Lee Han-seo couldn’t believe his ears. He’d heard the words loud and clear, yet they were so outrageous, he couldn’t process them.
“You’re annoying, so get off me?” What the hell? Had Park Woo-jun completely lost it? To say something like that to him—to Lee Han-seo?
“Wh-what do we do…? I think this bastard’s really hurt…”
Yeah, no doubt about it. Something was seriously wrong with his head. Rather than backing off like Woo-jun had told him to, Han-seo clung even tighter to the back of his neck, bursting into fresh sobs like a child.
Woo-jun’s expression twisted in irritation, while Han-seo’s grip only grew stronger.
“Waaah… Woo-jun, don’t worry. I’ll fix you. I’ll fix everything, I promise.”
“Lee Han-seo. Do you not understand human speech? I said let go.”
If it bothered him so much, he could’ve just shoved him off. But no—Woo-jun’s arms were wrapped right around Han-seo, holding on like letting go would kill him.
“What’s wrong with him? Seriously, it’s like he’s brain-damaged or something…”
“Ah… Guide Lee, the thing is…”
The medical staff hesitated, visibly uncomfortable before finally explaining. Apparently, a mental-type Esper had unleashed their wave at the exact same time as Park Woo-jun, and the overlapping burst caused a sudden surge in energy. When Woo-jun tried to absorb it all, the residual mental energy left a direct aftershock in his brain. Because Woo-jun had absorbed the entire wave to protect others nearby, the mental Esper had simply calmed down after receiving some Guiding and was now peacefully asleep.
“There’s really no need to panic. You know, even regular people sometimes experience temporary personality shifts after brain surgery or trauma to the frontal lobe.”
Of course, they left out the part where temporary sometimes meant permanent, snipping that truth off like cutting a fish head clean from the body. Still, it helped ease the tension in Han-seo’s face just a little. This was a one-of-a-kind case. The mental Esper’s ability hadn’t even been fully assessed yet, so there was no way to draw any conclusions. Say the wrong thing now just to pacify someone, and they could be staring down a lawsuit later. Not worth the risk.
Thinking of the infamous tag-team combo of Lee Han-seo and his attorney father, the medics gulped nervously.
“You heard them, Woo-jun. It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of. They said you’ll be fine.”
“So what. You’re the one freaking out, not me.”
“Why are you being such a—no, no, it’s okay. Woo-jun’s just in pain. He’s hurting. That’s why he’s acting like this. I understand, I really do.”
…Yeah. Best to get out of here before things escalated any further.
***
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The blunt tone was absolutely grating. Lee Han-seo caught himself thinking just how irritating it was and quickly shook his head. Even if Woo-jun had turned into a grumpy, lumpy mess of a man, he was still Park Woo-jun. He couldn’t go around describing his voice as annoying.
Lost in thought for a second too long, Han-seo was hit with the same question again—this time phrased a bit differently. His tone hadn’t changed, but the pressure was unmistakable.
“Why aren’t you answering? Where are you sneaking off to?”
And just like that, Han-seo’s fists began to tremble. Not from nerves—no, from the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.
It had already been over a month since Woo-jun’s personality had done a full 180, like lightning on a clear day. Han-seo had to fight the constant urge to grab the med team by the collars and scream, How long is this so-called temporary supposed to last?!
Last week, he’d even demanded to see that damn mental Esper, practically stomping his feet. But the moment the Esper saw him, they broke down in tears, apologizing over and over again, saying they had no idea what had happened. In the end, Han-seo had no choice but to backpedal out of there, empty-handed. The resentment bubbled inside him, but there was no one to properly blame. It was frustrating beyond belief.
“Uh… There’s a High-Level Guide Council meeting today. Just heading out for a bit.”
“You never said anything about a meeting.”
Excuse me, but since when do I need your permission to walk out the door? Han-seo barely managed to hide his clenched fists behind his back. He’d raised his voice a few days ago and ended up literally locked in the room, unable to leave. It had already been a nightmare trying to reschedule this council meeting to fit all the high-ranking Guides’ calendars. There was no way he was missing it today.
“Yeah, sorry. I guess I forgot to mention it. But I really need to go today… I’ll be back before dinner.”
On the first day Woo-jun’s personality flipped, he couldn’t push Han-seo away fast enough, barking at him like he was something disgusting. But after receiving some top-tier Guiding on the infirmary bed that night, his attitude did a complete turnaround. Since then, Woo-jun had been tracking his every move like a stalker in some twenty-year-old soap opera. It was ridiculous. Sure, some people were into that whole rude, cold, emotionally stunted man with hidden scars thing, but Lee Han-seo absolutely was not.
“What about your clothes? You’re not seriously going out dressed like that.”
If it were the old Woo-jun—the sweet potato version—he would’ve smiled, wished him a safe trip, and silently trailed behind. But this new bad-attitude version seemed to thrive on rebellion and sass. Now he was criticizing his outfit too. Han-seo still couldn’t get used to it.
Saying the shirt was too sheer, Woo-jun shoved a thick turtleneck at him—something you’d wear in the dead of winter. Then he frowned at his pants like they’d personally offended him for being too tight.
God… should I just deck him once? Tell him not to come near me until he fixes his damn attitude?
In the end, Han-seo compromised by throwing on Woo-jun’s jacket, which hung down past his hips, and buttoned it all the way up. He forced himself to stay calm and asked,
“Better? I’m leaving now, okay?”
“……”
“What now? What is it this time? What exactly don’t you like this time?”
This little shit… he really must have a death wish. Han-seo bit back the insult, swallowing it down with effort.
“Everything.”
“Huh?”
Park Woo-jun threw the words out flatly, like it was no big deal. Everything about Han-seo pissed him off, so he shouldn’t go. Simple as that. Completely unaware that Han-seo was grinding his teeth so hard it felt like sparks might fly, mentally swearing that once Woo-jun got his damn mind back, he was dead.
If only he’d lost his memories completely—like when he’d blacked out after amplifier side effects. Then everyone would’ve gone into full crisis mode, running around trying to fix him. But no. Of all the luck, Woo-jun’s memory and combat skills were perfectly intact. He was still completing every mission without a single issue.
So instead of sympathy, people at the center had started murmuring that maybe things were better this way. That they honestly didn’t mind if his personality never went back to normal. The only one losing his mind over it was Lee Han-seo.
He let out a long sigh as he began unbuttoning the jacket he’d fastened all the way up. Woo-jun immediately reached for the buttons to do them back up. Han-seo slapped his hand away, hard. One of Woo-jun’s perfectly arched brows twitched upward, clearly annoyed. He didn’t even try to hide it. But Han-seo didn’t care anymore. His patience was running on fumes.
“Baby. Park Woo-jun.”
“What?”
“You remember everything. It’s not like you’ve gone brain-dead.”
“So?”
Han-seo let out a sharp exhale, steadying himself.
“Then you know, don’t you? That I’ve been putting up with all this crap because I know you’re not back to normal. But even that has its limits. So cut the shit.”
“……”
Those soft, doe-like eyes that used to well up with tears over the smallest scolding—completely dry now. Not a single trace of moisture. Instead, they were cold, furious, glaring. Poison pooled behind his stare. It was so painfully unfamiliar. Maybe this was still the Park Woo-jun who loved Lee Han-seo, but he sure as hell couldn’t be the one Han-seo loved. Not with eyes like that—sharp and savage, like a wild animal.
“I’m going. Try not to wreck the place while I’m gone. Eat or don’t, I don’t care.”
The words spilled out like they’d been waiting too long. It felt good to finally let them go. Han-seo didn’t spare him another glance as he walked past, leaving Woo-jun frozen like he’d just been slapped. He made his way to the front door, shoved his feet into his sneakers, and reached for the knob.
Then he paused.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Woo-jun’s face—pale, stricken.
“……”
Backlit by the harsh fluorescent lights, his shadow stretched long across the floor, thin and distorted. Han-seo squinted, trying to make out his expression, but everything looked hazy—maybe from exhaustion, maybe from something else. He didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t want to. Whatever it was, he didn’t care anymore.
“Don’t wait up. Just go to sleep.”
With that, he turned and walked out, footsteps fast and sharp. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, echoing like a hand had gripped the back of his neck and yanked.
