* * *
‘…I’m dizzy.’
Thinking about picking up medicine after work?
No, he should have bought it before work.
Somehow, Ben managed to keep working, his face hidden behind a mask he’d dug out from his desk drawer.
But all morning, he kept hearing people tell him he looked pale, as if they were stating the obvious.
His head spun relentlessly, his fever crept higher, and the documents sprawled across his desk blurred together, unreadable.
At this point, white was just paper, and black was just ink.
Heat boiled inside his chest and face, yet his fingers on the keyboard remained ice-cold.
He hadn’t eaten breakfast, but he wasn’t hungry.
If anything, his stomach churned so badly that even the thought of lunch was nauseating.
“Whoa, Ben, your face looks rough. You’re practically carrying the weight of the world’s exhaustion.”
From the other side of the partition, Zereno chomped down on a baguette slathered with cream cheese, speaking in a tone that was half-joking, half-concerned.
Ben had already lost count of how many times Zereno had commented on his condition since morning.
At this point, he’d heard it enough for his ears to blister.
But since Zereno kept switching up his phrasing every time, Ben reluctantly paused his typing.
“…The documents you gave me this morning—I’ve already submitted them for approval.”
As time passed, even his voice grew hoarse.
He tried clearing his throat to steady it, but even swallowing was painful.
Pulling his mask higher, he let out a few shallow coughs.
“Hmm, I’d normally feel bad about making a sick person work, but…”
‘Yeah, yeah. Who can’t fake sympathy?’
Zereno launched into a long-winded speech about how subordinates had no choice but to obey orders, but Ben had long given up on listening.
His words buzzed in the air, worsening Ben’s dizziness.
“Anyway, here. These are from the office’s first-aid stash—I grabbed a few for you.”
As Ben half-heartedly leaned on his arm, barely listening, a crumpled paper bag landed on his desk.
Squinting at it through his blurred vision, he made out two small bottles of syrup medicine and a handful of loose pills.
He hadn’t expected anything beyond annoying chatter, but Zereno had actually brought him medicine.
“…Ah, thank you.”
Ben hesitated, debating whether to take the pills right away.
But after checking his parched throat, he decided he should drink something warm first and carefully set the packet aside.
Zereno, who had been watching him intently, suddenly broke into a satisfied grin.
Then, as if he’d been holding back this whole time, he blurted out,
“Hey, uh, so—I kinda figured you’d end up being a Guide, but damn, I never expected that Esper. That guy’s ridiculously good-looking. Like, better than a model or a celebrity.”
‘Ah.’
So this was what he really wanted to talk about.
It made sense—after all, yesterday, Zereno had gawked at the man as if spellbound before making a swift exit.
He must have been dying of curiosity.
But Ben wasn’t in the mood to talk about that man—not here, and definitely not now.
“How’d that even happen? Come on, just tell me a little.”
Interpreting Ben’s silence as reluctance due to their surroundings, Zereno leaned over the partition, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
It had only been yesterday when everyone had collectively agreed to keep quiet about this.
Did Zereno have nerves of steel, or just no sense at all?
On any other day, Ben would’ve smoothly redirected the conversation elsewhere.
But today, he didn’t even have the energy for that.
With half-lidded eyes, he shot Zereno an exhausted glare.
“I mean, you did go through life and death together, right? No big deal.”
‘Life and death, huh.’
More like, Ben hadn’t had a choice and ended up dragging him along like baggage.
Zereno truly had a talent for twisting things to suit his own narrative.
Ignoring Ben’s unspoken exasperation, Zereno casually slicked back his waxed hair and even threw in an unnecessary wink.
Just looking at him made Ben’s headache worse.
He turned away.
His throat burned, but not enough for him to waste his energy responding.
More importantly, there was nothing worth saying.
For a moment, Ben had thought Zereno might be a half-decent senior colleague.
But in the end, he was just another gossip-loving busybody.
Ben hadn’t known that about Zereno before.
Not that he wanted to know now, either.
“What, seriously? You’re not gonna tell me?”
Riiing—!
Just as Ben’s silent endurance was about to fail him, the office phone rang at the perfect moment.
Seizing the opportunity, Ben stood up and walked away without a word, leaving Zereno pouting behind him.
He ignored it and answered the call.
“…Hello, this is Ben Plaskun speaking.”
—“Hello! This is Moria Iren from Department 2~!”
On the other end of the line, Moria’s voice was bright and cheerful—completely opposite to Ben’s hoarse tone.
It felt like her lively energy was practically spilling through the receiver.
—“By the way, Ben, what’s up with your voice? Are you sick?”
With her usual keen perception, Moria instantly picked up on his condition from just a single word.
Even though it was just his voice, Ben felt as if she could see the exhaustion on his face.
He exhaled softly, heat throbbing behind his temples.
“…I’m fine. What’s the reason for your call?”
—“Oh, well! It’s about finalizing the move-out paperwork for your old place in Hermannsen. Most of it’s done, but there’s something you’ll need to take care of personally.”
“…Do I have to go to Hermannsen myself?”
“Yes, I think that would be best. After confirming everything personally and wrapping things up, it would be a good idea to check if anything was left behind in the house.”
There was no disagreement when it came to Moria Iren’s meticulous work process.
The only issue was his own condition—he wasn’t quite himself today, so he hesitated slightly, wondering if he really had to make the trip to Hermannsen today.
The drive from the capital to Hermannsen was about an hour by car.
It wasn’t an impossible distance, but still…
“Hey, what the hell, Ben? That’s Division 2! They almost never have a reason to call Division 8!”
Zireno’s eyes gleamed, swallowing the unspoken words: “And especially not you.”
The brief hesitation in Ben’s mind disappeared without a trace.
If the alternative was being nagged by this guy, it would be far better for his mental health to just go on an external assignment, even if it meant collapsing from exhaustion.
“If you’re busy today, it’s fine as long as you get it done in the next few days. It’s not a huge—”
“No, I’ll go today.”
“Oh, well, that’s fast. That’d be great, actually… In that case, come over and pick up a few documents from me.”
“Understood. I’ll head over right away.”
As soon as the call ended, Ben quickly tucked in his chair, turned off his computer, and tidied up his desk.
He moved like a zombie, swaying slightly, but somehow still managed to get things done.
Watching him, Zireno stuffed the last of his baguette into his mouth, his expression a mix of displeasure and curiosity.
“Going out on a job all of a sudden?”
“Yes. Something urgent came up. I’ll be back.”
Without giving Zireno a chance to ask further, Ben grabbed a packet of medicine from the corner of his desk, shoved the worn-out Division 8 car keys into his pocket, and left.
“Oh my goodness! Ben, aren’t you supposed to be resting today?”
When Ben arrived at Moria’s department, she was already waiting for him.
Instead of a greeting, she immediately expressed her concern, looking startled.
She had assumed he was just feeling a little under the weather when she spoke to him on the phone.
But now that she could see his face—pale, bruised, and looking every bit like someone suffering from a full-blown fever—he was the very picture of an unwell man.
“I’m fine.”
His vision was a little blurry, but not to the point where he couldn’t drive.
Besides, if he had decided to handle this today, it was better to do it while he was still somewhat coherent.
He didn’t want to waste time getting caught by Zireno, so he planned to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“Hmm… You don’t look fine. And my instincts are never wrong.”
Moria hugged the documents tightly to her chest, tucking them inside her lab coat, which was covered in character patches.
She furrowed her brows in pretend anger.
She was naturally kind-hearted, and she wasn’t the type to make a sick person work.
But Ben, rubbing his temple with a dazed look, simply reached for the papers.
“Are you using force against a lady now?”
It wasn’t that she had slow reflexes—he hadn’t exactly yanked them out of her hands.
If Liran Siu had been there, he probably would have given Ben a sharp glare.
But Ben ignored the thought.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to get this done today?”
“But your health is your wealth, you know.”
“I really am fine.”
Seeing his unwavering determination, Moria had no choice but to sigh and relax her expression.
She was tempted to teach him the phrases ‘I don’t want to work’ and ‘I’m not okay,’ since he clearly had no idea how to say them.
But knowing her own soft-hearted nature, she let it go.
“Does Haimar know you’re feeling unwell?”
“…Probably.”
‘Probably?!’
Ben’s vague response only made Moria look even more baffled—almost exasperated.
* * *
