“Haah… was it very difficult?”
“Yeah. You worked hard…”
The confirmation came as Suhyeon panted, catching his breath.
Suhyeon blinked and gently stroked Hajin’s hair as the man leaned his head against his neck.
Hajin’s blue eyes blinked slowly, like those of a docile beast.
“Um, Suhyeon.”
Suhyeon, who had been resting his cheek lightly against Hajin’s head, looked up at the familiar voice.
The arm wrapped around his waist tightened, as if Hajin were demanding he go nowhere.
It was Asher who had called him.
His green eyes held a hint of distress as he looked at Suhyeon; his face, too, was significantly worn out.
“Could you perhaps give me some guiding?”
“……Asher Delveron.”
Even in his exhaustion, Hajin had enough strength left to growl jealously, but the look on Asher’s face was different from his usual pestering.
“I don’t have a partner right now, and there aren’t many Guides currently available who can provide an effect equivalent to A-rank or higher.”
Suhyeon blinked at the mention of him being partnerless.
He belatedly realized that Lee Jaeram was missing from the Team 2 Guides present today.
“They terminated the contract. From that side.”
“……In the middle of all this?”
“In the middle of all this. It’s only been two days since the termination, and it’s hard to find a suitable partner during a Gate Rush. If you don’t want to… well, I’ll ask someone else.”
Asher shrugged, mentioning he’d been dumped mid-crisis.
His guiding levels must have dropped significantly, as even that simple movement looked heavy and labored.
It couldn’t be helped. Hajin narrowed his eyes but didn’t stop him further.
“Hmm, shall I do it for you-yong?”
Just as Suhyeon was about to reach out, a flippant voice cut in.
Simultaneously, Asher’s eyes twitched.
Oliver Rodilac, who had been loitering around Suhyeon earlier, poked his head in, seemingly having just finished guiding another Esper.
“You—I definitely don’t need you.”
Asher’s face twisted into a murderous scowl.
“Why-yong? I want to try guiding an S-rank Esper-yong. Didn’t we do it a few times when we were younger? Though it didn’t fit well.”
Suhyeon had sensed it before the Espers went to close the Gate, but Oliver Rodilac and Asher clearly knew each other.
And clearly, it was on very bad terms.
Suhyeon hadn’t known Asher for long, but it was the first time he’d seen Asher’s face look so genuinely repulsed.
If Hajin and Asher were frenemies, these two felt like sworn enemies—though it mostly looked like Asher was the one being unilaterally disgusted.
“It’s the same guiding, why refuse-yong? You know I’m A-rank too.”
“Why would I ever take your—”
“Um, I’ll do it.”
As their voices rose, the ambient fatigue seemed to spike.
Suhyeon stopped them before things got louder.
“Really?”
Asher’s face brightened instantly.
“Ah, I see-yong. Then can I try guiding this Esper-yong?”
Oliver Rodilac backed off more easily than expected.
The problem was that he immediately approached Hajin, saying, “You haven’t reached your baseline yet, right?”
Being a foreigner, he didn’t seem to know much about Hajin’s temperament.
“I’m the one who has to take care of him, so… I’m sorry.”
Suhyeon noticed Hajin’s expression growing lethal and quickly blocked Oliver’s approach before he could explode.
“Ah, okay-yong. Sorry-yong.”
Fortunately, Rodilac seemed to sense Hajin’s aura this time, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the three of them, then curved into crescents.
“Too bad-yong. I came to Team 1 to experience an S-rank-yong. Good luck, Suhyeon.”
After patting Suhyeon on the shoulder, Oliver Rodilac drifted away toward another Esper in need of guiding.
—Kyu-!
At that moment, for some reason, the fluff-ball in Suhyeon’s pocket—which he had forgotten about—started stomping its feet.
Suhyeon flinched.
The movement stopped quickly, but Suhyeon looked around just in case.
Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed.
“That guy is seriously weird. Be careful, Suhyeon.”
Even Asher hadn’t noticed, as he was too busy glaring at Oliver.
Suhyeon let out a sigh of relief and nodded vaguely.
He began slowly releasing guiding energy while stroking Asher’s back.
“Haah, this is it…….”
Asher exhaled a long breath with his eyes closed.
His levels must have been quite low; the speed at which he absorbed the wavelength was staggering.
“Suhyeon.”
Noticing Hajin looking extremely displeased beside him, Suhyeon trickled some energy toward him as well, finishing the guiding for both S-rank Espers.
The moment he let go, exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave.
After a while, the other Guides finished up with their respective Espers.
As the guiding concluded, people began to pack up the site with clockwork precision.
The injured were loaded into vehicles first, and the Gate site was tidily wrapped up despite the initial chaos.
“See you next time, Suhyeon!”
He parted ways with Asher, who was waving his arms like a puppy wagging its tail.
There were no more duties left for Suhyeon and Hajin today.
Given the high-level nature of the Gate, they were told the reporting could be deferred.
And so, they returned home.
“Suhyeon.”
“Yes. Oh…?”
The moment they stepped inside, Hajin pushed Suhyeon toward the sofa as if lunging at him.
His vision tilted, and Suhyeon blinked as he landed on the cushions.
Hajin burrowed into his embrace like a beast craving warmth.
“Haah…….”
Letting out a sigh, he buried his face in Suhyeon’s side before completely relaxing his body.
He looked like a young boy acting spoiled.
He slid down further until he was lying with his head in Suhyeon’s lap.
“Kyu.”
The fluff-ball, which had been quiet in his pocket the whole time, popped out just in time to avoid being squashed.
Suhyeon fought off the guiding-induced fatigue and gently stroked Hajin’s hair.
The soft black strands slipped through his fingers and back again.
Hajin looked exhausted.
It didn’t seem to be just the physical drain from the Gate or the dip in guiding levels.
“Is something wrong?”
Suhyeon quietly asked the question that had been on his mind for days, even before Hajin left for the Gate.
Hajin started to shake his head as if to say it was nothing, then paused.
He turned over from his side and looked up at Suhyeon.
His blue eyes wavered as they reflected Suhyeon’s face.
“It’s not… ‘something’ exactly.”
Hajin murmured, reaching up to caress Suhyeon’s cheek.
Suhyeon leaned his face into the hand and waited for him to continue.
“There’s something… bothersome.”
Hajin whispered while staring blankly up at him.
“Yes.”
As Suhyeon gave a small prompt, Hajin’s red lips moved again.
“It’s something from a long time ago…….”
He faltered, his lips hovering as if to say more, but no sound came out.
Suhyeon waited patiently.
A distant light appeared in Hajin’s blue eyes, as if he were remembering something far away.
“……There’s a person I need to catch, but they won’t be caught.”
Hajin finally continued after a long silence.
Suhyeon leaned further into the hand cupping his face.
The solid hand held his white cheek firmly.
“A person?”
“Yeah…… it’s such an old matter that it’s annoying, and the fact that it’s annoying makes me even more annoyed…….”
Hajin spoke in a daze, as if offering a confession.
It seemed there was a deep story there.
Suhyeon simply continued to stroke his hair.
Hajin didn’t open his mouth further, and Suhyeon didn’t press him.
Everyone has a burden they carry.
If Hajin feels better or catches whoever it is, perhaps he’ll tell him one day.
Suhyeon didn’t have to do anything; just being there seemed to bring Hajin peace, as the tension in his face finally began to melt.
He turned over again, nuzzling his cheek against Suhyeon’s lap a few times before burying his face in Suhyeon’s stomach and whispering.
“Suhyeon, kiss me.”
Suhyeon obediently lowered himself toward Hajin.
Their lips met and rubbed together lightly, their tongues parting the gap to explore one another.
Lids fluttered shut over blue and brown eyes.
A sweet kiss, just like always, followed.
Inside a massive, clean underground bunker in Seoul, filled with monitors.
A middle-aged man, Shin Seojun, sat perched on a chair and lit a cigarette.
The flame of the lighter made his graying hair appear red for a moment before it returned to its original color.
—Seeing him in person, Seojun’s son is even more terrifying than I thought.
Oliver Rodilac’s voice echoed from the phone set to speaker mode.
Whoosh.
A cloud of pale smoke drifted from Shin Seojun’s mouth.
Oliver Rodilac was the talkativest of all the gifted individuals he had planted in the Canadian Association.
But that was exactly why he was useful for things like this.
“Did you attach it properly?”
—Of course-yong!
Shin Seojun jerked his chin toward a large man standing silently beside him.
The man nodded and wordlessly spread his hands.
Slowly, a single, white-glowing thread wound itself around his thick, empty fingers.
The man dissipated the energy before it fully manifested and nodded.
A C-rank Esper, this man had the ability to attach a small chip made of energy to a specific target; he could then teleport that target to a desired location exactly once.
He could only create one chip at a time, and he could never teleport the same target twice—on the surface, it seemed like a useless ability.
However, Shin Seojun always kept him close, and when he wanted to meet someone, the man’s ability shone.
Among the children he had awakened, not a single one was useless.
A satisfied smile played on Shin Seojun’s lips.
“Well done.”
—Right? Right? Seojun, now what are you going to do for me—
The phone was ruthlessly hung up as Rodilac became noisier.
“Slowly… shall I go see his face?”
Shin Seojun murmured, exhaling another cloud of smoke.
This bunker was a place too good to throw away, but the new and unique specimen named Chae Suhyeon made him not care.
One always had to pay a corresponding price to obtain something precious.
Shin Seojun crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up.
As he walked down the eerie hallway, he habitually fiddled with the winding key of a music box he held in his hand.
A small clicking sound followed as the spring was wound.
Tring-ring—.
A melody that sounded like a broken toy—closer to noise than music—echoed through the bunker.
The moment he heard that sound, the Esper beside Shin Seojun went rigid.
Cold sweat poured down the man’s face instantly. His eyes bulged, and he soon collapsed forward.
Gasp, gasp.
The ragged breathing of the lovely child Shin Seojun had created filled the bunker.
The Esper looked up at Shin Seojun, his blurred eyes trembling violently.
“Please…….”
At the Esper’s squeezed-out, desperate voice, Shin Seojun merely gave a benevolent smile and patted him on the shoulder.
The preparations to bring the child who had piqued his interest were complete.
All that remained… was to play with his other child, who would surely get in the way.
