Baek Hye-seong looked down at his silent phone with clear discontent, then dropped it onto the desk with a dull thud.
“Why hasn’t there been any word yet…?”
It had already been over a week since he submitted his request for a new assignment, but his status hadn’t even advanced to the pending stage. It was still stuck at the initial processing phase.
Usually, once the one-month probation period ends, assignment requests are handled quickly. Hye-seong distinctly remembered reading that in the pamphlet he’d received during orientation when he first joined.
Is the actual field just different?
Just as he was thinking he’d have to call HR tomorrow, he suddenly remembered Choi Yoon-sol.
Oh. Right—Sunbae.
Grabbing the phone again, Hye-seong searched for Choi Yoon-sol’s contact and sent a message. As if he’d been waiting for it, Choi Yoon-sol read the message instantly.
“Ah.”
The “1” beside the message disappeared, and before Hye-seong could even finish reacting, a reply came.
[Hello^^ Sunbae! I was wondering… do you remember how long it took for your reassignment after the probation period ended??]
[Choi Yoon-sol Sunbae: Hmm, not sure?]
[Choi Yoon-sol Sunbae: It’s been years, so I don’t remember exactly.]
[Choi Yoon-sol Sunbae: I think I rested for like three days and then transferred right away?]
[Wait, it only took three days for you??….]
[Wow, thanks for letting me know!!]
[Choi Yoon-sol Sunbae: You waiting on your reassignment?]
[Choi Yoon-sol Sunbae: Hope you come back to our team ><]
[Me too! Haha]
“It’s been way more than three days though…”
Far from resolving his confusion, things only got more puzzling. Hye-seong set his phone back down on the desk, his face turning sullen again.
Reassignment? What reassignment—he was basically on an indefinite forced vacation at this point. A creeping anxiety gnawed at him, wondering if he might never get reassigned at all.
Maybe it was just a quiet time for Gates, so the Center wasn’t particularly busy, which was causing delays. But wait—shouldn’t that actually speed things up?
“…What the hell is this?”
Life in society was still so damn difficult. Hye-seong absently started doodling in the corner of his book, then set his mechanical pencil down.
It had been a while since he cracked open one of his old major textbooks, and even now, he still found it interesting. If he had the chance, he’d honestly love to go back to school. That desire felt even stronger now that he was starting to sense his limits as a Guide.
Unlike studying, being a Guide wasn’t something you could just muscle through with effort alone.
Maybe I was always better suited to being a researcher…
Should he have just stayed in school? He’d been so determined to become an amazing Guide, but now, just a few months later, that fire in his heart had already cooled.
Feeling down, Hye-seong shut the book.
He hadn’t even realized it was already past dinnertime, but once the hunger kicked in, he reached for a pack of ramen and started boiling it. Lately, he’d been neglecting regular meals again, but he couldn’t keep this up if he wanted to get back to work.
On the TV he’d left on, a talk show was playing, full of celebrities he didn’t recognize. The whirring of the electric fan echoed throughout the room.
Even after turning the fan up to max, standing in front of the stove while cooking ramen left beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, making his earlier shower feel completely pointless.
“Ugh, it’s so hot…”
He was dressed in loose-fitting shorts and a baggy short-sleeved T-shirt. He tried to flap the front of his shirt to cool down, but the heat still clung to him.
While waiting for the noodles to cook, he stepped away from the stove and pressed his cheek against the cold handle of the fridge door.
“…Huh?”
He thought he heard something strange. Lifting his head from the fridge, he scanned the apartment, trying to pinpoint the sound. But all he could hear was the TV.
Tilting his head in confusion, he transferred the steaming ramen to a bowl and set it on the low dining table.
He hadn’t even been that hungry, but now that the food was in front of him, his appetite kicked in like magic. He quickly sat down, heart fluttering in anticipation, and lifted a chopstick full of noodles.
And just as he opened his mouth with an “Ahh,”—
CRASH. A loud noise echoed as the door shook violently. Hye-seong was sitting in a spot where he could see the front door if he turned his head just slightly.
“…”
He froze, even forgetting the ramen right in front of his mouth, eyes locked onto the door. It rattled ominously, then finally burst open with a shattering sound.
Stunned into silence, Hye-seong stared blankly, mouth agape.
“…Yoo Ji-ho?”
Yoo Ji-ho stood in the doorway, eyes bloodshot, silently staring down at him.
Frozen stiff, Hye-seong finally snapped out of it and set his chopsticks down. Jumping up, he rushed toward Yoo Ji-ho.
“What are you doing here? How did you even know where I live? Is something going on nearby…?”
“…”
Ji-ho’s eyes followed him, tracking every movement. His gaze dropped slightly downward as he blinked slowly.
“Yoo Ji-ho… are you feeling unwell? Is that why you came all the way here?”
Just moments ago, he’d been fully resolved to drag him back the second he saw him—but now, standing in front of Hye-seong, his body wouldn’t move. His voice caught in his throat.
The buzzing in his ears mixed with the background noise, creating a dizzying hum. Only then did he realize the voice he’d heard outside had just been the TV.
What had caught Ji-ho’s attention was the emotion in Hye-seong’s eyes.
After ten days apart, Baek Hye-seong’s eyes held surprise, concern—and relief.
Yes, there was relief in them.
So… he didn’t run away because he knew something.
With his brows furrowed, Hye-seong glanced over Ji-ho, then reached out cautiously.
“Yoo Ji-ho… are you okay?”
“…”
Hye-seong’s hand touched his. Ji-ho’s eyes followed the contact, and only then did he close his eyes and exhale a quiet breath of relief.
The rage that had tormented him for days seemed to melt away in an instant. So absurdly easily.
“There haven’t been any Gate alerts, right? So what happened?”
Hye-seong’s heart was pounding as he kept checking Ji-ho’s condition. He’d never seen him this disheveled before.
“N-no, but still…”
Then, Hye-seong’s eyes drifted toward the front door, which was now brutally mangled and hanging crookedly on its hinges. His gaze sharpened.
How the hell does a door end up like that?
There were plenty of normal ways to deal with a locked door—like knocking, for example.
“You can’t just wreck it like that!”
“…”
Ji-ho flinched, belatedly realizing the damage he’d caused.
“I’ll fix it.”
“…”
“No—forget that, I’ll buy you a whole new one.”
As he spoke in that calm tone, Hye-seong chewed his lip awkwardly. But what came next made his eyes go wide.
“Come with me. Right now.”
Ji-ho stared at him, eyes red and dulled, and then spoke in a low whisper.
“You said you were my fan. That you liked me.”
“T-that was just…”
“Last time, even when I said I didn’t want it, you insisted on doing it anyway. You said you’d keep going. Remember? Hmm?”
“…”
Hye-seong blinked rapidly. He’d been so firm in his decision—but faced with this, his resolve wavered.
He never imagined that leaving without a detailed explanation would have any real impact on Ji-ho. Not even the slightest bit.
But more than anything, Ji-ho looked unwell—and that worried him the most. Outwardly, he just looked a little disheveled, nothing too dangerous, but he still clearly needed stabilization.
“O-okay, fine. Let me just guide you for now, and then tomorrow morning I’ll come to where you’re staying and—”
Ji-ho shook his head, still holding Hye-seong’s hand tightly.
“Wait, then… you mean, right now…?”
He asked cautiously, not really believing it, but got no reply. Still, he could feel the pressure in the silence.
Following Ji-ho’s unwavering gaze, Hye-seong glanced down at their tightly linked hands, then opened his mouth again, troubled.
“Okay, I’ll come with you now. But I need to get changed first and pack a few—”
“…”
“So, if you could let go of my hand for a second, that would really—”
Ji-ho shook his head firmly, lips sealed.
Looking into his eyes, Hye-seong fell silent.
No one in the world could’ve turned Ji-ho away after meeting those eyes.
