* * *
A volatile mix of confusion and shock churned within Wonho, as though it might erupt like a volcano at any moment.
But his hand, turning the doorknob, moved with painstaking caution.
His heart warred fiercely between not wanting to open the door and knowing he had to.
In the end, the latter won.
Creak.
The door made a faint sound, one it usually never did—probably because of how carefully Wonho opened it.
Without blinking, he pushed the door wide—and the moment he confirmed the state of the room, he let out a shaky exhale.
“…It’s here.”
The room was still filled with Haebom’s traces.
Unlike the living room, where not a hint of Haebom’s scent lingered, here… here, the scent clung faintly in the air.
Wonho could feel his unstable energy flaring up like a bouncy ball ricocheting in all directions, but he ignored it.
His unstable energy wasn’t the problem right now.
Worried that even the slightest bit of Haebom’s scent might escape, Wonho quickly shut the door again.
The traces were still here.
That meant the thought that Haebom had disappeared from this world couldn’t possibly be true.
Several days had passed since Haebom vanished from Wonho’s side.
And yet, Haebom was still nowhere to be found.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong—
His head already felt like it might explode, yet the endlessly ringing doorbell made Wonho’s frown deepen.
“Wonho, you crazy bastard, are you not coming out right now? You’re going to lose control if you keep this up!”
Bang, bang, bang!
Harsh pounding on the door accompanied the sharp voice shouting at him.
At times like this, Wonho wished he could shut down all his senses completely, but holding on without receiving guiding made it impossible to shut them off as he pleased.
“If you don’t come out today, I’m breaking in. You know I have the authority to enforce guiding, right? So do yourself a favor and open up, yeah?”
The threatening voice made Wonho sigh in irritation.
Haebom’s scent was already fading, driving him mad with frustration—now Jin Seyoung was here adding to the chaos…
A few days ago, the moment he came out of the Gate, Wonho declared that if it wasn’t Haebom, he wouldn’t accept guiding from anyone.
But unlike the faint traces left in Haebom’s room, there were no signs of him anywhere else.
Not through the identity records Seyoung had access to, not even within the Center’s systems—there was no evidence Haebom had ever existed.
As if he had never been part of this world…
But Wonho’s house, that small room on the first floor, still whispered otherwise.
It confirmed Haebom had been real.
So it was only natural that Wonho hadn’t left that room even once for days.
But now, with Seyoung talking about enforced guiding, he couldn’t keep hiding like this.
‘I can’t keep wasting time like this…’
With the weight of a waterlogged sponge, Wonho forced his body up.
Every single thing in this world grated on his nerves—except for the traces of Haebom.
Even the sound of his own breathing irritated him.
But still, he had no intention of ending his life like before.
This life, Haebom had saved it—and he had to find Haebom.
The frustration boiled over, but Seyoung’s voice helped him pull himself together, even if just a little.
Before Haebom vanished, there had been talk of research into the link between virtual reality and the actual Gate, or some kind of pathways.
Wonho believed those might be the only clues to getting Haebom back.
He didn’t want to leave Haebom’s room, but to properly take in Haebom’s fading scent, he needed to step outside.
He left the room and walked toward the front door.
Seyoung was still pressing the doorbell and pounding on the door, threatening him with forced guiding.
Beep—
He unlocked the door and opened it.
“Wonho…! Damn, what the hell—what happened to your face…?”
Jin Seyoung had fully intended to curse him out the moment he saw him—but the words got stuck in his throat.
This was worse than he’d heard.
Wonho’s hair, now devoid of its original color, was pure white.
His jawline had grown dangerously sharp from days without eating.
The dark circles beneath his eyes clearly showed his deteriorating state.
Seyoung let out a long sigh.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
Back when Wonho realized he couldn’t receive guiding from Choi Yoonseo anymore, when he tried to throw his life away…
It was similar, yet completely different.
Back then, he had given up on everything.
But now—it felt like he was ready to shatter everything instead.
Suddenly, Seyoung tilted his head, vaguely recalling how Wonho had survived back then.
‘No, that’s not what matters right now.’
The past didn’t matter.
What mattered now was getting Wonho to the Center and forcing him to receive guiding.
Thankfully, Yoonseo and Na Hyunjoon had parted ways, which made things easier for Wonho.
“Let’s go. Why the hell did you turn off your Gear? You know that’s illegal for Espers, right? You’re going to get disciplined for this. Rejecting guiding and disabling your Gear—are you even listening?”
Seyoung slammed the door shut and practically shoved Wonho down the alley toward the Center.
Wonho scowled but allowed himself to be pushed in that direction anyway.
His goal was the Center too.
He needed to figure out why Haebom had suddenly vanished.
Seyoung gave him a suspicious look, side-eyeing how easily Wonho, who’d been avoiding everyone for days, was now following along.
“I’m enforcing guiding, got it? You can’t refuse this time.”
Seyoung had never once forced guiding on Wonho before.
Wonho had always been wary of guiding energy itself, relying on meds and equipment to stay stable.
His condition never spiraled completely out of control thanks to that, and occasionally, he had received guiding from Yoonseo…
But in Wonho’s entire life as an Esper, there had only been two instances when his readings skyrocketed like this.
There had never been reason for forced guiding—until now.
And so, Wonho headed toward the Center with Seyoung.
All the way there, Seyoung nagged beside him, but Wonho didn’t listen.
Listening wouldn’t change anything.
His Gear had been switched off, but the device was still firmly strapped to his right wrist.
He switched it back on.
Beep, beep!
Alarms blared wildly, warning of imminent overload.
“Go straight to Choi Yoonseo’s office. I already told them everything—they’re waiting for you.”
“…Use the machine.”
“No! They said they’d enforce it by force. Do you want to be dragged away by Espers with restraints on? Should I let that happen?”
At Wonho’s absurd words, Jin Seyoung snapped and shouted.
No matter how advanced the guiding machines were, they couldn’t compare to being guided directly by a human guide.
Even though Wonho was standing there pretending to be fine, Seyoung knew better—he knew just how wrecked Wonho’s condition really was.
The pain an Esper felt wasn’t always visible, but that didn’t make it any less real.
Even if it lacked physical form, the pain was still undeniable.
Wonho’s wavelength readings were practically screaming that a breakdown was imminent.
Any other Esper would’ve already lost control by now.
The only reason he was still hanging on was because he’d been carefully managing himself for so long, teetering on the edge.
But the moment someone hit the switch, it’d all collapse like a dam bursting, overflowing beyond control.
* * *
