiling. See you soon, he mouthed silently.
***
Somehow, they finally got rid of Julian. Back at their accommodations, they ate a late meal and went to bed. Woo-jun stayed moody all evening, but they still exchanged goodnight kisses and curled up together, sleeping peacefully. Han-seo had figured that was the end of it.
They had no plans the next day, so they didn’t bother setting an alarm. Han-seo woke up late, cozy and well-rested—but something felt off. His wrist was strangely heavy.
He raised his hand to rub his eyes—and heard a clink-clink of metal.
Frowning, he blinked the sleep away… and slowly opened his eyes.
“Wait… what the hell…?”
A heavy iron chain was wrapped snugly around one wrist. Tied in a neat bow, like a present.
“This isn’t… a dream, right…?”
Mouth agape in disbelief, Han-seo quickly realized—this was no dream.
This was real.
Lee Han-seo was chained up. By none other than a very pouty-looking Park Woo-jun.
“You crazy bastard… I knew you were unhinged, but this? You’ve really lost it now.”
Just to be perfectly clear—he wasn’t exaggerating. He was actually locked up.
