Lee Han-seo ended the call, ruffled his hair in frustration, and hung his head. No one had said it outright, but at this point, how could he not know? Even without knowing the full details of the family’s history, it was painfully obvious—Park Woo-jun was being treated differently from his brother. The fact that he alone had stayed behind in Korea had always felt off.
Some of the people around Han-seo had also chosen to remain in Korea alone, but in their cases, it was clearly by choice. Because of that, he had never even considered the possibility that Woo-jun’s situation could be different.
Back during the early days of their pairing, Woo-jun would curl up his large body and sleep like a shrimp. He could never fall into a deep sleep, his face always contorted in discomfort, groaning throughout the night. Sometimes he’d wake up screaming. And if Han-seo stepped out for just a moment to get some water, he’d come back to find Woo-jun crawling out from under the covers, bawling his eyes out and crying, “Han-seo, where’d you go? Lee Han-seo!”
Looking back now, all those signs were suspicious. But… there were plenty of Espers who struggled with the abrupt changes to their bodies and environment, right? That’s what he’d told himself. After Woo-jun completed the Imprint, those reactions started to fade. It felt like he was just going through the normal adjustment process.
But what if—God, he didn’t even want to imagine it—what if the way Woo-jun had been treated by his family wasn’t something that could be brushed off as mere favoritism or neglect? What if his constant lack of confidence and bouts of self-hatred weren’t just the result of a naturally passive personality?
“…No. Nothing’s certain yet. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Even just imagining the possibility made Han-seo feel like something was tearing apart inside him, his insides blazing with fury. He let out a long, heavy sigh, trying to calm the storm in his chest. Even if that horrible scenario was true, there had to be a reason why Woo-jun hadn’t said anything. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to talk about it. It was better to wait—to trust that, one day, Woo-jun would tell him himself. No matter how close you are, no one has the right to dig up someone else’s pain or force them to face their shame. Han-seo truly believed that.
If anything, knowing how Woo-jun would just smile gently and tell him it was fine, even when he made unreasonable demands, meant that Han-seo had to be the one to stay grounded.
“Ugh… Why am I this pissed off, though?”
Damn it, I’m seriously mad. Theory never holds up in the face of reality. No matter how much he tried to settle himself with calm, rational thoughts, the anger kept rising. It only got worse when he pictured Woo-jun’s bright face, so used to accepting the kind of things that would’ve made any normal person feel hurt or resentful. Even if it was something as common as parental favoritism, it still left scars. And those wounds piled up, again and again. Thinking about how long it must’ve taken him to grow numb to it all—honestly, it made Han-seo want to lose it.
And here he was, flailing around trying to help—finding him a house, looking for a job—thinking he was being helpful, when in reality, he felt like the biggest idiot alive. He should’ve known when Woo-jun said he didn’t need to go that far. Maybe he hadn’t really been helping him at all. Maybe he was just trying to make himself feel better. The guilt stung.
He clenched his phone tighter, grinding his teeth—just as the device buzzed in his hand once more.
♡My Sweet Potato♡
[Baby, why aren’t you here yet?]
[ㅠㅠ]
[(photo)]
[I’m waiting quietly..]
“AAAH! You psycho!!”
As soon as he saw the photo, Han-seo shivered and frantically hit the save button. The same photo got saved over and over into his gallery. In the picture, Woo-jun had his head bowed and was pretending to wipe away tears, his lips pushed out in a dramatic pout. His massive hands—nearly the size of a child’s head—paired with that soft, innocent face made for a combination so absurdly unbalanced it was almost offensive. But to Han-seo, who had been spiraling in guilt and depression just moments before, it was a divine intervention. A perfect slap of reality.
This crazy bastard! Taking shameless selfies like that without a care for how dangerous his boyfriend can be—! Muttering curses under his breath, Han-seo jumped to his feet and bolted. No time for deep thoughts now. What he needed was to find Park Woo-jun and kiss that ridiculous face until he forgot how to pout.
***
Riiing. The extension phone rang.
Park Woo-jun, who had been lounging in his office all morning waiting for Han-seo to finish training, picked up the receiver without much thought. Most of the important meetings were already done, and his assistant was handling the day-to-day stuff, so he had no idea what this call could be about.
“Yes, Chief of Espers speaking.”
— Hello, Team Leader Park Woo-jun. This is the Main Gate Security Team.
“Oh, hi. What’s the issue?”
— We have someone at the gate claiming to be an immediate family member requesting a same-day visit. Normally we don’t allow unreserved visits, so we told him he’d have to make an appointment. But he brought an official family registry and insisted on being let in no matter what… We figured it was best to check with you directly.
Of course. A completely unexpected call from a department he had no reason to hear from. Woo-jun offered a polite apology right away. The security staff, clearly flustered by the formal apology, kept repeating that it was no big deal. The gate rotation was usually handled by B- and C-Class Espers, so this was essentially a junior staffer calling someone way above their pay grade. No wonder the guy sounded awkward.
— So, should we approve entry for Mr. Park Seon-jun?
It wasn’t someone he particularly wanted to see. But saying no now would just make things hard for the poor guy on the other end. That much was obvious. Besides, no one knew better than Park Woo-jun just how relentless and shameless his older brother could be when he set his mind to something.
“Yes. I’ll head over to the visitation room now. Please guide him there. Thank you for letting me know.”
After hanging up, Park Woo-jun sent a quick message to Lee Han-seo: his brother had shown up unexpectedly, and he was heading to the visitation room for a bit. The visit would likely end before Han-seo’s training did—there was no heartwarming catch-up talk waiting for them, after all. Still, letting Han-seo know where he was going had long since become a habit. No matter how minor the errand, Woo-jun always told him.
The visitation room was on the second floor of the main gate security post, about a ten-minute walk away. The guard who had called earlier stood at full attention and bowed a full ninety degrees the moment he saw him. From the nervous tone—“It’s an honor to meet you outside the dungeon”—it sounded like they might’ve entered a lower-level dungeon together once, though Woo-jun couldn’t recall. He returned the bow with a small nod and stepped inside.
“Hey. Where’s your Guide?”
That was the first thing out of his brother’s mouth.
They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since they were seventeen. Not a single call. Not even a text. And yet, this was how his brother chose to greet him—blunt, cold, and entirely devoid of emotion. Not that Woo-jun cared. He’d never once expected warmth or kindness from the man. What rubbed him the wrong way wasn’t the tone—it was the words.
“Why are you looking for Han-seo?”
His voice dropped instinctively, laced with quiet displeasure. He didn’t sit down, just stood there, looking at his brother from across the room and keeping his response short. “Ha… listen to this bastard talk.” Park Seon-jun snorted incredulously and suddenly stood, as if trying to assert himself—but short legs don’t stretch, and the height gap between them remained obvious.
“I’m not here to waste time on you. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out and leave.”
Woo-jun didn’t even look at him, just checked the digital clock on the wall and spoke with flat indifference.
“What the hell did you just say to me? ‘Spit it out and leave’? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
He couldn’t believe this was the same little brother. Woo-jun used to flinch the moment anyone raised their voice, shoulders instinctively curling in like he was bracing for impact. Park Seon-jun jabbed him hard in the shoulder with a stiff index finger—an old habit, automatic. Back when they were kids, whenever he cornered him like this, that pathetic little brother would start trembling and apologize on the spot, saying it was all his fault.
That was always the dynamic. Woo-jun, the unexpected little brother who showed up out of nowhere two years younger, had always been his personal punching bag—emotionally, physically, whatever suited him at the time. No one ever stepped in. No one told him to stop.
So what if Woo-jun was a powerful Esper now? So what if he had authority? As long as Seon-jun was still the older brother and Woo-jun was still the younger, he didn’t matter. To Park Seon-jun, his brother wasn’t even worth a worm crawling beneath his feet. At least worms squirmed when you stepped on them—Woo-jun didn’t even do that.
He had spent his whole life lording over their household under the protection of their parents, the undisputed ruler within that narrow little kingdom. It seemed he still hadn’t grasped the age-old truth: even mountains change in ten years.
“Whatever. You think I care about wasting your precious time? Same here—I’ve got better things to do. Just go bring your Guide. I’m not here to talk to you.”
“Hyung.”
“I said bring me Lee Han-seo!!”
And there it was—calling for Lee Han-seo like he owned the place. No fear, no hesitation. Saying his name like it meant nothing, right in front of Park Woo-jun.
