When the Guide spread his legs or lifted his hips on his own, it should have felt like bedding some jaded prostitute—but no matter how many times someone pushed inside, his body stayed unbearably tight.
The worst moment was always the same: realizing that while he was losing himself, drunk on Nabin’s body and burning with desire, Nabin remained utterly unresponsive. The more he silently endured as though this act brought only pain, the stronger the dark urge to break him apart and ruin him grew.
Tonight, Han Jigang decided to surrender to that desire. It was strange he’d gone softhearted lately—unlike him. After all, the whole reason he’d brought Nabin into this mansion was to use him, nothing more.
Slipping his arm beneath the backs of Nabin’s knees, Han Jigang moved him like a doll, angling him for easier entry.
“Ngghk… hhk…”
“Hey. Relax.”
His voice dropped low, urging Nabin to let go. But with his neck arched back and veins straining, Nabin had no idea how to relax.
Sometimes he wondered if the higher an Esper’s rank, the larger they were. Every S-rank Esper he’d contracted with was harder to endure than any Ability User he’d ever guided before.
It wasn’t just physical pain—every thrust felt like they were draining even the tiniest capillaries in his body dry.
The immense mana of an S-rank Esper devoured his meager guiding mana with a frenzy, tearing through it like starving beasts. That, more than anything, was why Nabin could never feel arousal while guiding them.
Yes, there was fear. Yes, there was pain. But the true cause was their mana itself—like vampires, drinking him dry to his very limits.
S-rank mana was always harsher, more violent. Maybe it was because their Outbreak Risk Indexes were dangerously high. Or maybe it was because their feelings toward Nabin weren’t exactly kind.
Whatever the reason, the brutal pain was his burden alone. Guiding them always felt like hundreds of leeches sucking at his flesh.
And when the physical torment piled on top of that, all he could do was pray that time would pass faster. But time only slowed. As if the second hand of the clock had frozen. Pain stacked heavier and heavier, and no matter how many times his mind was torn apart, it never grew any tougher.
Tonight, when Han Jigang came at him especially rough, Nabin finally let go of the thin thread of reason he had left.
“Haa… hahh… Passed out again.”
The more Nabin suffered, the more careful Han Jigang had to be not to lose control. If he gave in to instinct, he’d tear the Guide into a bloody mess again.
Even though his mood had soured and he’d been rough, he’d still held on to enough restraint to avoid leaving wounds. But despite his effort, Nabin fainted.
Facing three S-rank Espers every day—including him—was wearing the boy down.
Han Jigang took his limp wrist, fingers brushing over bones thinner than ever. Compared with just a week ago, he could tell Nabin had lost more weight.
He’d always been frail enough to look all bone, but lately it was worse. No matter how much he tried to feed him, Nabin’s small appetite stalled after just a few bites, chewing endlessly as if eating were a chore.
“Eat it all.”
“…Yes.”
Once, Han Jigang had decided enough was enough. He piled three times the usual portion onto Nabin’s plate and forced him to finish it in front of him.
Even pale with fear, Nabin had forced every bite down. Han Jigang had thought, Maybe if I push him like this, he’ll finally gain some weight.
But then—
“Ughhh…”
He vomited everything back up. Even after a Healing Potion, the food wouldn’t stay down. The moment it touched his mouth, he gagged. Han Jigang had no choice but to abandon brute force.
“Hey. Is it really that hard?”
Sitting beside him, Han Jigang flicked the tip of his nose lightly, careful not to hurt him. He knew he’d been cruel from the very beginning.
But afterward, he really had tried to treat him better. Still, the distance between them never closed. Whenever he spoke, Nabin just trembled, too frightened to meet his eyes.
…And yet, with Kim Su-hyun, he often smiled.
Not that he never smiled at Han Jigang, but those smiles—strained with terror—were so painful to see that tears would have been better.
“…You’re impossible.”
With a sigh that didn’t suit him, Han Jigang scooped Nabin up and carried him to the bathroom. Cleaning him up whenever he fainted had become a quiet sign of how their relationship had shifted.
***
“…Still no word.”
Tonight he’d guided only Han Jigang deeply. With Tae Yishin and Gong Min, it had been light contact. After fainting with Jigang, he’d fallen into deep sleep for a while, so by midnight Nabin was still awake.
Once Gong Min left, he dragged his aching body to find his phone. Turning it on, he saw nothing—no message from Kim Su-hyun.
Missions often ran longer than planned, he knew. Maybe worrying just because Su-hyun hadn’t contacted him was unreasonable.
And yet unease gnawed at him. Since dawn, an anxious knot had sat in his chest, swelling larger with every hour until it threatened to swallow him whole.
He stared for ages at the blinking cursor in their chat window, debating whether to send a message.
Brrr… brrr…
The phone vibrated. On the screen: Esper Noh Si-woo.
Because Nabin guided three S-rank Espers every day, he often missed calls, so Noh Si-woo usually just texted to check in. Especially at this hour, he had never called before.
The dread that had weighed on him all day now tightened around his throat.
“…Yes, Esper.”
—…Nabin-ssi.
“…”
Why do bad feelings never prove wrong? Noh Si-woo’s voice was drenched in sorrow, like a storm hammering against the windows.
Nabin opened his lips to beg, Please tell me nothing’s happened. But only ragged breaths escaped.
—…Don’t panic, just listen, Nabin-ssi. Esper Kim Su-hyun…
The rest blurred into static, like a broken radio. But amid the haze of comforting words, he caught the one truth—the reason for the call. The words pierced him like sharp thorns. Words he couldn’t ignore.
…Kim Su-hyun was dead.
He had volunteered for the mission to America, to meet Lee Hayan on Nabin’s behalf. But just before entering, an S-rank Dungeon erupted nearby—and he was caught in it.
It was because of him. If not for Nabin, Su-hyun would never have gone. Because he’d met him, because Nabin had shown him his pain, because he wanted to help—Kim Su-hyun had lost his life.
That final image—him worrying about Nabin—wouldn’t leave his mind.
Why was he even born? Everyone who loved or cared for him died because of him.
As a child, it was his father. Now, Kim Su-hyun.
If only he’d never been born… His father wouldn’t have died. His mother wouldn’t have gone mad and destroyed herself.
Now, even the desire to meet Lee Hayan faded. He hadn’t desperately wanted to anyway—just to hear some scrap of news.
When Su-hyun had said he’d reach out to Hayan for him, he’d even dared to dream the absurd—that he might become Hayan’s Guide.
He never should have dreamed that.
His very existence harmed others. Maybe the world itself was punishing him.
Because of him, his father had died. His mother had destroyed herself. His stepfather, Lee Su-chang, had left him with crushing debt. Kim Minsu had trapped him in an illegal Guiding business.
And now—even someone who treated him like a person, not trash—was dead because of him.
Kim Su-hyun had been someone the world needed—kind enough to feel compassion even for someone like Nabin.
And because he had destroyed someone like that, the world would surely hand down an even harsher punishment still.
