For Se-hyeon—who would certainly need to sanitize after touching every button—Cheong-o pressed the elevator buttons for him both going in and going out, and waved the automatic door open at the entrance for him. Leaving the cool building, the two of them were met by blazing sunlight.
“Walk, or take the car.”
Se-hyeon weighed the pros and cons of each.
The car’s advantages: air-conditioning, and sitting alone together with Cheong-o. The disadvantage: the residence was too close for him to stay with Cheong-o long.
Walking’s advantages: more time together with Cheong-o, and they could get even closer than the distance between the driver’s and passenger’s seats.
The disadvantages: no air-conditioning, and walking under the beating sun.
Se-hyeon seriously considered the pros and cons, weighing and reweighing them. Just turning it over in his head left him drained.
“I want to walk.”
“It’s pretty hot out. You’ll be all right?”
“Y-yeah.”
At the weak answer, Cheong-o steered Se-hyeon toward the shade. With a guide who looked like he would collapse if poked, Cheong-o didn’t know how long he would last in the windless weather, so he kept to the shade as much as possible. Summer days were long.
Tap, tap.
Se-hyeon kicked a pebble he came across while walking. His eyes followed the pebble as it rolled across the ground, and when he kept kicking every pebble in his way—as if determined to get rid of them all—the sound came from somewhere unexpected. A man walking toward them was dusting off his trousers. Se-hyeon’s eyes went wide as saucers.
The man irritably brushed at the spot where the pebble had hit and lifted a thoroughly scowling face.
“I’m sorry.”
Cheong-o hid the frozen-stiff Se-hyeon behind himself and apologized, and the man walked past the two of them, muttering curses.
Cheong-o shielded Se-hyeon until the man was completely gone. Se-hyeon, who had caused the accident and left the cleanup to Cheong-o, peeked out from behind the broad back.
He knew why he was in a bad mood—and it wasn’t Cheong-o’s fault. Cheong-o had been nothing but kind. Cheong-o accepted him, noticed his bad mood, and tried to soothe him—and Se-hyeon had wanted to be perverse about it just because.
There was a saying: your mood shouldn’t become your attitude. He didn’t want to look like a child, and yet everything he did was childish. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to.
Following behind Cheong-o, who walked on as if nothing had happened, Se-hyeon watched his back.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about to me.”
Espers were said to be far superior to ordinary people in every ability, and sure enough, Cheong-o caught the tiny, mumbling voice and answered. He was right, too. The man was long gone by now.
“Still, it’s good you know you’re sorry. Well done.”
“Ice cream?”
“I’m fine.”
Se-hyeon shook his head, watching for a reaction. Fortunately, Cheong-o didn’t seem upset.
Pretending not to know the direct route to the residence, Se-hyeon turned down a longer way. There was no one to scold him, and—good boy that he was, taking his own time to reflect, just as Cheong-o had said—no more pebble-bullying occurred.
The longer they walked, the hotter his head got. No matter how much they stuck to the shade, there was no escaping the blazing sun.
He wasn’t the type to tan easily, but he was still human, so too much sun turned his skin red.
Cheong-o’s gaze, walking silently without a word, landed on Se-hyeon, his face flushed red and struggling. To Cheong-o it was astonishing that someone could be breathing hard after walking this little.
At this rate, he might have to carry Se-hyeon on the way back. Of course, it wouldn’t even feel heavy.
A shadow fell over Se-hyeon’s head as he dabbed at his sweat with a handkerchief from his bag. A hand like a pot lid covered his head, and the glare was gone. One hand—not two—did that. Se-hyeon stopped in his tracks and glanced up at Cheong-o.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
“No.”
The answer popped out like from a vending machine, and Cheong-o couldn’t hold back his laughter. Belatedly embarrassed, Se-hyeon bit his lip and lowered his eyes. He was so embarrassed even his lashes trembled.
He avoided looking, but he showed no intention of leaving the shade Cheong-o had made for him—which Cheong-o found endlessly interesting.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not right now.”
“What do you want to do? Going straight home would be a shame, don’t you think?”
“Hm…”
His tightly closed lips twitched. Cheong-o, who had been thinking of the nearest café as the easiest option, leaned down slightly. At the sudden closeness, Se-hyeon flinched.
“Th-there’s… a library near the Center.”
“A library?”
“But nobody borrows books there, so it’s… basically just a resting place.”
“Near the Center?”
“Yes.”
Se-hyeon nodded, his face red from the heat. Cheong-o, who had at most imagined a café, blinked at the unexpected suggestion. Staying within the man-made shade, Se-hyeon watched his reaction and pointed behind them with a finger.
“It’s near the Center, so we’d have to go back… if that’s all right with you.”
“Let’s go. I’m curious.”
Even on the way back, Cheong-o’s hand stayed over Se-hyeon’s forehead. It kept the glare off, which was nice, but Se-hyeon worried about Cheong-o’s arm, stuck in the same position for so long.
Glancing sidelong at Cheong-o, Se-hyeon took a handkerchief from his bag, unfolded it, and draped it over his head.
Cheong-o’s gaze dropped to the fluttering sky-blue cloth. With his face wrapped carefully in the sky-blue cloth, Se-hyeon was only redder—and the result was so funny that he spoke.
“If you do this, the sun’s blocked, so… you can put your hand down.” He was clearly twenty, an adult. Could an adult really be this cute… That was Cheong-o’s impression.
“You’re upset I touched you? I didn’t even touch you.”
“That’s not it…!”
“What is it, then?”
“Your arm will hurt, holding it up that long…”
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not that weak.”
“I could carry you around all day and my stamina would be fine, so just enjoy it.” Se-hyeon, wrapped in the sky-blue handkerchief, made a face as if to say there he goes talking nonsense again.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No matter how—even you—carrying a grown man around would be exhausting.”
“Think from my standards, not yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean about me?”
“Do you even exercise? Other than breathing, I mean.”
At the dismissive remark, Se-hyeon narrowed his eyes, but with his face thoroughly baked by the heat, it wasn’t much of a threat.
“I train too.”
“How much?”
“Would you even know if I told you?”
“Of course.”
“…I just train. We’re almost at the library.”
“Running away, huh…”
When Cheong-o caught up to Se-hyeon, who had scurried to the library entrance, Se-hyeon was panting. Seeing the guide out of breath from that short distance, Cheong-o was now almost pitying.
After a short, dry cough, Se-hyeon opened the door, and a faint but definitely cool breath of air-conditioning met them. A temperature neither cold nor hot—just right.
Folding the handkerchief he’d worn the whole way into a neat square and putting it in his bag, Se-hyeon took the lead with practiced ease.
“No one comes here, so we can talk freely.”
“No manager?”
“There isn’t one.”
“There’s no manager?”
“Yes. As you can see, it’s just us.”
“Do you come here often?”
“When I’m off work and bored.”
“Bored, and you come to a library?”
“…There are books, and there’s no one here. And it’s cool.” Only then did Cheong-o think of the books neatly lined up in Se-hyeon’s guiding room.
“Why do you like books?”
“Because I can see how other people live.”
No one came to stop them, though the truth of that was plain—they were talking loudly and no one intervened. While Se-hyeon lightly scanned the shelves with his eyes, checking that nothing had changed—the books’ positions, the dust on them—Cheong-o pulled out a chair, sat, and watched him, chin propped on his hand.
A white, pretty boy wandering alone through the quiet, empty library.
Cheong-o was struck by how peaceful the scene was. After making a round of the shelves to see if there was anything new to read, Se-hyeon came over and pulled out the chair across from him.
“I went to the Center so much, and I never imagined there was a library.”
“…Everyone says that. And you—you weren’t at the Center.”
“Ah. Well, if it was built while I was gone, I can’t complain.”
The hand hidden under the table fidgeted. To tell the truth, he was dying to ask why Cheong-o had left the Center. I kept looking for you—why did you leave? He wanted to ask.
I thought I’d see you again before long—why did you go so far away? Why did you make that choice?
His lips kept trembling with the questions he wanted to ask.
Still, couldn’t he ask this much? After all… he was guiding him now.
And Seo Cheong-o had come to him first. So this much…
“Um.”
“Yeah?”
Was it really all right to ask? Really… really? Se-hyeon wet his trembling lips with his tongue again and again, then fixed his gaze near Cheong-o’s shoulder and opened his mouth.
“The Center… why did you transfer?”
“Hm?”
“…I was just curious. You don’t have to answer if it’s awkward.”
“Family reasons, in a manner of speaking. Nothing special.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for now?”
Cheong-o looked at him, chin in his hand. For someone who had asked out of curiosity, he looked thoroughly deflated.
“My parents are gone, and I had a younger sibling who was sick.”
“…”
“I transferred partly for that, but the kid died not long after.”
“I-I’m sorry. I was just curious… that’s all…”
“Water under the bridge, and you did nothing wrong.” Se-hyeon swallowed, unnerved by Cheong-o smiling as he said it. How could someone smile while talking about his whole family dying? Se-hyeon had no way of knowing it was Cheong-o’s careful consideration, meant to reassure him.
“Then it’s my turn to ask something I’m curious about.”
“Oh, what?”
“What’s my name?”
“What?”
His thick eyebrows jumped. Se-hyeon stared at the black eye and the gray eye.
“I keep forgetting it, for some reason.”
That was a strange thing to say. He forgot his own name? What kind of scheme was this? Se-hyeon’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m sure I’d remember if someone told me.”
His eyes narrowed further.
“S-Seo… Cheong-o… isn’t it?”
“What does it mean?”
“I thought you didn’t know my name, my guide. You keep calling me ‘you, you.’”
The redness that had finally faded came flooding back.
“‘Esper’ is too stiff. Given your personality, I shouldn’t expect ‘Mr. Seo Cheong-o.’ And ‘hyung’—well, I can’t even picture it.”
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