“I don’t know yet, either.”
“Hm…”
Even as he answered Kim Su-hyun’s question, Lee Hayan’s gaze never wavered from Nabin. Behind his rimless glasses, Su-hyun’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He never would’ve imagined the day would come when the stone-faced Esper, Lee Hayan, would show signs of a spring breeze.
“Trying to make a good impression on your Guide before signing a Dedicated Guide contract?”
Hayan’s demeanor was polite, but his cold, distant appearance meant very few people ever dared speak to him with such teasing familiarity. Su-hyun was one of the exceptions. They’d known each other for years, and Hayan understood Su-hyun well enough that, around him, his guard tended to relax.
“…No.”
If anyone else had made the same remark, Hayan likely would’ve stayed silent, drilling them with a frosty stare that revealed his irritation. Because Su-hyun’s teasing hadn’t been directed only at him—it included Nabin, too.
But Su-hyun’s tone held only genuine curiosity. He truly seemed intrigued by how out of character Hayan was behaving.
“I’ve never seen Esper Lee Hayan act like this.”
Su-hyun said it plainly. Despite his intimidating first impression, Hayan was always courteous and well-mannered with everyone, but he wasn’t the type to open his heart. If there was anyone he spoke to with some degree of ease, it might’ve been Su-hyun himself.
Sure, he maintained professional familiarity with Espers and Guides he often worked with, but Su-hyun had never once seen him visibly stirred at someone’s side.
Normally, no matter what Su-hyun said, Hayan would remain steady, replying with his usual calm detachment. But just now, he hadn’t been able to hide the faint tremor in his gaze.
A gentle smile curved Su-hyun’s lips. Though older than him, today Hayan looked more like a young man just stepping into spring. Usually, Su-hyun had thought even his personality resembled his pale hair—mature and solemn, older than his years.
“Mmm…”
“Guide Kim Nabin, are you alright?”
This time even Su-hyun was caught off guard. The moment the unconscious Guide stirred, Hayan had leapt from his chair, brushing back the sweat-soaked hair sticking to Nabin’s forehead.
His touch was so tender that, to an outsider, the two might’ve looked like lovers. Su-hyun held his breath and stilled even the faintest sound, unwilling to disturb them.
“Wh… where am I…?”
“You’re in Infirmary Two, inside the Center. You collapsed during the examination.”
Hayan steadied Nabin with a calm gaze, explaining gently. Even after the trembling subsided, his hand continued smoothing back Nabin’s hair, unwilling to let go.
Because he could feel Nabin taking comfort in his warmth. Calmed by Hayan’s presence, Nabin’s gaze finally drifted toward Su-hyun, who had been silently observing.
In that instant, Hayan thought Nabin’s eyes looked like they were breaking apart. The moment he saw Su-hyun, heavy tears welled up and spilled over without warning. As Nabin’s reddened eyes trembled, alarm bells blared in Hayan’s chest.
“Uh… it kind of looks like the Guide’s crying because of me… Is that… right?”
So much for staying quiet—Su-hyun couldn’t hide his unease. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Guide. Even when Nabin had been unconscious, Su-hyun had thought he seemed fragile, as though drawn from delicate lines.
White hair framing sharp features, and those dark eyes that—strangely enough—matched Esper Hayan’s. The thought crossed his mind unbidden.
But the dryness in those eyes had worried him, which was probably why he’d been staring. Perhaps sensing his gaze, Nabin turned to him—and then began crying, sorrow spilling out so raw it seemed to overflow straight from his chest.
No words fit better than pouring out grief. The sight was so raw that Su-hyun forgot to compose himself, mouth falling open. And Hayan’s piercing gaze snapped toward him too—so sharp it felt like it might bore straight through his face.
The strangest part was that although Su-hyun was certain he’d never met this Guide before, Nabin looked at him as if they already knew each other. Fragments of complicated, unknowable emotions swam in those teary eyes.
Maybe he resembled someone Nabin once knew. Su-hyun parted his lips to introduce himself—I’m Kim Su-hyun—when—
“I… I’m sorry…”
“…To me?”
Instead of introducing himself, Su-hyun blurted out the dumbest response. The Guide had apologized—to him.
Why was this person crying as though their heart were breaking, apologizing to him of all people, when this was their first meeting?
Hayan’s black gaze deepened. Though silent, it demanded answers. If Su-hyun had known, he would’ve explained—but he genuinely had no idea.
Damn it… this is insane.
Hayan straightened, taking a step closer. The oppressive movement made Su-hyun flinch.
“Esper Kim Su-hyun, do you know Guide Kim Nabin? A moment ago you acted like it was your first meeting.”
“No. I swear, this is my first time seeing him.”
Hayan’s already-low voice sank deeper, reverberating straight into Su-hyun’s chest. Meeting those bottomless black eyes up close, Su-hyun felt tension crawl down his spine like ice water—worse than anything he’d ever felt, even facing monsters.
He swallowed dryly, casting a desperate look at Nabin. If Nabin didn’t say something soon, this fragile, dangerous moment might shatter.
The infirmary felt cold as a barren wasteland. Unless it was his imagination, a heavy aura poured off Hayan. And yet, carefully, he shielded Nabin with an invisible barrier, letting none of it touch him.
Su-hyun realized then that “polite” had been far too generous a word for Hayan. The man looked ready to strike, all because the Guide had acted like he knew him.
Perhaps sensing his desperate gaze, Nabin stirred weakly, body trembling as he tried to move. His arm wavered, and he nearly toppled forward.
“Take my arm.”
Hayan was there instantly, supporting him. But Nabin’s next action was as unexpected as his sudden tears.
“Ah…”
Su-hyun’s lips trembled at the faint touch that brushed his fingertips. So light it could break at the slightest movement—yet he couldn’t even twitch.
It felt as though invisible cords had bound his entire body, locking him in place.
The cold air had vanished, but the atmosphere thickened, heavy with unspoken power. Hayan’s aura spread steadily, filling the room but deliberately skirting Nabin. The weight of it promised to crush Su-hyun flat if he made even the slightest wrong move.
By all logic, he should’ve pulled away from Nabin’s touch. But the hand clinging to him carried an incomprehensible desperation, like a drowning man clutching his rescuer.
In the end, Su-hyun couldn’t turn away. Nabin’s tear-filled gaze was fixed solely on him, and staring into those pale eyes, he felt as though he was the only one in existence.
Maybe… maybe Nabin had lost someone who looked like him. Not a blood relative—the resemblance wasn’t strong enough—but perhaps an older brother he’d been close to, taken by an accident.
Tears streamed endlessly, yet no sobs came. Only the broken trickle of a faucet spilling down that pale face. Watching him, Su-hyun finally sighed. He was too soft-hearted to just stand by while someone drowned in grief.
“For now… shouldn’t we stop the tears first?”
He drew the hand clinging to his closer, pulling Nabin into his arms and patting his back to soothe him. Glancing at Hayan, he forced a bright, curved smile, as if to say this couldn’t be helped.
It was a desperate attempt to appear harmless. Otherwise, the real problem would begin once Nabin stopped crying.
But Su-hyun’s face soon stiffened into stone. Because Nabin, like a child clinging to a found guardian, wound his arms around his neck.
He didn’t dare reveal his turmoil. The aura rolling off Hayan was so sharp he feared even a hint of hesitation would mean his throat pierced in the next instant.
Yes, Su-hyun was an A-rank Esper—but a Healing Esper. Hayan was an S-rank, and not just any S-rank, but one of the very top. They weren’t even in the same league.
His hand froze mid-pat, and with effort he tugged his lips into a faint smile. Any further contact felt like it might get him killed.
“…I missed you.”
But all of Su-hyun’s careful effort collapsed with that single, fragile confession from Nabin.
In Hayan’s eyes, the frost piled high turned into a raging snowstorm.
For the first time in his career, Su-hyun experienced firsthand the killing intent of an S-rank Esper, sinking into his nape like icy blades.
