“I guess I didn’t have to go looking after all.”
It would’ve been awkward to chase him down for revenge if he’d left the country, but thankfully, Davis had stayed. And that wasn’t all. Since he was the one who’d submitted the report, his curiosity had brought him back—and that gave him the perfect chance to settle the score.
There’d been an unexpected encounter that helped him release some old grudges, but the person he’d originally wanted to meet was Yoon Ji-guk. After stepping into a vacant office in a nearby building and waiting, Yoon Ji-guk finally showed up.
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be in here?”
It might be empty, but whoever owns the place probably wouldn’t be happy to find out someone had used it.
“We’re using it as a temporary command post.”
That settled it. If they had permission from the owner, then there was nothing left to say.
“No wonder the door was open.”
Seo-ha murmured sheepishly. Just then, Han Ju-oh, having just returned from checking the area, wordlessly handed over two cups of coffee. Seo-ha, who had a good idea of what Han Ju-oh would do without needing to look, muttered again.
“I don’t need one. I’ve had so much the past few days I’m sick of it…”
He closed his mouth as the memory of performing a literal fountain show on the bed flashed in his mind.
“If you don’t want it, don’t drink it.”
Seo-ha glanced into the paper cup Han Ju-oh handed over. It wasn’t an Americano—it was instant mix coffee. He reached for it.
“It’s still coffee, but this one’s okay.”
The cup was only half full, so this much was manageable.
As he sipped the coffee, he felt Yoon Ji-guk’s gaze on him. There was a reason he’d treated the man like he was invisible until now.
“See? He’s fine, isn’t he?”
It was to give Yoon Ji-guk plenty of time to observe Han Ju-oh. He could check the watch, use a scanner, whatever he wanted. But more than anything, watching Han Ju-oh with his own eyes seemed best.
Whether Seo-ha’s intention worked or not, Yoon Ji-guk stared at Han Ju-oh intensely before giving a heavy nod.
“I see.”
They still couldn’t confirm the theory that guiding didn’t work when an Esper was on the verge of a rampage—but at the very least, Seo-ha’s guiding had succeeded.
It was hard to believe this was the same Esper who’d been about to lose control. The energy waves around him were calm, and more importantly, the blood vessels that had bulged alarmingly before had receded—he looked completely normal.
“You refused all forms of guiding, and yet things turned out exactly the way you wanted.”
Yoon Ji-guk’s voice carried a note of reproach—he’d had no choice but to let Han Ju-oh burn himself out to the brink. But Han Ju-oh didn’t react much, as if nothing else mattered now that he’d reunited with Seo-ha.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
As Yoon Ji-guk continued to stare at Han Ju-oh, Seo-ha sipped his coffee and cut in.
“It’s all because he’s shackled by a contract. The scariest thing in the world? Contracts. You have to constantly watch out for those toxic clauses—and once one’s latched onto your ankle, it’s impossible to shake off.”
“A love story for his Pair Guide.”
“Basically, yeah.”
Han Ju-oh casually reduced Seo-ha’s long-winded words into a single line. Flustered, Seo-ha tried to act shameless by shrugging like it was nothing, but he couldn’t stop his face from flushing red.
“As you saw earlier, Ju-oh’s completely back to normal.”
It was Seo-ha’s way of saying there was no longer any need to monitor Han Ju-oh—but Yoon Ji-guk didn’t seem convinced.
‘The city didn’t blow up—what more do you want?’
Seo-ha knew exactly why Yoon Ji-guk looked dissatisfied, which made his irritation spike. The man clearly wanted to dig deeper into Han Ju-oh’s weaknesses.
“Esper Han Ju-oh. I won’t beat around the bush. When you were about to go into a rampage—was it guiding that stabilized you?”
“If it wasn’t, do you think he’d still be standing here like this?”
Seo-ha cut in before Han Ju-oh could answer. Yoon Ji-guk frowned, clearly wanting a response from the person in question.
“Then is it false that guiding doesn’t work during a rampage crisis?”
Yoon Ji-guk threw out the final, decisive question, making it clear that this time, he expected an answer directly from Han Ju-oh.
“It’s true.”
“…Guide Baek Seo-ha, I wasn’t asking you.”
“Technically, I’m an accomplice too. So I’d say I have the right to speak.”
He felt a little bad for making his lover sound like a criminal, but he needed to push back hard, so he didn’t hold back. Only then did Seo-ha succeed in drawing Yoon Ji-guk’s focus to him. He gave Seo-ha a look that said, Fine, talk.
“Esper Han Ju-oh cannot receive guiding from any other Guide.”
“I’ll verify that myself.”
At Yoon Ji-guk’s words, the door opened and several Espers entered, surrounding them. They were clearly here to take Han Ju-oh away again—but Seo-ha didn’t even look surprised. He chuckled as if amused.
“Right on cue, as expected.”
Seo-ha looked around at those encircling them, his gaze sharp with interest but without a trace of fear. Han Ju-oh hadn’t moved a muscle—because of the conversation he and Seo-ha had had before they left the house.
After imprinting with Han Ju-oh, Seo-ha drew back the curtain and opened the window to let in some fresh air. There was no longer any need to stay hidden, and the room had grown oppressively stuffy. Just as he was about to step outside, a familiar voice reached out and stopped him in his tracks.
Seo-ha returned to the window, resting his arm casually on the frame as he looked down at the street below. Fixing his gaze on someone beneath them, he spoke softly to Han Ju-oh.
“Ju-oh, once we step outside, leave everything to me.”
“You don’t have to. I can handle it.”
“It’s not because I think you can’t. It’s just… I’ve got a bit built up, and I want to settle it myself.”
Seo-ha’s eyes sparkled as he beckoned Han Ju-oh with a curl of his finger.
“Let’s go.”
If they were going to make an entrance, they might as well do it with flair—through a different door, not the front one.
Leaving behind an unforgettable impression on Davis the Esper, Seo-ha turned to his next target: Yoon Ji-guk. He had plenty to say to the man who treated Espers as nothing more than high-grade weapons.
Espers and Guides were born from the world itself. Gates, dungeons, and monsters had embedded themselves so deeply into daily life that they could no longer be called disasters—they were now a part of it. Espers stood as a bulwark against the chaos, and Guides were there to calm those Espers when needed.
The power to kill monsters that ordinary people couldn’t even handle was reassuring—but at the same time, deeply threatening. As time passed, laws were created, stronger weapons developed, and dungeon materials refined into tools. But one thing had never changed.
‘Before they were Espers or Guides, they were people.’
Espers and Guides weren’t like typical professions. You couldn’t just decide to become one, and you couldn’t quit simply because you wanted to. But becoming an Esper didn’t mean they turned into aliens. They were people who could be hurt, wounded—sometimes just by a few careless words.
“Take him.”
Seo-ha handed Han Ju-oh over without hesitation.
Even under Yoon Ji-guk’s suspicious gaze, as if searching for some hidden trick, Seo-ha remained perfectly composed.
“But this time, you’ll have no choice but to release him sooner.”
“If he refuses guiding again, we’ll proceed according to the law.”
“The law?”
Seo-ha tilted his head as he looked at Han Ju-oh. His eyes narrowed, clearly saying: You already know everything, so why drag this out?
In response, Seo-ha winked.
‘I’ve been bottling this up for so long. You’re saying I can’t even have this much fun?’
‘Keep it in check.’
Han Ju-oh’s stare warned him that if Seo-ha pushed any further, he’d speak up himself. Seo-ha pouted slightly. In truth, he wanted to stick around and watch them try to take Han Ju-oh away. No—he wanted to drag this whole thing out for days if he could…
“No matter which Guide you bring in, guiding won’t work. It’s absolutely impossible.”
Yoon Ji-guk stared at Seo-ha, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. Just as he seemed on the verge of catching on, Seo-ha dropped the bomb.
“Han Ju-oh is my imprinted Esper.”
Watching Yoon Ji-guk’s face crack like shattered glass was immensely satisfying.
“You’re not trying to test something with an imprinted Esper, are you? Like, I don’t know—creating a situation on the edge of a rampage to try guiding him?”
Seo-ha’s bright, cheery smile was nothing like before. At that, Yoon Ji-guk realized—So, they imprinted after all.
Seo-ha made sure to smile prettily, just sweet enough that no one could spit on such a happy face.
“Seo-ha.”
Han Ju-oh’s displeased voice was directed at him.
“Don’t smile at anyone else.”
“Come on, why wouldn’t I be smiling? Everything just worked out, that’s all.”
“Still, you should only smile at me. Want me to flip this place upside down?”
“……”
Seo-ha pressed his lips together, speechless. Yoon Ji-guk watched the two of them with a look of absolute disgust.
