“Team Leader, you’re back. Did they reach a decision?”
As soon as Park Woo-jun stepped into the department, his assistant—who’d clearly been waiting the whole time—immediately reached out and asked. Without a word, Park handed over the entire folder of documents he’d received from the Guide Department.
The official deadline was next Wednesday, but given how impossible it was to gather the grade-specific team leaders for a proper meeting before then, there were more than a few things they needed to settle in advance. His assistant’s urgency was completely understandable.
Once back at his desk, Park sent out the document to all team leaders with a firm message: there would be a meeting this week, and attendance was non-negotiable. Since the meeting had to fall on a day with no scheduled missions, he made sure to coordinate with the on-site deployment division to help sort out the combat schedule.
It didn’t feel like he’d done much, but one task led to another, and time flew by. His therapy session was coming up fast.
He’d promised to go at least once a week when he first started. But with back-to-back missions and last-minute deployments, he’d already skipped two weeks in a row. Today, he wanted to show up on time and check in properly, no excuses.
Thinking of the doctor—who was usually kind, but gave off a subtly strict air—Park shut down his computer and got up.
Lee Han-seo, meanwhile, was once again buried in training. Ever since he began entering dungeons, he practically lived in the Guide-exclusive training room on his days off. Normally, Park might’ve found it a bit lonely, but right now, it worked in his favor.
Just in case, he decided to send a message to Kim Joon-young, who was almost certainly with him. Lee Jung-hyuk had been a fixture in that training room long before Han-seo, and Kim never left Jung-hyuk’s side.
Park messaged him to keep Han-seo there until his session was over. Kim Joon-young, already aware of the situation, simply replied, “Got it.”
When Park had first made his decision, Kim had advised against hiding anything. He’d spoken from personal experience, warning that secrets only fester and hurt. He urged honesty with Han-seo from the start.
But once Park promised—again and again—that the moment he understood what was really going on, he’d come clean to Han-seo, Kim backed off and became a quiet supporter.
“Long time no see.”
The doctor greeted him with the kind of smile that was just a little too professional. The kind that carried a hint of rebuke. The lazy patient, who hadn’t shown up in three weeks, scratched his head and offered a flimsy excuse.
“Yeah, I’ve had a lot on my plate lately… Sorry…”
“It doesn’t have to be your scheduled day. Just try to come in once a week if you can. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am…”
She adjusted her glasses and gave the reminder like it was second nature. She seemed used to this. A lot of Espers missed appointments because of last-minute missions, so it was probably par for the course by now.
The atmosphere inside the consultation room was peaceful—almost too peaceful. Soft amber lighting washed over the walls. Lush plants added a fresh touch, and there was a faint, soothing scent in the air. The doctor’s desk, unsurprisingly, was piled high with Guiding substitutes—standard for a room reserved for Espers.
She offered him a warm cup of chamomile tea and, in a gentle tone, asked the first question.
“How have you been? Have you had any contact with your family lately?”
They hadn’t had many sessions yet, but from the start, it had been clear that Park Woo-jun’s emotional struggles stemmed from a cold, distant family and a difficult upbringing.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a sip of tea, letting the warmth settle him. Leaning back in the soft recliner, something deep inside him felt like it was slowly melting.
“Actually… my brother showed up out of nowhere. Two days ago.”
“Out of nowhere? What for?”
“No real reason. We didn’t talk much.”
“That’s okay. You can talk about it whenever you’re ready. And if it’s too hard, there’s no pressure to say anything at all.”
Before meeting Han-seo, a surprise visit from his brother—filled with scolding and accusations—would’ve left Park Woo-jun shattered. But not anymore. This time, it was just… annoying.
He shook his head slightly to signal he was fine and slowly began recounting what had happened in the visitation room. The doctor listened with gentle nods and warm interjections, just enough to keep him going. Clearly, she was helping him open up at his own pace.
His voice trembled at times, fading here and there, but it never broke.
Park had always known something wasn’t quite right with him. His overly cautious, suffocating personality tended to drive people away. And his compulsions were too severe to be chalked up to just shyness or low self-esteem. They were… pathological.
Meeting Han-seo had brightened his world, but it also meant all his focus now zeroed in on one person. So while he may have moved a step closer to something resembling normal, in other ways, he’d drifted even further from it.
Still, that was just how he was wired. Even if someone tossed him aside like trash, even if there was absolutely nothing wrong with him—if Han-seo still loved him, if Han-seo chose to hold onto him till the end—then Park would gladly remain broken forever.
But if that fragile mind of his—his pitiful, brittle will—ever became the cause of Han-seo’s suffering… then things had to change.
The side effects of the Amplifier, confirmed via a secretly installed camera, were far more serious than anything he’d read in a report or heard secondhand.
The trembling voice that came out like a scared little child’s… the way his body shook in fear… that alone might have been dismissed as temporary regression. The lab’s confidential report had even stated: “Suspected infantile regression due to temporary Imprint loss. Expected to recover naturally over time.”
But the real problem… was the word he kept whispering through all that fear.
“Mom.”
To most people, it might’ve sounded like nothing—just a reflexive murmur. When you’re in pain or scared, calling out for a parent is instinctual.
But not for Park Woo-jun. He’d never leaned on his parents a single day in his life, never once felt the warmth of their love. Whether it was “Mom” or “Dad,” either word was too much—far too distant for someone like him to say so naturally.
So the moment he saw the footage, he knew something was off. His life hadn’t been kind enough for him to regress so easily. He wasn’t someone who could cry out for his mother in comfort, not even in a broken state. If there was something buried in his memory—something he’d forgotten—that was leaving a wound on Han-seo’s heart, then he had to face it. Head-on. And fix it.
He didn’t just want to stay by Han-seo’s side. Of course, being with him was already a gift more than he deserved. But Park Woo-jun wanted more than that. He wanted to give Han-seo a kind of happiness that was whole. Flawless. Untouched by scars.
The world they lived in already demanded they give up too much—just to survive as a Guide and Esper. Their lives were a mountain of compromises and loss. So even if he wasn’t standing next to Han-seo as a Bonded Pair, then at the very least, he wanted to be by his side as the man who loved him. Endlessly. Fiercely.
“So yeah. Han-seo just jumped in front of me and started ripping into my brother. He totally went off on him.”
“Guide Lee Han-seo? Sounds like he’s just as fiery as they say.”
“He is, yeah. But it was… I don’t know, it hit me in a weird way.”
“Weird how? Were you embarrassed that someone you love saw you like that?”
“No, no. There’s nothing I’d ever feel embarrassed about in front of Han-seo. That’s not it. It’s just… my chest felt so full. I was happy. So damn happy. Just standing there between me and my brother, he didn’t even hesitate to take my side. And the fact that it was him doing it—Han-seo—it just… I don’t know how to say it.”
“…”
“It felt unreal. Like a miracle. I felt so thankful. So overwhelmed. And just… I loved him so much in that moment I thought my heart would burst.”
The look on his face as he recalled that memory made him look startlingly young—far younger than he was. To the middle-aged doctor, he looked like a boy barely into adulthood, not a seasoned Esper with S-Class clearance.
Every Esper who came into this room had a different story, but their expressions always shared one thing in common: the weight of psychological strain pulling them under, quietly suffocating them.
They’d eat breakfast with someone and watch that same comrade’s head get ripped off hours later. Lose an arm or a leg in the blink of an eye, and get shoved back into another dungeon before they had time to process it. In a world like that, despair wasn’t rare—it was routine.
“Heh… I must sound like an idiot.”
But this young Esper, even with the brutal missions and merciless grind, wasn’t drowning. He wasn’t wallowing in trauma or self-pity. He was clawing his way forward, dirt under his fingernails, dragging himself toward a tomorrow worth living—for the sake of someone he cherished.
So what could she do? He was an S-Class Esper, the Chief of Espers… but titles didn’t matter now. Looking at that boyish face—young enough to be her own son—she couldn’t help but root for him, silently and wholeheartedly.
“Not at all. Honestly, it’s a blessing that Guide Lee Han-seo is by your side.”
“Yeah… I think so too.”
Park Woo-jun lowered his lashes, murmuring the words softly, almost shyly.
If the total sum of luck and misfortune in a person’s life was decided from the moment they were born—then Park figured all the pain he’d endured, all the things that had chipped away at him, were the price he’d paid for the miracle of meeting Han-seo. And if that was true… then maybe—just maybe—every lonely, agonizing moment had been worth it.
