“…Ah.”
Gong Min tried desperately to hold onto his composure. But at some point, his vision blurred, and he slipped into a trance, completely consumed by Nabin’s Guiding.
By the time he came back to himself, it was already over. Nabin’s face, pale as porcelain, had gone deathly ashen, his lips smeared with blood.
Startled, Gong Min quickly loosened his grip on the back of Nabin’s head and pulled him away from his groin. Nabin swayed limply, like a marionette with its strings cut, his eyes fluttering open and closed in slow blinks.
The once clear, starry eyes had gone dull, unable to even find focus. His torn lips must have been agonizing, yet his sweat-soaked body only trembled faintly. His expression was hollow, as if he no longer even felt pain.
“…Kim Nabin.”
Though not as catastrophic as the first time he’d received Guiding from him, the sight before him was still unbearable. The memory of Nabin’s limp, corpse-like body from before resurfaced, making Gong Min’s fingertips tremble faintly.
Crushed by guilt so heavy it clogged his chest, he could only whisper his name. But hearing it seemed to trigger something—Nabin awkwardly shuffled backward, then collapsed forward, pressing his face to the floor while lifting his hips high.
Years of being treated not as a person but as an object, used like a tool, had been enough to make Nabin see himself as nothing more than that.
When Nabin’s hand started reaching behind him, Gong Min snapped, grabbing his wrist.
“Stop. That’s enough for today. Sit properly.”
The last session had left deep scars not only on Nabin but also on Gong Min. The memory of losing all reason, becoming a beast, and tearing apart someone far weaker than himself like thin paper—he couldn’t stop loathing himself for it.
And yet, the sensation of that Guiding lingered in his brain ever since. He had sworn this time would be different—that he would be gentle. Especially since the Center Director himself had said he would personally monitor his Outbreak Risk Index. He’d used that as an excuse, a kind of self-forgiveness.
…But he had never imagined things would end up the same way. Worse than he thought, he was filth. Even now, staring at Nabin’s wrecked state, he couldn’t suppress the serpent of desire inside him, flicking its tongue for more Guiding.
Still, seeing Nabin think of himself as nothing more than a tool left Gong Min’s heart heavy. He strangled the serpent by the neck.
Nabin’s unfocused eyes drifted weakly toward his face. He was breathing—Gong Min could feel it—but the Guide looked lifeless, like a flower long since dead and dried.
Carefully, Gong Min lifted him into his arms and laid him on the bed. He pulled the blanket over Nabin’s trembling body, then fished out a potion, dabbing it over his torn lips and trickling some into his mouth.
“…I’m sorry. For last time, and for this time too.”
At his heartfelt apology, faint light began to return to Nabin’s clouded eyes.
Countless Espers had passed through him, but those who had ever apologized were only a rare few. Never had Nabin imagined that the one who’d scarred him most deeply would be the one to say sorry.
He felt he should answer, but no words came. In the end, he said nothing. Only hot tears spilled from his reddened eyes, dripping onto the white sheets like falling petals.
“And thank you. You saved me from a dangerous edge.”
Nabin bit his lip hard. Just sharing the same space with this man still made his heart seize with fear, as if it might stop at any moment. To hear not only an apology but gratitude as well—it was almost impossible to believe.
Watching tears spill silently down that pale face, Gong Min almost reached out instinctively. Though his expression betrayed nothing, inside he panicked and clenched his fist. He wanted to wipe away the blood still smeared at Nabin’s lips, but the painful truth was that his touch was something the Guide would rather recoil from.
“…I’ll come again tomorrow.”
The best he could do for Nabin was to leave quickly, to let the Guide rest in peace.
Once the sound of the door closing faded, Nabin raised a trembling hand and wiped his mouth. Though the wound was healed, the metallic tang still lingered inside. Each swallow sent nausea rising from his gut. Stumbling, he dragged himself to the bathroom.
Thankfully, this time had only been oral, so there weren’t many marks left on his body. Still, traces of fluids smeared his lips and chin.
“I can endure this… No, I must endure it…”
The reflection in the mirror looked like a man already dead. Tonight hadn’t been easy, but compared to the first time he Guided Gong Min, at least he hadn’t fainted or been badly injured.
If things stayed like this… then Nabin could endure. His lifeless eyes, his shredded heart—those were just scraps of fabric he could stitch back together again.
After that, his days became a cycle of facing three Espers. Though his Match Rates with them were high, his Guiding energy was only D-rank. Handling S-rank Espers one after another was beyond him.
The three arranged an order to give Nabin recovery time: Han Jigang, always an early riser, came at dawn. When the sun was at its peak, Tae Yishin entered his room.
Perhaps out of jealousy that both Han Jigang and Gong Min grew gentler toward Nabin as time passed, Tae Yishin alone never changed his roughness.
Because of that, after Tae Yishin’s sessions, Nabin would be left bloodied, curled up in his blanket, shivering until Gong Min came at night.
And after finally Guiding Gong Min, he would collapse into a deathlike sleep—the only refuge from his hellish reality.
When dawn broke again, Han Jigang would knock at his door. The day would begin in his arms, and then Tae Yishin, followed by Gong Min, would use his body like a machine.
What kept Nabin going was the cold sensation in his palm whenever his mind was about to shatter. Clutching the butterfly-shaped mark so tightly it dug into his skin, he could survive even those hellish hours.
On top of that, Kim Su-hyun, who hadn’t been able to visit the mansion since once taking him to the playground, came to see him a few days ago. The words he spoke were enough to plant the seed of hope in Nabin’s withered heart.
“Nabin-ssi, I have good news.”
Looking down at him sprawled weakly on the bed, Kim Su-hyun’s face was full of sorrow. He could feel how Nabin’s fragile spirit, which had once recovered a little at the playground, was now cracking again.
So that the mansion’s Espers wouldn’t overhear, he had even procured a noise-blocking Artifact from the Center. During the time he couldn’t visit, he’d been working tirelessly, sacrificing sleep, to find a way to save him.
“Remember I said I’d try contacting Esper Lee Hayan? I didn’t manage direct contact, but if we go to America, I think we can meet him.”
“…Really?”
Nabin, who had been blinking blankly like a doll, whispered faintly in response. Su-hyun held his hand, flowing healing energy into him, begging him to endure just a little longer.
“Yes. So please, even if it’s hard, hold on. I have someone I know in the U.S., and they promised to help me meet Esper Lee Hayan. I’m going there next week. The USA Ability User Center requested Healing Espers from the K Ability User Center, and I volunteered.”
Life at the mansion wasn’t as unbearable as the first day he had Guided S-rank Espers. But compared to the C- and D-rank Espers he’d serviced at the illegal Guiding shops, it was crushing beyond words.
Guiding S-rank Espers with high Match Rates meant Nabin’s limited Guiding mana was drained to its absolute limit. Each session left him not only physically ravaged but mentally desolate, like a parched desert.
If, as Su-hyun said, Lee Hayan didn’t turn him away—if a miracle happened and their Match Rate was as high as with his current S-rank Espers—then Nabin wanted, no, needed, to leave for America.
According to Su-hyun, the USA Ability User Center treated a Guide’s family with more respect than K Ability User Center ever did. Hearing that he could bring his mother with him left Nabin with no reason to stay in Korea. Since his father’s death, this place had been nothing but a living hell.
Su-hyun even said that if Nabin settled in America, he himself would transfer to the USA Ability User Center to follow him. Hearing that, Nabin had been left stunned, wondering if he really deserved such luck.
“It’s just temporary duty, so I’ll be back within a month. Don’t hesitate to use the Healing Potions I gave you, and if it gets too hard even with those, make sure to contact Esper Noh Si-woo, okay?”
“…Yes.”
Remembering that conversation from the day before Su-hyun left for America, Nabin felt as though a blocked breath had finally been released. He pulled out his phone, slowly counting the days. Today made it fourteen days since Su-hyun’s departure.
“Not much longer… just a little more…”
He had promised to return within a month. At most, only sixteen days remained. Even if Lee Hayan didn’t remember him, Nabin tried hard to keep his hopes from swelling too high, trimming them down each time, so he wouldn’t be crushed by disappointment when the moment finally came.
