* * *
Haebom unconsciously reached out, stopping just short of touching the wound.
Wonho, still distracted by his own irritation, suddenly let out a sound at the unexpected movement.
Startled, Haebom quickly looked up at him.
“Does it hurt? Hey, you’re the one who’s hurt, not me! Why didn’t you get treated? Let’s go to the hospital. There’s one in the center.”
It wasn’t pain that made Wonho react—it was the sensation of Haebom’s fingertips brushing against his skin.
But Haebom had misunderstood completely, his face filled with concern.
And Haebom had good reason to be alarmed.
The wound ran diagonally across Wonho’s torso, deep and severe-looking.
Espers weren’t immune to pain—they simply endured more than normal people.
If their energy wavered, they could feel every ounce of suffering, even more intensely than others.
That was why espers clung to guiding so desperately.
But that didn’t matter right now—what mattered was that Wonho had sustained a serious injury and was acting like it was nothing.
“It’ll heal on its own. No need for treatment.”
“What? It’s not some stain that’ll just disappear on its own! Treatment will make it heal faster! And this isn’t your only wound, is it?”
Haebom’s eyes swept over Wonho’s body.
He had assumed Wonho’s skin was smooth and unblemished, but there were numerous small scars scattered across his torso.
Only his face, neck, and hands remained untouched.
No wonder his uniform had been in shreds—his body had taken just as much damage.
“And you’d like it to heal?”
“What kind of dumb question is that? Of course, I do!”
Wonho didn’t understand why it was so obvious to Haebom.
Sure, it hurt, but he was used to pain.
The only reason he got these injuries was because he had rushed even more after realizing Haebom was at the center.
In a few minutes, they would all fade away.
He hadn’t even noticed them until Haebom pointed them out.
That was why he had unbuttoned his shirt so easily—if he had been aware of his wounds, he wouldn’t have shown them at all.
“Alright, then stay still.”
Before Haebom could react, Wonho pushed him down onto the bed.
Then, he climbed on top of him.
This… This was a scene he had definitely seen somewhere before.
Haebom stared in shock, his mind going blank.
And in that moment, Wonho captured his lips.
From the moment Wonho saw Haebom—no, from the morning—no, even when they were lying in the same bed, it was hard to hold back.
Haebom might not have realized it, but guiding energy was subtly flowing out of him.
It was likely because their matching rate was so high that he was unconsciously emitting it.
When Wonho asked Jin Seyoung about it, he was told that the amount was so insignificant that it wasn’t worth worrying about.
But it wasn’t just the guiding energy that was stimulating Wonho.
The feel of Haebom’s soft skin clinging to his hands the night before, his scent, and even the way his red lips trembled as he moaned—all of it provoked him.
Haebom’s oblivious actions, done without any awareness, kept triggering him.
Like how he had gone to sleep staring at the ceiling but somehow ended up nestled in Wonho’s arms.
Or how, instead of sleeping quietly, he pressed his thigh firmly against Wonho’s groin.
And then there were those moments—resting his soft cheeks against Wonho’s chest, mumbling “mmnya, mmnya” in his sleep, his lips moving ever so slightly.
The stimulation continued all night long. It wasn’t a problem to go without sleep for a day, so it didn’t really matter.
But now, here he was again, closing the distance between them so easily.
And when Haebom saw Wonho’s wound, he made a face like he was the one in pain.
Ever since becoming an Esper, it was rare for anyone to genuinely worry about his injuries.
Even Jin Seyoung, though hse had grimaced at Wonho’s wounds, hadn’t asked if it hurt—she just assumed it would heal quickly because he was an Esper.
“Open your mouth. You said you’d heal me. Did you change your mind?”
“W-Wait…! Hold on, mmph…!”
Haebom had only said he wished the wound would heal—he never actually said he’d heal it himself.
The moment their lips parted, he was about to protest, but Wonho didn’t miss his chance.
As soon as Haebom opened his mouth to argue, Wonho swallowed his lips again.
Wonho had received what was practically a training session from Jin Seyoung on how to keep Haebom from passing out.
He had even studied, whenever he had the time, ways to make sure it wouldn’t hurt.
At first, he wondered if this was something he really needed to study.
But in the end, he didn’t want to see Haebom in pain, so he did his best to learn.
The option of stopping just because Haebom was hurting was never on the table for Wonho.
Espers craved guiding energy until the day they died.
The stronger they were, the deeper their obsession became.
In fact, it was strange that Wonho hadn’t been obsessed until now.
He had a high matching rate with Choi Yoonseo too, but he had never felt like this before.
He had wanted guiding energy but had convinced himself he could do without it—he could erase himself from the world if necessary.
But after tasting Haebom’s guidance, he no longer wanted to.
He wanted to live in a world where Haebom existed.
Haebom, on the other hand, was afraid that if this continued, he’d get swept up in the atmosphere again and end up doing something he wouldn’t even dare say out loud.
He thought it would be best to just heal Wonho quickly and end this.
But that was a mistake.
Because Wonho, stirred up by Haebom’s guiding energy, wasn’t going to let it go so easily.
As if his mind was being taken over, Haebom’s thoughts grew hazy under Wonho’s presence.
He had never been good at thinking straight when he was flustered.
“Ha, fuck…!”
Wonho clenched his teeth, overwhelmed by the thick, intoxicating guiding energy washing over him.
Even while biting back a curse, he refused to pull away from Haebom’s lips.
Their mouths were still connected, and Haebom could feel every small movement as Wonho muttered the profanity against him.
The sensation made his ears burn with heat.
“I keep telling you—if you don’t like it, push me away. I’m not going to force you.”
Wonho pulled back slightly and gazed at Haebom, his red eyes unwavering.
Haebom thought he couldn’t look away from them, even if he wanted to.
They seemed almost transparent, like a gemstone, yet thick and dark, like congealed blood.
Even the strands of white in his hair were turning black again.
“So? Do you hate it?”
Haebom said nothing. He just pursed his lips and stared.
With each word Wonho spoke, his breath slipped between his slightly parted lips, brushing against Haebom’s own.
If he was going to talk, he should at least step back a little—why did he have to be this close?
Haebom felt like he was losing his mind.
“Yoon Haebom. Answer me. Do you hate this? Do you hate what I’m doing?”
“H-Hngh…! D-Don’t rub there, ah…!”
“You need to answer.”
* * *
