“…Do you… know Esper Kim Su-hyun?”
Nabin had clung to Kim Su-hyun, sobbing for what felt like forever, until a group of injured Espers were rushed into Infirmary Two. Only then did he finally let go. The moment Nabin pulled away, Kim Su-hyun smiled warmly, offered him a gentle farewell, and hurried toward the patients.
That familiar aura of calm composure was gone without a trace, as though he were desperately avoiding the chance of meeting Hayan’s eyes.
Seeing Kim Su-hyun flustered was what finally jolted Nabin back to himself. He had promised that, in this life, he wouldn’t get entangled with him. And yet, the instant their eyes met, overwhelming emotions surged up, impossible to control.
A heart that had been shattered, trampled, and left barren countless times suddenly sprouted fragile new shoots of feeling. Rationally, he knew it was wrong—but the hot tears streaming down his face, the trembling hand reaching toward Kim Su-hyun, simply wouldn’t stop.
This was the man who had died because of him. If Nabin hadn’t asked about Esper Lee Hayan, if he’d said life at the mansion was bearable, then Esper Kim Su-hyun never would’ve gone to America. And if he hadn’t gone, he wouldn’t have died so young.
Because Nabin had been judged an Immeasurable Guide rather than a mere D-rank, the timing of their meeting in this life had shifted. In his past life, he hadn’t met Kim Su-hyun until his mid-twenties.
By then, he had already been chewed up and broken in illegal guiding parlors, his body in ruins when they first crossed paths. If not for Kim Su-hyun, Nabin might never have adapted to that new, brutal reality—he might have simply wasted away in fear.
Just as Nabin now looked younger than he remembered, so too did Kim Su-hyun appear more boyish. But one thing hadn’t changed. Then, as now, even at their very first meeting, Kim Su-hyun’s eyes had held a warmth so deep it made Nabin’s chest ache.
From Kim Su-hyun’s point of view, Nabin was clearly a stranger. Yet he had burst into tears, clung to him, even grabbed his fingers. He couldn’t hide the turmoil inside him.
But instead of pushing him away, Kim Su-hyun had pulled him close, comforting him. Tangled emotions that had bound him tight like vines finally spilled out in sobs, like a child crying in his embrace. Only then did his reason slowly return.
Even without a mirror, he could feel his burning cheeks. Unsure how to let go, he faltered—until a nurse stepped into the ward, calling for Kim Su-hyun.
“Let’s meet again next time with a smile, okay?”
Leaving him with that gentle smile, Kim Su-hyun disappeared through the door. Nabin froze, head bowed, blinking in disbelief at what he had just done.
How could he ever face him again? And worse, Hayan’s watchful presence beside him pressed even heavier on his chest.
When Hayan’s question came, his thoughts ground to a halt. If someone asked if he knew Kim Su-hyun, for Nabin, the answer was yes. He was someone so precious that Nabin had wished, even in dreams, to see him again. But to Kim Su-hyun, Nabin was nothing more than a strange man who burst into tears at their very first meeting.
“N-no, I don’t…”
It was the only answer he could manage. The whole situation still felt unreal. If he told the truth, people would just assume he was insane.
Even he couldn’t be sure if this place was hell, the reality he had returned to, or simply a dream. How could he possibly expect Hayan to understand?
“…I see. I was planning to head back to my residence shortly. Do you need anything before then?”
It was an obviously suspicious answer, but instead of pressing further, Hayan smoothly changed the subject. Nabin kept his head bowed, gaze fixed on the floor.
He hadn’t reacted much when speaking with the Center Director or the staff, but whenever he looked at Hayan, a faint light stirred in his eyes. Hayan had thought that was something special, reserved only for him.
But his reaction to Kim Su-hyun had been far more intense. The desperate way he had looked at him lingered like a thorn under Hayan’s skin. Still, he wasn’t reckless enough to show such feelings openly.
There was too much he still didn’t know—about the man they’d met outside the examination room, about the childhood spent working as a Miner.
Though Nabin looked better than when he’d collapsed in the testing chamber, there was no telling what might unsettle him. Even a careless word or gesture might be enough to push him over the edge. Hayan wanted to prevent any such mishaps.
Then, at his question, Nabin lifted his head. His eyes trembled—not like they had when he saw Kim Su-hyun, but for a different reason.
“I… I need to see my mom…”
“Your mother is alive?”
“…Yes.”
And just like that, guilt crashed down on him. He should’ve asked for her the moment he woke up. But the trauma of her death had been so crushing that he must have subconsciously avoided thinking of her.
Hayan clasped his trembling hand and gently asked for details. Piecing together his memories, Nabin explained where she should be at this time. Without hesitation, Hayan pulled out his phone to make arrangements.
The place he named was a hospital known for treating Espers addicted to illegal drugs. Since he said nothing of his father, it seemed only his mother remained in his family.
If she had truly fallen into addiction, a normal life would’ve been impossible. No wonder Nabin had suffered so much from such a young age. The thought left Hayan’s chest heavy.
“Are you hungry?”
“…I’m fine.”
The moment he thought of her, Nabin’s breath grew shallow. Memories of their final moments together resurfaced. The raw, bitter truth he had finally voiced in his exhaustion—that had been what drove her to her death.
At her funeral, when he saw her smiling face framed in the photo, even the faint will to live he had clung to had shattered completely. And when the fragments of memory reached the bathroom scene, his body trembled violently.
There was no room to feel hunger. Even when Hayan gently held his hand, Nabin couldn’t calm down. Instinctively, his fingers searched his chest for the pendant.
Whenever the cool pendant rested in his palm, the storm inside him would quiet. It had been so precious that when he had seen it broken, his heart had shattered with it.
“M-my pendant…”
“It’s here. But don’t squeeze too hard, or you’ll hurt your hand.”
Realizing what he was searching for, Hayan took out the pendant from his pocket—the Artifact he had once fastened onto Nabin’s wrist himself.
He wanted to ask how it had broken, but now wasn’t the time. What mattered was that Nabin treasured the Artifact deeply. Since he clearly hadn’t broken it by choice, there had to be a reason.
Agitating him now would only make things worse. Wrapping it in a handkerchief, Hayan placed it on Nabin’s palm. As expected, Nabin clenched it tightly at once.
Thankfully, the cloth kept it from cutting into his skin. Even so, it was dangerous. He had already sliced his hand earlier, and now he seemed too numb to even notice pain.
So Hayan carefully placed his own hand over Nabin’s clenched fist. Since Nabin didn’t pull away, at least he could keep him from hurting himself again.
Covering his hand warmly, Hayan took out his phone. He meant to call Kim Su-hyun to ask where Ryu Soh-an was.
And just then, as if summoned, footsteps sounded near the door. The injured Espers the nurse had brought in earlier had already been transferred with Kim Su-hyun to Infirmary One. Only Hayan and Nabin remained in Infirmary Two.
“Esper Lee Hayan, it’s been a while.”
The door opened, and a man stepped inside. His pink hair and sky-blue eyes stood out even indoors—colors that should have clashed, yet somehow blended seamlessly with his features.
Smiling easily, the man was none other than Ryu Soh-an, the one Hayan had been waiting for.
They had never really spoken properly before. Hayan had been on missions with Kim Su-hyun, but Ryu Soh-an usually worked with other S-rank Espers he was close to.
He typically formed teams with them, leaving little reason to cross paths with Hayan. Since Hayan rarely visited the infirmary either, their interactions had been limited to exchanging names and greetings in passing.
“…Esper Ryu Soh-an.”
Even though Hayan’s response was a little stiff, the smile on Ryu Soh-an’s lips only deepened. Healing Espers were often mild and sociable, but Ryu Soh-an was known as one of the most outgoing in the entire Center.
“I heard you were looking for me, so I came straight here after finishing my mission. Please excuse the mess—I only just returned.”
