Lee Hayan was pulled from his wandering thoughts when Nabin, after receiving Ryu Soh-an’s gift, slipped behind him like a fledgling seeking the shelter of its nest.
Hayan couldn’t tell if Nabin had done it consciously, but that small tug at his sleeve made all the difference. With it, he found himself able to accept even the unfamiliar feelings and the regrets of the past with gratitude.
The past was beyond his reach, unchangeable. But the present—and the future—still offered a chance to be different.
He resolved to stop comparing himself with Ryu Soh-an, to let go of that petty habit. All he needed to do was give his best in his own way.
Hayan shifted his hand, gently enclosing Nabin’s smaller one, and led him toward the mansion. While Nabin shrank from the gazes and touches of others, the warmth he offered Hayan in return filled him with immeasurable thankfulness.
Ryu Soh-an let his eyes linger briefly on their joined hands before following behind. He, too, longed to hold Nabin’s other hand, but he knew that would be going too far.
Regret flickered through his restless fingers, and he turned his gaze toward the mansion instead. Since it was his first visit, he thought to make a polite comment—but the garden was barren.
It was so desolate he almost wanted to ask why Hayan had chosen a house with such a vast yard at all. Quietly pressing his lips together, he stepped inside.
The mansion’s exterior was striking and grand. All the homes in this neighborhood were luxurious, but Hayan’s carried an aura that subtly outshone the rest.
“Your house is spacious and beautiful.”
The interior, however, was as bare as the garden, stripped of almost everything that could be called furniture. Removing his shoes, Ryu Soh-an spoke only out of courtesy, his words plain and restrained.
In the living room, a solitary sofa sat awkwardly on its own. In his mind, he pictured dozens of pieces that would have suited the place perfectly.
The stark emptiness spoke volumes about Hayan’s character. Startled, Ryu Soh-an forced an awkward smile, tugging his lips upward to hide his reaction.
“You can sit here.”
Hayan pointed casually to the sofa. Without letting go of Nabin’s hand, he led him upstairs.
In the largest room on the second floor—now Nabin’s room—Hayan sat him on the bed and spoke softly.
“If treatment feels too difficult, you don’t have to come down. Esper Ryu Soh-an is an S-rank who specializes in psychological healing. He’s the best person you could see. But more important than that is your choice, Nabin.”
At those gentle words, Nabin’s eyes dropped to their joined hands. His own looked pale and frail in Hayan’s large grasp. The cold had chapped his skin, and malnutrition had cracked his nails.
Ashamed, he tried to curl his fingers away, but Hayan’s steady warmth embraced him, as if cradling his heart. Nabin repeated his words silently in his mind.
He knew the truth: he was sick. Deeply so. The panic attack from being in a crowded place wasn’t something anyone would call normal. Or maybe it was closer to the truth to admit he no longer knew what “normal” even meant.
From a young age, he had been cast into the world without a single adult to protect him. No one had been there for the little boy who struggled even to feed himself.
Instead, those small hands had to prepare meals for his mother. And when school began, he learned about the wider world—but school was no less painful.
The day Kim Minsu came knocking because of his stepfather’s debts, his life became nothing but hardship. Even eating once a day felt like a luxury.
He worked himself ragged, even cutting away sleep to pay the crushing interest. And the moment he turned twenty, he was forced to surrender his last defense—his own body.
For Nabin, physical touch became nothing more than the beginning of something sexual. He had spent countless nights with countless men, but never once had it brought him joy.
They wore blissful expressions as they climbed over him, but all he felt was the agony of having his soul torn apart.
He no longer knew what it meant to feel okay. And still, the panic he’d suffered at the department store had been far from normal.
Those were strangers, passing without a glance, yet he had seen hallucinations of them rushing at him, trying to kill him. If, on top of that, memories of those people and their acts resurfaced… he wasn’t sure he’d survive with his sanity intact.
But one thing gave him hope: unlike when he had been classified as a D-rank Guide, becoming an Immeasurable Guide had brought Hayan back into his life.
Since that moment, everything had changed. He no longer followed Kim Minsu back to that decrepit house, no longer had his first time stolen. He lived in the mansion with his mother, and even reunited with Kim Su-hyun, who had once died because of him.
Hayan had become the light of his life in a single meeting. Even in his final moment of despair, the Artifact Hayan had given him had kept him from being alone.
The scars and dried blood on his wrist, and the pendant itself, remained as proof.
They reminded him that everything before he’d slit his wrist had been real, not a dream.
He didn’t know how it had happened. Perhaps, he wondered vaguely, his father—the one he’d met in a dream—had been the one who helped him.
The Artifact was gone, but in its place was Hayan’s hand, warm and firm around his own. That warmth kept him going. From that touch, a delicate heat spread, soothing his wounded heart.
The black eyes fixed on him brimmed with love so deep it threatened to swallow him whole. It was a gaze that reminded him of his father’s—and yet, not the same.
What they shared was this: no matter what Nabin did, both gazes carried the quiet promise of always being by his side.
If he truly had been given another chance at life… then this time, he wanted to show his father in heaven that he could live happily.
Since that dream, the thought had weighed heavily on him. Remembering his father’s suffering hurt so much it felt like his heart was being ripped apart alive.
Dad, I’m okay now… No, I will be okay. I won’t just cry like a fool anymore. This time, I want to live happily—like when you were still with me.
Nabin whispered to his father above, making a vow to himself. For the father who had died without ever finding peace, and for his own sake, he resolved not to run or hide any longer just because he was afraid.
That resolve slipped quietly from his lips. His voice was soft but steady.
“…I’ll get treatment. I want to.”
He tightened his grip on Hayan’s hand. It had taken all his strength to decide, and he knew he might crumble during the process. The wounds etched into his heart would not heal easily.
But still, it felt okay. Looking into those black eyes, unwavering and warm, gave him the courage to step forward instead of clinging to the past.
***
“Guide Kim Nabin, I’m going to take your hand now. If it’s too much, pull away right away, understood?”
After making his decision, Nabin went downstairs and sat on the sofa beside Ryu Soh-an. Though he had steeled himself, sitting this close left his lips dry.
To reassure him, Ryu Soh-an sat at a cautious distance, stretching his hand toward him slowly.
But Nabin’s eyes squeezed shut. Again and again, Soh-an’s face blurred into someone else’s, a phantom overlapping in his vision. Along with that face came the others tied to him, and the memories of what they had done, rising in a painful chain reaction.
The urge to run—to disappear where no one could see him—flared up like wildfire. His body trembled and shifted restlessly, caught in the storm of his racing heart.
“Nabin, it’s okay.”
As Ryu Soh-an froze mid-reach, Hayan stepped closer and gently took Nabin’s trembling hand.
The familiar warmth made Nabin lift his quivering eyelids. Meeting those night-sky eyes eased his ragged breaths.
Holding hands with Ryu Soh-an should have been a small thing. But for Nabin, it was as daunting as a crawling child standing to take their very first step.
A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he could wait, that he could try again later. But Nabin bit down hard on his lip and steadied himself.
