“……”
“……”
Oh, come on. Yoo Ji-ho had just said he didn’t like being around other people.
Facing Director Shin, who was waiting for an answer, Hye-seong shook his head with a polite smile, clearly expressing his refusal.
“I don’t need to go. Yoo Ji-ho, you feel the same way, right?”
“I’m already dead tired because of someone. I might have to head back to Seoul immediately.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Huh? What did you say?”
Startled, Director Shin quickly turned to look at Yoo Ji-ho.
“Oh no. Let’s get to the hotel, fast!”
He grabbed Yoo Ji-ho’s hand and tried to pull him along—but Yoo Ji-ho’s body didn’t budge an inch. Director Shin was definitely using some force, but instead of moving him, his own grip loosened, and he ended up being the one pulled toward Yoo Ji-ho.
Yoo Ji-ho was now locking eyes with Director Shin, who was giving him a head-to-toe once-over.
“What are you staring at?”
“Tired, my ass.”
Director Shin scoffed with a mocking expression after finishing his scan. Hye-seong was internally horrified. How could he talk like that to Yoo Ji-ho…?
“Prove it with data. Oh, show me your pager!”
“No.”
“Hah! Look at this guy. If you’re really that bad, why can’t you show it? Got something to hide?”
“Why are you poking around in someone else’s biometric data?”
Yoo Ji-ho growled. Director Shin flinched for a moment, but he stood his ground. After all, he had a trump card—Baek Hye-seong was watching this unfold.
“Don’t forget, you promised me you’d attend the evening dinner no matter what.”
“Ha…”
“If you don’t show me the pager, I won’t accept it. Neither of you gets to leave!”
His tone, unusually stern, caught Yoo Ji-ho off guard. That rare look on his face made Director Shin snort.
“You little shit, you’re totally fine.”
It was so obvious. Yoo Ji-ho might be good at hiding his condition, but the look he gave Hye-seong earlier? That was not the look of an Esper suffering from Chronic Guiding Deficiency.
“If you’re not gonna show me, then both of you come with me, right now.”
“……”
Even now, with his face clearly brimming with frustration, Yoo Ji-ho wasn’t handing over the pager. Standing between the two of them, Hye-seong drooped his eyes, visibly sulking. They were both grown adults, and way above his rank, yet at this moment it felt like watching two kids fight. But more than that—
Why does Director Shin keep insisting Yoo Ji-ho is lying…?
He didn’t seem like the type to joke around with Wave Pattern readings. It just felt too unfair. The more he observed, the more it seemed like Director Shin had zero trust in Yoo Ji-ho. Like earlier, when he pushed for that Guiding experiment in the lab.
Does he really want to go to the aquarium that badly? Do most adults even like aquariums this much?
“I’ve gotta buy a souvenir for my little princess. Just a quick stop, yeah?”
“Ah-ha…”
Mystery solved. Hye-seong stepped forward to mediate.
“If you really have to go, maybe Yoo Ji-ho can rest at the hotel, and I can just drop by the souvenir shop with you, Director—”
“That’s a no-go.”
“I’m not okay with that either. Actually, I was specifically asked to bring him along if possible. Ji-ho, it’ll only take ten minutes.”
“Your demands keep piling up, huh?”
“……”
Their staring contest resumed.
“Uh, well, I’m good with whatever you decide… just let me know.”
Trying to escape the awkward tension, Hye-seong quickly approached Secretary Kang. He needed to ask about the rest of the day’s schedule anyway.
Left alone with Yoo Ji-ho, Director Shin clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out at the sea. Then, solemnly, he began.
“This is so damn predictable.”
“What is?”
“That black-hearted scheme of yours—it’s plain as day to Shin Hyung-cheol, that’s what. Sure, someone asked me to bring you, but when a Guide comes along on these kinds of trips, you’re supposed to treat them to good food, take them sightseeing and all. The kid came all the way here because of you, and what do you do? Fly him across the country just to suck him dry like a bone—yeah, sure, it’s his job, but you can’t treat people just like that. You ever heard the phrase, ‘manners make the man’? Huh? These little things, they pile up. Build good karma—”
Director Shin suddenly sensed a chill in the air. As expected, Yoo Ji-ho was no longer beside him. He was already walking over to Hye-seong.
“You wanted to go to the aquarium too, Hye-seong?”
“Ah, n-no, not really. You’re tired, Yoo Ji-ho…”
Hye-seong glanced around and whispered softly.
“And those kinds of events make you uncomfortable. So if you’re not going, I don’t want to go either.”
“Really?”
“Your well-being always comes first for me, Yoo Ji-ho.”
He responded calmly, thankful that Yoo Ji-ho had at least asked for his opinion.
The truth was, just a moment ago, a childish wish had crossed his mind. That maybe—just maybe—this dreamlike, impossible scenario might actually happen.
Getting to go to the aquarium, with Yoo Ji-ho of all people—it would’ve been a memory he’d treasure for life. That thought made his heart leap. But if Yoo Ji-ho didn’t want it, then Hye-seong didn’t either. He was Yoo Ji-ho’s Pair Guide, and his job was to prioritize his health above all else.
“……”
“……”
Yoo Ji-ho stared into those resolute eyes, then let out a quiet, defeated breath. With a slight lift of his chin, he gestured toward Director Shin. It was a silent signal—permission granted.
“Yoo Ji-ho, I’m really fine with skipping it—”
“I think I can hold out a little longer.”
“……”
“Especially since Hye-seong was so dedicated with the Guiding earlier, even in someone else’s storage room.”
Hye-seong was just about to zone out from the forgotten memory when Yoo Ji-ho gently patted his back and nudged him to follow the director.
“An aquarium, huh…”
Even though he’d given his approval, he muttered with a dry sigh as if he couldn’t believe it.
“It’s been ages for you too, right? Same here!”
Hye-seong replied in his usual soft voice, but his excitement was obvious. Yoo Ji-ho smiled faintly, wondering if they should have seafood for dinner.
The aquarium wasn’t fully open yet, so there wasn’t much to see. After snapping a few promotional photos for the pamphlet, they were only given ten minutes.
Truthfully, Hye-seong wasn’t all that focused on the exhibits. He was too busy admiring the way the aquarium’s blue light reflected off Yoo Ji-ho’s face.
With more fish than people around, Yoo Ji-ho looked far more relaxed than during the center tour earlier. As always, colors shimmered across his stunning profile.
“……”
“……”
Lost in the almost surreal sight, Hye-seong’s daze was suddenly interrupted when Yoo Ji-ho’s face twisted in a scowl. Startled, Hye-seong followed his gaze toward the aquarium tank.
Then immediately gasped in awe.
“Wow, the jellyfish are so pretty!”
Massive, transparent jellyfish were gliding through the water, glowing with an eerie, mystical light. They were bigger than most people’s heads. Just then, he felt a tug on his arm.
“I hate jellyfish. Don’t even wanna look at them.”
“O-oh, okay…”
For some reason, Yoo Ji-ho abruptly turned and pulled Hye-seong away, clearly irritated.
What’s wrong?
He didn’t know the reason, but Yoo Ji-ho led him past the entire jellyfish exhibit in a rush. They stopped at a rather unusual spot. Yoo Ji-ho stared at something for a while, then pointed.
“That one reminds me of you, Hye-seong.”
“Huh…?”
He was pointing at a sluggish snail crawling across a wooden sculpture.
“……”
Confused, Hye-seong looked at him for an explanation. Yoo Ji-ho stifled a laugh and silently turned away. Hye-seong gazed at his back for a moment before quickly catching up.
Wandering like this, the worries that had been gnawing at his mind slowly faded. The cold air in the hotel room earlier felt like a distant memory now. He’d been so anxious, wondering if Yoo Ji-ho was mad.
But even now, his heart was still a mess. His emotions were all over the place—but for now, he just wanted to savor this moment. If only he could capture this feeling like a photograph in his mind. So he tried to take in every detail of Yoo Ji-ho’s presence.
It was such a beautiful, unreal moment that he felt like he was dreaming. Even if a day came when he could no longer be with Yoo Ji-ho, this memory would stay with him. A memory of his own, something only he could carry.
“You came all the way here just to stare at me?”
“…Huh?”
Yoo Ji-ho suddenly stopped walking and asked. He’d probably noticed the stares—Hye-seong had been watching him constantly since they entered.
“Ah… It just feels like I’m dreaming.”
At the strange response, Yoo Ji-ho tilted his head, puzzled. Hye-seong chuckled and shook his head.
“No, never mind. Yoo Ji-ho, I think we should get going.”
Still smiling, he tugged on Yoo Ji-ho’s arm. Yoo Ji-ho looked confused, but quietly followed him outside.
