The clothes draped around Hye-seong’s body weren’t the cozy ones he’d gotten used to wearing—Yoo Ji-ho’s warm, familiar clothes. No, these were his own, worn and faded from years of use.
“Baek Hye-seong.”
“…Yes.”
Startled by the cold edge in Ji-ho’s voice, Hye-seong flinched before he could stop himself. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.
“Where are you trying to go this time?”
Ji-ho’s voice was quiet, like it always was, but the question made Hye-seong’s gaze stay rooted to the floor. It refused to lift.
“Ah…”
So he noticed.
Even before answering, tension rattled his breath. But he had delayed this farewell far too long. There was no more room left to back out.
“I told you I’d try to adjust… but it turns out, I just… can’t.”
“……”
He’d been given so many valuable chances, and yet he’d managed to fail at everything. That truth alone left his voice aching with regret.
“…I’m sorry.”
Blinking rapidly to suppress the emotions threatening to rise, Hye-seong began to deliver the words he’d carefully prepared.
“Whether I quit right away starting tomorrow, or stay until you find a new Pair Guide… I’ll do whatever works best for you.”
“……”
“You’re the one who needs guiding, and I’m the one who’s saying I want to quit. So don’t worry about the guiding. I just… I’d like to leave the house starting today, if that’s okay…”
“Why?”
“…Sorry?”
Hye-seong’s head slowly lifted from where it had been hanging low.
He looked up, bracing himself for disappointment, but Ji-ho’s expression was unexpectedly calm.
“This time, what is it again?”
His voice remained quiet as he asked the question—not angry, not accusing, just… controlled.
“Ah, it’s just… being here is too hard for me. So until you find someone new, I thought it might be better to just come here in the mornings like before.”
“……”
“Of course, only if that works for you. I’ll do whatever you prefer.”
“So what you want is to quit and walk away right now?”
The sharpness of the question left Hye-seong speechless. He couldn’t answer right away.
“…I’m sorry.”
So instead, he bowed his head and spoke softly. He bit down hard on his lower lip and waited for Ji-ho’s response.
Ji-ho stayed silent, perhaps deep in thought.
What would he say?
Would he be disappointed? Maybe just a little sad?
Whatever it is, in the end, he’ll probably just say “okay.”
After all, Yoo Ji-ho—the only S-rank Esper in South Korea—had no reason to keep holding on to a Guide who insisted on quitting. And this wasn’t even the first time.
To someone who hated revealing his private life and despised physical contact with strangers, having to find a new Guide must’ve been a huge inconvenience.
Even so, Ji-ho wasn’t the type to beg a passing Guide to stay. He’d already shown Hye-seong more patience than anyone else ever would. He’d done more than enough; why would he want to hold on any longer?
It might be annoying to adjust to someone new, but there were plenty of capable Guides out there. Ji-ho would find one quickly. And before long, Hye-seong would be nothing more than a name from the past.
Baek Hye-seong’s presence would fade from Ji-ho’s life without even leaving a trace.
“…Ha.”
Just as that bitter thought crossed his mind, the silence was broken by Ji-ho’s sigh.
Staring off into the air, he let out a long exhale, like he was trying to suppress something. And then, in a calm voice, he asked:
“Why are you doing this?”
“…Sorry?”
Hye-seong had already said everything he came to say. Awkward, maybe—but he hadn’t left anything out. Yet Ji-ho’s question didn’t quite make sense.
Now that he thought about it, Ji-ho had always asked Hye-seong why.
Why he was smiling. Why he acted the way he did. Why he liked him. Why he wanted to leave.
This was just another why—but for some reason, this time, Hye-seong couldn’t tell what exactly he was being asked.
“Um… about what…?”
Confused, he looked at Ji-ho, who stared down at his own hand—then let it go limp. The bouquet in Ji-ho’s hand dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
“You’re the one who asked to be my Guide. You’re the one who said you liked me.”
“That’s…”
“So I was good to you. But now, what? What’s the problem this time?”
His voice was flat, but a subtle chill laced through the quiet tone. It made something deep inside Hye-seong recoil. He told himself it was just his imagination and forced himself to speak calmly.
“Ah… I’m not saying all this because I want something from you. When I confessed before, you told me to think about it more before quitting. I’ve spent that time figuring things out, and now… I’m ready to say it clearly. That’s all.”
“Hye-seong.”
“…”
His lips froze the moment Ji-ho called his name. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was about to burst.
“Everyone kept saying if I acted nice, you’d stay by my side. So I tried that. But if you keep doing this, I really don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do anymore.”
Ji-ho took a step closer. He drew in a long, heavy breath—as if holding something down—and his voice remained low, almost gentle.
“I know everything I do just makes things go to shit.”
“…”
“That’s why I’m asking. So tell me.”
“Why… what do you mean…”
“What do I have to do to make you stay?”
It wasn’t rhetorical. Ji-ho looked like he genuinely expected an answer.
Stunned into silence, Hye-seong swallowed hard.
“Well?”
“…”
Ji-ho stood there quietly, waiting—as if ready to do whatever Hye-seong said.
But his eyes…
There was something glassy and unreadable in them, like polished marbles. And for some reason, those eyes made Hye-seong’s whole body go rigid.
“Ah.”
Even after waiting so long, Hye-seong still couldn’t respond. Ji-ho paused, then as if something clicked in his mind, he spoke again.
“Is it because I want to sleep with you?”
“…What?”
“If I stop trying to touch you, will you stay?”
He sounded like a child clinging to the answer he hoped was right.
Eyes going wide, Hye-seong frantically shook his head. As Ji-ho’s Guide, he’d never once said something like that—not ever.
“No, no—it’s not that. It’s not about that at all…”
“Then what is the problem? Tell me. What do I need to do?”
“…”
“What do I have to do to make you stay?”
Hye-seong stood frozen, speechless.
Because that question—what do I have to do to make you stay?—felt utterly foreign.
He hesitated for a long moment, then finally snapped out of it and shook his head rapidly.
“Come on… what are you saying…? You’re the one who needs guiding, so why are you talking like this…?”
The tension in the air hadn’t gone away. Hye-seong’s heart kept hammering in his chest, but he forced himself to smile anyway. Because if he didn’t, he felt like he wouldn’t survive this moment.
“Ha.”
Ji-ho’s breath came out like a laugh, hollow and stunned. Hye-seong’s smile faltered. Just from the sound, he could tell how absurd Ji-ho found all of this.
“Yeah, I need guiding.”
“…”
“But fuck that. I don’t care anymore. Just stay here.”
His eyes, which had seemed unreadable a moment ago, were changing—too gradually for Hye-seong to pin down the meaning.
And yet, it was a look he somehow knew.
He’d looked into those eyes so many times that he could draw them with his own. But right now, what he saw wasn’t disappointment, or sadness, or anything familiar.
It was desperation.
“Okay? Hye-seong.”
Just from his voice, you couldn’t tell.
But the emotion in it—this wasn’t about losing a Guide, or sending off someone he’d worked with.
“Stop trying to fucking leave already.”
Ji-ho stepped closer again. His gaze darted around, taking in the bouquet on the floor, the backpack packed and ready on the table, the neatly wrapped gift boxes—all things he could recognize in an instant.
He could picture it clearly: Hye-seong, one by one, carefully preparing everything in order to walk away. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
Then he tilted his head and slowly looked over Hye-seong, taking in his changed outfit, his every detail. The more he saw, the more serious his expression became.
“I went through all that shit to keep you by my side, and when I waited like a good boy, you came back with the wrong answer.”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Suddenly, as if his unbuttoned shirt collar were strangling him, he grabbed the front and yanked at it like he couldn’t breathe. His chest heaved with every breath.
Hye-seong, standing in front of him, couldn’t bring himself to look Ji-ho in the eyes. He didn’t even understand what was happening—but his body instinctively tensed.
He prayed his trembling hands weren’t obvious.
Did he say something wrong because he was nervous? Did he ramble and cause a misunderstanding? Was that why Ji-ho was—
Beep.
“…Huh?”
Suddenly, an unfamiliar alert sound blared from Ji-ho’s pager.
There was no mistaking that noise.
It was the emergency signal that triggered when an Esper’s wave pattern abruptly destabilized.
“Ji-ho, wait. Right now, your—”
But Ji-ho didn’t seem to hear it.
“Giving you a choice was a fucking mistake. All it did was piss me off.”
“…”
The alien warning tone from his wrist, the swirl of chaotic thoughts—it all made Hye-seong’s head spin.
He hadn’t even realized he was still holding the envelope until just now, gripping it so tightly it had crumpled in his palm.
And then—
Just as his gaze dropped to the crushed letter in his hand, a hand came flying out of nowhere.
“Ah—!”
Ji-ho grabbed his wrist in a flash. The envelope slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
Then Ji-ho pulled him forward, dragging him somewhere—anywhere.
And in a voice colder than ice, he muttered:
“You should’ve just stayed put. If you’d stayed here, not knowing a damn thing, we could’ve lived happily ever after.”
