Beep. Beep. Beep.
The steady, mechanical rhythm of the heart monitor filled the hospital room.
Hajin sat in a daze, staring at Suhyeon, who lay on the bed with various devices attached to his chest.
He could hear the faint, rhythmic drip, drip of the IV fluid.
—Ugh, ack…
—Ugh, cough! Cough, cough!
The scene of Suhyeon coughing up surges of blood remained vividly etched in Hajin’s mind, cold and haunting.
In contrast, Suhyeon’s pale face, eyes closed in sleep, looked profoundly peaceful.
Even his breathing was perfectly stable.
—I’ve judged it to be… a sudden shock to the Core. His Core is currently in excellent condition.
After hearing the account and finishing the examination, Yihan had concluded that there was nothing wrong with his younger brother’s lover’s body; he was simply in a state close to deep sleep.
It was normal for him to wake up soon, yet Suhyeon had not opened his eyes for three days.
Hajin brushed a cold finger against the white cheek.
Despite the grim situation, Suhyeon’s skin was warm.
He had nearly lost this person.
—Guide Team 1! Guide Team 1!
For the past three days, the Gate that almost took Suhyeon, the monsters, and the chaos of that moment replayed in Hajin’s head like a broken film projector.
It was a vivid horror he never thought he would feel—a terror so absolute his mind went blank.
Even when he had been laid on a cold lab table, surrounded by countless humans while in agony, even when he himself had nearly died, this chilling fear had never gnawed at his mind quite like this.
This would continue until Suhyeon woke up.
Hajin could not live without Suhyeon.
He realized this now with startling clarity.
He could never go back to a life without Suhyeon; the human known as Shin Hajin could do nothing without him.
From the moment Chae Suhyeon fell into Shin Hajin’s arms, it had been decided.
“Esper Shin Hajin.”
The hospital door slid open, and a dry voice pierced the air.
Hajin, who had been absent-mindedly fiddling with Suhyeon’s hand—which bore a ring identical to his own—looked up.
Chae Yihan stood there, his face reflecting a weariness not unlike Hajin’s.
It was time to head to a Gate site.
Because the Gate Rush showed no mercy to anyone’s personal circumstances, the past three days had been a repetitive cycle for both Yihan and Hajin.
When it was time for Hajin to deploy, Yihan guarded Suhyeon’s side.
At all other times, Hajin remained.
Yihan, who had initially collapsed in despair next to the unconscious Suhyeon, now shared the vigil with Hajin.
As night fell and he returned to the room to gaze endlessly at Suhyeon, Hajin glanced at his vibrating phone.
It was a news alert for the keyword ‘Chae Suhyeon.’
It was another new article in a seemingly endless stream.
‘Hidden S-Rank Guide Chae Suhyeon, Actually a Gate Incident Victim?’
‘Survivor of the Gate Accident Three Years Ago Awakens as a Guide.’
‘The Guide Who Quelled the Gate Disaster.’
In the few days while Yihan and Hajin were half-crazed with worry, Suhyeon had been exposed to the media.
Hajin’s phone had rung incessantly for the past seventy-two hours.
Given the mountain of gifted individuals Suhyeon had already come into contact with, his exposure had always been a matter of time.
This recent Gate accident had simply acted as a catalyst.
Hajin had been too distracted by Suhyeon to see or hear anything else, but according to other gifted individuals at the scene, Suhyeon appeared to interact with the monsters and close the Gate himself.
In reality, the Espers who rushed to the site hadn’t killed enough monsters to force a closure.
‘Guide Chae Suhyeon Emerged from a Gate. Could He Be a Humanoid Monster?’
The rumors were so wild that articles even questioned his humanity.
The whole world now knew that a fascinating and incredibly powerful Guide named Suhyeon had appeared.
Those who coveted him were likely multiplying by the second.
It was a fate that followed high-ranking gifted individuals like a shadow.
They had thrown themselves into blocking the news to delay this, but now, there was nothing they could do.
“Kyuu.”
Hajin slowly turned his head toward the small cry.
A white ball of fluff peeked its head out from under the bed, saw Hajin, and immediately ducked back inside in a fright.
Right.
There was also this strange creature—he didn’t know if Suhyeon had created it or if it was a monster.
When he first saw it, he wanted to kill it on the spot, but he stopped for fear it might affect Suhyeon.
Hajin stared with cold eyes at the tiny thing that refused to leave its hiding spot under the bed.
Perhaps because Hajin had moved Suhyeon so quickly after it appeared, not many people had seen it.
Knowing that its existence would only draw more attention to Suhyeon, he had silenced the medical staff.
The creature seemed to have some sense as well; it clung to Suhyeon’s feet but scurried under the bed whenever someone else visited.
“Kyuu…”
After glaring coldly at the insignificant furball, Hajin eventually looked away.
“……Sigh.”
Hajin slumped into his chair, watching the still-motionless Suhyeon.
He closed his gritty eyes and let out a long breath.
Staying on edge, tearing things apart—none of it mattered if Suhyeon didn’t wake up.
‘He should be waking up by now.’
Back when Suhyeon frequently collapsed and complained of chest pain, how on earth had he endured these moments of silence?
“Suhyeon…”
His lover’s name slipped weakly from his throat.
A sense of helplessness, anxiety, and weakness—feelings he hadn’t experienced once in his twenty-nine years—scratched at the inside of his chest.
“Kyu… kyu…”
The fact that only the furball seemed to understand his heart was damnably irritating.
He was thirsty. It wasn’t just a craving; his throat burned with an agonizing parchedness.
“Water…”
Clinging to his flickering consciousness, Suhyeon managed to make a sound.
A raspy, metallic voice spilled out.
Thump! Clatter!
What was that noise?
Before he could follow the thought, a cup of water appeared in his blurred vision.
Someone’s arm supported his strengthless body, lifting him up.
The arm seemed to be trembling slightly, but as if that were an illusion, it quickly held him steady.
Soon, cold water flowed into his mouth.
After swallowing every drop, Suhyeon blinked blankly.
His dizzy vision cleared slightly with every blink.
Memories rushed into his hazy mind like crashing waves.
—Kreeeee…
—CHAE Suhyeon!!!!!!!!!
—Chae Suhyeon, Suhyeon. Suhyeon…
The Gate opening before him.
The swarm of monsters surrounding him.
The white light.
The guiding energy that had exploded outward of its own accord.
The flickering blue fire.
The familiar voice calling his name endlessly.
—Ugh, ack…
—Ugh, cough! Cough, cough!
And finally, the sharp pain that seeped into his chest as if crushing it.
After that, everything was black.
The rush of memories made him feel seasick.
Suhyeon blinked again.
He remembered everything, but he didn’t quite understand how it happened.
He had reached out his arm as if someone else were controlling his body.
The guiding energy had left his body without his consent, as if it were simply the natural thing to do.
The white light erupted, and then—.
“KYUU!!!!”
Suhyeon’s shoulders jerked as something small suddenly leaped into his arms.
Looking down, he saw a ball of fluff.
It was a creature one might only see in a cartoon or a fantasy movie, rubbing its entire body against him as if seeking its mother.
Tiny ears poked out from the soft white fur.
“……Suhyeon.”
A desperate call reached Suhyeon’s ears while he was staring stupidly at the creature.
Suhyeon slowly raised his head.
But a moment later, he froze.
“Hajin…?”
Hajin was standing perfectly still, looking down at him.
He held the empty water cup, indicating he was the one who had provided the drink.
A thin trail of water ran down Hajin’s right cheek.
Tears.
Drip.
A tear rolled down his sharp jawline and fell to the hospital floor.
Suhyeon’s mind, which had been hazy with sleep, was suddenly dragged back to reality.
His pale eyes wavered.
“Suhyeon…”
Hajin, still crying, slowly approached.
His hand, with veins prominently showing, gripped the bedrail as his face drew closer.
With a trembling hand, he brushed Suhyeon’s cheek.
Suhyeon watched him quietly, then leaned his face into the hand, surrendering to the touch.
“Suhyeon.”
“Yes.”
“Suhyeon.”
“Yes, Hajin.”
“Chae Suhyeon…”
“Yeah…”
Hajin called his name over and over.
Suhyeon answered every single time.
Hajin’s blue eyes, wet with unshed tears, shimmered darkly as they reflected Suhyeon.
His black eyelashes glistened in the moonlight, damp with moisture.
“Suhyeon.”
Thud.
Hajin, who had been stroking his cheek, suddenly pushed him.
Suhyeon, who had been sitting up, was pushed back onto the bed without resistance.
“Kyuu.”
The furball that had been clinging to Suhyeon’s chest tumbled across the bed from the impact.
While Suhyeon blinked, Hajin braced both arms on either side of Suhyeon’s head and looked down at him.
The moonlight was blocked by Hajin’s body, casting a shadow over Suhyeon.
Only those blue eyes were visible.
“Me, how many days—”
Suhyeon tried to ask how long he had been asleep.
However, the words were instantly swallowed by Hajin’s descending lips.
Hajin’s tongue violently parted and invaded Suhyeon’s weak, newly awakened lips.
Suhyeon’s eyes fluttered.
“Ha, mmm—.”
The sound of wet friction filled the room.
Hajin swept his tongue against the root of Suhyeon’s trembling tongue, exploring his mouth with a rough, fierce hunger.
A kiss so intense it forced a soft cough from Suhyeon followed.
“Hajin, hng…”
A kiss the moment he woke up was overwhelming.
Suhyeon was helplessly consumed by Hajin.
Finally, only when Suhyeon’s lips were raw, his breathing ragged, and tears began to form at the corners of his reddened eyes, did Hajin release him.
“Haah, haah, haah…”
Hajin, staring down at the gasping Suhyeon, was different from his usual self.
