The conversation sealed with a pinky promise with Han Ju-oh never came to fruition. From the start, Han Ju-oh wasn’t someone who could be coaxed or cajoled so easily. Trying to placate him was pointless. Thinking someone like that would be easy to handle—what a joke. Scratch all of that.
‘Kang Kyung-hoon won’t stir up trouble since he’s staying quiet.’
According to Moon Roi, that day, Kang Kyung-hoon had a talk with Director Kim Beom-hak before receiving treatment. Apparently, the secretary had gone into the director’s office with a bunch of documents… Those must be the pieces of evidence that have him cornered.
‘Unbelievable.’
This sort of thing really shouldn’t be happening repeatedly… It had happened outside the guild, beyond his control.
‘I let my guard down.’
Seo-ha glanced sideways at Han Ju-oh, who was standing beside him. As if sensing his gaze, Han Ju-oh looked back with an utterly indifferent expression. Did he really think he could just get away with that blank, innocent stare, like he didn’t know a thing?
They weren’t a good match—that much was clear. But that didn’t mean he could just let him roam free either.
‘I need to lock him down more tightly.’
Trying to handle him delicately wasn’t going to cut it. The ideal would be to make Han Ju-oh flinch at the mere thought of Seo-ha before he even dared to act.
‘Then what should I do?’
As he walked on, lost in thought, a strange feeling crept over him.
“Why does the hallway feel so… wide open today?”
It was like there was nothing but open space ahead. Seo-ha lifted his head, and just then, he locked eyes with someone who immediately jerked their head away and plastered themselves against the wall. The person walking behind them had done the same.
“Huh?”
No one looked at Seo-ha sideways anymore, especially after Han Ju-oh flipped the guild upside down. Still, people didn’t usually go out of their way to avoid him like this.
Usually, there’d be the occasional curious gaze wondering what kind of relationship he had with Han Ju-oh, but that was about it.
“Is it just me? Why does it feel like everyone is avoiding us?”
Wondering if it was just in his head, Seo-ha turned to ask Han Ju-oh. But Han Ju-oh stared straight ahead with a blank face.
“Not sure.”
“Right, like you’d ever pay attention to other people.”
Seo-ha hadn’t expected a real answer from him anyway. Instead of prying further, he pulled out his phone to check the time.
“Let’s eat.”
He’d been planning to head out anyway and just happened to run into Han Ju-oh. After a moment’s thought about what to eat, Seo-ha’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at Han Ju-oh.
“How about grilled meat for dinner…”
Han Ju-oh turned his head to the opposite side. That definitely looked like he was avoiding eye contact.
“You want some?”
Seo-ha finished the question and waited for an answer.
“……”
“Hey. Han Ju-oh. I’m saying let’s eat. I’ll grill the meat myself.”
“……”
“It’ll be delicious dipped in ssamjang, you know?”
Even as he poked Han Ju-oh in the side, there was no response.
***
After dinner, Seo-ha stared at Han Ju-oh as he cleared the dishes.
“Did you not have much of an appetite today? You barely ate anything.”
Han Ju-oh usually ate more when Seo-ha fed him than when he served himself, but today there were long stretches where he didn’t open his mouth. Seo-ha had to wait for him to finish chewing each lettuce wrap before making another, so he ended up feeding him less than usual.
As they cleared the table together, Han Ju-oh glanced at Seo-ha, placed the dishes in the sink, and opened the fridge. Seo-ha, watching him naturally pull out a beer and head to the living room like he owned the place, let out a stunned chuckle.
“Feels like it’s your place now.”
His movements were so smooth and unhesitating, like water flowing. Seo-ha shook his head in disbelief, then grabbed a beer of his own and sat beside him.
“Let’s start.”
Seo-ha’s voice lowered. As Han Ju-oh nursed his beer to settle his greasy stomach, his expression turned serious and he picked up the remote. He flicked on the TV without really looking and flipped through the channels. A fishing program with the sound of waves splashing suddenly filled the room.
“You got two.”
Seo-ha snatched the remote from him and pressed the button. It wasn’t intentional—just random. The channel changed to a golf broadcast, and Seo-ha leaned back triumphantly.
“I got five, so you’re on dish duty.”
The whole point of turning on the TV was to play their little game: flip through random channels and count how many people showed up onscreen—whoever had more won, and the loser did the dishes.
Seo-ha reached into the basket beside the sofa, giggling.
“I thought about this game while I was stuck at the hospital.”
He grabbed the first snack his hand landed on, tore it open, and tossed it onto the table. Ever since they started eating dinner together before dungeon runs, they’d often used this game to decide who’d do the dishes.
Han Ju-oh always did the dishes without a word whenever he lost, cleaning everything up neatly before heading home—Seo-ha found the whole thing amusing.
He pushed a snack into Han Ju-oh’s mouth and took a swig of beer himself, his gaze settling on the TV. It was their downtime after dinner, so anything on the screen felt entertaining. Maybe it was more enjoyable precisely because he wasn’t trying to absorb anything.
Though his eyes were fixed on the TV, his head was filled with entirely different thoughts.
His energy increased earlier.
The guiding session sealed with a pinky swear with Han Ju-oh wasn’t even particularly stimulating or sensual, but his energy had definitely increased—just slightly. Not enough to raise the reading by a full 1%, but for Seo-ha, who could only emit a severely limited amount of energy, that tiny boost wasn’t something to overlook.
Energy didn’t just fluctuate on its own without reason. So what was it? If it were easy to figure out, Seo-ha wouldn’t have spent so long chasing down Espers and pushing himself like this.
Back to square one.
The tests all hit a wall.
Sure, things had improved since the early days, but there were still too many unanswered questions. For example, no matter how many tests he took, no one could explain why his matching rate was stuck at 3%.
His head grew heavier, trying to figure out where to even begin. And yet, that small change made him happy enough that his toes curled involuntarily.
Just then, an alarm sounded. Seo-ha raised his index finger, prompting Han Ju-oh to raise his as well. When their fingers touched, Seo-ha transferred a bit of energy. Han Ju-oh’s eyes held a hint of exasperation, but how they guided was entirely Seo-ha’s prerogative.
When the guiding session ended, Seo-ha gave Han Ju-oh’s hip a few light taps.
“If you’re done with your beer, time to do the dishes.”
He jerked his chin toward the kitchen. When Han Ju-oh got up with his empty beer can, Seo-ha immediately flopped down in that direction and stared up at the ceiling.
Kang Kyung-hoon’s disgusting behavior toward him, Moon Roi’s voice saying Han Ju-oh had completely lost it on the guy, the energy tangled around their pinkies…
“This is driving me crazy—in a good way.”
Han Ju-oh kept doing cute, perfect little things that were driving him insane.
***
First thing upon arriving at work, Seo-ha was summoned by Kim Mi-yeon.
“First of all, congratulations on your matching rate going up.”
She was clearly focusing on the fact that the previously fixed rate had started to shift. Her tone was polite, but her expression wasn’t exactly pleasant. Probably because the increase still wasn’t anywhere near enough.
That said, her demeanor was much softer now than when they first signed the contract.
“I was originally going to bring both of you in yesterday to talk, but someone caused a scene and things got hectic.”
Seo-ha pretended not to notice her gaze shifting toward Han Ju-oh and took a sip of his coffee. Nothing beat an Americano on an empty stomach. It felt like it scraped his insides clean.
“Well, yesterday’s mess is cleaned up now, so whatever. The real point is, it’s about time we talked about you two. There are still a lot of people who don’t understand why you’re partnered in the first place, and frankly, it’s not the general public I’m worried about—it’s the government.”
Seo-ha sipped his coffee again and looked at Han Ju-oh.
It seemed the government was pressuring Kim Mi-yeon for not pairing an S-Class Esper with a Guide who had a high matching rate. The guild wasn’t under direct state control, but Han Ju-oh was important enough that they couldn’t ignore it.
“So here’s what I was thinking. First, we disclose that your matching rate has gone up—”
“Please keep it confidential.”
Seo-ha gave a faint smile as he caught the slight arch of Han Ju-oh’s brow. That expression clearly meant he didn’t like what he was hearing, but it didn’t intimidate or bother Seo-ha anymore.
Kim Mi-yeon pressed her fingers to her temple, looking exasperated.
“We kept it quiet while Guide Baek was in the hospital just in case, but you both know this isn’t something we can cover up forever. Han Ju-oh is someone the government’s watching closely. He’s not just a valuable asset—if he loses control, he’s a disaster waiting to happen. That’s why they’ll never take their eyes off him.”
“Then buy us some time.”
Seo-ha’s request didn’t receive an immediate response.
“Why should I?”
She didn’t sound offended—just calm, but firm. Though Kim Mi-yeon had softened considerably since learning of Seo-ha’s increased matching rate, she wasn’t the type to agree to anything without a solid reason.
“For the same reason you kept Han Ju-oh’s secret.”
That he can only receive machine-guided sessions when he’s at risk of rampaging—wasn’t that a secret deep enough to warrant a Special Pair Contract?
“I’m just asking you to add one more part to that.”
Let me hide too.
