As Kim Mi-yeon pressed the button on the remote, the wall slid open on both sides, revealing a transparent window. It looked like the room next door had been made visible—where Han Ju-oh stood in front of a machine. Seeing him, Baek Seo-ha instinctively took a step forward.
“Only mechanical guiding has managed to bring down Han Ju-oh’s danger level.”
When Han Ju-oh approached the machine, Seo-ha turned his head away, as if he couldn’t bear to watch.
He already knew all too well how excruciating mechanical guiding could be. He’d even experienced it himself during university.
Since it wasn’t possible to feel the exact pain an Esper goes through during guiding, the professor had simulated it at a lower intensity—but it had still hurt like hell.
It felt like being inside a tanning machine when suddenly iron rods were pressing down from above. One of his classmates had screamed for help. Seo-ha had inwardly cursed a storm from the pain.
Whoever invented that device must’ve been seriously messed up. He had thought no one would ever use it unless absolutely necessary—yet Han Ju-oh was stepping right into it.
“Just for that last 1%.”
Kim Mi-yeon pointed to the watch on Han Ju-oh’s wrist.
“He’s going in there for that final 1%, to bring it down to 89%.”
Hearing her, Seo-ha finally mustered the courage to look at Han Ju-oh. He seemed to be glancing over, half his body already inside the machine—but Seo-ha’s eyes were fixed elsewhere.
“I don’t fully understand what’s going on… no, honestly, I don’t even know what the hell this is. But why is Han Ju-oh going in there?”
The number on the watch read 88%.
“Probably to show you.”
“That crazy bastard…”
No matter what, this was going too far. Knowing full well how agonizing that machine was, and he’s using it just to prove a point?
“He must be out of his goddamn mind…”
Of all things to demonstrate, why that? Seo-ha stormed toward the door, as if he were about to stomp through the floor, but Kim Mi-yeon called out to him.
“Where are you going?”
“To stop him, obviously.”
It was clear the guiding he’d done before coming here had affected Han Ju-oh. But why was he voluntarily entering that machine?
“Why stop him?”
“What?”
Kim Mi-yeon’s unexpected question caught him off guard.
“He’s been using that machine all this time to keep himself under control. And now you want to tell him not to? Then what, let him spiral out of control?”
Her words, spilling out like a flood, pinned Seo-ha down—left him stuck.
“Your guiding is the only one that’s actually worked on him… and yet, even now that we’ve found you, it doesn’t feel like we really have you…”
Her voice carried a heavy weight, her expression just as troubled. She pressed her temple, clearly overwhelmed, but Seo-ha couldn’t say a single word in response.
“One man’s losing his mind because he can’t receive guiding. The other’s in pieces because he can’t give it.”
At some point, Han Ju-oh had fully entered the machine and laid down. A red glow began to radiate from its center as the body of the device rose upright.
While Kim Mi-yeon held Seo-ha in place, the mechanical guiding process had already begun.
“Honestly, I’m not thrilled about Han Ju-oh undergoing mechanical guiding. But I’m just as worried about you pairing with him.”
As Kim Mi-yeon laid out the situation in blunt terms, Seo-ha couldn’t take his eyes off the red light leaking from the machine.
“Even if it’s just 3% to everyone else, that energy might be as precious as life itself to someone.”
Han Ju-oh’s words echoed in his mind. He’d thought they were nonsense. No one had ever treated Seo-ha’s guiding as anything special, so he assumed Han Ju-oh hadn’t meant it either.
But now… what if he had meant it?
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
If the tiny bit of energy he could offer—just three drops—was truly that precious to Han Ju-oh…
‘This is so fucked up.’
He finally understood why Han Ju-oh clung to him so desperately, but instead of feeling relieved, it only made him more suffocated. He could now see why Kim Mi-yeon’s expression was so conflicted.
Of all people, his had to be the one guiding that worked. A Guide who could only manage 3%.
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him.
“Make a choice. If you walk out now, I’ll make sure Han Ju-oh never comes looking for you again. I’ll pair him up with a Guide with a higher compatibility rate and arrange regular guiding sessions. Honestly, I think that’s the most reasonable solution.”
Kim Mi-yeon laid out exactly what would happen if Seo-ha chose not to form a pair. And she didn’t leave out the opposite possibility either.
“Even if you do agree to pair with him, it won’t be all that different. We’ll have to be careful not to overwork you. And we’ll prepare other Guides to step in as needed.”
No matter which path he chose, she made it clear that Han Ju-oh would still be guided—just not necessarily by him. She crossed her arms, signaling that she’d said everything she needed to say and the decision now rested with Seo-ha.
He stared blankly at the machine for a while.
How had it come to this?
What was he supposed to do?
“Goodbye.”
After offering a brief farewell to Kim Mi-yeon, Seo-ha walked out of the room.
Left alone, Kim Mi-yeon wore a strange expression.
“A goodbye like that probably means he’s not forming a pair, huh?”
Since it was a problem either way, they had decided to leave the choice to Seo-ha—but it seemed he had no intention of taking Han Ju-oh’s hand.
“Honestly, maybe it’s for the best. The two of them can’t help each other.”
If anything, their relationship might end up dragging each other down.
“Let’s just think of it as starting from scratch. It’ll be painful, but as long as he doesn’t push himself too hard…”
Just as Kim Mi-yeon was mulling over how to break the news to Han Ju-oh, her voice trailed off—she had spotted something. The door to the guiding chamber opened, and Baek Seo-ha appeared.
He walked a slow circle around the machine, then knocked on its body.
“What is he doing?”
Curious now, Kim Mi-yeon approached slowly. She pressed right up against the transparent window, watching silently to see what Seo-ha would do.
***
“Fate’s got a messed-up sense of humor, doesn’t it?”
Seo-ha circled the machine, speaking to Han Ju-oh. He wasn’t sure if the man, now inside the machine receiving guiding, could hear him—but he kept talking anyway.
“I failed trying to find an Esper with a high matching rate… and you finally found someone who can guide you—and it turns out to be me…”
He was casually using you, you—direct and unfiltered. Seo-ha soon stopped at one point.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He probably looked ridiculously indecisive, but what was he supposed to do when there wasn’t a clear answer?
“Since you came in here to show me something, let’s check it out.”
Once he saw Han Ju-oh’s face, maybe then he’d be able to decide. Seo-ha pressed the stop button on the machine and stepped back. The body of the device slowly reclined, and the lid lifted open.
The red light that had been seeping out began to fade along with the heat, revealing Han Ju-oh’s face.
His pupils were unfocused and glazed, his face flushed deep red. Seo-ha muttered under his breath.
“That’s one hell of a face.”
Even the stark redness of what had been a pale face showed how intense the pain had been. His lips, already scabbed over from a previous wound, were now swollen and raw—he’d bitten them so hard they looked grotesque.
He looked worse than when he’d been on the brink of a full-blown rampage, and Seo-ha’s expression twisted as if he himself were in pain.
“Fine, I give up.”
Seo-ha reached his hand out to Han Ju-oh. Slowly, focus returned to Han Ju-oh’s eyes. He stared down at Seo-ha’s outstretched hand.
“Let’s form a pair.”
Of the two choices Kim Mi-yeon had presented, Seo-ha had chosen to form a pair with Han Ju-oh.
“But on one condition.”
Since everything came with downsides, he had no choice but to set some boundaries.
“What is it?”
“I’m your emergency battery.”
Even as Han Ju-oh’s eyes darkened, Seo-ha continued speaking without pause.
“I’ll step in only when guiding doesn’t work with anyone else. So… just think of me as backup.”
Han Ju-oh’s face grew cold.
“You really think that counts as a condition?”
“Why not? Why are you even coming to me when there are other Guides with higher compatibility?”
At Seo-ha’s calm retort, Han Ju-oh turned his head and stared at the transparent wall—on the other side of which, unsurprisingly, Kim Mi-yeon was watching. His eyes were filled with blame for her, for even mentioning those other Guides.
“Everyone knows they’d be better. Yet you want the one with the worst matching rate—me.”
“That’s…”
Han Ju-oh started to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. Seo-ha shook his head coolly—he didn’t need to hear it right now anyway.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just being practical. I’ll make sure you never have to go into this machine again.”
That was the conclusion Seo-ha had reached.
“Bullshit. That’s not what I want.”
Han Ju-oh shook his head and pushed himself upright instead of taking Seo-ha’s hand. But Seo-ha grabbed his hand sharply, yanking it toward him—so close their faces nearly touched.
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m the worst possible match for you.”
