“Ah…”
Even when Han Jigang shook his shoulder and spoke to him, Nabin could only let out a weak groan. Tilting his head slightly, as if he couldn’t understand why his actions were being stopped, he looked up at Jigang with vacant eyes. Sighing softly, Han Jigang gathered him into his arms.
Fortunately, Nabin didn’t struggle or resist. Realizing it was useless, his body went limp, and he only let out shallow, broken breaths.
Han Jigang carried him straight to the garden. His destination was the swing—the one that had held Nabin’s gaze from the moment he first entered this place. Sitting down with Nabin still in his arms, Jigang slowly rocked them back and forth.
“From now on, if you want, you can ride this swing as much as you like. Just… please, come back to your senses.”
Nestled quietly in Jigang’s arms like a child, Nabin blinked, staring blankly at the shifting scenery swaying with the motion. His pale brown eyes caught the sunlight, glimmering faintly as his eyelids fluttered open and shut.
Jigang patted his back gently, like one might soothe a child, as the swing creaked in rhythm.
Each time the breeze stirred, the fragrance of roses, red as blood and filling the garden, drifted toward them with a soft greeting. The crisp scent of pine from the tree shading the swing mingled in, creating a warmth so deep it felt like they were hidden away in a forest rather than a garden.
“…The swing.”
From the depths of his unconscious—where only Guiding remained—Nabin dredged up a forgotten memory.
“I used to go to the playground a lot with my little sibling. They always asked me to push the swing for them.”
It had been a colder day than this, the wind biting against his cheeks. Yet the crisp, refreshing air he hadn’t felt in a long time lifted his mood. Despite the chill, it felt as if a warm, soft blanket had been laid across his weary heart.
The tender gaze and gentle hand offered to him then had been more comforting than any blanket.
“My sibling loved swings. They said when you sway back and forth like this… it feels like all the bad feelings inside just disappear.”
The hands that had pushed the swing had been so kind. That memory had planted a fragile shoot in Nabin’s heart, one that grew into a small comfort he could cling to whenever things became unbearable.
And that warm person… because of Nabin…
“Ah, hh…”
A sorrowful sob broke free as the memory rose unbidden. He couldn’t even form words; his lips trembled while tears welled up faster than his wide eyes could contain them, spilling hot down his cheeks.
With every sway of the swing, with every brush of wind across his tear-streaked face, he cried harder, body and soul unraveling.
As Nabin wept like he would drain himself dry, Han Jigang said nothing, only patted his back and offered what clumsy comfort he could. Drowned in grief too heavy to bear, Nabin didn’t fight against Jigang’s arms. Instead, he burrowed deeper into the faint warmth, clinging desperately as if to a lifeline.
In that moment, Han Jigang felt something he couldn’t name creep through him. It was like invisible insects gnawing at his heart, or like being smothered in sticky tar.
He lifted Nabin’s trembling body, flushed and gasping for breath, and pressed his lips lightly against his ear. Into that brief touch, he poured the unspoken promise: if his warmth could bring any comfort, then he would stay by Nabin’s side for as long as it took.
***
Time seemed strange to Nabin these days. Sometimes it crawled unbearably slowly, and other times it slipped away too quickly. Ever since hearing the news of Kim Su-hyun’s death in America, every moment had felt clouded, as if wrapped in mist.
When he finally surfaced from drifting unconsciousness, it had been in Han Jigang’s arms. In the same embrace that had once only brought him pain, he had sobbed out his grief. Later, more tears came—not just for Su-hyun, but from the hollow realization that there was no one else left to comfort him.
Eventually, his body gave in to dehydration, and Jigang had pressed water to his lips, feeding it to him mouth to mouth. Even knowing someone had died because of him, he had still accepted that water to survive—and the disgust he felt for himself then was unbearable.
His strength slowly returned only because he hadn’t been Guiding. Whether Jigang had deliberately stopped it, or whether the other Espers had taken pity on the boy who lay like a corpse, Nabin didn’t know. But he was grateful for the chance to mourn Kim Su-hyun, even briefly.
If he had been Guiding, the days would have been so crushing he wouldn’t even have had the time to grieve. Maybe survival instinct would have swallowed him whole, leaving no room for anything else. Time passing didn’t erase his guilt, but it gave him enough strength to face another day.
“This swing is yours now. Use it whenever you want. You can come out to the garden anytime.”
If anyone in the mansion had changed the most after Su-hyun’s death, it was without doubt Han Jigang. Until then, the only spaces allowed to Nabin had been his small room, the hallway, the bathroom, and the kitchen.
But for some reason, Jigang had given him more—the swing he’d been unable to look away from since first seeing it, and the vibrant garden beyond.
Still, even after hearing those words, Nabin couldn’t bring himself to roam freely. The oppression carved deep into his body and heart was too heavy for him to break alone.
“I’ll even carve your name into it. Then it’ll truly be yours.”
When Nabin hesitated, Jigang had engraved his name directly onto the swing. The letters, scorched into the wood with his ability, wouldn’t fade no matter how Nabin anxiously tried to wipe them away with his sleeve.
“Th-this won’t come off…”
Nabin, caught off guard by Jigang going so far, crouched beside the swing in a fluster, unable to straighten up or decide what to do.
“You really don’t trust my words, do you?”
As Nabin kept his eyes fixed on the ground, at a loss for how to answer, Jigang returned from the mansion carrying a snow-white blanket.
“Sit still. I’ll push you.”
Wrapped snugly in the blanket, his arms pinned tight to his sides, Nabin had no choice but to surrender himself to the swing being pushed. The touch at his back was uncharacteristically gentle, and it reminded him of Kim Su-hyun.
Saying nothing, Jigang only pushed until Nabin’s tears finally dried.
After that, the swing in the corner of the garden became the one place, aside from his room, where Nabin felt at ease. Unlike his room, it was open on all sides, which made his shoulders hunch at first. But the garden was so vast that everywhere he looked, only vibrant flowers and shrubs filled his vision. That alone gave him the courage to sit there.
“…It’s beautiful.”
Today again, wrapped in the soft blanket Jigang had given him, Nabin sat on the swing, staring blankly at the roses swaying in the breeze. His condition had improved, but Nabin himself—exhausted from Guiding since dawn—had collapsed in fatigue.
No matter how many times he repeated it, the act never became easier. After falling limp with exhaustion, he had thought of the swing. Though his stomach growled, he had no appetite, so he let the swing cradle him, letting time slip by.
Jigang was out, and guiding Gong Min and Tae Yishin was scheduled for later. For now, the other Espers had left Nabin alone, giving him time to himself.
“Hello.”
That was why he hadn’t expected the sudden clear voice. Startled, he turned his head—and saw someone he’d never met before.
The voice was like dew dripping from leaves that had held the night’s moisture until dawn.
The figure who filled his trembling vision was just as beautiful as the voice. Surrounded by soft sunlight, the man seemed almost unearthly.
Cotton candy hair in soft pink, eyes as clear as the endless blue sky.
Among all the people Nabin had met, this man was the most beautiful. Kim Minsu, who had dragged him into the mud, Lee Hayan who came after, the S-rank Espers bound to him by contract—even Kim Su-hyun, who had left too soon—all of them had striking appearances. But this man’s beauty belonged to another realm entirely.
He looked like a doll sculpted from the most delicate, beautiful things in the world. That he breathed and spoke like Nabin almost felt unreal.
“Ah… so beautiful…”
The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, replacing the roses he’d been gazing at with the flower-like man before him.
Only when the man laughed brightly did Nabin realize what he’d said. His face flushed red in an instant.
“S-sorry…”
He quickly stood from the swing and bowed deeply in apology. Inside this mansion, there was only one person he had yet to meet.
…The Guide cherished by the S-rank Espers above all others—Ryu Somin.
