A sudden surge of will to live shot through him—from the roots of his hair to the very tips of his fingers and toes. It wasn’t clear where it came from, but it soaked into him completely, filling every inch of his body.
He wanted to live. With Lee Han-seo. And not just survive—he wanted to live well.
Being ready to die for Lee Han-seo had always felt easier than desperately fighting to stay alive beside him. Most of their time together had been filled with joy, but that joy had always carried an undercurrent of fear.
Because deep down, he didn’t believe someone like him—someone who’d driven even his own flesh and blood to the point of exhaustion—could ever be loved by Lee Han-seo for a lifetime.
Someone born in the shadows had no right to wish for something so bright. He couldn’t even begin to imagine protecting someone for that long. So instead, at the height of his happiness, Park Woo-jun found it easier to imagine dying.
If he could never be loved forever, then he wanted to die at his brightest, most beautiful moment—when he was happiest. That way, at the very least, he could remain in Lee Han-seo’s memory as someone who’d been loved, once.
But he’d been wrong.
His family hadn’t failed to love him—they’d never been family to begin with. And maybe, just maybe, he could be like other people. Whispering sweet nothings, arguing and making up, growing old with the person he loved. Maybe, if he dared to believe it, he could grow old with Lee Han-seo.
That tiny spark of hope jolted his limbs to life. Before he realized it, his slow steps turned into a sprint. He needed to see Han-seo right now. Right now. He needed to see the one person who would greet him with open arms—even while frowning and asking, “Why are you here already? Isn’t it still working hours?”
If he could just bury his face in those strong shoulders and take a deep breath, he’d smell the warm scent of sun-dried laundry. Even if the sweet scent of fabric softener suffocated him, he wouldn’t mind.
At the fork between the Main Building and the Guide Training Grounds, Park Woo-jun ran without slowing down, breath ragged. The wind—always his loyal companion since awakening—gave him a gentle push, almost like encouragement. The people he passed instinctively stepped aside, probably thinking some emergency had occurred, watching the head of the Esper Division barrel past them like that.
He didn’t know how far he’d run when a familiar figure came into view, crouched in front of a vending machine.
Park Woo-jun slowed his steps, catching his breath as he walked up to him.
A tall shadow fell over the figure, shielding him from the sun and casting a cool shade. Slowly, the head that had been staring down at the ground tilted up.
And then, he smiled.
That soft, full face now had deeper dimples than before, carving into his cheeks as he grinned.
Looking at him like that, something caught in Woo-jun’s throat. Even a simple question like What are you doing here? was hard to push out.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought you’d come. So I waited.”
“….”
“Here, take this. I got it earlier.”
Judging from the can’s temperature, it had been sitting there a while. It must’ve been ice-cold when he bought it, but now it was lukewarm. Woo-jun didn’t take the can. Instead, he reached out and helped Lee Han-seo to his feet. His legs seemed numb—his body wobbled as he stood.
“Woo-jun. Didn’t you miss me?”
They’d woken up in the same bed that morning, chatted a bit, and even left for work together. It hadn’t even been five hours since they’d parted. By all accounts, the separation was too short to inspire such longing.
But Han-seo, as if he’d lived inside Woo-jun’s heart, spoke with a voice layered with raw sincerity.
“I missed you so much. I figured you probably missed me too.”
“….”
“I didn’t want to miss you on the way, so I stayed here the whole time. I just had a feeling you’d come.”
There was so much he wanted to say. So many things he needed to explain. But his mouth wouldn’t open. All Woo-jun could manage, in a trembling voice, was:
“You should’ve called…”
“I should’ve. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know. Everything, maybe. I’m just… sorry.”
Even when he moved his lips, the mountain of emotions inside wouldn’t budge. But it was the same for Lee Han-seo.
Han-seo… I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… I think you should know.
He’d already known—he’d heard it from Lee Hye-soo—that Park Woo-jun had been going to therapy. That’s why he’d chosen to trust him. To wait. Woo-jun was already dealing with so much confusion and pain—Han-seo didn’t want to add to it.
Park Woo-jun cried easily and lacked confidence in everything he did.
Honestly, before he got used to it, Han-seo used to wonder in frustration: Why does he live like this?
There had been countless times when Woo-jun, without saying a word, had gone off to meet another Guide briefly—only to come back and sit in the same spot for hours, not eating, not moving, just waiting for Han-seo to return. Too many times to count on one hand.
“Woo-jun. At least eat something. Do you even know what time it is?”
“Han-seo… I thought you left me… I thought you were gone…”
“Why would I leave you? What would be the point?”
“You’re not tired of me yet, right? You’re not going to leave me… right?”
“Don’t even dream of me letting you go.”
“Yeah… okay. Okay…”
Whenever he gave that soft, tearful nod—like someone being scolded but still seeking comfort—and buried his head in Han-seo’s chest, Park Woo-jun would sob quietly, without making a sound. It was endearing. Incredibly so. And though it never changed the fact that Han-seo loved him, sometimes… it was exhausting.
There were times he just wanted Woo-jun to snap back like a normal person. To raise his voice, throw a fit, do something other than crumple like paper.
“Woo-jun. I want to ask you something. You’ll say yes, right?”
“Of course. What is it?”
Woo-jun nodded instantly, not even pausing to question him. That trusting, obedient answer only made Han-seo’s heart ache more—and made him fall even deeper in love.
“I want your external visitor permissions transferred to me.”
“Uh…”
“I’m also filing a suit to cancel Park Seon-jun’s military service exemption.”
He’d practiced the words over and over to keep his voice steady, and it worked—Han-seo spoke clearly, without hesitation. But Woo-jun’s expression faltered. His eyebrows dropped, a troubled look settling over his face.
Why? What now?
He said he’d agree, so why the hesitation?
Frustration bubbled up, and for a split second, Han-seo wanted to yell. Just once, to scream all that anger and helplessness into the open. But he swallowed it down.
He didn’t want to put even the smallest pressure on Park Woo-jun—not when he was already so crushed. Not even if that pressure came from him.
Right now, with the fire boiling inside him, Han-seo felt like he could take on anything—no matter how chaotic the world became.
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“Of course. You can run, but you’re still in the palm of my hand.”
“So you know everything that happened today too?”
“Pretty much. Hye-soo noona told me.”
That wasn’t all.
As soon as he heard, Han-seo had gone straight to his father—the attorney—and demanded a full investigation into every little detail of the past. If nothing else, by tomorrow, he’d probably know more about Woo-jun’s entire life than Woo-jun himself.
He didn’t feel a shred of guilt about it.
Because when it came to Park Woo-jun, Han-seo believed—no, knew—he had the right to know everything.
“Sorry for being so clueless all this time. And… I asked someone to dig into your background too. Anything you might’ve hidden from me, or even stuff you didn’t know yourself—I’m going to find it all. But I’m not sorry about that. Not even a little.”
“Yeah. It’s okay. Because it’s you.”
“Exactly. Because it’s me.”
That bold, shameless declaration actually seemed to ease Woo-jun’s nerves. His face brightened with a soft, dazzling smile.
He probably didn’t even realize it—but it was moments like this, moments of pure, unconditional trust, that gave Lee Han-seo the strength to keep going.
“Remember what you said? That you wanted to be my sweet potato. So I’m going to be selfish now. From this point on, no one gets to see you unless I say so. I’m going to learn everything about you—every tiny, stupid little thing.”
“…”
“Say it. Say you understand.”
“…”
“Now.”
“…Okay. I’ll do whatever you say, Han-seo.”
Fortunately, when it came to protecting what was his, Lee Han-seo was a highly competent guardian. And Park Woo-jun—the lone crop planted in that field—was a remarkable sweet potato, growing strong and healthy with every bit of love and care he received.
“I’m sorry for being so withdrawn until now. I know I can’t change overnight, but I’ll try. …The Amplifier side effects should get better the more I work through therapy.”
“Nope. I’m the only one allowed to be sorry today. That’s the rule.”
“Uh… then…”
“You seriously don’t know the right answer?”
“…Thank you. I love you. So, so much.”
“There it is. That’s what I wanted to hear. Good boy.”
Whether it was his brother or his parents, Lee Han-seo had made up his mind—he was never going to show them even a single strand of his boyfriend’s hair for the rest of his life.
He’d lived by one principle his whole life: repay kindness tenfold, and vengeance a hundredfold.
And if some rich, powerful bastards wanted to find out how miserable life could get after pissing off someone like him…
Well, he wouldn’t mind teaching them a lesson.
