← The Resurrected Guide Wants to Live Quietly
Ha-neul’s words, the ones that so neatly separated "mucous-membrane guiding" from "kissing," came back to him.
It had sounded like comfort, in its way — but it irritated him instead. A different point kept nagging at him.
If mucous-membrane guiding meant that little… then he could press his lips to anyone who wanted guiding, couldn’t he.
Han Yu-geon pressed his lips shut, his brow furrowing.
An A-rank guide would be a talent even Blaze would covet. The rank was still undisclosed, but people inside the Center would already know, and it wouldn’t be strange if it leaked somehow. And Ha-neul himself didn’t seem inclined to hide it — ask him anything and he’d probably spill it all.
It wasn’t just the rank, either. The guiding itself had been solid. For someone who’d just walked into a guiding center, his talent was hard to believe. He’d stabilized an S-class esper’s wavelength this much, after all.
And that wasn’t all — his looks… Objectively, he was the type to win anyone over, young or old. Clean white skin, a small face with sharp, neatly gathered features — especially those big eyes, those transparent irises you could see straight through — and a frame that fit right into an embrace, soft skin, a body that ran unusually warm…
He still looked young even accounting for having just come of age, which only meant there were perverts out there who’d like him more for it.
Above all, the guiding center Ha-neul belonged to had a thoroughly bad reputation — bad enough for Oh Yeon-seo to call it "a shithole." They said the private rooms were never once fully empty. Those private rooms that, at any decent center, you’d only ever use for a once-a-year emergency.
"…Shit."
In the end, instead of typing a rebuttal to Oh Yeon-seo, Han Yu-geon started getting ready to go out.
He couldn’t stand it. Call him a self-proclaimed old fogey all you want — he wasn’t the type to meddle with some stranger he’d met exactly once yesterday, and yet.
The face that had leaned in with arms around his neck, those clear eyes that met his without wavering, the frail waist his single arm had encircled. Those soft, full lips, the breath that quickened as the "kiss" deepened, the small moans rising from deep in his throat.
No matter how he looked at it, "Lee Ha-neul" had every quality to drive perverts wild.
So he couldn’t help it.
A naive kid, barely an adult, dropped alone and defenseless into a den of lunatics —warning him to be careful was only an elder’s duty, wasn’t it?
He sped the whole way.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he’d held a speed just shy of a ticket the entire drive. The roads hadn’t been empty, even if it wasn’t rush hour — he honestly wondered how he’d kept that pace.
And still, the guiding center where Ha-neul worked was about as "diametrically opposite" from Seonyeon as a place could get, and he’d gotten caught in the commute on top of it, so by the time he arrived, two hours had passed since opening.
He parked but didn’t get out right away. A belated, creeping self-loathing had him by the ankles.
Han Yu-geon pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and muttered.
"How did I end up all the way out here…"
No matter how many excuses he’d fed himself on the way, he couldn’t buy a single one.
This version of himself — this fussy over a stranger — felt foreign. Sure, Ha-neul was a lead to Seon Yi-yeon and a link to Jo Min-young, but that didn’t explain racing over here the instant he saw Oh Yeon-seo’s message.
And once he’d noticed it, the memory kept surfacing. That moment their lips had met.
At first he’d gone rigid at the sudden kiss attempt, lips pressed tight — but once the "guiding" started, it was different. The way he’d clung, arms around his neck, pressing his lips close… At the time he’d mistaken him for Seon Yi-yeon, and for an instant it had felt achingly lovely, enough to make his mind go white.
And, insane as it was, Ha-neul’s scent — laced with the smell of blood — had felt exactly like Seon’s. It had nearly driven him mad. He’d thought he’d never breathe that scent again.
"Hah…"
He straightened his shoulders, combing a hand through his hair to organize thoughts that kept drifting somewhere inappropriate.
Still, he had a feeling it was already too late, so he didn’t waste time. He pulled his cap low, put on a mask, and got out of the car.
He still hadn’t made sense of why he was like this, but he felt he’d truly regret doing nothing now. He didn’t want any more regrets. He’d had enough of those losing Seon Yi-yeon twice and spending six years on them.
"Isn’t that Han Yu-geon?"
"No way. For real? What’s he doing here?"
"Come to think of it, I heard Han Yu-geon was at the gate site yesterday…"
"At the site? Isn’t this area basically Blaze’s turf?"
"That’s what’s weird."
"Is Seonyeon trying to expand out here? They’ve been on a roll lately."
"Blaze won’t just sit still… What if the guilds go to war or something?"
"Come on. No matter how bad things are, war? We’ve got monsters as a common enemy."
"Who knows. The world doesn’t always run on logic."
Maybe because of yesterday’s sighting reports — despite the low-profile outfit, he was recognized the moment he stepped into the Center. Even with his face covered, the height and build gave him away; nothing to be done about it.
That much had been within expectations. He just had to finish his business and vanish before word spread.
"…What?"
What he hadn’t expected was something else entirely.
He’d moved fast to make a reservation, but Ha-neul was out. He wasn’t at his desk even though it was past clock-in time.
A guy who’d just been assigned to this Center yesterday, who looked straight-laced enough to be annoyingly diligent — absent on his second day? His first thought was a bad one.
Someone sidled up to Han Yu-geon, who stood frozen before the kiosk with a stiff face.
"Uh, excuse me — are you Esper Han Yu-geon? Of Seonyeon…?"
"I am."
"Waaah, I’m Kim Ju-ho, a guide with this Center. It’s an honor! I’m a fan!"
"…Ah. Yes."
A fan, while working in Blaze territory. What a joke.
He thought it was all nonsense, but it was convenient. He’d been wondering who to ask, and here was a Center guide walking right up to him.
"What brings you here? If you need guiding, I could—"
"Where is Guide Lee Ha-neul? He was listed as absent."
Kim Ju-ho, who’d been babbling excitedly, faltered.
His brow knit — as if to say, why that name — then smoothed back into a smile.
"Ah… Ahh. Ha-neul? He said he wasn’t feeling well and left early today."
"…Not feeling well?"
"Yes. He had a slight fever, cold sweats — he didn’t look good. Probably from the field yesterday. He’s brand-new, just arrived yesterday, so he’s not used to the work yet."
"…"
"I could do a better job for you than Ha-neul— Esper!"
Before he’d even finished hearing the answer, Han Yu-geon’s expression changed and he bolted out of the Center.
A rookie A-rank guide, twenty years old, just joined the Center. So green as a guide he couldn’t even tell mucous-membrane guiding from kissing.
And a punk like that had guided an esper whose wavelength was a wreck — an esper who’d nearly lost his mind — and done mucous-membrane guiding on top of it, back to back. Of course it would take a toll on his body.
Half-running toward the Center dormitory, he called Oh Yeon-seo. The instant the call connected, he skipped even the "hello" and went straight to the point.
"Hey. Where does that guide live?"
***
"I’m in trouble."
Seon Yi-yeon muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Can’t… move…"
Maybe he hadn’t even muttered. The sound barely rose past his lips — no more than a twitch.
It hadn’t been this bad when he’d first clocked in at the Center. His appetite had been off, his body heavy, a low fever — but nothing unbearable. He’d judged it fine to work, figured he’d sit at his desk doing routine tasks and head home. The workload was light anyway.
But the moment he got home, the tension must have drained out of him, because his body gave out fast. He’d taken one step inside, shoes off, and his legs buckled — he couldn’t get up again.
He needed to wash up, eat, rest properly in bed. The route and plan laid themselves out in his head, but his body wouldn’t follow. Every cell felt turned to lead. He couldn’t budge. Even breathing was labor.
"What do I do…"
Should he just sleep here? It wasn’t cold, but in his condition even this could snowball into the worst case. As an esper he’d been sturdy enough not to care, but he was a guide now…
He braced a hand on the wall and forced strength into his legs, but lost his balance before he could even get his knees up, and pitched forward.
In the end, Seon Yi-yeon gave up on moving and decided to rest a while longer. He had no other option.
He’d leaned against the wall and drifted into something like unconsciousness — how long had it been? — when a loud pounding on the door woke him.
"Open the door! Say something! I know you’re in there!"
A familiar voice. A voice he’d missed no matter how often he heard it.
It was Han Yu-geon.
Alarm spread across Seon Yi-yeon’s face. What now? How did he know where he lived?
Before he could even assess the situation, his body moved first. The voice sounded so desperate that opening the door and calming him down came first.
Yesterday he’d left him in a relatively stable state — but "relatively" was doing a lot of work; Yu-geon had gone so long without guiding that plenty was still piled up. Agitation would do him no good.
Click. The door opened on a Han Yu-geon in a state of extreme agitation, just as expected. His face was flushed red. His eyes were fierce — another minute and he might have broken the door down.
Seon Yi-yeon parted his lips deliberately and forced the words out.
"How… did you…"
"Your body — how is it? Are you okay?"
"…Ah."
Only at Yu-geon’s words did Seon Yi-yeon remember what state he’d been in before falling asleep.
Why he’d been sleeping in the entryway instead of the bedroom. Barely out of his shoes, still in his coat.
Because his body wouldn’t move.
"Lee Ha-neul!"
At Yu-geon’s shout, he stood to open the door — a superhuman feat, apparently.
The moment he registered his condition, his body gave way helplessly. Yu-geon’s arm was there waiting, catching Seon Yi-yeon’s falling body as if it had known.
"Damn it. I knew it!"
Yu-geon laid a hand on the burning forehead of the feverish Seon Yi-yeon and spat a rough curse — but the patient himself was thinking something entirely off-topic.
Held in those arms, it felt different from being carried on his back. Yu-geon must have grown a lot since Seon Yi-yeon’s death.
Not just a more mature face — his whole frame had changed. He must have kept growing even after becoming an adult. Taller, and broader with muscle to match the height.
He’d said he had no attachments left in life, that he wanted to leave quietly without meeting again — and yet Seon Yi-yeon was glad, almost embarrassingly glad, to see how Yu-geon had grown.
That was his last thought before he lost consciousness.
***
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