The examination took quite a while. Grade changes were as rare as ability loss, and the tests had to be conducted meticulously across multiple criteria. Just getting through all of it consumed a good chunk of time. When he was told it would take a full day to get the results, Seo-ha dragged himself back to the hospital room.
The moment he saw the bed, he collapsed onto it. Moon Roi, who had been following him around the entire time, clicked his tongue.
“I told you to wait until you felt better before moving.”
“If I was going to do that, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”
Seo-ha mumbled into the pillow, barely managing to turn his head. His whole body ached like he’d been beaten black and blue, and groans escaped him without even realizing it.
He suddenly remembered the doctor saying they could give him a painkiller shot if it got too bad, so he sluggishly reached for the call phone. But just as he was about to bring it to his ear, Moon Roi snatched it away and spoke for him.
Then he gently adjusted Seo-ha’s position on the bed, being especially careful not to put any strain on the sprained ankle. He positioned him exactly the way he had been lying before. It was a small thing, but Seo-ha appreciated it.
“Moon Roi’s nursing really is top-tier.”
“Don’t flap that damn mouth. I don’t even know why I’m taking care of you.”
Moon Roi fell into a brief existential crisis, questioning his own presence there.
“Guide Jang Jin-young had an Esper glued to him all day…”
His eyes shifted toward the empty bed. Han Ju-oh was still being examined. Seo-ha had mentioned he wanted to get tested, and Ju-oh had casually said he’d do it too—then strolled into the exam room and ended up taking even longer than Seo-ha. Regardless, it was always Moon Roi who looked after Seo-ha.
Even when Han Ju-oh stuck to Seo-ha like a magnet, never leaving his side, it was still Moon Roi who had to handle things like meals and supplies.
Whether Han Ju-oh was there or not, caring for Baek Seo-ha always fell on Moon Roi. Once the nurse left, he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, there’s no space on this tiny bed—what are you doing?”
“Hold still.”
Moon Roi shoved Seo-ha aside without a shred of mercy and made himself comfortable.
“You trying to flatten me like a bear?!”
“Shut up. I’m not a bear anymore. You’ve got no idea how cute I look standing next to Ian.”
He pointed at himself proudly, and Seo-ha quickly covered his mouth to suppress the scream bubbling up.
“So what, you’re like a teddy bear now?”
“Whatever.”
Moon Roi waved the comment off and suddenly turned serious.
“What’s with the face? Why do you look like that? Oh, I get it. Next time you’re hospitalized, I’ll take care of you the same way, alright?”
Seo-ha took that mood shift in stride and let out a slightly more relaxed breath.
“Do I look like someone who even wants that kind of thing?”
“If not, then fine. Why are you—”
“Taking care of you isn’t something I need to promise. It’s just natural. But think about it. When was the last time you were this badly hurt?”
The humor drained from Seo-ha’s face. The battle where Moon Roi’s older brother, Moon Seong, had died. The day Seo-ha had failed to form an Imprint. Both his body and heart had been wrecked that day—from the grief of losing Moon Seong, from the wounds left by that brutal battle.
Since then, he’d never been this seriously injured. Sure, he’d picked up his fair share of minor wounds. But Seo-ha had always been good at finding safe zones. He never rushed into danger. Even when entering gates with others, he helped in a way that maintained distance. He never risked himself for others—if anything, he was the type to protect himself first.
“You’re right. Maybe it hurts more because it’s been so long.”
“Does your heart hurt too?”
At Moon Roi’s blunt question, Seo-ha ran a hand lightly over his chest.
“I think my heart’s the only thing that’s still intact.”
As he said it, Moon Roi smacked him hard on the back.
“Then you’re fine.”
“Ughh. You hit me on purpose.”
Seo-ha puckered his lips like he was about to puke and glared daggers at Moon Roi. He fully intended to get payback once the pain subsided—but the timing was ruined when Han Ju-oh walked in.
As usual, Han Ju-oh clung to Seo-ha like a second skin, and the next morning, the examination results arrived.
Baek Seo-ha: A → S
Han Ju-oh: S → SS
It wasn’t just Seo-ha—Han Ju-oh’s rank had changed as well.
***
“I thought everything would change once I became an S-Class Guide…”
Baek Seo-ha was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“My thoughts exactly. So why the hell are you still crashing here?”
Director Kim Beom-hak shot back, clearly baffled. Seo-ha propped his head up with one hand.
“It’s cozy. Feels like my emotional hometown or something.”
“You insane bastard.”
Only after being thoroughly cursed out did Seo-ha break into laughter and push himself up to sit on the couch.
“Still, who else sprawls out in the Director’s office like this? I’m only getting away with it because you’re letting me.”
“That’s not it. Most people don’t come here just to lie around. Nobody looks for inner peace in their boss’s office.”
Kim Beom-hak made it clear: the problem wasn’t with other people—it was just that Seo-ha was the strange one.
“This sofa’s amazing, though. Maybe I should get the same one for home.”
As Seo-ha tapped it with his index finger, Kim Beom-hak covered his forehead in disbelief.
“Fine. Just take it.”
“Great! Send this one to my place and get an even bigger one for the office.”
“You little—”
Kim Beom-hak nearly cursed out loud but held it in. He stood up and sat on the largest sofa like it was his rightful throne. Picking up on the cue, Seo-ha quietly placed two cups of Americano on the table.
As he sipped his coffee, Kim Beom-hak looked Seo-ha over.
“The world might not have changed, but you sure have.”
He corrected Seo-ha’s earlier half-joking complaint.
“Do you even realize how much you and Han Ju-oh have accomplished in the past three months? The whole country’s buzzing. Even Kim Mi-yeon still regrets ending your contract.”
“She does?”
Seo-ha asked, playing dumb. He wanted to feign ignorance to the end, but there was no fooling Kim Beom-hak’s sharp eyes.
“Your acting’s pathetic. Don’t pretend when you know damn well what’s going on.”
“Can’t we just go with the bit? I know I’ve become a hotshot Guide. I’ve seen my bank account swell with bonuses every time we clear a dungeon.”
Grumbling with mock annoyance, Seo-ha rattled off a half-complaint, half-brag about his new reality.
“I only went into those gates to build some synergy, and they just blew up on us. Not my fault.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re amazing.”
“I am. That’s why I came back.”
Seo-ha had officially transferred back to the Center. Kim Mi-yeon had been reluctant, but once she understood why, she didn’t try to stop him.
Back when his matching rate was low, it was Kim Beom-hak who supported him unconditionally, helping him survive those three difficult years. Even when Seo-ha submitted his resignation, Kim Beom-hak had tried to stop him. If Seo-ha had shown even a hint of resolve to walk away, Kim Beom-hak might’ve let him go—but he saw the hesitation. On the very day of his handover, Kim Beom-hak had tossed him straight back into a gate.
Now, Seo-ha sat up straighter, pride written all over his face, eyes shining with confidence.
“It’s not like I ever really wanted to quit. I just didn’t think I’d find another match. But now that I have, of course I came back.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a real star.”
One way or another, Seo-ha had become the loyal bird repaying his debt. And the higher he climbed, the more credit came back to Kim Beom-hak—the man who had believed in a rough, unpolished gem.
“And besides, White Guild still has Han Ju-oh.”
Though they were Imprinted, they belonged to different organizations. Seo-ha had gently turned down Ju-oh’s offer to follow him and came alone. Meanwhile, the White Guild, under Kim Mi-yeon, still had Han Ju-oh standing strong.
“Now that I think about it… I kinda miss him.”
“Then get out.”
Kim Beom-hak pointed to the door. He hadn’t liked the pitiful version of Baek Seo-ha, but this love-struck version wasn’t much better.
“Huh?”
But right then, Han Ju-oh walked in, crushing any hope Kim Beom-hak had left.
“Speak of the devil.”
Seo-ha greeted him with a bright smile—then let out a startled yelp as he suddenly felt himself lifted off the ground.
“The U.S. requested a dispatch. Over a hundred gates just opened—we need to check it out.”
“But we just came back from a gate yesterday. We haven’t even rested for 24 hours.”
They had agreed to keep entering gates to test the limits of their improved stats—but this was way too soon.
“Ju-oh, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna wither away and die.”
“I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.”
Han Ju-oh didn’t put him down. He kept Seo-ha floating and started carrying him off. Seo-ha twisted around mid-air and reached toward Kim Beom-hak.
“Director! A little help here?”
Kim Beom-hak ignored him.
