“Come here. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Lee Han-seo spoke with a tenderness and gentleness completely unlike his usual self, suppressing the urge to cry. But Park Woo-jun, pressed tightly against the wall, still looked utterly terrified.
To the current Park Woo-jun, Lee Han-seo was a complete stranger—a face that stirred no emotion, a person he’d never seen before.
The bond between Esper and Guide, once thought indelible, fading like this—it was almost unbelievable. And yet, this was the deadly, little-known side effect of the amplifier.
Because of the immense physical toll it took, Espers rarely used amplifiers except in extreme circumstances, and among those, even fewer had imprinted Guides. So, it made sense that this phenomenon remained largely unknown.
The first time Lee Han-seo experienced this strange condition, one he’d never heard of or seen before, he was so devastated he could do nothing but cry. He called in a researcher in a panic, but of course, to them, it was someone else’s problem.
The researchers, thrilled to witness something unprecedented, arrived eagerly and simply collected data, delighted. Their diagnosis was careless: it was a temporary overlap of blackout symptoms and amplifier aftereffects, and would resolve soon enough.
What truly tore him apart, though, was this—if only the imprint left in him had faded too. But no. Lee Han-seo’s emotions remained locked in that imprint, unchanging.
“I’m sorry, I was wrong. Please don’t hurt me…”
Park Woo-jun trembled violently, eyes tightly shut, like a child thrown out in their pajamas.
These moments hurt Lee Han-seo the most. If only he didn’t remember—if he snapped back harshly, asking why some stranger was pretending to know him, maybe it wouldn’t crush him like this.
Every time the person who once looked at him like he was the center of the universe turned into this frightened mess before his eyes, Lee Han-seo felt like his chest was being torn apart. It’s already been five years since they first met when they were both twenty, and he still couldn’t get used to it. He probably never would.
Even in fear, that pale face remained as beautiful as ever—just as it was the first time Lee Han-seo fell for him.
The memory of their first meeting was still vivid. When he was asked to assist with an Esper awakening that wouldn’t settle, taking place at a university campus in Seoul, he’d initially responded with annoyance.
The request message had claimed the damage level suggested at least an A-rank Esper and asked for Lee Han-seo to come in person. He’d gritted his teeth, wondering who dared to summon him like this.
He pushed through the clamor of panicked screams and entered the large lecture hall, where a powerful whirlwind raged near the back. No one dared get close, but Lee Han-seo strode into it. At the eye of the storm, all was silent.
And there—Park Woo-jun simply existed in that stillness.
How could he even describe that moment? A space so quiet, even the flow of air seemed to halt. Within it lay a stunning young man, asleep in serene slumber. If not for the muffled screams from outside the whirlwind, Lee Han-seo might’ve believed he’d stepped into a dream straight out of a fairy tale.
In that fleeting moment, when he gently placed his hand on the man’s furrowed brow, Lee Han-seo knew—his entire future would converge on this one person.
Only later did he learn that the surge of emotion had been a biological response to a high compatibility match. But in that moment, it had felt like destiny. And for Lee Han-seo, that was enough.
They hadn’t officially become a pair, though. In truth, Lee Han-seo already had an Esper partner with whom he’d trained for years, aiming to establish an official pairing.
As he tried to steady his resolve, recalling the friend who had been by his side half his life, the news came: the newly rescued Park Woo-jun might undergo match tests with other Guides and form a pair.
Lee Han-seo snapped.
Without care for dignity or consequence, he snatched Park Woo-jun away.
When he later tried to apologize, shame-faced, to Ryu Ho-yeon—the Esper who had trusted Lee Han-seo as his Guide—Ryu had only nodded, wearing an expression too strange to be either laughter or tears.
“I’m really fine. You don’t have to say sorry.”
That calm, emotionless voice, as always—how could Lee Han-seo not know it was his way of trying to ease his guilt?
‘What do I do… I guess this is my punishment, Ho-yeon.’
“I’m sorry. I was wrong…”
So if this cursed side effect was a burden to bear, then Lee Han-seo accepted it as his to carry.
He didn’t bother moving Park Woo-jun to their shared lodging, not when the man, trapped in some point of the past, couldn’t even remember him.
In the early days, he’d tried everything—showing photos they’d taken, places they’d been together—desperately attempting to bring back the memories. But all of it had proven useless.
“…Mmm.”
“Did you sleep well?”
And again, this time too.
“What day is it? I didn’t sleep in too late, did I?”
One morning, he opened his eyes—and the terrified stranger had once more become Lee Han-seo’s Park Woo-jun. Swallowing back the sudden rush of tears, Lee Han-seo wrapped his arms around him.
His voice, as he dragged out the syllables of Park Woo-jun, trembled with helpless affection. Woo-jun gently smiled and ran a hand through the hair nestled against his chest.
“You waited a long time, huh. I’m sorry.”
“……”
“Were you scared because I slept too long?”
“……”
Park Woo-jun had no idea what kind of state he transformed into when the amplifier’s side effects combined with a blackout. He simply thought he’d been unconscious for a long time and had finally woken up.
“I’m sorry, Han-seo. You must’ve been so worried.”
Lee Han-seo didn’t want to burden his already timid and guilt-ridden Esper with any more emotional weight. That was all there was to it.
***
Thud!
The sound of a back hitting the wall echoed loudly. As soon as they were cleared and released from the isolation room, both walked in silence to their quarters as if they had agreed to it beforehand. And the moment the front door swung open, they went straight for each other’s lips.
It wasn’t that they lacked guiding. For Lee Han-seo, it was Park Woo-jun; for Park Woo-jun, it was Lee Han-seo. They needed to feel—undeniably—that they were truly back by each other’s side.
Lee Han-seo had been the one to shove the other against the wall first, but before he knew it, he was already the one being lifted into Park Woo-jun’s arms. Their breathless, frantic gasps were swallowed by each other’s mouths again and again. Their noses bumped as their faces drew too close, and even the subtle tremble of eyelashes brushing was felt with piercing clarity.
Park Woo-jun captured Han-seo’s plump lower lip with his mouth and, with both hands, began hiking up his clothes. As he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, their front teeth occasionally knocked together—but there was no time or space left to care about such trivial things.
“Mm… ngh… mmph!”
When Park Woo-jun thrust his thick tongue into the cramped space of Han-seo’s mouth, spreading it open, Han-seo gasped and clung even tighter to his neck.
Woo-jun slowly caressed Han-seo’s back, then briefly pulled away, worried he might be out of breath. But Han-seo frowned, immediately diving back in and pressing his lips against his.
Those small lips, already struggling just to breathe, moved with faint puckers as they planted soft kisses on his face. It felt like his insides were melting from the sensation.
Then, in the midst of the heat and mingled breath, a faint, chilling sensation grazed the back of Woo-jun’s neck. Just as he was about to once again seize Han-seo’s lower lip, he exhaled deeply.
“Han-seo. The guiding.”
“Hm? Why? Do you need more?”
“No, not that. You can suppress the guiding, right? Seal it off. Completely.”
“…Is it because my guiding’s not good enough?”
The question nearly made him laugh. Even if the sky fell, there would never be a day where Park Woo-jun thought Lee Han-seo’s guiding wasn’t enough.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then why?”
The innocent face tilted in confusion, mouth slightly agape. It made him want to bare his teeth—an almost violent surge of desire. Park Woo-jun always realized, in moments like this, that he truly was an Esper through and through. Whenever these unfamiliar urges tried to devour him, he swallowed them down with practiced ease, just as always, and gently rubbed the tip of his nose against Han-seo’s.
“Because I don’t want to waste your stamina. I want you to stay awake for a long, long time today.”
Understanding immediately, Lee Han-seo averted his gaze slightly and obediently sealed off the guiding that had been flowing freely. Woo-jun blinked slowly—once, twice—and then, with a parched gleam in his eyes, licked his lips. It was the look of a man overcome by thirst.
