Kim Nabin’s hope didn’t wither away so easily this time.
The door swung open, and Lee Hayan rushed in, finding Nabin struggling for breath. Without a second’s hesitation, Hayan tended to him, helping his lungs draw air again, then pulled his chilled body into his arms, wrapping him in warmth.
“Guide Kim Nabin, you’re safe. This is my home. From now on, this is where we’ll live together.”
Hayan had already prepared a room for Nabin’s mother—the largest one on the first floor. A doctor and nurse would visit daily to care for her. He’d even hired round-the-clock caregivers and filled the room with high-grade medical equipment, transforming it into something nearly indistinguishable from a ward at the Center.
He had only stepped away briefly to check on her, and in that moment, Nabin had woken.
It was as if what had happened before he fell asleep had returned as a nightmare, smothering him. His face was ghostly pale, drenched in cold sweat.
With no one to hold onto, he clutched the sheets so tightly that blue veins stood out along his hands, a sight that twisted painfully in Hayan’s chest.
Watching him suffer, blaming himself for not being there at his side, made Hayan’s heart unbearably heavy.
“Hhhk… uhh…”
Little by little, Nabin’s ragged breaths calmed under Hayan’s gentle words and steadying touch. And just as he said, this was not that nightmarish mansion.
The windows might have looked familiar, but the scale of the room was completely different. Even the subtle fragrance lingering in the air told him this was a different place.
“W-where… am I…?”
Though his breathing had steadied, the suffocating emotions still lingered, leaving his chest heaving. To keep him from feeling afraid, Hayan pulled a blanket over him, wrapping up his trembling body. Nabin didn’t resist his touch, which made it possible.
“This is my home. You’ll be staying here too, Guide Kim Nabin.”
“…Me?”
“Yes. Think of it as your own house. Rest however you like. If this room doesn’t suit you, I’ll move you to another. I chose it because it’s the largest on the second floor with the best view, but we can look around together and decide later.”
Nabin struggled to process his words. Even with his blurred vision, he could see the room was far too grand for someone like him. It wasn’t just the size—everything, from the bed to the nightstand, the sofa, the table—looked impossibly expensive, even to his untrained eyes.
And most of all… the room felt lived in. The furniture and belongings were immaculate, yet carried a quiet refinement, elegant and dignified, as though they mirrored the character of their owner. If his guess was right, this was Hayan’s own room.
“I-I don’t need such a nice room…”
It was true. All the rooms he’d ever stayed in, combined, wouldn’t amount to even half this one. Just the visible space was overwhelming, and he couldn’t even gauge the scale of the adjoining sections.
The idea that the best room in the house was being given to him was absurd. This was Hayan’s mansion. Nabin was nothing more than a guest clinging to his kindness. And yet, listening to him, it felt almost as if Nabin were the master here.
“It’s not too much. Honestly, I thought it wasn’t enough.”
Hayan’s words left Nabin even more at a loss. This was only their second meeting. He had spent years cherishing the memory of their first, while to Hayan, he had probably been just one of countless people who passed by.
But from the moment Hayan had given him that precious Artifact, Nabin had felt it—the man, despite his cold exterior, had a heart warmer than anyone’s.
Those starless eyes, dark as the night sky, brimmed now with concern and kindness. Heat spread across Nabin’s cheeks. He didn’t deserve such kindness.
He knew it. And yet, moment after moment, he’d been too weak to resist, dragging precious people into the pit where he lived. If life had granted him another chance, he couldn’t make the same mistakes again.
To Esper Lee Hayan, just like to Esper Kim Su-hyun, he was nothing but a burden.
“You… you can’t stay close to me…”
With those words, Nabin pulled himself back from Hayan’s arms. They were still sitting together on the same bed, but the warmth that had passed between them faded instantly.
Hayan froze. Nabin hadn’t rejected him outright like he had Ryu Soh-an, but this deliberate act of creating distance was enough to make his body lock up. He wanted nothing more than to close that gap—more than that.
But he clenched his fist out of sight, forcing himself to endure. His impatience must never become pressure against Nabin.
“I want to be closer to you, Guide Kim Nabin—not farther.”
He made it clear he couldn’t obey that request. Not to stay close? From the very first moment, Nabin had left a mark on him.
And ever since meeting him again, he had become the one person who weighed most heavily on his heart. His feelings weren’t fading—they were only growing stronger.
“…You’ll end up unhappy.”
Nabin’s eyes cracked with pain. Esper Lee Hayan, like Esper Kim Su-hyun, was a good person. Everyone who showed him kindness had a kind heart.
If only they’d been cruel instead… maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much.
After pulling away, Nabin couldn’t look him in the eye. His gaze wandered restlessly, skimming past Hayan to the corners of the room.
But when he spoke—when he said being close would only bring unhappiness—his dark eyes locked onto Hayan’s. He couldn’t let another precious person suffer because of him.
Even now, no longer a D-rank Guide but one treated with respect by even the Center Director, the misfortune clinging to him was relentless. It would drag not only him but anyone near him into despair.
Hayan heard his words like a melody made of sorrow. Nabin’s quiet voice carried like a solemn truth, so clear it pierced his chest.
He looked fragile, ephemeral, as if he might vanish at any moment. And Hayan felt keenly that he had yet to become a firm anchor for him.
But that didn’t mean he could step back. He had to show Nabin, slowly, patiently, that he would never leave.
That no matter what unhappiness came, it could never be worse than living without him.
“It’s all right. Whatever unhappiness comes.”
And he didn’t stop at words. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for Nabin’s trembling hand.
Nabin flinched, but didn’t pull away. Hayan threaded his long fingers between his, holding him fast. Compared to his own hand, Nabin’s was so small, the difference in length more than a whole joint.
His touch spread warmth over Nabin’s cold, sweat-dampened hand like a blanket. Bit by bit, the chill faded. That small change filled Hayan with quiet joy.
He leaned in, gazing into Nabin’s face up close, watching the faint ripple in his eyes deepen.
Hayan’s grip tightened—not to hurt him, but firmly enough that he couldn’t slip away.
“So you don’t have to run. I’ll protect you.”
He didn’t know exactly what Nabin feared, or why he kept belittling himself.
But Hayan had already decided: he would protect him, so that from now on Nabin would never need to fear, so that the sorrow etched into his face could soften into a bright smile.
He had never once seen him smile. Every expression until now had been twisted in pain, withered like a dying flower. Even so, each one had stirred his heart. But he longed to see him truly happy.
How beautiful would those luminous eyes be if they shone with genuine joy, even in this dimly lit room? Just imagining it felt like new flesh sprouting over old scars.
“I brought your mother here. Would you like to see her?”
“M-mother…”
“Yes. She’s downstairs, on the first floor.”
At those words, the darkness clouding Nabin’s eyes slowly lifted, his gaze regaining strength. And when Hayan mentioned his mother, the small, frozen hand clasped in his grew firm with life.
Seeing him respond actively—not passively—brought the faintest smile to Hayan’s lips. Still holding his hand, he rose from the bed.
Nabin followed, but like a child learning to walk, his steps faltered unsteadily.
“Ah…”
“You’re still weak. The stairs could be dangerous—lean on me until we get downstairs.”
