He showed no intention of taking Moon Roi’s warning seriously.
Moon Roi glared at Han Ju-oh as he walked away. The timing of his appearance was the worst—he’d ended up hurting someone who had just submitted their resignation. He truly hoped they wouldn’t run into each other again.
“Moon Roi?”
A familiar voice loosened the stiffness in Moon Roi’s expression as he turned to look at his friend.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to buy me a drink.”
Moon Roi’s voice, which had just moments ago been hardened, now softened as if nothing had happened. Baek Seo-ha shot him a sharp glare.
“I’m unemployed now.”
Moon Roi laughed out loud at Baek Seo-ha’s jab, as if asking who he thought he was trying to mooch off of. Yeah, he’s a good guy. He hoped this time he wouldn’t get hurt anymore.
***
“Why’d you disappear without saying anything?”
“I went to see Baek Seo-ha.”
Han Ju-oh was already lounging on the newly replaced sofa. Kim Mi-yeon, who had returned from confirming things in person, looked over his still grimy, unwashed self and trembled with restrained frustration.
She wanted to scold him for getting the new sofa dirty again, but knew it wouldn’t even register with him, so she forcefully changed the subject.
“This is the guy, right?”
Thanks to a perceptive secretary who had figured out whom Han Ju-oh had gone after, she had gathered a profile on the person in question. Kim Mi-yeon held out the document to him.
“Take a look.”
“I already did.”
Han Ju-oh didn’t even glance at it, but Kim Mi-yeon didn’t press him to read it. There’s nothing more convincing than having met the person directly.
“It’s always faster to check in person. So… how was he?”
“Not great.”
Han Ju-oh clicked his tongue, remembering how Baek Seo-ha had twice refused to complete a full guiding session. He’d met plenty of Guides until now. All of them had been desperate to pour their energy into him.
They had all wanted to become the designated Guide for an S-Class Esper. Some had even boasted matching rates above 90%.
Han Ju-oh licked his lips in regret as he recalled the Guide with the highest compatibility rate. The sensation of being completely cleansed from the inside out by that Guide was still vivid, like it had happened just yesterday.
It felt like that Guide might show up at any moment, smiling sweetly and offering to guide him again…
And yet he had walked away from someone like that. Even knowing the Guide had feelings for him, he hadn’t been able to take his hand. Having left behind someone with a match rate over 90%—someone incredibly rare—made Han Ju-oh all the more irritable.
“So what now? Are you really going to use him as an emergency reserve?”
Kim Mi-yeon asked carefully, sensing Han Ju-oh’s unusually tense mood. She knew it was wrong to treat someone like a backup, but she had no other choice. Not knowing what had happened between the two men, anything she said would just sound like nagging.
Especially now—Baek Seo-ha was the only Guide who could stop Han Ju-oh from spiraling out of control.
“The available gates—what are they?”
Instead of answering, Han Ju-oh asked a different question. But within those words, Kim Mi-yeon could already hear his intent: he was going to drag Baek Seo-ha in.
She swallowed a sigh instead of replying.
Her gut told her something about this was off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.
***
Seo-ha splashed cold water on his face to wash away his drowsiness. It wouldn’t exactly refill his motivation, but at least it’d help him snap out of it.
Just last night, things had felt good while drinking with Moon Roi. He’d been able to let loose, laugh foolishly, and not worry about appearances—at least in front of Moon Roi, who had seen every side of him. There was no need to pretend to be okay.
But that ended now.
The message from the Center Director telling him to head into a gate had arrived, and Seo-ha pulled out a black shirt.
It was a protective garment, durable enough to withstand most standard attacks. It should’ve been clothing he no longer needed, now that he’d quit, but he figured he’d wear it one last time before throwing it out.
He put on the tight, elastic shirt and pants, then threw a white coat over them.
Just as he strapped on his watch, his phone rang. He looked at the number flashing on the screen with disinterest before picking up.
–Are you ready?
He let out a deep sigh. He’d handed in his resignation, so why was this still happening?
“You should be processing my resignation, not assigning me to a gate. Seriously—what’s the reason? Do I really have to go in there?”
–Just go.
Once it got to this point, there was no choice left. He’d have to go no matter what.
“I’m serious. This is my last time.”
He wasn’t going anywhere near a gate ever again.
–If you can manage that, then go ahead.
Not even a “Do as you please,” but a “If you can”? He debated how to take that but gave up midway.
Everyone else had already deemed him useless—everyone but the Director. He was the only one who hadn’t let go, and words from someone who still held on… that was always his weak spot.
‘Guess I’ll get a plot of land when I retire later.’
Having now firmly decided on a farming future, Seo-ha ended the call and moved toward the front door. Before slipping on his shoes, he looked back inside.
The staff housing given to Guides—it was time to vacate this place, too.
As Baek Seo-ha stepped out, the heavy slam of the closing door echoed behind him.
***
Seo-ha stood at a distance from the gate, waiting for the full team to assemble. Administrative staff strictly managing personnel at the site cast sideways glances his way.
He ignored their looks, wondering what business he had being there. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten stares like those, and he was long past squirming under them.
Not that he felt particularly good about it, either.
There was a time when Seo-ha believed that effort would always lead to results. And for a while, it did. He had a vague but firm conviction that if he did well enough, everything would work out. When had that belief been so thoroughly shattered?
Even if it was only 3%, even if the energy he could pass on was barely anything, he believed there had to be a way. If holding hands wasn’t enough, he’d considered taking things further physically—like anyone else might.
Not that he kissed just anyone.
He’d actually shared real feelings with someone once—another A-rank Esper, someone with a bright, beautiful smile.
That person had comforted him, encouraged him, and even said, if Seo-ha couldn’t find a high-compatibility Esper, he’d imprint with him instead.
Imprinting sometimes boosted match rates, even when they were originally low. But what if they tried and couldn’t break the imprint? Seo-ha couldn’t believe he’d said something so reckless.
And then it happened—
During a dungeon run they took together, they came across a “Hidden” gate. Everything went wrong from there.
The other man had used up an enormous amount of energy fighting the monsters, and all Seo-ha could offer him in return was an embarrassingly meager amount.
Without proper guiding, he’d overexerted himself. He could’ve escaped on his own, but he hadn’t moved—because Seo-ha was there.
Seo-ha cried as he held onto him. He touched him, even tried mucosal guiding. When that didn’t work, he went as far as attempting an imprint.
Maybe sensing how desperate Seo-ha was, the other man seemed willing to accept it. At the very moment the imprint was about to miraculously form—
“You want me to carry you or what?”
Seo-ha blinked back into focus.
Han Ju-oh stood there, arms crossed, looking immensely annoyed. Who knew when he’d arrived.
“Pick one.”
That blunt demand nudged Seo-ha out of his flood of memories.
“Should I give you a piggyback ride, or carry you bridal-style?”
His brain, still fogged, could barely process this nonsense.
‘How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?’
“Why aren’t you saying anything? You’re letting me decide for you?”
“Most people wouldn’t answer a question like that.”
Before Han Ju-oh could move, someone stepped in to break up the scene. The familiar voice made Seo-ha turn his head. It was Moon Roi.
“You’re going in too?”
Ignoring Han Ju-oh, he addressed Moon Roi directly.
“I said I would.”
“Why?”
“We can talk about that later.”
Moon Roi brushed it off like it was nothing, then stepped between them—specifically placing himself between Seo-ha and Han Ju-oh.
“You don’t need to block me like that.”
Seo-ha scratched his forehead awkwardly, unsure how to react. They could’ve just told him to go and left it at that. Before he could say anything, Han Ju-oh moved.
He breezed past Moon Roi in an instant and picked Seo-ha up without warning.
Seo-ha’s feet lifted off the ground, and he stared up at Han Ju-oh in stunned confusion.
“Did I say I was okay with this?”
“You didn’t answer, so I assumed I got to choose.”
And his choice was this?
“We don’t have time.”
Han Ju-oh began walking toward the gate. He wasn’t even noticeably taller than Seo-ha, maybe just by a few centimeters, but with those long legs, his pace was rapid.
Even Moon Roi, who stood about the same height, was falling behind.
Seo-ha studied the situation in silence, then locked eyes with Han Ju-oh.
“I have a favor.”
“If it’s dumb, I’m ignoring it.”
“Cover my face, please.”
“……”
Han Ju-oh looked baffled, so Seo-ha just covered his own face with his hand.
He usually didn’t care what people thought—not at all—but just this once, he found it unbearable.
