“Somin, what’s happening to you…?”
Panicked, Tae Yishin hurriedly pulled out a Healing Potion and forced it down Ryu Somin’s throat, rubbing his icy hands and feet in desperation. That was when he noticed the crumpled slip of paper clenched tightly in Somin’s fist. Even unconscious, his grip was iron-strong.
Carefully prying open his hand so as not to hurt him, Tae Yishin drew out the note. The frantic, jagged scrawl told the story of what had happened.
From there, his memory blurred into scattered fragments. He vaguely recalled lifting Somin onto the bed, then storming off in search of Nabin. His vision had pulsed black as his uncontrollable rage swallowed his reason whole.
For a fleeting moment, the thought occurred to him—what if Nabin wasn’t responsible? But there was no reason for Somin to collapse from poisoning unless someone had caused it. Worse still, Somin had written Nabin’s name on that note, naming him as the one who had done this.
If Nabin wasn’t guilty, then the only other explanation was that Somin had staged everything himself. But that was absurd. Tae Yishin had grown up with him like a true younger brother. He knew better than anyone—Somin would never stoop to something like that.
It could only mean one thing: Nabin had deceived them all. Han Jigang, Gong Min, and even himself—Nabin had been slowly wrapping each of them around his finger, and now greed had driven him over the edge.
Thinking back to the tension between Nabin and Somin not long ago, the reason came into sharper focus. There had been a subtle clash between them. Jigang hadn’t acted on Somin’s words at the time, but clearly, it had left the Guide uneasy.
With just the two of them left alone in the mansion, maybe Nabin had acted on impulse. When Tae Yishin had left earlier, Nabin hadn’t been in his right mind.
Gong Min had told him something had already shattered the Guide’s spirit. With his mind in tatters, maybe he had acted purely on instinct, not reason.
Whatever the case, Somin had nearly died. If Tae Yishin had arrived even a little later, he would’ve found a cold corpse instead of a dying boy.
That thought made forgiveness impossible. The memory of that fragile neck trembling beneath his grip made his fingers twitch, but he pushed away the lingering hesitation.
“…Somin, I’m sorry.”
Leaning close, Tae Yishin brushed the damp strands of hair from Somin’s forehead. Thankfully, the potion was working—his ghostly pallor was giving way to a faint flush of color, and the purplish tinge in his fingertips had started to fade.
With a poison specialist already summoned, his life was no longer in danger. Relief finally broke free from Tae Yishin’s chest, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
On the day Ryu Soh-an died, he had sworn to the heavens to protect his younger brother no matter what. Blinded by lust, he had lost sight of what mattered most. At least now, before it was too late, he had come to his senses. He forced down the jagged guilt still scraping inside him.
***
“…Kim Nabin.”
“……”
Nabin couldn’t even remember what Tae Yishin had just said. All that lingered was the memory of those hands crushing his throat and the searing blaze of fury in his ocean-blue eyes.
Even Han Jigang’s voice, calling his name, sounded as cold as it had the first day they met. Curling into himself, Nabin wished desperately that Jigang couldn’t see him at all.
The only thing he had left to cling to was the broken Artifact in his hand. The jagged edges bit cruelly into his palm, but he clung to the cold pendant as if it were the only thing tethering him to the world.
“…Haa.”
Jigang rubbed his throbbing temple as he looked down at Nabin, who refused to move. He wanted to ask if Tae Yishin had told the truth, if Nabin had really brewed poison tea and given it to Somin as the note claimed—but the boy seemed too far gone.
He still needed to check on Somin’s condition, yet leaving Nabin alone in this state was unthinkable.
That was when the coppery scent of blood hit his nose. His gaze fell to Nabin’s hand, and his stomach dropped—how had he missed it until now?
“Kim Nabin!”
Jigang moved quickly, prying open the bloodied fist. What he saw made his heart sink.
“…No.”
Clutched in Nabin’s shredded palm was the pendant—his precious Artifact, now ruined beyond recognition. Jigang knew exactly what it had meant to him. That was why no one had ever dared touch it. Nabin had guarded it like his last line of defense.
Yet now it lay drenched in his blood, drained of even the faintest trace of mana. It was broken beyond repair.
For the first time, Jigang felt Tae Yishin’s words might be true. Nabin’s eyes were dull and unfocused, his mind clearly fractured. He whimpered, groaned, muttered half-formed words through broken sobs.
Maybe it had been when the Artifact shattered that his reason had slipped away. Maybe then, driven by instinct alone, he had harmed Somin. The thought gnawed at Jigang’s chest.
How Nabin had even learned to brew poison tea remained a mystery. But Jigang had only known him for a short time. He knew pieces of Nabin’s past, not the whole story. Tae Yishin was right—he really didn’t know him at all. And the note, damning as it was, was still the only concrete piece of evidence pointing to Nabin.
And yet… even if Nabin truly had poisoned Somin, Jigang couldn’t abandon him.
Reaching for the trembling boy, Jigang tried to pull him onto the bed. But Nabin didn’t even seem to recognize him. His eyes, restless and unfocused, darted about like cornered prey, unable to settle on anything.
“…Let’s treat your hand first.”
The bruises on his neck were bad, but his hand was worse. He’d clutched the pendant so tightly that the skin had split open to raw flesh. Blood poured freely, and yet he kept clawing at his own wounds, searching for what was already gone, carving new gashes into himself.
Even after Jigang lifted him onto the bed, Nabin crawled to the corner, curling into a ball. The situation grew more hopeless by the day, and Jigang felt the weight of it pressing down on him.
He had fought so hard to reach him, to crack open the walls Nabin had built around himself. But now it all crumbled like a sandcastle swept away by the tide.
Even if Nabin really had driven Somin into a coma, one question remained: who had destroyed the pendant?
Artifacts didn’t break like this. When their power ran out, they crumbled into dust—not into clean, sharp-edged fragments like this. It looked deliberate.
The likeliest culprit, Jigang thought, was Somin.
It could have been Tae Yishin, yes—but only Nabin and Somin had been alone in the mansion. If Nabin was the prime suspect behind Somin’s collapse, then Somin was the prime suspect in the pendant’s destruction.
“Ugh… ngh…”
Nabin whimpered, curling in on himself, plagued by hallucinations. He pressed his hands over his ears, but when that wasn’t enough, he scratched at his own skin as if trying to peel it away.
His wild eyes didn’t even register Jigang standing before him, instead chasing after phantoms in the empty air.
There wasn’t a single person in Korea who could heal a broken mind. Such Ability Users were rarities—one each in America, China, and India.
Even as an S-rank Esper, Jigang couldn’t summon them. Each was protected as a national treasure, guarded fiercely. Even if Korea made an official request, there was no guarantee those nations would cooperate.
And no one would dispatch such a figure to heal a mere D-rank Guide. Their own Center Director certainly wouldn’t risk international diplomacy for Nabin’s sake. That despair weighed heavily on Jigang’s chest.
“Kim Nabin, it’s alright. I won’t let Tae Yishin lay a hand on you again. So… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Drawing him into his arms, Jigang whispered over and over. He could only tend to the wounds he could see, but he swore he would find a way to bring Nabin back.
And these weren’t empty words to calm him. He meant every one of them. Jigang would protect Nabin—no matter what. Even if Nabin really had harmed Somin, even if it meant turning his back on comrades and abandoning the boy he had treated as a brother—he would choose Nabin.
