“So that’s why you kept bringing up Choi Yoonseo, huh. I was wondering why you kept asking if I liked him.”
Wonho let out a disbelieving scoff as he listened to the story.
He and Choi Yoonseo weren’t in any kind of relationship where “liking” or “not liking” mattered.
Sure, an Esper’s fixation on a highly compatible Guide could easily be mistaken for love.
But strangely, Wonho never felt that way toward Choi Yoonseo.
Still, it was true that he’d treated Yoonseo kindly—after all, he guided him with such calmness, making him feel at peace.
Who wouldn’t treat the person who freed them from a lifetime of pain with kindness?
But Wonho didn’t have much attachment to life to begin with.
He used to think, ‘If I die, I die.’
The only reason he went on rampages inside gates was because doing so outside would hurt too many people.
Not that he had any desire to rampage anymore.
“Mmh… but it turns out, it wasn’t like that. That guy just imagined something from a dream and wrote it out like it was real…”
Wonho raised an eyebrow, then let out a sigh.
Even though it was all in the past, he remembered how frustrated he’d been when Haebom couldn’t recognize his feelings.
And how Haebom had once accused him—“You like Choi Yoonseo!”—when he’d tried to confess.
Remembering it now made his jaw clench. To think that was the reason—it was ridiculous.
“Keep talking.”
Watching Wonho’s expression, Haebom sighed and continued.
After Wonho died, the world started down a path to ruin.
A dimension manager, unable to let that happen, stopped the destruction by choosing Haebom—who was grieving Wonho—to save the world.
That part, Wonho already knew.
But the fact that it had been Haebom’s choice made him feel strange.
Even if that so-called writer just made everything up from a dream, the fact that Haebom had crossed dimensions out of concern for him sparked a strange sense of fullness in his chest.
Though, knowing Haebom had suffered because of it did irritate him a little.
He felt guilty too, since he was part of that suffering…
“Then why send you back all of a sudden?”
What Wonho couldn’t understand was why, after going through so much to save the world, Haebom had been sent back to his original world.
“Because I was an outsider? They said something about balance… but I didn’t really get the details. It was all such a blur…”
He vaguely remembered something about balance, but couldn’t recall clearly.
When he was sent back, his mind was a mess.
And once he returned, the only thought in his head was to get back to Wonho.
Nothing else mattered.
“Fucking bastard… goddamn.”
“Yeah… I agree. I should’ve grabbed him by the collar or something…”
Wonho gave a faint laugh as he looked at Haebom, fists clenched and trembling in his arms.
It was hard to picture Haebom grabbing someone by the collar—but maybe it would be fun to see.
Not that he’d let anyone else get close enough to Haebom to cause trouble in the first place.
“Anyway, after I went back, I kept looking for a way to return. I even trained, just in case. If I ended up alone in a gate, I had to survive somehow.”
Wonho frowned deeply at that.
When Haebom had shown up, it had been after he’d already taken care of the monsters inside the gate.
Truthfully, he’d been checking every gate in the country, thinking Haebom might come through one.
And when they said there were no more gates left, he’d even considered looking into ones abroad—if Haebom hadn’t appeared before him.
The only comfort was that Haebom hadn’t crossed through a gate to get here.
Just imagining Haebom stuck alone in one made his heart drop.
“Maybe… the gate just helped so you could find me directly?”
“…Maybe.”
At Wonho’s response, Haebom gave a sheepish smile.
Unable to resist anymore, Wonho leaned in and kissed him.
The familiar warmth made a soft sound escape from between their lips.
They kissed for a long time, tasting each other, savoring the reunion.
“Now I feel like I can finally breathe… seriously.”
After kissing until their lips were almost chapped, Wonho finally pulled away.
Haebom let out a deep breath and buried his face in Wonho’s neck like a sleepy kitten.
A little while later, he picked up where he left off—explaining how the dimension manager had offered him a reward.
Haebom had chosen to live in the same world as Wonho as that reward.
Wonho felt a little indignant—was that really all the reward a world-saving hero deserved?
But Haebom just hugged him tightly and said, “As long as you’re here, I don’t need anything else.”
Wonho buried his growing rage in the scent of Haebom’s skin and slowly let it fade.
“Alright… first things first, let’s get your affiliation sorted. Time to come home with me.”
“Ah—wait! Hold on! I still need to check something!”
‘Check something?’
Wonho tilted his head, suppressing a pang of disappointment.
What could possibly be more important than going home?
Haebom quickly reached out—clumsily, in Wonho’s view, but he let him do as he pleased—and grabbed his right wrist.
When Haebom tapped the gear, Wonho let out a low sigh.
[78%]
“Hey! Wonho!”
“Don’t just say ‘hey.’ Drop the honorifics too.”
Was that really the thing to say right now?
Haebom bit his lower lip in frustration.
Wonho, smirking, reached out and pressed on that same lip, gently pulling it away from his perfect teeth.
He checked carefully for any injuries but saw nothing serious—just a slight bite mark.
“What the hell is this level? I was going to ask anyway. Why didn’t you get any guiding? Where was Choi Yoonseo? Even if you didn’t like it, you should’ve! You didn’t know when I’d be back—how could you endure it?”
Haebom finally exploded, shouting at the top of his lungs.
He was so angry, he felt hot all the way to the top of his head, tears brimming in his eyes.
‘This lunatic… and his hair’s gone white again…’
He’d been so overwhelmed by seeing Wonho that he hadn’t even noticed his hair color.
Now wasn’t the time to be angry—he had to do something.
“Open your mouth. You reckless idiot.”
Without waiting for a response, Haebom grabbed both of Wonho’s cheeks and squeezed.
Wonho chuckled at the display of force and obediently opened his mouth.
“Ah.”
“Don’t act like you’re in that much pain. You’ve been through worse.”
“Yeah. But I am in pain, so cut me some slack.”
Annoyed by his grin, Haebom bit down on his lower lip hard.
His attitude was completely different from earlier, when Wonho had worried about accidentally hurting him.
But deep down, they both shared the same concern—for each other.
Haebom covered Wonho’s lips with his own and slipped his tongue inside, releasing guiding energy.
“Khh…!”
As soon as the guiding started, the energy that had been suppressed by medication erupted in a frenzy, recognizing its designated Guide.
Haebom could barely breathe.
Ever since he’d become Wonho’s Guide, he’d rarely felt overwhelmed by his waves—except at the very beginning.
Maybe it was because of the time apart, or because of how much pain Wonho had endured without him.
The moment the guiding began, Wonho’s waves greedily devoured Haebom’s energy.
Haebom, experienced as he was, began to carefully untangle the twisted energy, keeping control of the process so his own rhythm wouldn’t be overtaken.
Though the displayed number seemed manageable, Wonho’s actual condition was far worse.
And Haebom… poured all of himself into setting it right.
“Ohh…”
