“Mr. Nabin.”
Lee Hayan infused his voice with mana as he called out to Nabin. The vague, unfocused look in Nabin’s eyes slowly began to sharpen with clarity.
Locking eyes with Nabin’s pale-colored irises, Hayan softly called his name again—his voice low and gentle, as if willing Nabin to look at him.
“Mr. Nabin.”
Nabin’s gaze, which had been drifting aimlessly in the void, finally aligned with those deep, dark eyes. Slowly, Nabin, who had been trapped in the nightmare of a terrible memory, began to come back to himself.
Through the crimson haze clouding his vision, the unfamiliar face of a man came into view. It was a well-defined, neat face—someone he didn’t recognize.
A complete stranger. The man’s expressionless face gave off a cold impression at first glance. Yet, the warmth in his eyes as he looked at Nabin gently thawed the frozen core of Nabin’s heart.
Only then could Nabin recall what had just happened. The monsters that had stolen his father from him when he was a child had returned—right before his eyes.
That day had upended Nabin’s entire life. The monster, baring its massive teeth and drooling as it had back then, reeked with the exact same foul stench as it had in his memory.
“Ah… ah…”
He could do nothing but freeze in helpless terror. Though he’d grown into an adult, Nabin hadn’t overcome the fear that had seared itself into his childhood. A faint memory surfaced—Mr. Kim shielding him with his own body, pushing him back.
It was exactly like back then. Paralyzed with fear, Nabin had once again driven someone he cared about into the jaws of death. The regret was crushing. If only he’d been able to protect his father. He’d regretted it over and over again.
Tears spilled down his pale cheeks. He wanted to say something—anything—but no words would form, just trembling on his lips.
Only now did it feel real—he had finally broken free from the nightmare and returned to reality. But the reality he faced was monstrous in its own right.
Nabin moved his trembling gaze to search for Mr. Kim. The man was right by his side, wiping away his own tears, gripping Nabin’s shoulder as he sobbed, releasing the sobs he had been holding back.
The look in Nabin’s eyes as he stared at Mr. Kim was painfully fragile, as if his soul was fracturing. He cried like someone who had never truly learned how to weep, sorrow leaking from him in pitiful waves, wrenching the old man’s heart.
“Nabin-ah, it’s okay… we both made it out alive… stop crying now, kid…”
He tried to comfort the boy with soft pats on his small shoulders, but the tears rolling down his cheeks only kept flowing, stubbornly refusing to stop.
“Mr. Nabin, it’s all right. You’re safe now.”
“Hhh… ah…”
Despite his cold appearance, Hayan was always courteous and well-mannered to most people. But even so, he wasn’t the type to go so far as to wipe a stranger’s tears with his own hands.
And yet, he didn’t stop his hand from reaching out. Almost instinctively, Hayan’s large palm gently brushed the tears from Nabin’s eyes.
Those tear-filled eyes, which had been staring blankly at the older miner who had saved him, now turned toward Hayan. His face was deathly pale, but the rims of his eyes were flushed red.
The tears wouldn’t stop. Hayan’s face was getting soaked as he tried to wipe them away, though the flow of new tears outpaced his efforts. Still, as if to share his warmth, he continued to gently caress Nabin’s face.
Mr. Kim, who had been sniffling while watching Nabin, found himself quietly observing the subtle energy flowing between Nabin and Hayan like an outsider.
For a moment, he felt relieved—as if the hard life Nabin had led was finally starting to bloom into something better. And yet, there was also a twinge of melancholy, the odd feeling of seeing the child he had raised with such care now stepping into the world of romance.
But it was still a happy ending. They’d thought for sure they would die. Mr. Kim had injured one arm, but it wasn’t serious and he’d already received treatment. Nabin, aside from the emotional shock, hadn’t been physically harmed. It was a miracle.
“Esper Lee Hayan!”
At the sound of someone calling his name, Hayan withdrew his hand from Nabin’s face. A faint trace of reluctance lingered in his fingertips, but he had work to do. The Espers who had entered the dungeon with him were now approaching.
It was understandable—they would’ve been flustered to suddenly lose the leader they were meant to follow. It had only been thanks to Hayan that they’d detected the presence of the distant A-rank monster in the first place. From their perspective, it was as if he’d vanished without a word.
As Hayan rose to his feet, Nabin’s eyes followed his back with a flicker of lingering yearning.
The warmth on his face was gradually fading, leaving behind a hollow sense of loss. Ever since he was young, Nabin had been tormented by Kim Minsu, the loan sharks, and adults who used him. As a result, he had developed a fear of strangers—especially large, imposing men.
By appearance alone, Hayan was no less intimidating than those men. But the gentle gaze and the warm touch he offered had, for a fleeting moment, calmed the constant storm inside Nabin’s heart.
It felt like he’d returned to that peaceful time before his father’s death, when the three of them—his family—had been happy together. Like he was curled up inside the safety of a warm nest.
When Hayan stood up, Nabin’s fingers trembled unconsciously—as if his body wanted to reach out and hold onto the retreating back.
But he gave up quickly.
Hayan was someone from a different world entirely. Though Nabin hadn’t received much education—he hadn’t even properly attended school—he still knew how highly Espers were regarded in Korea.
And Hayan was clearly a high-ranking Esper. There could be no overlap between their lives. What happened today had been nothing more than a chance encounter, a random twist of fate. A fleeting accident born from countless coincidences.
Eventually, Nabin’s gaze, which had been trailing Hayan’s back, dropped to the ground with a hollow thud. The fleeting warmth he’d felt moments ago vanished like a sandcastle swept away by a rising tide.
“Where on earth did you disappear to without a word?”
Hayan cast a brief glance at the Esper questioning him before turning his attention back to Nabin. Nabin had lowered his head at some point, hiding his face entirely.
“Please wait just a moment.”
The Esper, puzzled, watched as Hayan approached the miner sitting collapsed on the ground. Moments ago, Hayan had vanished without warning, and now that they’d followed his trail, something about the atmosphere felt… off. Then the Esper’s gaze landed on the scattered Mana Stones on the floor and the injured middle-aged miner.
“Don’t tell me… there was a monster here?”
Leaving the other Esper to his muttering, Hayan crouched down in front of Nabin. The warmth radiating from his proximity made Nabin slowly lift his bowed head. When their eyes met again, a faint smile played across Hayan’s lips.
“Will you hold onto this for me? It’s something precious.”
Hayan pulled out a black bracelet adorned with a violet butterfly pendant. It was an artifact designed to protect its wearer. Without waiting for Nabin to respond, who just stared blankly at the artifact without reaching for it, Hayan gently grasped his wrist and fastened it himself.
It was something he’d cherished—a keepsake from his late mother. But to Hayan, it seemed like Nabin needed it far more than he did. As an S-rank Esper, Hayan had little use for the artifact’s protective function. He’d only kept it all this time because it was his mother’s memento.
They’d only met today, but for some reason, Hayan couldn’t get Nabin out of his mind. When he held his wrist to secure the bracelet, it struck him just how alarmingly thin it was. And that gaunt face—cheekbones jutting out—lingered vividly in his vision.
The fact that someone this young was doing such a dangerous job as a miner was proof enough that his life hadn’t been easy. Hayan silently hoped that this small gesture—his gift—might bring Nabin even a sliver of comfort.
As he looked at the bracelet now starkly contrasting against Nabin’s pale wrist, an unexpected ripple stirred in a corner of his heart. Remembering the soft feel of that fragile skin under his fingertips, Hayan quietly curled his hand into a loose fist.
“Why are you… giving me this?”
Nabin’s trembling gaze stayed fixed on the bracelet Hayan had secured around his wrist, as if transfixed. Even in the gloom of the dungeon, the violet butterfly pendant shimmered with a strange, lifelike glow.
Receiving something with no strings attached was almost unheard of in Nabin’s life. If he looked back, it hadn’t happened since his father died and his mother fell ill. What Mr. Kim occasionally handed him—food or necessities—felt completely different from this.
Sometimes, even Kim Minsu had given him extravagant gifts. Like what happened last time.
This past winter had been brutal—news reports called it the harshest cold snap in a decade. Nabin, who couldn’t even afford regular meals, had no chance of buying a coat thick enough to shield him from the icy winds that cut like blades. He spent the season in a single worn, threadbare jumper that made even passersby shiver just looking at him.
Maybe that’s why Kim Minsu had taken notice. Last Christmas, he’d handed Nabin a heavy winter parka. It came in a shopping bag from a major department store, and even someone as clueless about fashion as Nabin could tell it was expensive.
The setting was the Black Finance office. When he saw Mangchi—standing next to Kim Minsu—look startled at the brand label, Nabin understood it must be high-end.
But he couldn’t accept the gift. If it had been tossed at him like a charity handout, he might’ve taken it without shame. The padding had been soft—soft enough to make that biting winter almost bearable.
He’d grown up watching people’s moods, walking on eggshells. So it was painfully clear what he saw in Kim Minsu’s eyes as he handed him the gift—that base, predatory desire, almost tangible.
And if he accepted it, Kim Minsu would surely expect something in return. That return would no doubt drag Nabin even deeper into hell. Nabin wasn’t smart, but even he could sense it. Year after year, Kim Minsu grew more brazen in showing his sickening obsession with him.
