Kim Minsu sensed it with the instinct of a wild beast. He didn’t know the reason, but the K Ability User Center wanted Nabin—and that meant they were going to take him away.
So instead of obeying their summons, Kim Minsu chose to run. He’d given the staff a compliant “yes,” but his mind was already fixed on escape. The thought that what he was doing was a serious crime never even crossed his mind.
He’d committed so many sins already—what was one more? Being branded a criminal was nothing compared to losing Nabin. Nabin was his. He would never let anyone else take him.
Looking down at Nabin, who was still unconscious in his arms, barely breathing, Kim Minsu muttered like a man possessed. His hand stroked Nabin’s fine strands of hair, the tips trembling slightly without him realizing it.
“He’s mine. Nobody’s taking him. Fuck—if they try, I’ll kill him first.”
The sight was enough to make anyone shiver. The subordinate behind the wheel caught his boss’s deranged eyes through the rearview mirror, swallowed down a rising sigh, and fixed his attention on the road.
As ordered, he was speeding out of Seoul toward Incheon Port, ignoring every traffic light, weaving through lanes by inches, even driving into oncoming traffic. It was reckless enough that one slip could mean catastrophe.
He’d done plenty of dirty work under Kim Minsu, but nothing compared to what his boss had done to Nabin.
The first thing he’d thrown away when he entered this line of work was pity. Compassion was useless here, a dead weight. And yet, whenever he looked at Nabin, all he could feel was pity.
Kim Minsu was insane. He might have liked Nabin in some twisted way, but without realizing it himself, all he did was ruin him. It was like a child who loved a toy so much he couldn’t stop himself from breaking it.
How affection turned into destruction, he couldn’t fathom. There were plenty of lunatics in this world, but Kim Minsu was the worst of them.
He’d had Nabin under his thumb for five years. The moment Nabin turned twenty, Kim Minsu devoured him first, then worked him to the bone until he was worn out by countless others.
In such establishments, the daily maximum for a Guide was ten clients. But in reality, it was rare for anyone to reach that number. The prices were steep, and even three or four clients a day were enough to wear a Guide down. Bosses usually worked within those limits.
But not Kim Minsu. He forced Nabin to fill all ten slots, every single day. And he somehow kept him alive, never letting him die—so deliberately cruel that the subordinate thought if it were him, he would’ve killed himself a dozen times already. Calling Nabin’s life harsh didn’t even begin to cover it. It was nothing short of hell.
In a way, what happened today might be a blessing for Nabin. For reasons unknown, the Center had come looking for him—the same Nabin they’d left neglected for so long.
There was no guarantee his life would improve at the Center. But it had to be better than being ground into the dirt under Kim Minsu. Even if he still had to Guide Espers, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as working in an illegal den—especially not under Kim Minsu.
Maybe the subordinate’s silent wish had reached someone. As the black sedan hurtled dangerously toward Incheon Port, narrowly avoiding collision after collision, several cars closed in around them, all bearing the K Ability User Center logo.
Even though Kim Minsu had cut off contact with the Center the moment they called, they had already dispatched Ability Users to retrieve Nabin. Their response was frighteningly fast.
“Boss! The Center’s people are on us!”
“Step on it!”
“Got it, boss!”
Kim Minsu, already catching sight of the situation outside, shouted hoarsely. His subordinate bit his lip hard and pressed the accelerator until the speedometer needle trembled red.
The car jolted violently as it skimmed past midday traffic. Even in Kim Minsu’s arms, Nabin wasn’t spared from the impact. At last, his eyes fluttered open.
He thought he’d see the same tiny prison-like room—but this was different. Through blurred vision, unfamiliar scenery raced past outside.
Panicking, Nabin writhed to escape Kim Minsu’s grasp. Kim Minsu’s hand clamped around his throat in warning.
“Don’t move. Unless you want to die right here.”
“Kh—Y-Yes…”
The grip was merciless. Nabin coughed dryly, forced to croak out a reply. His eyes burned hot, and he bit down on his trembling lips, desperate to calm the shudders wracking his body. But once fear had taken hold, it refused to let go.
He didn’t understand the situation, but one thing was certain: Kim Minsu was in an even fouler mood than usual. And whenever that happened, Nabin suffered.
The only way to lessen the blows was to never resist—just obey.
Nabin was like a dog trained on violence. If Kim Minsu told him to bark, he barked. If ordered to show his belly, he obeyed. Less than human.
Even as the world around him spun into chaos, he didn’t dare think of escape. All he wished was for the storm to pass, for Kim Minsu’s mood to settle, and for the day to end without more torment.
His frail fingers clutched Kim Minsu’s clothes so tightly the bones jutted out, when suddenly the car, swerving like a stunt, lost control and slammed into the guardrail.
“Urraghhh!”
“FUCK!!”
The driver and Kim Minsu screamed at once. Nabin couldn’t even cry out—he just squeezed his eyes shut.
CRASH! SCREEEECH!
The black sedan smashed into the guardrail and flipped. Its roof scraped the asphalt with a piercing screech.
The impact was enough to crush steel. Fragile human bodies stood no chance. Kim Minsu instinctively shielded Nabin, but he couldn’t stop Nabin’s head from smashing against the window.
His pale face was drenched in blood. And Kim Minsu, who had taken the brunt of the impact, was in even worse condition—battered unconscious.
Nabin’s ears rang with a piercing whine. His eyelids barely lifted, but the world remained drenched in red. His skull throbbed as if it would split. The acrid stench of burning metal, the tang of blood covering his face, all churned together until nausea roiled in his gut.
His face was so soaked in blood—his own and Kim Minsu’s—that his features were barely recognizable.
Without a seatbelt, his body was tangled with Kim Minsu’s in the overturned wreck. He tried to move his fingers, to push away, but only trembled weakly—even breathing hurt.
Espers from the K Ability User Center swarmed the wreck. At the front was Han Jigang, an S-rank Fire Elemental Esper, who quickly extinguished the flames that threatened to blow the car sky-high.
“Damn. It’s totaled.”
Han Jigang glanced through the shattered window at the driver—already dead—and muttered casually. The back seat was too crumpled to see clearly.
“Han Jigang, get the Guide out. He’s supposed to be your personal Guide.”
At the words of Kim Yong-ho, an A-rank Wind Esper, Han Jigang waved a hand in irritation. The wrecked side of the car instantly melted into molten steel, spilling onto the asphalt.
It was precise—melting only the car while sparing the people inside. Kim Yong-ho swept the toxic smoke away with a gust.
“So which one’s the Guide? Don’t tell me it’s this kid?”
“Don’t you feel it?”
Han Jigang pointed at Nabin, a bloody wreck entangled with Kim Minsu. Unsure, Kim Yong-ho asked back.
They’d been told the Center had found a Guide with a staggering 95% match rate with three different S-rank Espers. Officially, he was only D-rank, but while most Espers struggled to hit even 20% with any Guide, this one had matched three S-ranks over 95%. Naturally, the Center had taken notice.
When a staff member first contacted him, they immediately reported something strange to their superiors. Since three S-rank Espers were involved, the report went straight to the director. And upon hearing it, the director had dispatched five Espers of A-rank and above without delay.
