Introduction to Guide Studies chapter 30

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And the words that followed were even more ridiculous.

“It’s not really something he needs to worry about. I’ll be fine after I take some medicine.”

“What are you even saying, Ben?!”

Moria Iren was a Guide, but she had spent enough time around Espers to understand how they thought.

There was no way an Esper wouldn’t notice if their Guide was unwell.

Especially not Haimar Eilec.

If there was anyone who was hypersensitive to a Guide’s condition—who would pick up on even the smallest anomaly—it was him.

Besides, after hearing about what had happened in Sector 8 from Liran Siu, Moria had felt relieved, thinking Ben and Haimar had finally started to get along.

But now he was saying ‘probably’?!

That was a word that had no place in her vocabulary.

Unless… Haimar knew and chose to ignore it?

It wouldn’t be surprising if Ben had brushed it off when asked—he was the type who would say ‘I’m fine’ ten times out of ten.

But still! Moria had been hoping for at least a little progress between them, so this was deeply disappointing.

Her own Esper, Liran, would be beside himself with worry if she were even slightly unwell.

“Well, I’ll be going now.”

“Wait, Ben! Do you even have Haimar’s number?”

“Ah…”

…Come to think of it, he didn’t.

He had a smartphone now, but it had never even occurred to him to ask for it.

Not that he had deliberately avoided it—it had just never crossed his mind.

Moria read his expression like an open book and let out a sigh, looking even more exasperated—like she was channeling Liran Siu himself.

“If you get worse, don’t you think it’d be better to call someone?”

“I’ll be fine. Really, I should get going now.”

While Moria debated what to do with this frustrating man, Ben had already finished gathering what he needed and was ready to leave.

She could only watch his retreating figure helplessly.

She wished he would just rest.

His condition didn’t seem like something that would get better quickly.

For a moment, she seriously considered informing Haimar about it.

No matter how much of a monster he was, Ben was still his Guide—there was no way he wouldn’t care.

At least, by Moria’s standards, that was unthinkable.

And a few hours later, as if summoned by the mere mention of his name, Moria found herself face-to-face with an overwhelmingly handsome man.

---

Dizzy.

He felt like he was going to pass out.

His head pounded like it was going to split open.

The world spun before his eyes.

His fingertips were ice-cold, but when he pressed them against his burning eyelids, they felt almost scalding in contrast.

Cold sweat trickled down his back, and chills wracked his body. He had tried to push through, but this was his limit.

Making it to Hermannsen had been one thing, but after driving with the window slightly open due to his fever, his condition had worsened much faster than expected.

He could barely remember stamping the documents at city hall—what had he even been thinking?

He had only managed to pretend to listen while the staff explained things, and at one point, he nearly lost his balance and slammed his head against the floor.

Somehow, he made it to his old home in Hermannsen.

The moment he stepped inside, he finally let go of his fraying consciousness, collapsing onto the cold, unwelcoming sofa.

Through his half-lidded gaze, he spotted the packet of medicine he had dropped nearby, but he had no strength left to reach for it.

The air was damp.

The sky outside the small window was a heavy, stormy gray.

A silent house.

A ticking clock.

And the familiar loneliness that would soon follow.

The sound of ragged breathing, mixed with loneliness, was nothing unfamiliar to Ben.

Since losing his parents at an age too young to remember, Ben had lived with his grandmother in a small, one-room apartment.

She was not particularly affectionate, but she worked tirelessly to pay off the debt left behind by her son and to raise the grandchild who had been thrust upon her without letting him go without.

She took on any job she could find, often staying out for days at a time, and young Ben understood that his role was to stay at home without complaint so as not to burden her further.

Forced to grow up quickly, Ben spent his days in silence, relying on the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp leaking through the window in a room where even the lights didn’t always work.

Rain or snow, wind or storm, it was always the same.

And that didn’t change even when he was sick.

Except once.

Only once did Ben ever try to stop his grandmother as she was leaving for her evening shift.

That night, his fever was too high.

His cough wouldn’t stop. His nose kept running.

He just wanted to call out to her.

It wasn’t that he had never wanted to whine like other children his age.

Just for one day—yes, just for a single day—he wanted to throw a tantrum and beg her not to go.

Because he was so sick, because if she held his hand just for tonight, he thought he might feel better.

That was all he wanted.

[Grandma.]

He still remembers how she turned back at the sound of his voice.

A face worn down by life, deep wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, lips drooping from years of hardship.

A back that never straightened, a complexion drained of color.

He remembers that utterly exhausted expression.

How could he ever forget?

The tired gaze of someone who had no choice but to carry him, a burden she hadn’t asked for, weighed down by the cruel obligations of life.

The words climbing up his throat, he swallowed them down.

[I’m okay. Have a safe trip.]

Because when he said he was fine, at least for that moment, the exhaustion on her face would fade.

That night, though he was too sick to even make it to the bathroom and had to clean up his own vomit with trembling hands—

Though he hid under his blanket, fevered and delirious, crying at the sound of rain hammering against the window and thunder splitting the sky—

He had said he was okay.

And so, he had to be okay.

Somehow, he gritted his teeth and endured.

Because his grandmother was doing her best for him, in her own way.

Because he didn’t know when she would return, he wanted to do his part too.

He didn’t want to be a burden. He had nothing special to offer, no real use to anyone, so the least he could do was be good at enduring.

Thud, thud, thud—

Half-conscious, Ben was startled awake by the sound of raindrops tapping against the window.

Just as he had expected, rain was falling from the cloudy sky, softly knocking against the glass.

It was always like this.

Whenever he was sick enough to be bedridden, these memories would return without fail.

Heavy as waterlogged cotton, his body curled up in the corner of the couch, mirroring the way his younger self had once huddled in the dark.

The low coffee table in front of him seemed to spin. He closed his eyes.

This time would be no different.

If he just endured like always, no matter how painful it was, time would eventually pass.

Even if this kind of pain was something he could never truly get used to.

Just a little more.

Just a little longer.

Ben’s body sank into darkness.

∗   ∗   ∗

Icy blue eyes lingered on the vacant bed where Ben had once lain.

Its owner had left hours ago, yet the man staring at the empty space seemed almost intent on memorizing every last trace of him.

All night, as he watched Ben’s restless back, Haimar found himself replaying their conversation from that evening.

It was almost unprecedented for him to dwell on his own words, but that wasn’t what mattered.

What mattered was how the cool, refreshing sensation he had felt when they touched had turned into something sharp and bristling when Ben pushed him away.

And Haimar didn’t like that at all.

Moreover, Ben hadn’t even slept properly.

Haimar had half-expected him to reveal a habit of curling up against whoever was next to him in his sleep, but instead, he had merely tossed and turned, unable to rest.

That, too, was irritating.

To be honest, everything about last night irritated him.

But if he had to pinpoint the real cause, he knew it was none other than himself—Haimar Eilec.

Effort.

Ben had said something about effort, but Haimar had never put effort into building relationships.

That was why the words he spoke to Ben had been neither an exaggeration nor a lie; they were simply facts.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was Ben Plaskun’s reaction. Instead of the typical response Haimar was accustomed to, Ben had met him head-on, unwavering.

Haimar recalled the way Ben had forced himself to speak, voice steady despite his anger.

He remembered the sensation of Ben’s back as he turned away and the hands that had pushed him aside.

And if that was going to continue—if this happened again tomorrow, and the next day—

Annoyance flared.

For some reason, no other word quite captured the feeling.

Before he had a guide, his irritation had usually stemmed from problems controlling his abilities.

And when it came to relationships, he had always handled them on his own terms, never allowing them to become a source of frustration.

This—this was something else.

Something unfamiliar.

Something he likely wouldn’t have felt at all if he hadn’t spoken the way he did last night.

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