* * *
To Ben, this place—with fireballs raining down and snow falling in the middle of autumn—felt like an apocalyptic disaster.
Yet the man he was desperately running toward stood there, as if he existed in an entirely different world.
…Although, maybe it was unexpected that those cold, blue eyes held a faint trace of surprise.
By the time Ben finally reached Haimar, he was out of breath, hands on his knees as he gasped for air.
Even then, Haimar simply stared at him without a word.
Frustrated, Ben grabbed his face with both hands.
“Are you okay? You’re not about to lose it, are you?! God, I’m exhausted.”
His hands, slightly colder than usual, pressed against Haimar’s cheeks and hair.
Strangely enough, the unpleasant sensation that had been clinging to Haimar faded away.
Ben wasn’t short, but there was nearly a head’s difference between them.
He pulled Haimar down slightly to meet his eyes, bringing his light green irises into full view.
“Why did you come?”
Haimar lifted a hand and brushed Ben’s cheek.
The man flinched slightly—probably because it hurt.
One side of his face was red and swollen.
He didn’t know what had hit him, but he had clearly been struck hard.
Scanning him from head to toe in an instant, Haimar noted small scrapes along his body, including a wound on his shoulder.
The bruises near his eyes hadn’t even faded yet, and now he looked like he had been rolling through hell again.
“Is that really what you’re asking right now?!”
“Why are you asking me?”
What do you mean, why?!
“I told you, didn’t I?! I won’t let you lose yourself!”
“Because of that?”
“What do you mean, ‘because of that’?! Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you know how much effort it took to get here?!”
Ben, eyes blazing with frustration, huffed.
Even without knowing the details, Haimar could tell from his torn clothes, bruises, and dust-covered appearance that he had struggled immensely just to reach this place.
And all of it—for him.
Haimar recalled something Ben had said before.
“I-I’ll do my best. No matter what, I’ll… No, I won’t let it go that far.”
“For me?”
Even though he already knew the answer, Haimar asked again.
Ben scowled and snapped, “Yes, Haimar Eilec. I nearly died getting here because of you. Did you think I was lying?”
Haimar had assumed Ben’s words were meaningless, just empty reassurances.
But seeing him in this state… he hadn’t expected Ben to actually keep that promise—no matter what.
He hadn’t even considered using Ben Plaskun as a contingency plan if he lost control.
Ben’s face, looking up at him, held not a trace of deceit.
He wasn’t someone who could lie, anyway.
Even without reading his thoughts, it was obvious to anyone.
Someone had gone this far for him.
For Haimar, that was…
A deeply unfamiliar feeling.
His rational mind attempted to rankify it.
If he had to label it as either good or bad, then objectively, it was good.
Receiving something good from another person?
That was something impossible for him—until now.
But along with that feeling, he couldn’t suppress a creeping sense of doubt.
Was this really necessary?
“Anyway, what were you even doing? I rushed over the moment I got the call—”
As Ben moved to pull his hands away from Haimar’s face, Haimar caught one of them and pressed it against his cheek again.
Then, he lightly brushed his lips against Ben’s palm.
Ben flinched, startled, but didn’t pull away.
He knew by now that his own strength wouldn’t be enough to resist.
“For fun.”
‘…Fun?! I went through all that for this?!’
Forget what I just said.
I want to yank my hand away, no matter what, and land a punch on that annoyingly perfect face.
If you wanted to know what it took for Ben to get here, you wouldn’t even need a long-winded explanation—just looking at the wrecked vehicle parked outside the safety line would tell you everything.
The bumper of the already old car was gone, the windshield was spectacularly cracked, and the hood was dented all over, with dark smoke rising faintly from it.
Those were the grand remnants of his escape—Ben had rammed the vehicle straight into a closed steel door to break through and flee the building he’d been chased from.
To even get to the car, he’d thrown himself out the window, practically dragged Zereno inside, and driven like hell.
They say people can do anything when they’re desperate, and apparently, that wasn’t a lie.
And after arriving here, beaten and battered, the person in question seemed perfectly fine.
That was a relief, sure, but Ben couldn’t ignore the creeping sense of futility gnawing at him.
He hadn’t gone through all that trouble just to hear, ‘Why did you come?’
Well… whatever.
As long as the outcome is good, who cares about the process?
Ben swallowed down his frustration and let it go.
“Time to wrap things up.”
With Ben’s arrival, Haimar, now back in good condition, turned his gaze toward the building to finish clearing up the situation.
Naturally, Ben followed his line of sight, and what he saw was nothing short of chaos.
Surrendered enemies were being dragged off by the police, while further inside the building, an esper had suddenly collapsed.
Beyond that, the snowfall obscured his vision.
“That esper over there… are they dead?”
“Why? Should I kill them?”
That response—so casual—meant they weren’t dead.
But how the hell does a person say something like that so easily?!
“I asked if they were dead, not if you should kill them! You can’t just throw around words like that so lightly!”
“It’s easier for me to kill.”
His voice was as flat as if he were discussing the weather, but the weight behind it struck Ben differently.
This man had killed so many times that it had become second nature—easier than saving people.
Ben already knew Haimar’s background, but hearing it so plainly now made it hit even harder.
“If you want them dead, I’ll do it.”
His emotionless eyes were as cold and precise as a perfectly engineered killing machine.
Ben tensed.
The pressure in the air was suffocating, as if his careless words alone could decide life and death in an instant.
“…No. You can’t say things like that.”
“Oh?”
“No, really. Absolutely not. Not even as a joke.”
Even though Ben’s voice carried clear tension, Haimar simply turned his head toward the building where the esper and their guide had surrendered.
He gave no reply.
To him, this entire conversation was meaningless.
If he were the kind of man who followed others’ words, maybe this discussion would have mattered—but Haimar was a man who ruled over others, who used people as he pleased.
But something about Haimar’s reaction left Ben uneasy.
In response, he tightened his grip on Haimar’s face, forcing him to look forward again.
He met Haimar’s gaze with determined, unwavering eyes.
“Do you understand?”
“And if I say it, do you really think I can keep that promise?”
“I’m saying it because I believe you will.”
At those words, a flicker of something—something unreadable—passed through Haimar’s frigid eyes.
Ben didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t let go.
He held his gaze.
Haimar stared into his pale green eyes before speaking.
“I’m really curious what’s going on in that tiny head of yours.”
“…Excuse me?”
Where the hell did that come from?
“Ah! Just so we’re clear—don’t even try reading my mind! You know it’s useless and just gives me a headache.”
“I won’t.”
Even if he did try, Ben would immediately notice and complain about the headache, just like last time.
Haimar knew that.
He wasn’t the type to waste his energy on something that wouldn’t work.
No, he was simply, genuinely curious—about the one man whose mind he could never read.
“Enemy esper secured! We’re pulling out!”
As Haimar and Ben spoke, the police finished securing the injured and capturing the esper.
A man who had been urgently calling for reinforcements earlier shouted the final order.
ForLiran Siu and Enten, it was a clean victory.
Everything had ended without any of the worst-case scenarios playing out.
Everyone who had been holding their breath now let out sighs of relief.
Ben, too, finally relaxed—only to realize that he was still gripping Haimar’s hand.
The bold confidence with which he had grabbed him earlier had completely disappeared.
Compared to Haimar’s clean, pristine hand, his own was a mess, covered in dirt and grime.
Just as Ben was searching for the right moment to pull his hand away—
“…Excuse me. Are you really Haimar Eilec?”
A voice called out to them.
Ben, who had been stealthily trying to withdraw his hand, turned to look.
The moment he did, he realized the atmosphere had shifted because of his arrival.
* * *
