* * *
“How many fingers do you see? Two? One? You’re not out of your mind, are you?”
“…One. And no, I’m not out of my mind.”
Even as Elgran waved his fingers right in front of his face, Ben remained composed, figuring he must have been quite the novelty for him to react like this.
“When I heard Haimar’s Guide, I assumed you’d already been brainwashed, drained dry to the marrow, and had ruined your entire life. This is completely unexpected.”
Ben shot Haimar a sideways glance at the rather offensive remark.
Haimar’s expression was as composed as ever, but Ben could detect the subtle trace of displeasure hidden beneath.
It was such a minute difference that most people wouldn’t notice, but Ben had recently begun picking up on these tiny shifts.
If it had been him from the first time they met, he wouldn’t have caught it.
But now… maybe he had gotten a little more used to things.
“But why is your restraint device still intact? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your newfound freedom?”
“Do you want to lose your head?”
“…Okay, okay, I’ll stop messing around.”
Elgran had been chattering away excitedly, but at the deadly remark, he immediately backed down.
He even made a zipping motion across his lips toward Haimar.
Though his face screamed that he was dying to keep talking, his playful antics only made the situation more exasperating.
Haimar merely cast him a cold glare.
“I was expecting you to get punched, but I guess not.”
“And yet, you still acted that way?”
“Being annoying is my specialty. Don’t mess with it.”
Smack—!
He totally asked for it.
Just as Ben was thinking how ridiculous it was for someone to be so proud of something like that, a burst of energy materialized from the air and struck Elgran on the head.
There was no need to ask who was behind it.
Ben simply turned back to Haimar with an expression that said, ‘I knew this would happen.’
“Don’t bother with him. He’s just a musclehead.”
“Ugh, that’s harsh!”
Elgran whined in protest, but he had brought it on himself.
Ben briefly considered defending him, but Enten smoothly stepped in before he could.
“Alright, alright. Let’s not stand around here. Why don’t we all head back to Central?”
“Ugh… Fine. I was planning to leave soon anyway, so the timing works out.”
Since no one had any objections, the group, led by Liran and Enten, began making their way beyond the safety line.
Haimar ignored Elgran’s relentless chatter, following behind without a word.
“What are you doing just standing there? We need to head back!”
Ben had been so caught up in the whirlwind of personalities that he had stood there in a daze.
It was only when Liran urged him that he quickly picked up his pace, stepping past the safety line.
When he glanced at the clock on the car’s dashboard, it was already nearing evening.
As time moved forward, the sun—having stood guard over the sky all day—finally shifted, making way for the moon.
The realization that today’s long ordeal had finally come to an end washed over Ben, and with it, the exhaustion he had forgotten surged in like a tidal wave.
Ah, I just want to rest.
‘Leaving home is always a hassle.’
If ever there was a phrase that perfectly summed up today, that was it.
As the car headed toward Central, Ben found himself lost in thought.
‘I’m exhausted… So exhausted I could die.’
Ben Plaskun lay sprawled on the bed in his officetel, limbs akimbo.
He had originally planned to stop by Central and return straight home to rest, but as soon as Haimar saw his disheveled state, he had unceremoniously sent him off to the infirmary without a word.
Ben had wondered if he really looked that bad, but after catching a glimpse of himself in the infirmary mirror, he realized he was the very picture of a beggar.
So, he had obediently undergone treatment before coming back.
Not that it had made much of a difference—his face, arms, and legs were still covered in bandages, which only made him look slightly less like a wreck than before.
By the time he returned to Central, everyone had already disappeared, apparently engaged in discussions among themselves while he was at the infirmary.
On his way back, he ran into Liran Siu, who, with an annoyed expression, tossed him a smartphone before walking off.
She must have arranged for a supply-issued phone from Central, frustrated that she couldn’t reach him in an emergency.
The phone, now tucked into his pocket, made its presence known as he shifted.
Since his old number had been transferred, there were bound to be a mountain of messages waiting for him, but he was too exhausted to check.
He briefly took the phone out, glanced at the default home screen, and then simply pressed the lock button, tossing it onto the table.
Today had been eventful, to say the least.
He had definitely overexerted himself—his limbs ached, and there wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t throb with pain.
By tomorrow, he’d be wracked with muscle soreness, and if he came down with a fever, he’d have no one to blame but himself.
“What are you doing?”
While he lay there, a quiet voice addressed him.
At some point, Haimar had entered the room.
Isn’t it obvious?
Lying down.
Ben wanted to retort, but he lacked the energy. Instead, he remained silent, a small act of defiance in response to Haimar’s brazen behavior back in Sector 8.
Though the situation had been swept under the rug with Elgran’s sudden appearance, now that he was back in his officetel, staring at Haimar’s face, the lingering embarrassment and bewilderment from earlier came rushing back.
He didn’t even know how to put it into words.
“……”
In the brief silence, Haimar moved and perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at Ben.
The warm orange glow from the bedside lamp reflected in his deep blue eyes, making the quiet between them feel all the more suffocating—for Ben, at least.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking at you.”
What’s the point of looking? It’s not like I’m in any condition to be admired.
Ben frowned, wondering if this was some new form of torment.
He subtly turned his face away, but, as expected, his chin was immediately caught.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His slightly averted face was now turned directly toward Haimar, who had leaned over him, casting a shadow.
It was only a hand on his chin, yet the grip was so firm he couldn’t budge.
If he tried to force his way out, his jaw might actually dislocate.
The sheer difference in strength was something Ben was once again forced to acknowledge, his expression involuntarily twisting in frustration.
“Who did this to you?”
“Huh?”
“Who did this?”
For a moment, Ben thought he had misheard.
But Haimar was scrutinizing the wounds on his face, as if evaluating them.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s not a big dea—”
“Hm?”
Haimar cut him off, pressing for an answer.
Ben had instinctively raised a hand to push him away but hesitated.
That gentle expression—anyone who had spent even a little time around Haimar would know it was just a mask.
And beneath it… there was something else.
A hint of displeasure.
But still, what was the point in telling him?
It wasn’t like he was some neighborhood kid running home to tattle after getting beaten up.
Besides, Haimar wasn’t going to get involved.
These were his own wounds, and he was fine.
So what did it matter?
“……!”
Realizing Ben wasn’t going to answer, Haimar’s blue eyes narrowed slightly.
Maybe he was just asking out of curiosity, but Ben didn’t feel like indulging him.
“You don’t want to tell me?”
Haimar’s face slowly inched closer, his words brushing against Ben’s ear.
Then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to his earlobe.
Ben flinched, shoving at Haimar’s chest in a panic.
“W-Wait! What are you doing? You’ve been acting weird since earlier!”
“This isn’t a kiss or sex, though.”
“Well, yes, but still—!”
Haimar caught Ben’s hand mid-push, pressing his lips firmly against the back of it.
A tingling warmth crept up from his ears, spreading to the corners of his eyes.
He never used to blush so easily.
But ever since meeting this man, why was it happening so often?
Haimar’s lips moved from his hand to his fingers, then down to the soft skin of his inner wrist, leaving invisible traces behind.
There wouldn’t be any marks, but the sensation alone was enough to set Ben’s face ablaze.
‘Stay calm. Don’t let him get under your skin.’
‘This… This is just guiding. That’s right—he’s my Esper, and I’m his Guide. I can’t just push him away outright. It’s embarrassing, sure, but it’s not like I hate it.’
Ben forced himself to relax, trying to ease the tension in his body.
“You took a beating over something so trivial?”
“I didn’t just take a beating!”
Ben bristled at Haimar’s mocking remark.
Took a beating?
He had gotten his fair share of hits in, too!
If he hadn’t been rushing to meet Haimar, he would’ve dodged a few more.
His indignant glare was met with Haimar’s silence.
Instead, the man simply bit down on Ben’s finger—not too hard, but enough to startle him.
Ben jerked, but Haimar had already trapped him, his leg between Ben’s, preventing any escape.
“There were a lot of them. And some were Espers. That’s all. It’s nothing you need to worry about, so why are you even asking?”
Ben tried to ignore the lingering sensation on his fingers as he spoke.
“Just wondering if it was worth it,” Haimar murmured, voice unreadable.
“Did you really go through all that just to earn my trust?”
But that didn’t mean Haimar Eilec was ready to trust him.
Ben’s unexpected appearance had admittedly tilted Haimar’s mood toward the positive—at least as far as “not bad” went.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that a man who couldn’t read his thoughts had done all that for him.
Yet at the same time, it wasn’t an unfamiliar situation.
After all, plenty of people who could read his thoughts had tried to win his favor in much the same way.
And that was exactly why it made him suspicious.
* * *
