Han Jigang left only those words behind and vanished swiftly. Nabin’s gaze lingered on the dim corridor where he had disappeared. Only when the man was completely gone did Nabin quietly close the door. His mind felt hazy, as if a spell had just been broken.
Was that just some cheap pity…? No, that’s not it. I’m already the cheap one… His pity was far too costly.
With that thought, Nabin opened the lid of the Healing Potion. On any other day, he would have agonized over whether he should use it at all, only to end up leaving it untouched.
But this time he had no choice. The pain he had forced himself to ignore came rushing back, unbearable and overwhelming.
It wasn’t just his right wrist, where the flesh had already turned a dark crimson-black. The small cuts scattered across his hands didn’t even count as pain compared to the rest.
The moment he stood, the savage damage done to his lower body throbbed so viciously he almost wished he could just cut it away. Rather than easing with time, the pain only deepened.
Stripping off his clothes, Nabin carefully applied the potion bit by bit onto his wounds. Even with just a small amount, the cool sting spread, and the wounds began knitting closed.
From now on, every time he guided S-rank Espers, this potion would be essential. Without its help, daily guiding would be all but impossible.
After treating the worst of his injuries, Nabin hesitated. He dabbed only a little onto the grotesquely swollen wrist, leaving the smaller cuts untouched, and then shut the lid.
He set the potion gently on the nightstand, then curled himself into the corner again. Only the throbbing ache of half-healed wounds remained by his side.
Though the sun blazed bright in the sky, everything around him seemed endlessly dim. It wasn’t truly dark—it only appeared that way, as if the despair filling his chest had spilled outward, staining the world before his eyes.
I should strip the sheets and wash them…
But the thought withered before it became action. For now, he just wanted the relentless tide of thoughts in his head to stop, even for a little while.
The Center staff had told him he would have to guide every day until the three Espers’ Outbreak Risk Index dropped below 30.
And yet after guiding only one person today, he was already more drained than after an entire day of work at the brothel. Not just his body—his heart sank heavy, like cotton soaked through with water.
Only the meaningless tears pooling under his chin and dropping one by one made him aware of time’s slow passage.
But solitude didn’t last. Without so much as a knock, the door burst open, and Tae Yishin stepped into Nabin’s room.
For an instant Nabin thought Han Jigang had returned, but the hair was different. Their builds were similar, but the hair color set them apart.
Unlike Han Jigang, Tae Yishin had hair like threads spun from molten silver. Sunlight through the window splintered across it, scattering in dazzling shards.
Nabin hurried to rise from the bed, roughly wiping away the tears staining his face. No matter what he did, he couldn’t hide the tear-streaked skin and raw redness of his eyes. But fear of Tae Yishin left him moving compulsively.
“I need Guiding.”
This was the same man who, not long ago, had treated him like trash—who had even told him to throw away the dining table and chair just because he’d sat down to eat.
Perhaps that was why, deep down, Nabin had dared hope such a person wouldn’t want Guiding at all. After all, Guiding required physical contact. He hadn’t believed the Esper before him would ever tolerate that.
“The Center Director said if I don’t get guided by you, he’ll ship me off to the Southern Hemisphere tomorrow. What choice do I have? I’d rather get guided than deal with that.”
Tae Yishin almost kindly answered the unspoken question swimming in Nabin’s tear-bright eyes. His voice was smooth, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in his gaze as it rested on him.
“Han Jigang really has no manners. He should’ve cleaned up properly before leaving. What’s this? The sheets are filthy.”
Walking closer, Tae Yishin only looked at the bed, unwilling to touch it. He hadn’t wanted Nabin in his own quarters, so he’d come here instead—but the state of the room was appalling.
“No fresh sheets? You’ve just been sitting here crying instead of changing them?”
Though his tone was gentle, every word was edged like a blade. At his rebuke, Nabin moved toward the closet.
Thanks to Han Jigang’s potion, his legs no longer limped, but his steps were weak and heavy. He opened the closet and stepped aside so Tae Yishin could see.
As he remembered, there were no fresh sheets inside. Only his few modest belongings, neatly stored in one corner.
He showed it with action because his lips, stiff with fear, refused to move.
Seeing the empty closet, Tae Yishin’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.
“What, are you mute? You opened the closet instead of answering because you didn’t want to speak to me, right?”
Even though he disliked guides, it still stung to see one so clearly unwilling to even talk to him.
“N-no, that’s not it…”
The words slipped out weakly, but Tae Yishin’s eyes had already turned cold.
“Liar.”
Nabin’s neck shrank. A subtle, razor-sharp aura bled from Tae Yishin, cutting toward him.
It was as if a finely honed blade pressed against his artery. One breath, and it would pierce straight into his throat. He didn’t dare exhale, holding it tight in his mouth.
Just like the first day he’d met him, Nabin pressed his legs together, curling his toes tight, terrified of making any misstep. The tears he had fought to hold back slid down his cheeks again.
Looking down at the pitiful figure trembling like a rain-soaked puppy, Tae Yishin spoke his name. The title was polite, but his tone dripped with contempt.
“Guide Kim Nabin.”
“Y-yes…”
Nabin’s voice shook like a leaf in the wind. He braced himself for the next sharp words that might tear him apart.
“Come suck.”
Nabin raised his gaze in shock. His eyes widened, but Tae Yishin only wiped away the mocking smile on his face and repeated more firmly:
“Crawl over like a dog and suck.”
He sat on the cleaner part of the sheet and spread his legs. Nabin knew exactly what that meant.
The light drained from his eyes. With weary resignation, he lowered himself to the floor, bracing his palms and knees, and crawled forward as ordered.
Every movement made him tremble. Even the short distance left him faltering, swaying as though about to collapse. His vision blurred, but still he crawled toward Tae Yishin.
“Can I… touch?”
Kneeling submissively, Nabin carefully sought permission. He’d learned well—too many clients had struck him when he reached out without asking.
“You really are cheap. Go ahead. I’d hate to use my own hands.”
Even through the sneer, Nabin managed a faint smile. He undid the buckle and lowered the zipper. From the feel alone, he could tell Tae Yishin wasn’t aroused in the least.
Lowering his gaze as always, he carried out the act he had done countless times before. Fear made him falter, but he never paused long.
“Clumsy, but good. Like you learned it through beatings.”
At that, Nabin froze. Tears slipped down from his trembling lashes.
Because it was true. Every time he failed to satisfy, Kim Minsu dragged him off and beat it into him. His skill never truly improved, but he had learned how to move his hands and mouth.
“Hhh… uhh…”
But guiding Tae Yishin was far from easy. Just like with Han Jigang, the guiding mana flowing through every touch of skin was sucked greedily away.
Whether that ravenous draw was tied to arousal or not, Tae Yishin’s head tilted back, his tongue running across his lips with languid sensuality that heated the air in the room. Soon, the hand that had rested idly moved to the back of Nabin’s head.
“Open your mouth.”
But Nabin’s eyes were already rolling back. The potion had mended his wounds, but it hadn’t restored the crushing fatigue left behind after guiding Han Jigang.
The little guiding mana he had managed to recover was drained away again, stabbing his body like hundreds of needles siphoning blood.
Tae Yishin showed him no mercy, only pressing harder. Nabin let out a pained groan, clutching desperately at the man’s solid thigh, but instead of easing up, Tae Yishin gripped his head with both hands and forced him down.
A languid sigh slipped from Tae Yishin’s red lips.
No wonder Han Jigang’s attitude had softened after being guided by Nabin. It wasn’t bad. No—in truth, “not bad” wasn’t enough. “Quite good” fit better.
So this is what it feels like… to be guided through direct contact by a guide with a Match Rate over ninety percent.
Like a predator sated after feeding, Tae Yishin curved into a lazy smile. Then, instead of yanking at his hair, he loosened his grip, stroking the small back of Nabin’s head with surprising gentleness.
