After carrying Haebom to the first-floor bedroom since the second floor was a mess, seeing him lying there, back where he belonged, after six months of absence—it made something in Wonho’s chest ache.
He’d wanted to come inside him over and over, but he’d held back.
That alone deserved praise, in his opinion.
So he’d compromised: he’d keep himself buried inside Haebom as they slept.
He’d known Haebom would curse him for it, but he couldn’t help it.
Just holding him wasn’t enough to shake off the lingering fear of losing him again.
“Hng, ah…! Then pull out now…! Ngh! You crazy bastard…!”
Even as he said it, Haebom reached out and wrapped his arms around Wonho’s nape, overwhelmed by the pleasure surging to the tips of his hair.
It wasn’t a lie that he’d told him to pull out—but it was just too much.
The way Haebom clung to his neck, hips writhing, made Wonho grit his teeth.
The urge to lock Haebom away like this, keep him forever, burned fiercely inside him.
“Wonho, sit over there. Not here—that chair.”
Haebom pushed aside the seat next to him and pointed to the farthest spot at the table.
Since Wonho’s dining table was meant for six, the place he indicated was diagonally across from him.
Even that wasn’t ideal—Haebom would’ve preferred if Wonho had just disappeared entirely—but he didn’t want him completely out of sight either.
“Can’t I sit next to you?”
“No, you can’t.”
“You said you don’t even have the strength to lift a spoon. I’ll feed you. So let me sit beside you.”
And whose fault is that? Haebom glared at him, eyes narrowed.
But Wonho didn’t budge. If anything, the faint smile on his face only made him more irritating.
Without hesitation, Wonho grabbed the chair Haebom had pushed away and sat down beside him, ruffling Haebom’s hair affectionately.
Too exhausted to argue, Haebom let out a long sigh.
Wonho, satisfied, took his seat and pulled all the side dishes toward Haebom.
After indulging in him all morning, Wonho was in peak condition.
Not only had his wavelength stabilized, but even the sharp, volatile edges of his personality had softened entirely.
There was no need to be on edge anymore—not as long as Haebom was by his side.
“What do you want to eat?”
“…Meat.”
Wonho found it unbearably cute how Haebom, who had just ordered him to sit far away, now obediently answered when offered food.
If Haebom had been serious about keeping his distance, Wonho would’ve had no choice but to comply—but he knew that if he pushed just a little, Haebom would give in.
Throughout the meal, Wonho dutifully brought every dish Haebom wanted right to his lips, not forgetting to slip bites of rice in between.
Haebom ate everything like a baby bird, barely moving except to open his mouth.
After six months without guiding, Wonho’s wavelength had drained Haebom’s energy down to the dregs, and the sheer intensity of pleasure had left him without even the strength to lift a finger.
Though his guiding energy had fully recovered after sleeping, his body wasn’t so quick to bounce back.
At this rate, I might need an IV at the Center…
As Wonho diligently kept feeding him, Haebom’s rice bowl gradually emptied.
Then, Haebom shot him a sidelong glance.
“What?”
Wonho tilted his head, wondering if he needed more food, and shifted forward slightly.
“Shouldn’t we go to the Center?”
“Ugh… I guess we have to.”
Wonho grumbled, making no effort to hide his reluctance.
“You need to transfer branches, and we have to redo our pair contract…”
If it weren’t for the contract, he wouldn’t have wanted to go at all.
After washing Haebom earlier, he’d checked his phone—most of the messages were from Jin Seyoung.
He’d sent a text telling her to stop bothering him, that they’d go tomorrow which was now today.
She’d replied, but he ignored it.
There were probably more messages this morning, but it didn’t matter.
Once they got to the Center, it’d be over.
After all, he was bringing back the very guide she’d been so worried about.
There was no reason for him to lose control now, no reason to grow sharp-edged from Haebom’s absence.
“I’m done. Let’s get dressed and go. Oh—wait, my room’s still here?”
Haebom turned his head sharply toward his bedroom mid-chew.
He’d assumed everything about him had been erased—so why did Wonho still remember him?
And why was his room still intact?
He would’ve asked the administrator, but no matter how much he called, they never appeared.
The only explanation he could think of was the imprint.
There was no other reason Wonho’s memories should remain.
Probably…?
“Yeah, everything else disappeared, but that room stayed. Your slippers, your bowls—all of it’s gone except for that.”
“Huh? Then what’s this?”
Haebom looked down at the slippers he was wearing, then at the dishes on the table.
They were identical to the ones he’d used, so he’d assumed they were his.
But now that he paid attention, they looked completely unused.
“I bought them. So you’d have something to use when you came back.”
Ah… Haebom exhaled heavily.
For him, it had only been a few weeks—but for Wonho, it had been over six months.
The thought of him enduring alone in a world where Haebom had vanished made his chest ache.
His earlier resolve to stay mad at Wonho all day melted away like snow in sunlight.
After finishing a meal that could’ve been either breakfast or lunch, Haebom headed to the center with Wonho.
As they walked, Haebom felt strangely unsettled.
He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way, not until they actually arrived at the center.
He was happy to see Wonho again—of course he was—but at the same time, something about it felt… off.
It was only after they arrived that Haebom realized why he felt that way.
“Your name’s Haebom, right? Says here you’ve completed your Guide training. Is that correct?”
As soon as they arrived, Jin Seyoung—who had practically looked ready to grab Wonho by the collar with how much she was scolding him—shoved him into the exam room.
Only after doing that did she calm herself and walk up to Haebom with a pleasant smile, as if she hadn’t just been furious.
Her smile was so bright and friendly, it was hard to believe she’d just been shouting.
And yet, despite that, Haebom couldn’t ignore the discomfort that crept in.
Even though he was reunited with Wonho, some uneasy feeling lingered beneath the surface.
“Guide Haebom?”
“Ah—yes. I finished Guide training and was in the middle of practicals.”
When Haebom didn’t answer right away, Jin Seyoung called his name again.
Only then did he snap out of it and respond, looking a little flustered.
It stung just a little to see that the warmth Jin Seyoung used to show in her gaze was now absent.
But it was understandable.
After all, Haebom had suddenly appeared as Wonho’s Imprint Guide—it made sense for her to be cautious.
While Haebom assumed Jin Seyoung was simply wary of him, she herself was struck by an odd feeling when she first saw him.
She’d never met this guy before—she was sure of it.
And yet… he looked familiar.
Just vaguely familiar.
No matter how hard she searched her memory, she couldn’t recall ever seeing him.
