Ryu Ho-yeon’s face, when he asked, “Are you sure you won’t regret this?” was weighed down with uncharacteristic worry. It was a look he’d never shown before—not even to Park Woo-jun. And it was only after seeing that unfamiliar expression that Woo-jun fully grasped the uneasy feeling he’d been trying to ignore all this time. It was really happening. That realization struck like ice in his chest.
Still, he shoved down every flicker of hesitation beneath his hardened shell and reached out. He snatched the envelope as if ripping it away. Ho-yeon stared at him intently, eyes steady and serious.
“Even if there’s regret, I’ll be the one to bear it.”
“…Alright.”
Ho-yeon let out a soft sigh, his expression still tangled. When Woo-jun had suddenly contacted him a few days ago with a one-sided request to track down a single file, he hadn’t expected it to be anything this serious.
All Park Woo-jun had asked for was a copy of any classified material about him stored in the lab. The fact that even the Chief of Espers didn’t have clearance to access it made it impossible to guess what kind of content it held. For a moment, Ho-yeon had wondered if Woo-jun had secretly taken part in one of those rumored experiments to boost Espers’ abilities—something that used to get whispered about among nature-affinity Espers years ago.
Using his mother’s credentials, Ho-yeon accessed the lab’s secure archives—the kind only a handful of researchers could touch. He dug up everything filed under “Park Woo-jun” or “S-03.” The stack wasn’t huge, but the content hit like a truck.
The reports documented in detail what happened when Woo-jun experienced a Blackout on top of the known side effects of using an Amplifier. Among the aftereffects were temporary Imprint loss and short-term memory loss—things Ho-yeon had never even heard of before.
Amplifiers were tools known to temporarily push an Esper’s power up to two or three times their usual output. The commonly known side effects were mild: restricted ability usage for a certain period after use. Occasionally, Espers who hadn’t received enough Guiding became addicted to the sensations, as if their bodies had reverted to a pre-awakening state. Some kept trying to use Amplifiers, even though the physical risk remained—numbed nerves and unregulated powers with bodies still in desperate need of Guiding. It was dangerous. Before international regulations were in place, countless Espers had spiraled into berserker states under those side effects.
Depending on how long they’d used the Amplifier or how much burden had built up in their body, side effects could range from temporary restrictions to total ability loss. But the idea that an established Imprint could actually break? That had never been officially recorded anywhere.
In hindsight, maybe it made sense. High-tier Espers rarely used Amplifiers. No country would welcome a blackout period for someone so crucial to national defense. Even Kim Joon-young, who’d spent over a decade in the Center, had used Amplifiers fewer than five times. For an S-Class Esper like Park Woo-jun—someone with a Bonded Guide, no less—to suffer not just the side effects but also a Guiding deficiency? That was beyond abnormal.
“…Ha.”
Woo-jun skimmed through the files that boiled down years of trauma into cold, clinical words. He buried his face in one large hand and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Ryu Ho-yeon, the only one watching, stood frozen, still feeling conflicted—just like he had when he first laid eyes on those documents.
Everyone who knew them knew that Woo-jun and Ho-yeon didn’t get along. Only recently, thanks to Choi Jae-won’s arrival, had the sharp edges between them been dulled a little. But when it came to Lee Han-seo, the rivalry between the two Espers was always tense—less like open war, more like an endless, quiet standoff. Maybe that was because it had always been obvious who the winner and loser were.
Han-seo, always blaming himself in front of Ho-yeon. Woo-jun, who couldn’t stand to watch and responded by baring his teeth at Ho-yeon. Not that Ho-yeon ever backed down completely—but he also couldn’t hold his ground enough to push back when Woo-jun snapped, “Stay away from him.”
He used to mock Woo-jun daily, saying, “If you really don’t want to upset Han-seo, maybe stop showing up.” But if he claimed he’d never questioned what made him any better, he’d be lying.
And yet—on the other hand, as a fellow Esper… someone who knew exactly how many Espers and Guides died in dungeons every single year—
He understood. Too well. Why Park Woo-jun had made that choice. How he must’ve felt. And that made it impossible to judge him harshly.
They might’ve been the two who hated each other most—but they were also the ones who loved Lee Han-seo more than anyone else. In that way, they were the only ones who could ever truly understand each other.
Every time a hopeless sigh slipped through Park Woo-jun’s lips, it pulled Ryu Ho-yeon down with it.
“Why are you two still up here?!”
Thump thump thump. Light footsteps bounded up the stairs, and the library door burst open. Lee Han-seo, whipped cream still smudged on his lips—probably from a snack—skipped in and called out.
“What’s with the vibe in here? Don’t tell me you two fought again?”
His bright, clueless expression tilted in confusion. Park Woo-jun, swallowing down the ruins in his chest, managed a steady answer. “Sorry. We just had a lot of work to go over.”
“You’re done now, right? Hurry up! If we don’t go soon, Kim Joon-young’s gonna finish all the donuts!”
“Yeah, alright. Geez… Look at you. You’ve got cream all over your lips.”
“Hehe. You clean it off.”
Han-seo beamed shamelessly, leaning in with his lips puckered and his eyes sweetly shut. He was so stupidly, heartbreakingly adorable in that moment, it made Woo-jun’s chest ache. He cupped Han-seo’s cheeks in both hands and paused, holding his breath.
And then, with a sound that hovered somewhere between a laugh and a sob, that breath finally escaped—hh, haa—impossible to tell whether it was joy or sorrow.
“…Mm?”
Any other day, a dozen kisses would’ve already rained down on his lips by now, complete with that familiar mwah-mwah-mwah rhythm. But instead, Park Woo-jun was still just holding Lee Han-seo’s cheeks in place. Puzzled by the lack of movement, Han-seo tried to glance up—but before he could, Woo-jun leaned in and kissed him.
The whipped cream clinging to Han-seo’s upper lip was sweet, and the soft brush of his tongue, wrapping around Woo-jun’s as if instinctively, was as intoxicating as ever.
“Hey—wait a sec. Ho-yeon’s still here…”
Han-seo squirmed for a moment but quickly gave in, surrendering to the familiar warmth of those hands. The arms curling gently around his neck felt strangely tender, and that simple touch made his heart ache in the best way.
Peeking one eye open, Han-seo threw a look over Woo-jun’s shoulder toward Ryu Ho-yeon. Catching the hint, Ho-yeon silently gathered the envelope and all of its contents, then slipped out of the study without a word.
***
“Oh crap. Woo-jun, we really don’t have time to be cleaning up someone else’s mess right now.”
Maybe it was because they’d just come from a spacious two-story private unit, but today their cramped 15-pyeong two-room apartment felt even smaller than usual. Kicking off his sneakers, Han-seo teetered on his toes across a minefield of takeout containers, clothes flung carelessly after a single wear, and delivery boxes of every shape and size. It was hard to even find a clear spot to step.
“We should get a detached unit too, like Jung-hyuk hyung’s. Don’t you think?”
Coming from the same guy who had once flat-out refused to move when Woo-jun got promoted to Team Leader—the same guy who’d said he didn’t want to leave the place where he’d first made his home after officially joining the Center—it was a bit rich. But Woo-jun knew better. Han-seo didn’t actually want to move. He was just talking. So he chuckled and quietly cleared the junk from around Han-seo’s feet, making a narrow path toward the living room.
It had been a long time since their place had fallen into such disarray.
Before entering the Center, Han-seo had grown up in a home where hiring help was just how things worked. He’d never needed to lift a finger. Domestic skills? Practically zero. And before moving in with Woo-jun, this was exactly how he used to live—half-managing until the mess got unbearable, and someone like Ryu Ho-yeon or Lee Jung-hyuk would show up and clean everything from top to bottom.
But then came the chaos—unplanned, overwhelming—and even after things began to settle, Woo-jun was immediately pulled into mission after mission, research after research. The housework had slipped through the cracks, and before they knew it, their home had reverted to this barely livable state for the first time in years.
Even right before they officially moved in together as a Bonded Pair, Han-seo had been weirdly insistent. Everything else was fine—sharing schedules, syncing waves, coordinating missions—but absolutely not at his place. At the time, Woo-jun had taken that personally. He’d started to wonder: Was Han-seo hiding someone? Maybe another Esper? Was it just too much to expect someone like him—damaged, unstable—to be loved sincerely by someone like Han-seo?
If it meant staying by your side, I wouldn’t even care if I was just your Second… I just wanted to be near you.
That had been his mindset the day he crossed that threshold for the first time, sniffling like a fool. And it wasn’t until that very moment that it finally hit him.
Ah… so that’s why he said no.
And the realization had come with a sheepish kind of clarity.
