Since it was an agreement between a regular human guide and an esper with abilities, many of the terms were skewed in favor of the guide.
The esper couldn’t really change those terms just because they didn’t like them.
Still, it was important to read them carefully for future reference.
But Wonho, upon receiving the contract, immediately flipped to the last page and scribbled down his name without even glancing at the contents.
“I already know everything in it. Don’t worry—I signed it knowingly.”
“What? You’ve never had a pair before. Where did you even see this contract? We don’t show it to people unless they’re pairing.”
Jin Seyoung looked at him with clear suspicion.
Since Wonho had never formed a pair before, this should be his first time seeing the contract.
Yet he claimed to know it?
When Seyoung didn’t seem convinced, Wonho began reciting the contents from memory.
Word for word.
Jin’s expression turned to one of genuine shock.
He had no choice but to believe him now.
Wonho clearly knew the contents.
When pressed on where he had seen it, Wonho just shrugged and said nothing.
With an exasperated sigh, Jin turned his attention elsewhere.
Haebom had glanced at the contract before, but unlike Wonho, he didn’t remember it all—so under Seyoung’s gaze, he began reading it thoroughly.
“Why are you reading so seriously? Planning not to sign if there’s something you don’t like?”
Seeing Haebom studying the contract like he was cramming for a test, Wonho frowned.
Haebom hadn’t even thought of that, but Wonho had jumped to conclusions on his own.
Haebom, seeing the sour expression aimed at him, let out a quiet laugh.
“That’s not it.”
“Then hurry up and sign. Don’t think about anything else.”
“I told you, it’s important to read it carefully. Guide Haebom, don’t mind Wonho and take your time reading. If there’s anything you’d like to revise or that makes you uncomfortable, let me know. If it’s negotiable, I’ll adjust it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Tired of Wonho poking him from the side, Haebom grabbed his hand, placed it on his thigh, and gave him a sharp look.
Wonho had a face like he didn’t see what the problem was—but to Haebom, there were plenty.
Holding Wonho’s hand tightly, Haebom finished reading the contract.
He realized that it hadn’t changed much from the previous one.
‘The team leader really went out of his way back then…’
Thinking about it, Haebom hadn’t even had a verifiable identity in Korea, yet the contract had still been written to favor him.
Even if he had lied, Haebom back then probably didn’t understand a thing.
Now, having spent nearly a year as a guide, he was different.
Still, the fact that Jin Seyoung hadn’t changed, regardless of memory loss, made Haebom’s heart feel warm and fuzzy.
“Stop staring already. The contract’s done, so let’s go. Home.”
“…Sigh. Seriously, this is a serious case. Is that how imprinting usually works? I should study it. Alright, go. Guide Haebom, take care. Oh, and I’ll register your residence as where Esper Wonho lives. Don’t worry about it. Also, don’t forget to visit the infirmary. Wonho, try not to go overboard there—it’s embarrassing.”
Jin Seyoung waved them off with a look of defeat.
He smiled kindly at Haebom, who bowed in response before leaving the lab with Wonho, hand in hand.
What on earth had happened over those six months to make things like this?
Haebom shook his head in disbelief—but it wasn’t that he disliked it.
No, if anything… he liked it.
Trying to suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, Haebom headed toward the infirmary with Wonho.
After getting his vitamins, the two of them returned home together.
Haebom let out a deep sigh as he walked.
He needed to get used to the fact that Esper Wonho wouldn’t always be by his side, especially when he entered gates.
But it wasn’t easy.
Just coming to the Center and not having anyone to meet anymore made him feel gloomy.
“Excuse me…”
As he passed the main building, someone called out to him.
Haebom had been staring at the ground but looked up quickly—and flinched.
“Ah, hello.”
“Oh! Hi. Um… have we met before?”
Haebom blinked as he stared at Yoon Geonwoo, who was nervously fiddling with his uniform cuff.
Since coming back to this world, this was already the fourth time someone had asked him that.
It made him wonder if the Administrator was messing with him.
“…Hello?”
“Ah! Sorry. No, I don’t think we’ve met.”
The only person from Haebom’s past who still remembered him was Wonho.
Others only had a vague sense of familiarity but couldn’t recall anything clearly.
It just led to confusion for everyone—and it made Haebom feel terribly lonely.
If no one reacted at all, maybe he wouldn’t hope for anything.
Yoon Geonwoo hesitated at the darkening expression on Haebom’s face.
He’d already heard the rumors about an S-class guide who had come up from Busan.
His friends had mentioned it too—that the guide’s face triggered some strange, forgotten memory.
It wasn’t just one friend either—both Lee Taeyoung and Kim Jihyun had said the same thing.
It felt like they were under a spell.
And now, today, Yoon Geonwoo had felt the same way upon seeing Haebom—like this wasn’t their first meeting.
A faint, nostalgic feeling lingered.
“You’re Guide Haebom, right? You must be getting tired of people saying this. Sorry.”
Haebom shook his head slightly.
It wasn’t frustrating—it was just… bitter.
But it was fine. Memories could be rebuilt.
Just being able to return and see them again was enough.
Compared to not seeing them at all, being the only one who remembered didn’t feel like such a big deal.
“It’s okay. Really, I’m fine. Then…”
“…Um, did you eat?”
Yoon Geonwoo held onto the sleeve that had just slipped from his grasp.
He wasn’t quite sure why he reached out again—but something about letting him go just didn’t feel right.
Maybe it was those clear eyes that looked sad even as he said he was fine.
Or maybe it was something else, something he couldn’t quite remember but still tugged at him.
Maybe it was both.
Haebom’s eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled into a smile.
He’d thought Jin Seyoung hadn’t changed—but neither had Yoon Geonwoo.
He’d always tried to make sure Haebom was fed.
“No, I haven’t eaten yet.”
It was the third day since Wonho had entered the Gate, now that his wave patterns had fully stabilized.
Unlike the past six months, when Wonho had obsessively gone into every Gate to search for Haebom, after Haebom returned, he refused to go anywhere.
It had taken Jin Seyoung coming over to literally shake him by the collar to get him to go back into one.
Left alone, Haebom had restarted his old morning training routine.
He wanted to be helpful—maybe even enter the Gate with Wonho someday.
Although he’d received Gate training before, all his records were gone, so he had to start from scratch.
Wonho had been completely against it, though, so Haebom hadn’t actually resumed training yet.
Still, he figured starting with basic fitness was a good place.
They had plenty of days ahead of them—plenty of time.
