If what the Director said was true… Then where had he slipped up? He thought he’d hidden it pretty well.
He remembered what Baek Hye-seong said the day he left—the message left inside the white card, alongside the bouquet.
Yoo Ji-ho, thank you for everything until now. I’ll go back to being a fan and cheer you on from afar, Esper Yoo Ji-ho. I’m truly sorry—and thank you again. —Hye-seong
Recalling those words, Yoo Ji-ho shut his eyes. He felt like a dog that had been hit with a tranquilizer dart.
Letting unfamiliar thoughts surface in his head while doing nothing to suppress them—just lying there in silence—was, unsurprisingly, unbearably disgusting.
But he still didn’t know where to direct those feelings.
***
At the Yeouido Center’s research lab, they not only increased Yoo Ji-ho’s medication, but also delivered their final conclusion on the tests.
—At present, we are unable to locate a suitable Guide for you. We’ve requested cooperation from all regional branches and conducted compatibility tests using the Basic Wave Data, but unfortunately, we could not find a match. We’re considering new possibilities and will contact you again once we secure additional candidates and run further testing. We apologize.
Strangely enough, upon hearing that, Yoo Ji-ho felt… relieved.
Even now, he was lying on the balcony in the dark, enjoying a rare moment of rest. Meanwhile, Director Shin on the other end of the phone had been a nervous wreck for some time. His voice couldn’t have sounded more anxious.
—Just rest. Once your body recovers, we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?
“Got it.”
—Don’t move around. Absolute bed rest, you hear me? Dammit, of all times, I’m swamped with other crap right now… Just hang in there for a bit and stay quietly at home. Understood? I’ll ease up on the meds starting today, and I’ll look for any possible solutions I can.
“Okay.”
—…Yeah, Ji-ho. Rest up.
“Yeah.”
His cooperative response left the Director with nothing else to nag about, and the call ended without further fuss—unlike their usual conversations.
Now that his head was clearer, he automatically started forming a plan. And because of that, he found himself with time to spare.
Not that the chaos of his situation had improved in the slightest. His body had simply lost the will to rage for the time being. Deep inside, the sting of betrayal from that damn Guide still lingered—and his body was wrecked.
For days now, his veins had been coursing with a mix of potent Guiding drugs and narcotic painkillers.
Even now, a new cocktail of medication was dripping into his bloodstream through the IV needle stuck in his arm.
It was an excessive dose—far more than usual—but the Center had resorted to this after being pushed to the brink by Yoo Ji-ho’s rampages.
Thanks to that, he’d finally managed to sleep yesterday. And now, though he wasn’t sure if this tranquility truly reflected how he felt, he decided to just ignore that uncertainty.
Because the path ahead had finally become clear, regardless of what the drugs had done. Slowly, Yoo Ji-ho opened his eyes.
I’ll have to bring him back.
That was the conclusion he’d come to.
—At present, we are unable to locate a suitable Guide for you.
That meant Baek Hye-seong was the only one who matched Yoo Ji-ho’s needs.
It wasn’t like the thought had never crossed his mind before. The longer this went on, the more people had quietly hinted at the same thing: just call Baek Hye-seong back.
At first, Yoo Ji-ho had exploded with anger whenever someone suggested that. But now, he’d decided to face reality.
Fine. If I need him, then I’ll bring him back. If what I need is Baek Hye-seong—
The thought that he’d wasted so much time being completely clueless suddenly filled him with resentment, and a laugh escaped him before he realized it. For the first time in a long while, a smile cracked across his perpetually tense face.
Fuck, what a dumbass…
All that time, wasted on account of one pathetic little nobody.
“Phew.”
After a moment, the laugh faded, and Yoo Ji-ho let out a slow sigh, his eyes dazed. All he could see in the night sky above was endless black. The view couldn’t have been more peaceful.
Outwardly, everything looked calm—but in his head, that idiot Guide kept scurrying around. Honestly, there hadn’t been a single day where Baek Hye-seong hadn’t haunted his thoughts since disappearing.
If this is how it was going to be anyway, I might as well keep him close.
If what Yoo Ji-ho needed wasn’t just any Pair Guide but Baek Hye-seong specifically, then no matter how shitty it felt, there was more than enough reason to drag him back personally.
Now, one thing was certain: From now on, Baek Hye-seong would not be allowed to vanish from his sight without Yoo Ji-ho’s explicit permission.
If he’d left because he figured something out, then he’d be brought back—and never allowed to go anywhere again. From then on, his only job would be to provide Yoo Ji-ho with energy.
Even his rest time would be restructured as “energy accumulation time” exclusively for Yoo Ji-ho’s use. It might take a bit of tweaking, but it wouldn’t be hard to make it happen.
Just like those delusional fanboys always do, Baek Hye-seong would probably whine that this wasn’t the version of Yoo Ji-ho he had admired—that it wasn’t the person he thought he knew. He might cry, scream, throw a tantrum.
But Yoo Ji-ho had no intention of humoring any of that crap.
He pushed himself upright. His drugged-up body wavered slightly as he fought for balance. As he started to walk, the cables and tubes hanging from his arm annoyed the hell out of him.
“……”
He paused, looked down at his arm, then roughly yanked the IV needles out of his forearm one by one.
Red blood beaded up where the needles had been.
As he stared at the droplets, that voice—nagging and persistent—flashed back in his head.
“Ah…”
He had been told to stay put.
—Just hang in there for a bit. Stay quietly at home. Understood?
Excluding the people who’d just try to nag him, he decided to go find someone who might actually know where Baek Hye-seong was. The first place that came to mind was Baek Hye-seong’s dormitory.
***
It was the weekend, and Kim Young-woo, fresh off a few drinks with a coworker, whistled as he entered the Guide dormitory inside the Center.
The temperature had dropped sharply after sundown, cold enough to make his teeth chatter. He figured he’d crash in his room until late tomorrow, then go out drinking again. That would carry him right into Monday, no problem.
“Fuuuckin’ asshole!”
He spat out the curse like a habit, a satisfied sneer curling his lips. The object of that insult was his now-absent former roommate.
Every time he returned to the dorm he now had to himself—as if he’d leased the damn thing—Kim Young-woo would say those words and laugh with satisfaction. He’d be happy if no one new ever moved in.
Or maybe if some other easy target came in, that could be fun too. Honestly, his last roommate had been a lot of fun to mess with.
He’d even talked about Baek Hye-seong at length at tonight’s drinking session, saying how strangely empty it felt without him around.
No matter how much verbal abuse he hurled, Baek Hye-seong would just sit there trembling—and at some point, it actually became fun to watch.
He had to admit it’d gotten a little excessive lately, even by his own standards.
Even knowing full well Hye-seong had no connections or backing, he’d kept picking fights, pretending otherwise. Maybe that’s why he pushed even harder—because he knew the guy couldn’t fight back.
It was a satisfying target to bully. Too bad it ended so abruptly—but not seeing that pathetic face anymore was refreshing in its own way.
“Hope he got fucking fired.”
He didn’t know the exact reason, but he was sure it had been Yoo Ji-ho who’d axed him.
As far as he was concerned, it was justice. Guys like that deserved to be cut loose.
It must’ve been Yoo Ji-ho who ditched him. Yeah, totally expected. Maybe the world was a little more just than he gave it credit for.
Imagining that wide-eyed, naive kid bursting into tears as he ran off after being dumped… It almost healed his soul. Too bad he hadn’t been there to witness it himself.
“What a damn shame.”
Shaking his head, Kim Young-woo finally reached the dorm, opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.
BANG—!
At the strange, deafening noise, he turned around slowly.
“…!”
He saw someone’s hand stuck between the door and the frame—someone who had jammed their fingers into the narrowing gap to stop it from closing.
That hand shoved the door wide open. And through it, a face appeared—one Kim Young-woo immediately recognized, his eyes going wide.
“Huh?”
There was no mistaking it.
“Y-Yoo Ji-ho…? Wha—HEY!”
The moment Yoo Ji-ho threw the door open, he stepped inside with force. His energy was palpable—enough to make Kim Young-woo instinctively stumble backward.
Something about him felt off, and Kim Young-woo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in the man in front of him.
He looked nothing like the image on TV—his hair was disheveled, his clothes loose and messy. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, so intense that just meeting his gaze was terrifying.
Finally, Yoo Ji-ho asked in a voice that rumbled low with menace—
“Where’s Baek Hye-seong?”
That was the reason he’d come here.
