* * *
“…Right now.”
The moment Haimar saw Ben’s twisted expression, the air in the room froze with a sharp snap.
“This might get rough.”
A dull thud rang in Haimar’s head, and a flicker of irritation sparked to life.
Ben Plaskun’s tearful face was one of the things he’d always liked most.
He’d even thought more than once about making him cry.
But not now.
As Ben’s face contorted with near-tears while spitting out harsh words, Haimar’s expression turned eerily blank, doll-like in its lack of emotion.
He didn’t want to see it.
He didn’t want to make him cry right now.
There was no reason—just a strong, inexplicable feeling.
But at the same time, he was angry.
“That’s not tru—urk!”
“Shut the hell up with that crap. You were the one who brought up trust in the first place. Isn’t it you who doesn’t trust me?”
Thud—
Ben was pushed back helplessly by Haimar’s strength, landing on the bed.
The control device box he had been holding flew out of his hands and skidded across the room.
Both of his arms were now pinned down, each gripped tightly by Haimar.
With Haimar on top of him, it looked like he was completely trapped.
And yet, Ben didn’t back down an inch.
“So what, I’m supposed to just go ‘oh, okay’ and look the other way even though I know you’re clearly not okay? Just blindly trust your words and ignore everything else? I can’t do that. I won’t!”
Pain shot through his bandaged left arm under the strain of Haimar’s grip.
The growing tightness became unbearable, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from yelling:
“Let me go!”
“What, trying to run away now?”
Like hell he couldn’t!
Even though he had no intention of running, the provocation triggered a stubborn defiance in him.
Ben glared back at Haimar.
“What if I do run? What are you going to do about it?!”
CRASH—!!
With the sound of something shattering, the cold tension in the air instantly turned violent and feral.
Ben turned his head slightly in shock and saw the entire shelf next to the bed blown apart into fragments.
But before he could react, Haimar’s lips pressed against his neck—and bit down, hard.
“Ugh—! Why did you bite me?!”
It hurt so badly tears almost welled up in his eyes.
There was no doubt it had drawn blood.
But the one who caused the wound didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
After pulling back, Haimar leaned close to Ben’s ear and growled in a low, dangerous tone:
“Don’t look away. You promised you’d never run from me no matter what. Go ahead, try it—just once. I’ll catch you and chew you up, bones and all.”
It felt like being pinned under a wild beast.
Haima’s unrestrained presence, ferocious and raw, wrapped around him completely.
His ice-blue eyes gleamed with savage light.
The intensity crushed down on Ben, making him forget even the throbbing pain.
All he could do was look up at him.
“If I didn’t really need you, I would’ve used that thing already, or just thrown it all away and taken what I wanted by force. Right? If you’ve got a brain, you should be able to figure that out.”
There was something heavy in those sharp words—something real.
Despite the anger laced in his voice, it was that raw sincerity that gave Ben a strange sense of relief.
All this time, Haimar had just been keeping his promise.
Waiting for Ben to be the one who spoke about ‘time’ and ‘trust.’
“…There’s one thing I want to ask.”
Haima’s ferocious aura remained, but his eyes, a deep leaf-green, now held a faint anticipation as he waited for Ben’s next words.
Encouraged, Ben calmed his tone and asked:
“The interview—you didn’t tell me about it. Was it because you didn’t trust me, or because you didn’t want me to worry?”
Even as he spoke, sweat dampened his palms from the tension.
But he had to ask. If he didn’t ask now, he felt like he might never get the chance.
Haimar stared at Ben for a long moment before answering slowly:
“Let’s go with—it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.”
His words were gruff, but it felt like the icy wall Haimar had put up was melting, just a little.
As that wall began to dissolve, so too did the anxiety weighing down on Ben, breaking apart into vague fragments.
Though clumsy and awkward, those words somehow quieted the storm in his heart.
The two who had once walked parallel lines, never intersecting, were now starting to curve toward each other.
Just a few words—but maybe that’s all he needed.
Perhaps that tiny bit of reassurance was exactly what Ben had been missing.
That’s why this clash had been inevitable.
But in the end, maybe they’d both taken a step closer to one another.
As that realization settled in, what followed for Ben was a deep embarrassment.
He hadn’t needed to get angry—what he should’ve done was apologize.
Even if he was hurt or upset, that would’ve been the right thing.
“I’m sorry. I had no right to get angry at you. It was my fault from the start.”
The words slipped out more easily than his first sentence, as though confessing a sin.
He didn’t avert his eyes like before, and his voice, filled with sincerity, gently drifted past Haimar’s ears, lightening the still-heavy air between them.
“I just… I was frustrated. If I’d done better, none of this would’ve happened.”
“That’s enough blaming yourself.”
Haima didn’t entirely disagree with Ben’s fears or why he felt that way.
If they were to break everything down to its root cause, Haimar couldn’t claim to be blameless either for keeping things to himself.
In the end, it had happened because they were each other’s first.
Ben Plaskun had never guided anyone before, and Haimar Eilec had never been guided.
This was bound to happen.
It was their first real fight—and at the same time, their first unspoken reconciliation.
For Haimar, who had spent his life reading others’ minds, controlling one-sided conversations, or killing those he deemed enemies, this was the first time he’d worked through something with someone—through words, not thoughts.
And for the first time, he realized that such a strange, unfamiliar experience could leave something behind.
It wasn’t physical, nor could he explain exactly what had been left behind.
But he knew something had.
The feeling spread out from his chest, seeping all the way to his fingertips—foreign and deeply strange.
“…Didn’t think you’d say something like that. I was expecting a huge lecture.”
“So my words sound like nagging now, huh? Should I start getting really annoying then?”
“Not at all. I’d like to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Finally, the mood between them had returned to something more normal.
Ben was still lying on the bed, his wrists still held by Haimar.
Though he no longer gripped them tightly, just as Ben thought the pain had subsided, a strange sensation crept into both wrists.
What is this…?
Confused, Ben glanced at each of his arms.
Nothing had changed physically, and yet something intangible was flowing into him from where Haimar’s hands touched him.
The sensation was thick, heavy, and muddled—but it didn’t spread inside him.
Instead, it seemed to dissolve the moment it reached him.
Ah… no way.
Ben had never felt anything like this before, but he understood instantly.
Without a shred of doubt or hesitation—only the certainty that came from being his guide.
This feeling… it must be his condition.
As Ben focused on the wrist he had grabbed, a vague awareness of Haimar’s condition crept in, making his brows knit instinctively.
The golden energy that should have been dazzlingly brilliant was instead horribly murky, like sewage mixed in, rotting to the point of almost festering and bursting.
It wasn’t flowing—it was stagnant, overflowing in a way that made it clear just how dire things were inside him.
“Let go of this hand for a moment.”
“Why?”
“Quickly, please.”
At Ben’s sudden urgency, Haimar released the grip on his uninjured right arm.
Ben swiftly reached out toward the control device by Haimar’s ear.
The humming resonance of the device was immediately felt at his fingertips.
The heat it emitted was hotter than he had expected, catching him off guard.
“What are you doing?”
I can’t sense it like before…
Despite Haimar’s question, Ben remained lost in thought, struggling to grasp the energy that now felt much fainter than earlier.
Even after grabbing Haimar’s hand again, the clarity from before was gone.
It was like trying to catch a frequency on a broken radio—full of static, constantly cutting in and out.
No matter how much he concentrated, it seemed like he had only managed it earlier by luck.
Frustrated by this wall, Ben seriously considered whether there was a way to overcome it.
He didn’t have to think long. The first thing that came to mind was guiding.
The very heart of the controversy, the issue he had always known he would face someday.
Now that it was right in front of him, it surprisingly didn’t feel as daunting as he had feared.
In fact, he felt he could accept it more calmly than expected.
The thought passed through him, and in the same breath, his resolve solidified.
Yeah. No more running, Ben Plaskun.
The iron’s hot—time to strike.
“I’m ready.”
More than just resolve—he couldn’t stand to watch someone’s internal state deteriorate like this any longer.
“I’d appreciate it if you remembered that I can’t read your mind.”
“I mean, uh… I’m saying it’s okay now. I promise.”
* * *
