At the gift shop—the final stop for Director Shin to fulfill his goal—Hye-seong found himself in a scuffle with him. He was holding something up to Hye-seong’s head, and Hye-seong was backing away in protest.
“But still… isn’t this a bit much for me to wear…?”
“Oh, come on! I’m buying the same one for my daughter! What’s the big deal?”
“How old is your daughter…?”
“She’s twenty-seven, why?”
“……”
And so, Hye-seong ended up wearing the seal headband for a while. It was white, round, and featured a cute, smiling character with floppy ears poking out on either side. Every time he moved, the springs made the headband bounce around in a ridiculous way.
Once he had it on, the odd sensation of the thing wobbling on his head felt strangely amusing. He shook his head back and forth experimentally, then suddenly wore a miserable expression, as if overcome by existential doubt.
“…Huuuh.”
Director Shin and Secretary Kang immediately burst into stifled giggles, snapping photos like mad. Even Nam Tae-yoon, who maintained a polite facade by covering his mouth, couldn’t hide the crinkling of his eyes.
Click. Click. Click-click-click.
“For fuck’s sake, cut it out already. You’re so damn noisy.”
Unable to take it anymore, Yoo Ji-ho snapped with a deadly expression, silencing everyone. He then made them send all the photos to him and forced them to delete every single one from their phones.
“I scolded them for you, so just wear it a bit longer.”
“…Okay, but just a little longer.”
Amused, he lightly flicked the headband perched on Hye-seong’s head. That small gesture made Hye-seong forget his pout and break into a shy smile. Watching this unfold, Director Shin shook his head like he’d just seen something utterly nauseating.
“Let’s go already, you damn brats!”
“Ah—yes, sir!”
“……”
The schedule, which was only meant to last a short while, was finally drawing to a close.
At the final event of the day—a formal dinner—Hye-seong kept sipping on the sweet champagne, claiming it was delicious. There were plenty of people to meet, but that was Yoo Ji-ho’s job. Not that he could understand most of what was being said anyway. All Hye-seong really had to do was eat a lot of delicious food while watching Yoo Ji-ho handle the questions with a calm public smile.
“You’re going to get drunk.”
“Oh, come on. This barely even tastes like alcohol.”
Delicious food, delicious drinks, and a live classical performance just a few steps away. And next to him sat Yoo Ji-ho. Hye-seong couldn’t imagine being happier. Even the champagne—his first taste of such sweetness—fit his palate perfectly, making it far too easy to keep drinking.
“Why won’t they come over here?”
No matter how desperately he shot hopeful looks at the passing waiters, they all acted as if he were invisible, walking right past him. Of course, the reason was Yoo Ji-ho sitting beside him, but Hye-seong had no way of knowing that.
“This won’t do. I’ll go grab two glasses—one for you, too.”
With that, he sprang to his feet and disappeared. Yoo Ji-ho let out a quiet laugh and turned his attention across the room.
“There you are, Hye-seong! My lucky charm!”
Just as he was zeroing in on the champagne tray, he was intercepted by Director Shin, flushed red from drinking. Thankfully, with Secretary Kang’s help, he managed to escape his grasp. And finally, after a struggle, he had two glasses of champagne in hand.
He turned back toward their table to return to Yoo Ji-ho.
…Huh?
But before he could reach it, his steps stopped dead.
Yoo Ji-ho was still seated at the table, speaking with a woman across from him. They’d been seated at the same table throughout the evening, listening to the music, so it was clear they were at least acquainted. From her aura alone, she looked like someone important—Hye-seong had given her a polite bow, but he hadn’t been introduced to her formally. And although Yoo Ji-ho hadn’t introduced them either, it was obvious the woman already knew who Hye-seong was.
“……”
She was attractive. Undeniably so. The kind of person anyone would see and think, she’s incredible. That woman had just touched Yoo Ji-ho’s hand. It was a slow, grazing gesture that lingered before she pulled back. Yoo Ji-ho didn’t respond.
Hye-seong couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He lowered his gaze, eyes falling to the floor. Standing there quietly, his vision swam—red carpet and all. The room tilted slightly. He decided to sit in one of the empty chairs nearby.
“Huuuh…”
Sitting sideways, he sipped alternately from both glasses in his hands, his expression utterly dejected. His once-euphoric mood had crashed into deep melancholy in an instant. Hye-seong had never lived a life of dramatic emotional swings, so these feelings—so raw and unfamiliar—left him completely unprepared.
I was afraid this might happen…
He’d been scared of feeling these foolish, pointless emotions. But because of his own greed, he’d ignored what he was feeling—and now, little by little, it was crossing the line.
This isn’t okay.
He set the now-empty glasses down on the table with a quiet thunk and stood up.
The gaze scanning Yoo Ji-ho up and down, chin resting in hand, was blatant enough for anyone to notice.
“Where’d you sell your jacket?”
Yoo Ji-ho arched a brow and glanced at the glass Hye-seong had left behind, smirking faintly.
“Every story has its reasons.”
It was a sharp observation. The uniform jacket Yoo Ji-ho wore tonight wasn’t his—it had been hastily borrowed from the Director’s Office.
“That kid from earlier… no matter how hard I try to see the appeal, he’s just too green.”
“Who said you could look at him that way?”
The pleasant look vanished from his face. For the first time, Yoo Ji-ho directed a sharp glare at Choi Yu-jin, whose brows lifted in surprise.
“Relax. I’m just saying—even if your compatibility lines up, is that really someone you’d pair with? Were things really that desperate? Or is he some hidden S-rank you’ve been keeping under wraps?”
“Why the hell would I explain that to you?”
“Ji-ho, come on. You can at least understand my curiosity.”
Choi Yu-jin worked in the Ministry of Supernatural Powers and Security Affairs and was formerly a Guide at the Yeouido Center. When Yoo Ji-ho first manifested as an Esper, Choi Yu-jin had been the Head of the Center’s Guide Division. They knew each other well—she was one of the first senior officials he’d butted heads with.
“I’ll admit, I was surprised. Or maybe… is that your type? That would explain a lot.”
Yoo Ji-ho took a sip of water, let out a soft chuckle, and placed his glass down.
“You remember, don’t you? You tried with me back then too, and I turned you down.”
“Oh.”
Choi Yu-jin seemed to be holding a grudge.
“It’s been ages since I left the field, but that time… I really put myself out there. And that brat—you.”
“Did something like that happen?”
“Don’t act like you forgot.”
Expression unreadable, Yoo Ji-ho quietly placed his glass down on the table. Back when he first awakened as an Esper, people had swarmed him from all directions. He didn’t have the luxury to remember every single incident.
But Choi Yu-jin was the kind of person who always brought up old wounds at events like this. She used to joke—half-seriously—that he was the reason she’d quit the Yeouido Center.
“That was one of the few times in my life I felt truly humiliated…”
She trailed off, then ran her fingertips lightly across the back of Yoo Ji-ho’s hand. The energy she released—a subtle, calculated dose from an experienced Guide—was just enough to stir an Esper. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she watched his face freeze.
Yoo Ji-ho looked down at her hand… then met her gaze with icy eyes.
“Are you fucking around?”
“Ah.”
Her voice was as cold as her eyes. Disappointed, Choi Yu-jin quickly pulled her hand back.
“What the hell. You haven’t changed at all.”
“……”
“Still no sense of respect, either.”
Yoo Ji-ho stared into empty space, letting out a long breath.
“Still, I’m glad to see you doing well. You’ve found stability now. No wonder Director Shin looks so much more relaxed these days. I wish you’d been like this when I was around.”
“……”
“Hmm. Though I guess your temper’s mellowed out a little…”
She rambled on while he fell silent, lost in thought.
More than feeling offended, he was surprised at himself. It had been a long time since he’d felt his body react with such visceral rejection. He used to live every day feeling like this, but now… this once-familiar feeling was strange to him. And naturally, one face came to mind—the pale face that had been beside him all day.
Hye-seong had gone off to get champagne but hadn’t returned. It had been quite a while. He looked around, but saw no sign of that small head anywhere.
Where the hell is he now? Looking like that…
He remembered the soft flush on Hye-seong’s cheeks, brought on by the alcohol—and as if possessed, he rose from his seat. He wandered the spacious banquet hall, opening and closing his fists.
Each time he took a step, someone stopped him to chat, making the simple act of finding one person feel ten times harder. It felt like he had the person right in his palm—but hadn’t quite closed his fingers around him yet.
How long could they continue this carefully veiled relationship? Once he finds out everything, he’ll run like hell.
It wasn’t time yet. He kept recalling those fucking words and tried to treat Hye-seong well, to keep things hidden. He was sure—absolutely sure—whenever Baek Hye-seong looked up at him with those innocent eyes.
So then why did it always feel like the boy was going to slip through his fingers? Yoo Ji-ho asked himself this every night.
Maybe because he already left me once—when he still liked me.
Then what the hell was he supposed to do this time? No one had ever told Yoo Ji-ho how to handle that.
All he knew—what he was absolutely certain of—was that it wasn’t time to let him go. Not yet. And yet, every time Baek Hye-seong showed the slightest sign of pulling away, it drove him insane. Even a simple “Maybe I should sleep in my own bed” made him irrationally angry.
In that sense, bringing Hye-seong here had been a massive mistake. He was feeling a kind of discomfort now—surrounded by it—that he’d never felt when Hye-seong was safely kept at his home. He might’ve made a show of pouting, but Hye-seong had no idea how much he was actually holding back. Nor should he.
“Maybe we should start sleeping separately…”
The voice echoed in his mind. And just then, after scouring the entire vast banquet hall—his footsteps came to a dead stop.
Fuck. Why can’t I see him?
