Even if Nabin went back to earning nothing but minimum wage, juggling multiple part-time jobs the way he had before becoming an adult—working without proper sleep, skipping meals, wearing himself down—there were no other options left to him.
The only relief was that when the Center had brought him in, they’d cleared the loan shark debt he owed to Kim Minsu.
For a brief moment, the faces of Han Jigang and Gong Min flickered in his mind—men who now tried to treat him better. But their kindness had nothing to do with genuine care. It was only because of Nabin’s meager Guiding ability. Without that, they would have had no reason at all to show him favor.
In the beginning, they couldn’t even stand the sight of him. On the very first day, when Nabin had stepped into their room to greet them, they had radiated such murderous hostility it seemed they might kill him on the spot.
Perhaps the years he had spent in those establishments hadn’t been entirely wasted, because as he continued to guide them, their attitudes gradually softened. Yet to Nabin, it wasn’t compassion—just lust masquerading as pity.
Tae Yishin had once said that being guided by a Guide with a high Match Rate felt like ecstasy. But when Nabin guided Espers, all he felt was pain.
While they devoured even the tiniest fragments of mana, their expressions going slack with bliss, Nabin had to endure torment so severe that sometimes his fingernails tore off as he clenched his hands to keep from collapsing.
Even Tae Yishin, who still despised him, admitted that he enjoyed the sensation of being guided. That alone was proof of Nabin’s usefulness. His Match Rate with them was so high that they greedily savored every drop of Guiding mana he provided, no matter how little.
But if even that mana ran out… then Nabin would truly be worthless.
They would throw him out of the mansion without hesitation, dismissing him as a worn-out body. Once, before realizing Ryu Somin’s true nature, he might have clung to him. But now Nabin knew all too well—Ryu Somin hated him just as much as the others.
“Guide Kim Nabin, you can leave now. The next patient has arrived.”
While Nabin stood frozen, trapped in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, Lee Jun called his name.
Sure enough, by the door stood a Guide he had never seen before, lingering with an awkward smile, as if reluctant to enter because of Nabin.
He staggered to his feet, bowed to Lee Jun, and quietly left the Guiding Mana Measurement Division.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, it felt as though every eye turned to him. Just like that first day, following Kim Su-ryeon to meet the S-rank Espers, it was as if everyone around him was whispering about the trials that awaited him.
Where… where should I go…
He needed somewhere to hide. Just for a little while—somewhere beyond their eyes, where he could breathe.
Without realizing it, his feet carried him toward the one person who could offer him that refuge. People called out greetings as he passed, saying his name, but Nabin moved like a broken automaton, staggering forward without pause toward his destination.
“Guide Kim Nabin, it’s been a while.”
The voice belonged to Nurse Kim Minji, who worked in the ward where his mother was hospitalized—his mother’s primary nurse.
She greeted him warmly, smiling at the sight of him visiting again after so long. But Nabin, face dark and withdrawn, walked past her without so much as a nod, heading straight for his mother’s room.
“…What the, that’s awkward.”
Minji muttered, embarrassed, and another nurse—Lee Heeyeon, who had been nearby doing paperwork—dragged a chair closer, leaning in with interest. A flush had spread across her cheeks, like someone who had just stumbled across something entertaining in the middle of a dull day.
“Nurse Kim, is that the famous Guide?”
“Ah, so it’s your first time seeing him? Yes, that’s him—the one burdened with those three troublesome S-rank Espers.”
“He looks a lot more normal than the rumors made him sound.”
At Heeyeon’s words, Minji’s brow furrowed faintly. Rumors? She knew people gossiped about Guides behind their backs, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the specifics.
“What kind of rumors?”
“Nurse Kim, you’ve worked here longer than me, but you’re so out of the loop.”
The smile faded from Minji’s lips, her brows knitting. It wasn’t that she was out of touch—she simply had no time to chase after gossip. Unlike Heeyeon, who seemed to delight in flitting around the ward picking up stories, Minji barely managed to keep up with the sheer workload.
In this ward, where every day meant holding someone’s life in your hands, there was little room to let your mind wander.
“So, what are they saying?”
Suppressing the flicker of irritation in her chest, she asked anyway. Curiosity nagged at her; she wanted to know what kind of story could make Heeyeon’s lips itch this much.
“They say before he came to the Center, he worked in an illegal guiding establishment. People describe him like some kind of unrivaled seducer. Honestly, I thought he’d look more… suggestive. You know, the type of face that makes you feel something the instant you look at them. Like Esper Tae Yishin, for example.”
The longer Heeyeon went on, the more Minji forced her twitching lips into a bland smile, trying not to let her face harden. She opened her mouth to put an end to it, but Heeyeon had already hit her stride.
“But seeing him today, he actually looks kind of innocent. Almost pure, even. Or maybe he’s that type, you know? The kind who’s one person during the day and someone else entirely at night. And funny enough, people who look like that often turn out to be the most lustful. Like my friend—”
“Lee, did you finish the task I asked you to handle earlier?”
If she let this continue, she’d be forced to listen not only to gossip about the Guide but also to every thinly-veiled story about Heeyeon’s so-called friends.
Minji, who had been through this more than once, cut her off, perhaps more sharply than intended. It was the only way to keep herself from being trapped in endless chatter.
“Ah! Right. Sorry… I’ll get to it right away.”
Heeyeon pouted, then began rifling noisily through a stack of papers, pretending to work.
Minji gave her a sidelong look before turning toward the door of the room Nabin had entered.
That room had only one patient: the Guide’s mother. It was one of the best rooms in the ward.
She was the immediate family of the Guide tasked with preventing not one but three S-rank Espers’ Outbreak Risk Indexes from crossing into the danger zone.
On the Center Director’s orders, the entire medical staff of the ward was instructed to treat her with utmost care.
But why did he look so off today…
Earlier, Minji had been flustered not just because Nabin ignored her greeting, but because he seemed like a different person entirely from the one she remembered.
He had always entered shyly, offering greetings first. Every visit, he brought drinks or bread, thanking them for looking after his mother.
But today, it was as if he had suffered a terrible shock. He hadn’t even registered her words, and his steps had wavered like those of someone barely holding it together.
…Did something happen again?
For a moment, countless memories of incidents involving Nabin flashed through her mind. But she quickly had to abandon her thoughts when a senior nurse barked her name in anger.
This wasn’t the time to be worrying about him. She had a furious senior to face.
***
“…Mom.”
Nabin lingered in the doorway for a long while, quietly taking in his mother’s face. Thanks to proper treatment, the hollow, gaunt look she once had was gone, replaced by a faint trace of vitality. With her eyes closed, she didn’t look like someone gravely ill—just like a woman lost in deep sleep.
He stumbled forward, dragging a chair to sit by her bedside. The steady beep, beep of the heart monitor filled the silence of the room.
Not only the monitor but also rows of advanced medical devices powered by mana stones surrounded her.
Even the bed, which looked ordinary at a glance, was designed to shift automatically at intervals to prevent bedsores in patients confined to it for long periods.
Nabin’s dulled eyes moved across the machines, sinking darker and darker like silt settling at the bottom of water.
Finally, his gaze stopped on her slender hand, fuller now than the last time he had seen it. He wrapped it in both of his own, the warmth flooding his palms breaking open the tears he had held back for so long.
“Ugh… Mom…”
From the moment Lee Jun had uttered the diagnosis—Mana Depletion Syndrome—he had wanted to cry. But no tears had come. Even when they welled up, they dried before they could fall, swallowed by the hollow ache in his chest.
He didn’t even know how he’d managed to leave the division and make it here. The instant that death sentence of a diagnosis hit him, the only face that had come to mind was hers.
