He had been so certain before… yet the moment he faced Hayan again, Nabin sank helplessly into a storm of confusion. However Hayan remembered him, Nabin had always cherished their memories.
They were the only memories he had to take out carefully whenever the weight of life became too much—when grief, loneliness, and despair threatened to swallow him whole. Maybe it was because Hayan had saved him from the Wolf that killed his father. Or maybe it was because, despite his cold features, the warmth in Hayan’s eyes had comforted him more than anything else.
But after that brief encounter, he had been dragged into an illegal guiding den, his body used until it was ruined. The moment he thought he had escaped hell, he realized he’d only been thrown into a worse one.
Even when he thought of punishment, fear never followed. He had already tasted hell while alive. No punishment could ever compare to the agony of the moment his shattered heart had died.
He had killed his beloved mother. He had killed himself. Whether it was punishment or a new life, Nabin had nothing left to cling to. No—he didn’t even have the strength to want regrets.
But everything changed the moment he saw Hayan again. The world, once colorless, began to bleed with life. Like the second hand of a broken clock suddenly ticking again, his dead heart clawed out of the rubble, desperately trying to stand.
“…Does it hurt a lot?”
Hayan, troubled by how deep the wounds went, rummaged through his jacket for a potion. Clear droplets gathered on the back of his hand where it covered Nabin’s—like dew forming. It wasn’t rain; they were indoors.
Lifting his head, Hayan saw the small face before him. Nabin’s eyes were red, tears falling silently. His expression was flat, lifeless, but those tears spilling from his eyes carried unbearable sorrow.
On that pale, trembling face that didn’t even sob, only shed tears, Hayan suddenly felt a sharp pain pierce his chest. He loosened his grip, wondering if he’d held Nabin’s hand too hard, but Nabin remained motionless, his tears slipping down without end.
As those tears slid down Nabin’s thin cheeks, they seemed to sink into Hayan’s own chest, stirring emotions he couldn’t name. He moved without thinking, as though guided by some unseen force. His arm reached out on its own.
It wasn’t something he would normally do. Enchanted, he pulled the boy into his arms, someone who cried as if he didn’t even know how. Even through the thin jumper, Hayan could feel how frail he was, and the ache in his chest twisted tighter, almost unbearable.
Nabin’s tears soaked into him, sorrow stacking inside his heart drop by drop.
Back in the abandoned dungeon, he hadn’t felt anything like this. But the moment he saw that Nabin’s eyes had collapsed like ruins, Hayan knew something was terribly wrong.
They’d only met once before. That was all. Yet guilt gnawed at him now, whispering that he had abandoned Nabin and left him to break.
He regretted letting him go that day. If he hadn’t, the bright eyes that had bound his heart wouldn’t have withered into this hollow, dried husk. His chest ached so badly his fingertips shook.
“Guide Kim Nabin!”
Those thoughts sank with Nabin’s fainting body. Startled, Hayan called his name and caught him in his arms. His tear-stained face was frighteningly pale.
Even as he lost consciousness, Nabin still clutched the Artifact tightly. Hayan tucked it safely into his jacket and rushed out of the examination room. He had to get Nabin to a healing Esper—now.
But the moment he stepped outside, a man lunged at him, blocking his path.
The man radiated no mana—clearly a civilian. Yet his body reeked faintly of blood, the stench that clung to those who had killed before.
“Hand him over.”
Whoever this man was, Hayan didn’t care. Unless he killed someone right in front of him, the only thing that mattered was getting Nabin to the infirmary.
But when the man blocked him again, Hayan realized where his gaze was fixed—locked on Nabin.
Madness burned in his eyes. Not simple madness, but obsession, raw and twisted, like Nabin belonged to him. Frost spread over Hayan’s expression.
The man reached out. His fists were rough, scarred from countless fights. But before his hand could touch, Hayan slipped back with ease.
He only moved so urgently because every second mattered—avoiding a civilian’s clumsy grab was as easy as breathing.
Hayan’s eyes lingered on Nabin’s tattered clothes, then shifted to the luxury suit the man wore—too expensive for any average salaryman.
The first time Hayan had met Nabin was in an abandoned dungeon. He didn’t know the boy’s exact age, but the soft down of youth on his cheeks made it clear he wasn’t old.
For someone so young to work as a Miner, there had to be a tragic reason. It wasn’t just about money. Abandoned dungeons were far too dangerous for civilians. If Hayan had been even a little later, Nabin would have had his throat torn out by a monster.
One look at the man in the suit, and Hayan knew instinctively: this man had a hand in Nabin’s misery.
“Get lost.”
Hayan usually spoke with respect. His parents had been strict about manners, and even after their deaths, he kept those lessons alive.
But there were people who didn’t deserve it. This man was one of them. His words came cold, sharp, and laced with killing intent.
Espers weren’t allowed to use abilities on civilians, but showing a hint of bloodlust wasn’t punishable—especially when the civilian had attacked first. Even the Center Director would let it slide.
The man’s scarred hands and the scent of blood spoke of a violent life. But in the end, he was still just a civilian. No ordinary man could withstand the killing intent of an S-rank Esper.
And Hayan wasn’t just any S-rank—he was ranked among the very top.
“Keugh…”
Kim Minsu’s imposing body collapsed, knees buckling to the ground like an insect crushed underfoot. He couldn’t withstand it. He had faced countless men before, even the occasional Esper.
But those had only been C- or D-rank at best. The man before him was on an entirely different level, and his body knew it, trembling against his will.
He had to take Nabin back, had to reclaim what was his. But his body refused to move. The Esper hadn’t even done much—just flicked his hand as if swatting a fly.
And still, Kim Minsu crumpled. He clenched his teeth until they creaked, but his limbs felt weighed down by boulders. His arms and legs shook uncontrollably, drained of all strength, as though they no longer belonged to him.
He was the one who had brought Nabin to the Center. He had practically dragged the terrified boy there, ignoring the pitiful way he looked up at him—like a calf being led to slaughter—before shoving him into the examination room.
Kim Minsu had made sure Nabin was tested the moment he turned twenty. With both parents Espers and Guides, the odds were high he’d awaken as one or the other.
If he awakened as an Esper, he’d be useless. But if—if—he awakened as a Guide, the profit was limitless. Just putting him to work in his guiding den, Nabin alone could bring in tens of millions every month.
Unless he awakened as a difficult B-rank or higher, there was no way Nabin could escape his grasp. And strangely, Kim Minsu had been certain—certain—that the boy would be exactly what he wanted: a D-rank.
He had gone through testing himself at twenty, so he knew it wouldn’t take long. That was why he had brought Nabin right before the Center closed—safer than risking him in public, where something unexpected could happen.
But Nabin hadn’t come out of the examination room. Growing uneasy, Kim Minsu began pacing outside the door.
