Nabin didn’t step out of his room until after Kim Su-hyun came to the mansion. Su-hyun had returned from a mission—one that had dragged on much longer than expected—and come straight there. He had thought it would only take a day, but every moment he’d been forced to suppress the urge to abandon his post. Enduring that gnawing frustration day after day had been its own form of torture.
“Why do you keep coming here so often?”
Han Jigang’s irritation showed plainly, but Su-hyun ignored him and immediately asked after Nabin.
“Where’s Guide Kim Nabin?”
He walked straight past the gate Jigang had opened and made for Nabin’s room. Jigang’s brows knitted, but he didn’t block him. He too was worried about Nabin’s condition, so instead he trailed behind.
“He won’t come out. How long do we have to wait? I’ve been holding back like you told me, but I’m at my limit.”
After experiencing Guiding once, the ache of deprivation felt almost like withdrawal. It wasn’t the same as the agony of a spiking Outbreak Risk Index—it was a different kind of torment altogether.
Su-hyun’s words hit a nerve. Jigang knew he’d gone too far with Nabin, and though he’d been forcing himself to wait, the longer it went on, the harder it became to endure.
“I’ll go in first.”
Su-hyun quickened his pace. It had been a long time since he’d last checked on Nabin, and hearing that he hadn’t left his room once in all that time made Su-hyun’s chest tighten.
The Center Director had demanded that Nabin guide S-rank Espers every day. The only reason Nabin was still being allowed to rest was because Jigang had been lying to the Director to cover for him.
The Espers Nabin had already guided had all reverted to their original Outbreak Risk Index levels. That was manageable for Su-hyun and Tae Yishin, but if Gong Min’s rose again, he could very well lose control just like before.
That would mean Nabin being forced to guide Gong Min again in his Beastified state. Before such a nightmare repeated itself, daily Guiding—even in his weakened condition—might be the lesser evil for Nabin as well.
Jigang hadn’t told Su-hyun the full story, but Su-hyun could see enough to know Nabin couldn’t stay shut away forever. That was why they both kept knocking at the door he’d sealed as tightly as his own heart.
“Guide Kim Nabin, this is Esper Kim Su-hyun.”
Su-hyun rapped gently and spoke with care, but the room remained silent. He could only sense a faint presence curled up inside.
He knocked again, then slowly pushed the door open. The bed was empty, its blanket rumpled and limp.
The presence came from the wardrobe. Careful not to silence his steps—so Nabin would hear him approach—Su-hyun walked toward it.
“Guide Kim Nabin.”
“……”
The sound of breathing shifted. Nabin had reacted to his voice. Su-hyun waited, giving him the chance to open the door himself. If he forced it, Nabin might panic.
At last, after a long pause, the hinges gave a faint creak, and the tightly shut door opened just a crack.
The glimpse of Nabin’s hollowed face nearly shattered Su-hyun’s composure. He forced his expression still and mustered a soft, harmless smile.
“This is Esper Kim Su-hyun. Do you recognize me?”
Nabin’s gaze was devoid of strength, his life flickering like a candle flame struggling against the wind.
“…Yes.”
Su-hyun, who had been chewing the inside of his cheek in tension, let out a breath of relief. Thank God. The fact that Nabin answered meant some clarity had returned to him. Gently, he pressed on.
“Are you hungry? How about eating something with me, maybe taking a little walk outside?”
Nabin’s already pale skin had grown ghostly from so long without sunlight. His lips were dry and cracked, painful even to look at.
The thin frame beneath his T-shirt revealed how much more weight he’d lost. He had always been slender, but now his cheekbones jutted sharply, his body wasted to the point of looking malnourished.
Even without a reply, Su-hyun resolved that he would get food into him one way or another.
When Nabin gave the smallest of nods, Su-hyun reached out carefully. Thankfully, Nabin didn’t pull away.
He helped him out of the wardrobe, but Nabin’s legs buckled like those of a newborn animal. His ankles were thinner than Su-hyun’s own wrists. Swallowing hard, Su-hyun steadied him.
“I… I want to wash up…”
Leaning weakly against him, Nabin spoke in a whisper so small it barely carried, eyes fixed downward, never meeting his.
Instead of taking him to the bed, Su-hyun guided him toward the bathroom across the room. He already knew where it was from all the times he had cooled cloths there for Nabin’s fever.
“If it’s too hard… do you want me to help you?”
Even walking was difficult for him. If he slipped on the bathroom floor, his body might shatter. But Nabin shook his head faintly. Su-hyun couldn’t force him. He pushed his worry down.
“Alright. Then I’ll leave some clothes and underwear outside the door. Is it alright if I take them from your wardrobe?”
“…Yes.”
Only after Nabin gave permission did Su-hyun step away, closing the door.
Alone, Nabin pulled off his T-shirt. Even that left him dizzy, forcing him to shut his eyes until the spinning stopped.
When he opened them again, a withered, skeletal body stared back from the mirror. His ribs jutted sharply beneath his skin. He touched them with a lifeless gaze before quickly turning away.
Dragging himself under the shower, he turned on the warm water. As it flowed down from his head, he wished it could wash his memories away as well. A useless hope.
As his mind cleared, memories kept clawing back, and he had to fight not to bite his tongue. His body might have healed, but the torment of being broken like a toy still scraped at his brain.
He thought of his mother, lying in a hospital bed waiting only for him, and clutched the artifact in his hand desperately.
His damp gaze fell to the pendant on his wrist. His cracked lips glistened as he stared at it endlessly, unable to look away.
The violet-tinged butterfly pendant made him feel, for a moment, as if he’d gone back to the time before he was defiled, when he could still breathe.
That was why he hadn’t put the artifact back in its box but kept it fastened at his wrist. Without even that small comfort, it felt like his fragile breath would stop.
He stroked the damp butterfly pendant over and over before finally stepping out from under the water. He took the clothes left at the door, dried off, and put them on.
Though they had been bought in his size, the pants sagged from his hips, his weight loss so severe. He yanked the drawstring as tight as it would go, swallowing down a sigh.
The clothes hung loosely, like borrowed garments, but still—after washing and dressing in something clean, he felt a fragile sense of being human again.
“Guide Kim Nabin, are you dressed?”
“…Yes.”
In truth, every time his mind surfaced from the fog, Nabin trembled in terror, convinced those Espers would burst in and crush him again. But they never invaded the place he hid, not until he came out on his own.
Today, it was only Esper Kim Su-hyun who had carefully approached.
When he opened the bathroom door, Su-hyun greeted him with a gentle smile. Taking Nabin’s frail wrist, he guided him back toward the room.
The warm scent of fresh bread filled the air, welcoming him like an old friend. On the table set to the side were bread, jam, salad, and orange juice, all neatly arranged and waiting for him.
With hesitation, Nabin sank into the chair Su-hyun pulled out. Now that his mind was clearing, his appetite stirred faintly, his stomach trembling at the smell of food.
“Even if you don’t feel like it, you have to eat everything here. You know how dangerously thin you are, don’t you?”
Su-hyun slid the plate of bread toward him, speaking firmly. Nabin gave a small nod. The reflection in the mirror had been ghastly even to his own eyes.
Encouraged by even that small response, Su-hyun tore the bread into small, bite-sized pieces for him.
“Eat slowly.”
“Th-thank you…”
Nabin picked up the smallest piece and placed it in his mouth. The soft texture melted instantly without much chewing.
But his stomach, unaccustomed to food, rebelled at even that small taste. Even plain white bread, without any jam, felt almost too strong, the flavor stinging his tongue.
He tried a sip of orange juice, but the sharp tang was overwhelming, and he set it down at once. In the end, he only picked at the salad, choosing the bare vegetables without dressing.
