The room held nothing more than a single bed still wrapped in its plastic covering and a built-in wardrobe. In one corner, unopened boxes were stacked haphazardly. It was such a bare, pitiful space that it hardly seemed part of the mansion that inspired awe just by its appearance. Nabin’s brows sank, as though he understood all too well what his existence meant to the people here.
But soon his eyes caught on the large window that took up part of one wall. For such a small room, it was surprisingly big, framing the garden outside like a painting. The pine tree draped in a blanket of white snow stood out in particular. That detail alone made Nabin love the room.
Compared to the grandeur of the mansion, it was modest, yes—but far better than the shabby house he once shared with his mother, or the cramped, suffocating room he’d used while staying at the establishment.
“This room’s… nice.”
The words came from the heart. Slowly, Nabin moved across the bed on his knees until he reached the wide window.
He pressed his palm against the glass, feeling the chill bite into his skin. He didn’t even notice how cold his hands had become—he simply set both palms against the glass and stared endlessly outside. The swing that swayed faintly whenever the wind blew, the pine tree that bore the weight of passing time with quiet dignity, the grass that slumbered now but would burst into bloom when spring came—all of it was so beautiful he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“…I want to ride that swing, just once.”
He wasn’t the kind of person to wish for much, but strangely, the desire to sit in that swing lingered stubbornly. Han Jigang’s warning had been sharp and merciless, so he knew he should discard any such thought. And yet, the small yearning coiled itself inside him and refused to leave.
“Haa…”
A sigh slipped from his lips. His breath warmed the cold pane, fogging it over with a white haze. As he stared at the misted glass, a memory surfaced from long ago.
“Nabin-ah, breathe on it—haa.”
“Like this? Haa.”
“That’s my boy. See how it’s turning cloudy?”
“Yeah!”
“Now Daddy will hold your hand, like this, and draw a line… Ta-da.”
“Wow…!”
“Neat, right?”
“Uh-huh! Daddy, let me try too!”
“Then this time Daddy will blow. Haa…”
Nabin raised his grown fingers and traced two curved lines onto the glass. Alone, each line seemed unstable, but when they joined, they formed the shape of a heart.
“…I miss you, Dad.”
Even at twenty-five, he still longed for his father. Desperately. Having seen him recently in a dream, the ache inside had only grown heavier. Tears slipped soundlessly down his pale face, painting the glass before fading once more into frost. As always, he let his tears melt away along with the loneliness and endless longing.
***
BAM, BAM, BAM!
“…Ah.”
Nabin, drifting in light sleep, jolted upright at the deafening pounding on his door.
“Hey, you still in bed?”
“I—I’m up…”
He had fallen asleep only near dawn, after gazing out the window all night until the sun began to rise. His body, hardly rested, swayed with fatigue, but he hurried from the bed to open the door.
Han Jigang’s fierce face filled the doorway. Nabin lowered his head at once. An apology nearly slipped out, but remembering Jigang’s warning to keep quiet, he bit his lips hard instead.
“Pretty cushy life you’ve got.”
Not knowing what else to say, Nabin’s lips worked soundlessly. Jigang jabbed a finger at his slumped shoulder. Still weak from sleep, Nabin had no strength to resist and toppled backward at the light touch.
“Ugh…”
Pain shot through his right wrist as it bent awkwardly when he tried to catch himself. He clutched it with his left hand, but the throbbing only worsened. Jigang hadn’t meant to knock him down, and for a second, he froze, too startled even to help him up.
“You’re a man—why the hell are your legs so weak? Shit, anyone who saw would think I actually hit you.”
Instead of apologizing, he twisted the blame back onto Nabin. It was a treatment Nabin knew all too well. Fighting tears, he forced his lips into a small, crooked smile. He tried to push himself up, though pain pulsed from both his wrist and his bruised tailbone. Still, lying there wasn’t an option. Pain like this… was almost as familiar as loneliness.
Something tight pressed against Jigang’s chest as he watched the boy smile even while clearly hurt. It was like choking on sticky rice cakes with no water to wash them down. Most people looked like idiots to him, but Nabin was a different kind of broken. Being around him stirred up unwelcome, unfamiliar feelings. So Jigang brushed it aside and got straight to the point.
“You know the deal, right? Until all our Outbreak Risk Indexes drop below thirty, we’ve gotta fuck you.”
“Yes…”
That much had been drilled into him by the center staff, like brainwashing. Every day, three Espers—until their Outbreak Risk fell below thirty. The thought alone drained the color from his face.
Since being pulled out of the establishment, he hadn’t guided anyone. Those days, untouched by grasping hands, had been bliss. …And now, having to guide people he didn’t care for again made the world go black. Even the faint smile he’d forced onto his lips began to fade.
“What’s with that fucked-up face? Upset?”
Jigang’s voice dropped cold, like a blade against ice. Nabin snapped his head up, shaking it desperately. He must have triggered Jigang’s irritation.
“You’ve been passed around by hundreds, maybe thousands of nameless nobodies. But me and the others? We’re not them.”
In that moment, Nabin felt like the filthiest thing alive. Even trash by the roadside wouldn’t be looked at with such contempt. He was used to stares like that. But Jigang’s cutting gaze and words shredded his already tattered heart.
His lips trembled as though to speak, but he couldn’t form the words. Anything he said would be nothing but an excuse. And Jigang’s words weren’t wrong. He remembered the names he’d been called back at the establishment: Slut, fag, whore, bitch…
There were worse, words too vile to repeat. Only Kim Minsu and Uncle Mangchi had ever called him by his real name. When his name disappeared, his dignity crumbled with it. Back under the sun, being called by name and treated like a person had made him forget—just for a little while. Forget the cruel truth: that he had already been defiled beyond repair. That he was filthier than trash thrown into a bin.
“Now that’s the face of someone who knows his place. Keep it that way—unless you want to get kicked out and sent back to that pit.”
“Y-yes…”
His lips shook as he forced out the words. Even if this place was hell, it was still better than where he’d come from. That hope, at least, remained. They’d given him a room with sunlight and a beautiful view. They’d said he could use the bathroom, the toilet, the kitchen with food in it. Compared to that suffocating, stinking room that barely fit a bed, this was paradise. Most of all, guiding here meant his mother could receive better treatment.
“My Outbreak Risk Index is fifty-nine right now. If it goes over sixty, I’ll get dragged in front of the Center Director and lectured for days. That pisses me off more than anything, so that’s why I’m here. Got it?”
“Yes…”
“Then strip.”
With that, Jigang stepped inside and closed the door. Nabin wanted to at least wash his face first, but… it wasn’t the kind of atmosphere where he could ask. Resigned, he began to undress slowly. His hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons, sweat making his fingers slip again and again.
Even at the snail’s pace, Jigang said nothing, simply watching in silence.
Rustle… slide…
At last, Nabin removed the final piece of clothing. His garments lay tangled on the floor like a heap of rags.
His thin frame shook under Jigang’s cold stare, ribs jutting out sharply, but Jigang only jerked his chin toward the bed. Stumbling, Nabin climbed onto it and lay on his stomach.
Spreading his legs, positioning himself on all fours like a dog, he scanned the room desperately for something—anything—that might help. There was nothing. He would have to accept the Esper like this, unprepared. Tears welled in his eyes as he yanked the blanket to his mouth, biting down hard.
No matter how much it hurt, no matter how unbearable… he couldn’t scream. He couldn’t cry out. All he could do was pray that the Esper pressing close behind him wasn’t too big. That was the only hope left to him.
