Instead of Nabin, an employee burst out of the examination room, wide-eyed and startled. Kim Minsu immediately tried to slip inside, but a security guard blocked his way.
A prickling sense of unease gnawed at him. He considered using the Artifact he’d brought along, even if it meant resorting to force. Just then, the same staffer returned—this time with none other than the Center Director at his side.
The Center Director was someone rarely seen up close. Even Minsu had only caught glimpses of him at parties he’d attended while escorting his boss.
And yet, Nabin had somehow become entangled in something serious enough to warrant the Director’s personal appearance. Things were unfolding very differently from what Minsu had planned.
His nerves were taut, but making a scene here in the Center wouldn’t do him any good. Perhaps because he’d already tried once to force his way into the room, a guard now stood right beside him, glaring sharply, watching his every move.
If this were a more secluded place, the suffocating rage surging inside him would’ve driven him to gouge the man’s eyes out. Instead, regret washed over him for ever bringing Nabin here in the first place.
It didn’t matter whether Nabin turned out to be a Guide or not. As long as he kept him close, that was all that mattered. But out of greed, he had dragged him into this crowded place. Regret was useless now. All he could do was wait for a chance to snatch Nabin and run.
Then, a man with striking white hair entered the examination room. Even at a glance, it was clear he wasn’t ordinary—he carried the unmistakable pressure of an Esper.
And not just any Esper. At least A-rank, perhaps even higher. That white hair stirred old rumors—whispers of an S-rank Esper spoken of like a legend.
Minsu’s eyes stayed locked on the man’s calm, purposeful stride. A heavy sense of dread pressed down on him, far stronger than anything he’d felt moments ago.
He tried to tell himself it was nothing, but the moment the man stepped inside—the very room where Nabin was waiting—an icy chill swept down his spine.
And his premonition proved right.
Nabin was carried out unconscious, cradled in the Esper’s arms. Though he couldn’t possibly know the boy, he held him as if he were precious. His face showed no emotion, but his gaze toward Nabin was so gentle that anyone watching might have mistaken them for lovers.
Minsu’s insides twisted. That couldn’t be allowed. Nabin was his. From the moment he first saw him, he had marked him as his own.
It wasn’t conscience that had kept him from touching Nabin until he turned twenty. No, he had been laying a trap—keeping him blind with false hopes so he wouldn’t see the despair creeping in until it was too late.
And just as he’d felt at their first meeting, the boy ripened more and more with each passing year.
Honestly, Minsu hadn’t cared whether Nabin became an Esper, a Guide, or stayed just a normal human. Whatever the case, he’d never escape the snare.
It was only recently, after his boss began pressing him about the revenue from the guiding business he’d handed down, that Minsu thought of Nabin as a solution.
And now, someone had appeared to steal him away.
When Minsu tried to approach, it was obvious the man was already on guard—already captivated by Nabin, just as Minsu had been the moment he first laid eyes on him.
Sometimes Minsu wondered if he hadn’t set a trap for Nabin at all—if, instead, Nabin had slipped a noose around his neck. That was how thoroughly the boy filled his mind, as if he had moved in and made it his home.
No matter what he was doing, the moment Nabin came to mind, everything else fell away. He would lose track of himself, sinking so deeply into thoughts of the boy that reality itself blurred.
That was why—even knowing he didn’t stand a chance against the Esper—he lunged forward like a fool. Forcing his body to move through the crushing weight, he grabbed at the man’s leg, stretching desperately to seize Nabin’s limp ankle.
“Urgh…!”
A murderous pressure, even heavier than before, crashed down on him. The Esper didn’t even look strained—he simply pressed harder, as though brushing away a nuisance, and Minsu’s body was crushed flat against the floor.
The gulf in power was overwhelming. Never in his life had he felt such helplessness. Since childhood, he had ruled through violence and strength, always standing above others.
It hadn’t mattered that he was born with nothing. Taking what belonged to others had always suited him better. But now he realized—he had been nothing but a petty king inside a well.
His power meant nothing before a true Esper. The difference was a wall he couldn’t hope to climb. But Minsu wasn’t the type to despair before a wall.
If he couldn’t climb it, he would smash through it—even if his bones shattered in the process.
“Kim… Nabin…!”
Bloodshot eyes blazed as he glared at the white-haired Esper who kicked him aside like garbage. Watching Nabin vanish from sight tore at his chest, as though his heart had been ripped out whole.
Grinding his teeth until his gums bled, he carved Nabin’s stolen image into his memory. He clenched his fists until his nails bit deep into his palms, leaving wounds that would become scars—marks to remind him of this fury again and again.
***
“Esper Lee Hayan. It’s been a while.”
“Esper Kim Su-hyun.”
Hayan brushed past the nuisance of Kim Minsu and headed into the infirmary. Even to the end, the man’s hungry gaze clung to Nabin, making it clear he hadn’t given up. Hayan felt with certainty he couldn’t be left unchecked.
But first came Nabin. He needed a Healing Esper immediately. Minsu could be dealt with later—delaying treatment risked consequences he wasn’t willing to chance.
“You haven’t been by the infirmary in ages. I take it it’s because of the one you’re carrying.”
Inside, Su-hyun greeted him warmly. Hayan returned a polite nod, then glanced around as though searching for someone.
“…Where is Esper Ryu Soh-an?”
Su-hyun was an A-rank Healing Esper, but Nabin hadn’t collapsed from physical wounds. His problem was psychological—something Su-hyun had little aptitude for. His gift was tuned for bodily trauma.
Ryu Soh-an, however, had been an S-rank Healing Esper, specializing in mental treatment. S-ranks were rare enough, but Healing Espers of that specialization were rarer still. That was why Hayan had brought Nabin here first, rather than straight to his estate.
“Ah, Soh-an’s been dispatched on a mission. Is it urgent?”
Su-hyun had never seen Hayan like this. The face usually cold as ice softened into something warm and springlike as he looked down at the boy in his arms.
Even more, his eyes held worry—enough to make Su-hyun question his memory. Had Hayan formed a Dedicated Guide contract without him hearing of it?
But no such rumor had ever spread. News about Hayan traveled through the Center like celebrity gossip. If he had truly contracted with a Guide, it would’ve been all over the building within a day.
And besides, Su-hyun knew the faces of almost every Guide in the Center. Yet this one was a stranger.
“He’s suffered a major psychological shock. That’s beyond what I can handle.”
“Ah, if that’s the case… give me a moment.”
Of course Hayan would seek out Soh-an. Su-hyun, after all, specialized only in physical healing.
He pulled out his phone and quickly texted Soh-an: a patient in urgent condition had just arrived—come straight to the Center once the mission ended.
“For now, how about laying him here? Looks like his hands are injured.”
“Alright.”
Nabin’s hands were marred with cuts, dried blood still crusted on them. Hayan had been too rattled by the boy’s tear-streaked face to treat them earlier. Fortunately, he’d wrapped them in a handkerchief to stop the bleeding, but the jagged red gashes across his palms looked raw and painful.
As soon as Hayan gently laid him on the bed, Su-hyun activated his ability. A potion could work too, but he wanted to ease the boy’s pain as quickly as possible.
Even under a heavy winter parka, his frame was frail, almost skeletal. His tear-dried face looked startlingly young—around his younger brother’s age, perhaps even younger.
Yet unlike his brother, this boy—whose name he still didn’t know—carried the marks of hardship everywhere: the worn-out jacket, the skin cracked from bitter cold. It all spoke of a rough life, stirring an ache of sympathy.
“Who is he?”
“…A Guide.”
Su-hyun had already sensed as much from his mana. But it was strange—at times faint, at others dense beyond comprehension. A Guide with an indescribable presence.
“Must be high-ranked.”
For Hayan to bring him here personally, he had to be extraordinary. The unfamiliar face suggested he’d only just been recognized today in the examination room.
If this was their very first meeting as Esper and Guide, then it all had to have happened today. And yet… the way Hayan looked at him carried a depth that was impossible to mistake.
