Just from holding a conversation, the strain seemed too much—Han Ju-oh’s face had gone a shade paler. Yet he made no move to call a Guide, simply staring at Seo-ha. When the intensity of that gaze grew too oppressive, Seo-ha finally raised both hands first.
“I know my guiding output is barely a drop in the bucket, so that’s what this is about, right? But if you still want it, give me your hand.”
Seo-ha reached out, intending to get it over with quickly since it wouldn’t take long anyway. Part of him also wanted to ease Han Ju-oh’s stubbornness—a refusal to accept guidance because Seo-ha hadn’t agreed to form a Pair. There had been misunderstandings, sure, and Seo-ha knew his guidance was nothing special. No point in avoiding it.
But what really caught him off guard was Han Ju-oh’s response.
The push-and-pull between them couldn’t have been clearer. When Seo-ha was in S-pole mode, Han Ju-oh played the N-pole, and now that Seo-ha had flipped to N-pole, Han Ju-oh was acting like an S-pole.
“What the hell. Why aren’t you taking it?”
“You…”
Han Ju-oh spoke, lips cracked and bleeding from how pale and drawn he looked.
“You think so little of yourself.”
Seo-ha tilted his head at that.
“Think little of myself? Not you—me?”
He wasn’t being sarcastic; he was genuinely thrown off. From Seo-ha’s perspective, Han Ju-oh was the one who devalued himself—who else but an idiot clings on without getting guided, ignoring their own wellbeing?
But Han Ju-oh’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. The moment it struck Seo-ha as strange, Han Ju-oh’s voice came down heavy—unlike anything he’d ever heard from him before.
“Even if it’s just 3% energy to some, it might mean life itself to others.”
It felt like an invisible hand had pressed down on his shoulder. The weight of it made his back hunch, his body gradually sinking, and in truth, Seo-ha’s posture was starting to droop.
‘It might mean life itself?’
That made no sense. His guiding had never satisfied a single person. Like offering a measly three drops of water, it left them thirsting still.
Everyone had turned their backs on him. And the one person who hadn’t… had died, precisely because Seo-ha’s guiding wasn’t enough. Director Kim Beom-hak had tried to find him an Esper with a better match rate, and even Moon Roi had only ever complimented him on traits other than guiding.
That’s why—living with a figurative boulder lodged in his heart—Seo-ha believed that no matter how much someone like Han Ju-oh watered him like a houseplant, it was useless. A rock would still be a rock, no matter how much water it got.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Not even interested in arguing, Seo-ha gave a lazy wave of his hand. One hand still stuffed in his pocket, part of his way of keeping himself guarded from getting too emotionally pulled into Han Ju-oh’s presence.
“I’m not done talking.”
“There’s more?”
Seo-ha grimaced and leaned back.
“You asked why I’m so fixated on you, didn’t you?”
“Uh… yeah, I did.”
Their conversation had veered off on so many tangents, the actual questions had gotten buried.
“I’ll tell you.”
“If you’re about to say it was love at first sight or something ridiculous like that…”
He’d used that joke before, but given how Han Ju-oh kept insisting they should become a pair, there was no other plausible reason Seo-ha could think of. However, before he could even finish speaking, Han Ju-oh called out to a Guide passing nearby.
“Guide Lee Jeong-min.”
“Han Ju-oh? You’re still here?”
They seemed pretty close. The young man responded casually, unreserved around Han Ju-oh. Seo-ha fell silent, recognizing the man’s face from somewhere, while Han Ju-oh reached out a hand.
“Seriously? You turned me down for guiding even when we were running dungeons together.”
Lee Jeong-min gave him a sideways look that wasn’t entirely unkind, then reached back and grabbed his hand.
“Would’ve been nice if you let me guide you earlier. It’s not like I was asking for much—just wanted to get along.”
“Just guide.”
Han Ju-oh’s low voice cut him off sharply. At that curt tone, Lee Jeong-min paused, glanced at him, and then let out a sigh.
“Alright. Let’s guide.”
Without saying more, he closed his eyes and began guiding, looking sincerely focused—perhaps hoping his guiding could warm the chill that clung to Han Ju-oh.
Left out of the sudden guiding session like a sack of rice in the corner, Seo-ha blinked blankly. ‘If he was going to get guided, he should’ve just done it from the start!’
He shouldn’t have come to meet Han Ju-oh.
If he’d waited just a bit longer, maybe Han Ju-oh would’ve assumed he wasn’t coming and gone to get guided on his own.
‘Should I just leave now?’ Seo-ha’s butt started to lift off the bench.
“Ugh…”
At the sound of Lee Jeong-min’s groan and the strained look on his face, Seo-ha sat right back down, sensing that something was off.
“What the hell is this…”
Lee Jeong-min opened his eyes, his face still twisted in a grimace he couldn’t smooth out. Staring at his clasped hand with Han Ju-oh, he shut his eyes again. His lips were tightly pressed together, veins bulging along his neck—but the Han Ju-oh receiving the guiding looked no different from before.
Pale skin, a bluish tint to his face. Even in a situation that seemed moments away from a full-scale rampage, he wore the same calm expression. It was maddening, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Why isn’t the guiding working?”
After a long moment, Lee Jeong-min suddenly shouted, eyes snapping open. Seo-ha flinched and turned toward Han Ju-oh. Compared to Lee Jeong-min, who was sweating from the effort, Han Ju-oh remained completely unchanged.
“The guiding’s not working?”
Seo-ha couldn’t just stand by and watch anymore—he started to speak, confused by what was happening. But Han Ju-oh didn’t answer. Instead, he met Lee Jeong-min’s gaze.
“Go.”
“What? But the guiding’s not even—”
“It’s fine. Just go.”
At Han Ju-oh’s firm refusal, Lee Jeong-min made no effort to hide his displeasure. He had come because he was called, agreed to help even when Han Ju-oh acted like a jerk—and now this selfish brush-off. He glared.
“You sure you won’t regret this? We’re in the same guild. You’re going to keep seeing me around…”
Unfazed, Han Ju-oh just stared back, then pointed to Lee Jeong-min’s pocket.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
With a face full of irritation, Lee Jeong-min pulled out his phone. The name flashing on the screen made him sigh, utterly exasperated. He shot Han Ju-oh one last glare and turned sharply away.
“Yes, Director.”
As Lee Jeong-min walked off, phone to his ear, Han Ju-oh leisurely turned his gaze back to Seo-ha.
“Once my rampage risk passes 90%, traditional guiding doesn’t work on me anymore.”
“What the hell are you saying…”
Seo-ha couldn’t immediately grasp the meaning. He trailed off and looked down—then saw Han Ju-oh’s watch for the first time. Unlike his own, which displayed match rate, this one showed rampage risk. As he processed that, Seo-ha’s eyes scanned the surroundings. They’d been talking casually this whole time, but this was hardly the place for a discussion like this.
Even if he didn’t know Han Ju-oh well, this was serious enough that he’d definitely have heard about it by now.
This was practically a weakness.
Anyone who wanted to hurt or exploit an S-Class Esper could use this as leverage.
Seo-ha looked around. No one seemed to be paying attention. Maybe they were pretending not to notice—but the possibility that someone had overheard made Seo-ha anxious.
“Why would you say that so loud? Isn’t that… supposed to be a secret?”
He glanced around nervously again and then reached for Han Ju-oh’s hand, shutting his eyes tight.
‘One, two, three.’
Counting in his head as he transferred energy, Seo-ha opened his eyes and tugged on Han Ju-oh. The strange part was that his energy had actually flowed into the man—and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that—but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
“Get in.”
“Say that again, but explain clearly this time.”
That was the whole point of guiding him. But instead of explaining, Han Ju-oh simply pointed outside.
“There should be a car waiting.”
The same man who wouldn’t budge from the bed earlier now took the lead, and Seo-ha had a strong sense he was being played—but he wasn’t about to back down now.
A black sedan slid to a stop in front of them. Han Ju-oh opened the door, shoved Seo-ha inside, then pressed his own body in to block any chance of escape before slamming the door shut.
“What the hell.”
‘He’s the one in danger of rampaging—so why do I feel like I’m the only one in jeopardy?’
***
The place Han Ju-oh took him was the White Guild. The moment they arrived, Guild Leader Kim Mi-yeon, who had been waiting, didn’t even greet him properly—she just smacked Han Ju-oh on the head and walked ahead.
“You weren’t supposed to bring him.”
She shoved Han Ju-oh into some room, muttering complaints the whole way, then entered a side room with Seo-ha in tow. From her tone, it was clear what she was talking to Han Ju-oh about, but she gave Seo-ha no explanation.
Seo-ha was just about to ask her, desperate for some answers, when Kim Mi-yeon picked up a remote.
“Han Ju-oh told you, didn’t he?”
“That when his rampage risk goes up, guiding doesn’t work…”
“More precisely, once it hits 90%, he becomes unable to accept any Guide’s energy. His body rejects all of it.”
“Then how has he been managing until now?”
Just being cautious wasn’t enough to stop a rampage. Seo-ha’s question made Kim Mi-yeon tilt her chin, motioning for him to look ahead.
“That.”
