“You see my Outbreak Risk Index, don’t you? While I was rotting in prison… I was treated like a dog under the Center Director. If I don’t get Guiding right now, I’m going to lose my mind. Hyung, you know better than anyone what this feels like.”
From the crack in the open door, Nabin’s faint scent drifted out. Tae Yishin clung to his fraying sanity and pleaded with Gong Min. If he lost control any further, he knew he’d lash out at him without hesitation.
During all the time he hadn’t been able to see Nabin, he’d built him up in his imagination—his fragile body, soft and delicate. Now he wanted to dive in and hold him so tightly he’d break. The hunger gnawed at his brain like a man dying of thirst who hadn’t touched a drop of water in days.
But a barrier stood in his way, refusing to let him through. Gritting his teeth, Tae Yishin forced his mana back down.
“Hyung, please…”
Pride didn’t matter anymore. His craving for Guiding was hacking away at what little rationality he had left.
“…Contact Guiding is impossible. Something happened to the Guide. If you try it now, you won’t last.”
It was the best Gong Min could do. To his eyes, Tae Yishin was already teetering on the edge. His ocean-blue eyes were dulled and unfocused.
As a Mental-type Esper, the more Tae Yishin used his powers, the stronger the backlash that hit him. If his Outbreak Risk Index climbed any higher, even the Guide would be in danger.
Just as Gong Min had once lost control, Beastified, and ravaged Nabin, Tae Yishin would tear Nabin’s mind apart.
“Then what the hell am I supposed to do? Hold his hand and play patty-cake?”
Even after begging, Gong Min wouldn’t budge. Tae Yishin’s voice sharpened, his skin flushing red with the heat boiling under it. If it had been Han Jigang in his way, he would’ve already blasted him aside. The only reason he was holding back at all was because it was Gong Min.
“…Just touching skin to skin will give you some Guiding. It’ll be rough, but endure that until the Guide recovers.”
It was absurd, but Tae Yishin was already at his breaking point. With no other choice, he gave a stiff nod. The moment Gong Min shifted aside, he pushed past him and headed straight for Nabin lying on the bed.
As Gong Min had said, the Guide looked far too pale. But there was no time to linger on it.
Tae Yishin quickly stripped off Nabin’s clothes, yanked off his own, and pulled the limp body into his arms. Pressing their foreheads together, he let the soft current of mana seep through their joined skin.
Compared to true Guiding, it was feeble—almost nothing. But the sensation of hundreds of needles stabbing his brain finally dulled.
“Haah… finally… I can breathe…”
Even naked together, just skin-to-skin couldn’t compare to Guiding through a machine. And yet, strangely, it eased him. In prison, he’d ached for Nabin’s body so badly he’d laughed at himself.
It wasn’t just the ecstasy of Guiding, but the fragile, pure scent itself that haunted him. A week without touching him had felt like years.
It was worse than thirst. Han Jigang and Gong Min weren’t the only ones obsessed—he was just the same.
It wasn’t simply physical hunger. His very soul felt parched. But that didn’t mean he liked Nabin. He was sure of it.
Every time he saw Jigang and Gong Min lose themselves, he told himself not to confuse lust with affection. But maybe it had been useless.
A strange feeling rose in him. Even though he was finally getting the Guiding he craved, he wanted more. Not Contact Guiding—he wanted to see the clear eyes hidden under those shut lids.
Before coming into this room, he’d been consumed by the thought of throwing Nabin down and burying himself inside, no matter his condition. But now…
Now that their skin touched, his desire to ease the hunger in his mind outweighed his physical craving.
“I’m going to sleep… holding him.”
Normally, Tae Yishin left right after receiving Guiding. He forced himself to, reminding himself that if it wasn’t for Guiding, there was no reason to remain with Nabin.
Even now, what he was getting could barely be called Guiding.
And yet, he didn’t want to let go of Nabin, lying limp in his arms. Carefully, he lay down on the bed, cradling him. Seeing his body tremble faintly with cold, he pulled the blanket up to cover him.
He forgot to breathe, caught up in the moment as he gazed down at him. Watching Nabin sleep peacefully under his watch was… far stranger than he’d expected. His small breaths felt like Guiding mana itself, seeping into Tae Yishin’s heart, sending ripples through it.
“…Just until Han Jigang gets here.”
“Fine. Wake me before that bastard arrives.”
Tae Yishin had no wish to fight Jigang again. He resented that Jigang had gone to the Center Director to demand Nabin stop Guiding him, but if he had realized these feelings earlier, he might’ve acted just the same.
Hearing Tae Yishin’s concession, Gong Min finally believed he wouldn’t harm Nabin. Slowly, he stepped back and left the room. Watching Nabin in someone else’s arms was getting harder by the day.
But he couldn’t tear him out of Yishin’s embrace either. He stepped out to clear his head.
“…Somin.”
But right away, Gong Min ran into Ryu Somin. He’d already heard the soft footsteps approaching Nabin’s room, but the shadowy look on Somin’s face caught him off guard.
Gong Min reached out, gently stroking his hair with quiet concern. Normally, when Somin was down, that touch made him smile like a puppy, rubbing his head against Gong Min’s palm.
But now, Somin’s face only crumpled, as if he was about to cry.
“…Min-hyung, Yishin-hyung’s back, right?”
“…Yeah.”
At that question, Gong Min understood why his face had darkened. Whenever Tae Yishin returned to the mansion, he always sought out Somin first.
But today, even with his Outbreak Risk Index spiking, even with his reason fraying, he had gone straight to Nabin without a thought for Somin.
“Hyung… am I not as important anymore? Is that Guide more important than me now?”
His trembling voice carried raw pain. Gong Min, flustered, stroked his hair again, but Somin pulled back, taking a step away.
“…It’s not like that, Somin.”
But even as Gong Min shook his head, tears rolled down Somin’s cheeks, and he only widened the distance between them.
“…Liar. You, Yishin-hyung, Jigang-hyung—you’re all the same. I’m just an afterthought now, aren’t I?”
It felt like a blow to the back of the head. Gong Min finally realized how their actions had been weighing on Somin, filling him with dread.
In desperation, Gong Min closed the gap, bending to meet his tear-filled eyes. He shook his head, but Somin couldn’t stop crying, shoving his hand away so hard the sound echoed in the hall.
“…You’ve all changed. Because I can’t Guide you anymore… I’ve become useless.”
“Somin.”
The pity on Gong Min’s face hardened. Useless? Even if he weren’t a Guide, even if he were just ordinary, Somin would still be his most precious little brother in the world. That truth would never change.
But despite his comfort, despair spread deeper across Somin’s face.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking lately?”
“….”
With a bittersweet smile, Somin lifted his gaze to Gong Min’s, as he always did. Foolishly, he had thought such gentleness was his alone.
But it wasn’t. To an Esper, a Guide was indispensable. Just as a plant withers without sun and water, even the strongest Esper couldn’t escape death’s shadow without one.
Before Nabin entered the mansion, Somin sometimes felt pathetic for being unable to provide Guiding. But he had never once wanted to die.
Yet every time he was left alone in that vast room, the thought of not wanting to live anymore crept in. He had no ties left to this world. Ever since his brother’s death, he had lived only out of duty to his last words, never for happiness.
The only reason he endured each day was because of his hyungs. But now those same hyungs were abandoning him, consumed by obsession with the Guide.
Never had he felt so pathetic for being an S-rank Guide who couldn’t even provide Guiding. It was as if his very existence had lost all meaning.
