“…We’re hitting the limit. No—honestly, based on the readings, we’ve already crossed it. The patient’s just barely hanging on by sheer mental strength. It’s rare to see a Bonded Pair pushed this far. I can’t say what’s going to happen next. I’m sorry, but… you should start preparing yourself. My condolences.”
The moment the medical Esper specialist delivered the grim diagnosis, Lee Han-seo’s legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled to the ground like a sandcastle collapsing beneath a careless wave.
It had happened years ago—after Park Woo-jun’s vital signs were dragged back from the brink with wave after wave of desperate Guiding. Han-seo had stabilized his condition, barely. But Woo-jun wouldn’t wake up. Days passed in silence.
“W-Woo-jun, please… wake up… I’m here, hic, I came all the way here! Park Woo-jun! Please save me… I’m scared… I’m so scared I can’t breathe…”
Park Woo-jun’s unconscious body burned with fever. He didn’t respond at all. Crawling on his knees to the edge of the hospital bed, Han-seo clung to his pale hand—still hooked up to the IV—and kissed it over and over, sobbing like a child. He begged, pleaded, bargained. If Woo-jun would just open his eyes—just for a second—if he could come to his senses long enough to guide him like always… then maybe Han-seo could live. Maybe he could save him.
“…Han-seo-ya.”
“Park Woo-jun!”
It felt like a miracle. As if his prayers had finally pierced through the veil, Woo-jun opened his eyes. And Han-seo, who’d spent days begging for just this, trembled as he shot up and immediately leaned in to kiss him. His vision blurred with tears, but no amount of crying was going to stop him now.
Unfortunately, something else did.
“No… it’s dangerous… Huu… get back. Move away from me.”
Still groggy and out of it, Woo-jun must’ve thought his rampage was still ongoing. His body was weak, heavy, but he still pushed Han-seo away with trembling hands—trying to protect him even now.
“No! Are you stupid? That’s exactly why I should stay close! You should be begging me to save you! You should be holding on to me, asking me to guide you, damn it!”
Han-seo screamed, frantic and on the verge of breaking down.
“Go away… please. I’m begging you. Please, Han-seo-ya. Please…”
“PARK WOO-JUN!!”
Looking back, it was clear—Woo-jun had already given up on himself. Over and over, he’d begged Han-seo to leave, afraid he might get caught in the blast radius of another breakdown. And then he passed out again.
That was the moment Han-seo lost it.
Seeing Woo-jun with one foot in the grave right before his eyes, everything snapped. For the first time in his life, he hit rock bottom—ran his Guiding dry.
With what little strength he had, he bit through his lips and dug his nails into the hospital floor, scraping and clawing like an animal just to force out another wave. The Guiding poured out of him in a torrent, but the surge was so unstable, most of it bounced back instead of being absorbed. The feedback fried the nerves in his arms and legs and shredded the blood vessels beneath his skin. The pain was unbearable—like his limbs were being torn apart, strand by strand—but he didn’t stop.
Yes, Espers live with death hanging over their heads every day… but that didn’t mean he was just going to sit there and let it happen. Not like this. Not to him.
Before heading off on that mission, Woo-jun had smiled—smiled like always—and promised he’d be back. Said they should try that new samgyeopsal place by the Center when it was over. He’d acted like nothing was going to happen.
“I don’t want this, Woo-jun… I can’t do this… You’re right here, sniff… how am I supposed to walk away…?”
The doctor finally intervened right as Han-seo was about to collapse completely.
“That’s enough. You need to stop now.”
“H-Huh? What are you…?”
“I’m sorry. I think I misjudged you, Guide Lee Han-seo. Since Esper Park Woo-jun always went out on missions alone… I assumed you were the kind of guide who exploited their partner. I thought you didn’t care. So… I lied. I wanted to shock you into coming to your senses.”
“Doctor…”
“I truly apologize. I mean it. Seeing you like this… it’s obvious how much you care about him.”
“Ha…”
Han-seo didn’t even have the strength to lash out. He should’ve exploded—should’ve screamed that he’d sue, that the doctor would never work another day in this field. That would’ve been the Han-seo everyone knew.
But instead…
“Th-Then… Woo-jun, h-he’s… he’s okay, right? Nothing happened? He’s really… okay…?”
“Yes. He was right on the edge of a full Blackout, so we sedated him to manage the aftermath. But give it a few days—he should be fine.”
“Ah… Thank god.”
Oh my god, Woo-jun… thank god, thank god… Han-seo could only repeat those words, sobbing uncontrollably, tears pouring down his face. The terror of nearly losing him—the weight of that moment—was too much. He couldn’t even get angry anymore. All he could do was hold on to the fact that it was over. That Woo-jun was still alive.
The doctor kept bowing his head in apology, but before he left, he gave one last piece of advice. Even though it was a lie this time, if things kept going like this, the next time might be real. He urged Han-seo to talk to Woo-jun. Because no matter how strong an Esper is, there’s no such thing as one who can survive countless battles without a Guide.
“…Why are you still crying like that?”
“……”
“You really were hurting, huh… my Han-seo.”
“……”
A soft voice brushed over his closed eyes, gentle and tender—yet piercing enough to drag his foggy mind out of the dream and pull him back to the present in an instant. His lashes were wet. His eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to open. So Han-seo didn’t. He kept them closed. Just like that. The hand that kept wiping away his tears—again and again—made something tighten painfully in his chest.
“I’m sorry, Han-seo. But… I really can’t give in on this. I know you’re going to get hurt. I can’t just sit back and watch that happen.”
But getting hurt wasn’t the problem. The problem was what came after. Getting hurt, and then hurt again, and again—until eventually… all that was left for a Guide pushed to their limit was death. That was what scared him.
“Lee Han-seo.”
“……”
“Han-seo-ya.”
“……”
Han-seo could say it with certainty: no matter how much Park Woo-jun hated seeing him in pain—even to the point of recoiling—the desperation of having nearly lost Woo-jun was far, far greater. Just like Woo-jun lived every day afraid of losing him, Han-seo also lived in constant fear. That one day he might lose him. That the person he loved more than anything would just… disappear.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I was wrong, Han-seo-ya. Please don’t cry…”
“……”
Even the voice trying to comfort him was trembling. The soft sobs buried in it soaked through, like waves of emotion seeping straight into his skin. When Han-seo finally managed to open his eyes, fluttering like broken wings—
All he could see were the eyes he loved most in the world. Tearful, shining, trembling. And his heart sank.
There were so many things he wanted to say. Why do you talk like you’re the only one who loves me? Is that really what you think? Have I failed that badly at showing you how much I love you? He wanted to complain, to vent, to cry.
But his throat locked up. So instead, Han-seo just wrapped his arms tightly around the man in front of him.
Woo-jun pulled him in right away, strong arms encircling him without hesitation.
Only then did Han-seo finally manage to speak, his voice barely a whisper.
“…I love you.”
“……”
“I love you, Park Woo-jun.”
“…Haa.”
“……”
“I love you too… God, I love you so much, Han-seo-ya.”
Their tear-soaked lips found each other—urgent, unsteady, hungry. In the end, this was what it all came down to.
Love.
***
It had only been a few days apart. And yet the cold, quiet living room that once felt so hollow no longer existed. Now, just lying together on the couch—bodies tangled, limbs overlapping—was enough to fill the space with something warm and tender. The air itself had shifted, thick and heavy, but in a way that wrapped around them like a blanket.
“Nnngh… hah, haa…”
Han-seo’s breath caught over and over, light and trembling. Woo-jun’s tongue traced slowly over his neck, lapping at his skin with almost obsessive care—like a cub nursing, like he was trying to make up for every second they’d lost.
Han-seo, who kept losing strength in his arms, forced them to rise just enough to cradle Woo-jun’s head. When he did, Woo-jun nuzzled against him and gently bit down on his collarbone—just enough to sting without hurting.
Hands slid under his hoodie, rough palms gripping his waist hard enough to make him flinch. But Han-seo didn’t stop him. He held on tighter. If anything, the bite of pain made everything feel more real—more alive. And he welcomed that clarity.
“Woo-jun… ahh… Woo-jun-ah…”
He didn’t even know what he was asking for. He just kept calling his name, like a whimpering plea, like a child begging for comfort—his whole body tense and aching with need.
And Woo-jun answered every single time.
“Yeah. Why? I’m here.”
His voice was soft and certain, grounding Han-seo in a way that made the last of his tears spill over—late, but uncontrollable. Every word felt like a promise: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
