He clearly remembered being so cold until dawn that he had gone looking for a blanket. Long experience had taught him this cold would last into the morning, and that made opening his eyes frightening.
The plan he made in his hazy mind for the day: the alarm would ring, he would get up, wash, take his medicine, clear his head, then go to work and slip into the hospital during lunch.
As he mapped out the day in his drowsy head, Se-hyeon realized that, oddly, his body wasn’t as stiff as he’d expected. He closed his eyes, gauging his condition, and felt his forehead. A cooling sheet was stuck to it — the kind he’d bought to have on hand for fevers.
…Did I get up in the middle of the night and put it on?
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall getting up and moving around at dawn. It was strange, too, that his skin wasn’t clammy at all despite the sweat he’d poured all night — it felt fresh. Waiting for his blurred vision to sharpen, he shifted in bed, and at the sound of someone moving in the house, he sat bolt upright.
Someone was moving around in a house that should have been his alone. Startled, he looked around the room and his mouth fell open at the sight of the neatly folded blanket on the floor.
“Ah…”
Right. He’d invited Cheong-o over yesterday — and on top of that, told him to spend the night. His head was too foggy to think straight. He peeled the cooling sheet off his forehead and put his feet on the floor.
For a house with another person in it, the atmosphere was peaceful.
That was so unfamiliar that he wiggled his toes and broke into a light cough. He’d invited someone over and spent the night being sick, no less. His own body — sick more days than it was well — felt especially pathetic this morning.
Holding back the coughs that kept bubbling up, he glanced at the clock without thinking and his eyes went wide. Eleven o’clock? The alarm was set for seven. But it was eleven right now? Impossible. A pale hand fumbled across the bed for his phone.
Never, except on days off, did he ever turn off his alarm. At 11:07 and counting, Se-hyeon bolted upright and swayed as the world went white before his eyes.
His head spun. He steadied himself, wobbling, and waited for his vision to clear. Swallowing a sigh, he had just started to move when the bathroom door opened and Cheong-o appeared, looking completely at ease.
“Good morning.”
“D-do you know it’s eleven right now?”
“Is it that late already?”
“I have to go to work — right now this is an unexcused…”
“I already told the Center for you, so calm down. You’ll spike a fever again.”
“If you’re not going back to bed, get ready so we can go to the hospital.”
The gaze he’d fixed on Cheong-o’s sticking-up hair fell away. Se-hyeon shuffled into the bathroom, showered, and came out with goosebumps rising on his cold-damp skin.
After washing off the night’s sweat, he finished getting ready to go out, and on the way out behind Cheong-o, only his mouth moved inside his mask.
It wasn’t far, but since Se-hyeon was a patient and Cheong-o needed to get home anyway, they took the car — and practically the moment they set off, they were already in the Center’s parking lot.
Walking into the Center on sick leave felt exactly like skipping work. He hadn’t lied about anything, yet he felt guilty, trailing along behind Cheong-o’s broad back.
Honestly — if he was being truly honest — he didn’t feel as bad as he had at dawn, and going to work probably wouldn’t have been a problem… but that wide back in front of him felt like it was guarding him, and the words wouldn’t come out.
The Medical Center inside the Center was, of course, built first and foremost for espers and guides.
But somewhere along the way, it had become a place frequented more by guides and ordinary people than by espers with their far superior healing abilities.
It was a place as familiar to him as home — and a place he never wanted to get used to. Walking into it with Cheong-o, when he’d always gone alone, made him smile despite his foggy head.
Hiding behind that broad back, busy trying to keep the corners of his mouth down, Se-hyeon let Cheong-o greet the staff for him.
“I’m here for a checkup — the kid’s sick.”
The kid? Did Esper Seo Cheong-o have a kid? The staffer tilted her head, puzzled.
“Is this your first visit?”
“Probably not.”
“You must be the guardian, then. The child’s name and date of birth, please.” Busy maintaining his composure, Se-hyeon didn’t even hear Cheong-o rattling off his personal information. And as the fingers that had been moving froze at hearing his name and birth date, the staffer peered around Cheong-o’s back, baffled.
“Guide Lee Se-hyeon?”
“Yes?”
“…You’re Guide Lee Se-hyeon, right?”
“Y-yes.”
It was exactly the face of someone thinking, You? What are you doing here? Coming out late and finishing check-in, Se-hyeon got an awkward smile from the staffer and a pointed look at the sofa. Lost in his own world, he hadn’t noticed a thing. Cheong-o sat him down on the sofa.
“How often must you come for everyone to recognize you.”
It wasn’t quite a scolding, but the tone was close. Se-hyeon turned his head, rubbing sanitizer into his hands. Why did he always wear such an enormous mask? His face was already small — all you could see were his eyes.
People who’d come ahead of them kept sneaking glances at Cheong-o. Se-hyeon thought he was glad he’d worn the mask, with all those eyes turned their way.
By the time his name appeared on the monitor, a good forty minutes had passed since check-in. And there were still six people ahead of him. He could handle the long wait — he came to the hospital like other people ate meals — but it had to be boring for Cheong-o, so he rolled his eyes in his direction.
Cheong-o was flipping through a magazine from the rack. While Se-hyeon was staring so hard his eyes hurt, the cough that had been quiet all this time peeked out again. When he pressed his fist to his mask and coughed, Cheong-o closed the magazine and looked up.
“Should have taken another dose before we left home?”
“I’m, fine.”
“And the fever?” Cheong-o laid a hand on his head, which kept shaking no. “You’re dizzy, so stay still.”
“…”
“Ah, I didn’t even mean to.”
Taking his hand away matter-of-factly, Cheong-o looked at the monitor. Still a while to go, he murmured, loud enough for Se-hyeon to hear. His throat hurt from coughing. A spotless, unscarred hand covered his neck.
Se-hyeon sniffled. While waiting, his symptoms were worsening again. One small mercy: his turn was almost here. Just one more patient and this tedious wait would finally end.
Cheong-o had handed him a tissue and stepped away to take a call. Watching the monitor as he waited, Se-hyeon saw his name blink up on the screen.
Of all the times for him to be gone. Staring hard at the entrance, Se-hyeon walked into the exam room.
The familiar smell. The familiar face. The familiar chair. The doctor greeted him with a nod as he settled into the chair like it was his own.
“This isn’t exactly a fun place to visit, but — how have you been?”
“Yes. I think I’ve got a cold.”
The doctor grinned at Se-hyeon’s straight-to-the-point opener.
“Since when?”
“I got caught in the rain yesterday.”
“Oof.”
“So before bed I was achy, so I took medicine and slept, but…”
“Any other symptoms?” The eyes fixed on Se-hyeon turned toward a knock at the door. Following suit, Se-hyeon looked around to see Cheong-o striding in, and blinked.
“They said Guide Lee Se-hyeon’s guardian… is here.”
“Gu-guardian?”
The staffer smiled awkwardly and closed the door. Four people in the exam room, and a suffocating silence fell for a few seconds. Hmm. The doctor was the one to break it.
“Well, anyway… Se-hyeon, go on.”
“The fever…”
“He had a high fever all night, then it seemed to ease a bit, but now the cough’s worse and the fever’s back up.”
“…”
The question had been for Se-hyeon; the answer came from Cheong-o. The medical staff and Se-hyeon all turned to stare at Cheong-o. The doctor’s fingers twitched on the keyboard.
“Even so, you usually look much more worn out. You look a bit better today?”
“Um…”
“I kept wiping off his sweat all night.”
“Yes… Well, let me take a look. Could you lower your mask a little?” Se-hyeon stared as if to say what is he talking about. His face flushed as he belatedly realized why his body had been fresh instead of sticky from a night of sweat.
While the doctor sanitized his hands, checked Se-hyeon’s nose and throat, and took his temperature before heading back to the desk, Se-hyeon’s hands trembled.
“Se-hyeon, it is a cold. I’ll write you four days’ worth of medicine — if you feel better, you don’t have to come back, but if nothing changes by the middle, come in again. Come in sooner if it gets worse.”
“Make sure to take your medicine.”
“Take care.”
Barely waiting for the goodbye, Se-hyeon fled the exam room. Cheong-o followed with a simple nod, which was absurd in its own way.
A guardian — Se-hyeon, who was always alone, had a guardian? She’d heard the rumors, but was it true that Se-hyeon had formed an exclusive contract with Seo Cheong-o? The doctor studied Se-hyeon’s chart thoughtfully, then called in the next patient.
Even fleeing the exam room, Se-hyeon couldn’t go far — he hadn’t gotten the prescription yet. Hiding in a corner from Cheong-o, he shot out like a bullet the moment his name was called, took the prescription, and made straight for the exit.
Quick, wasn’t he. Cheong-o followed at a leisurely pace; a fleeing Se-hyeon could only go so far. There was a crowd, so even handing in the prescription took time. Se-hyeon turned his body to dodge Cheong-o, who was just coming in.
Not surprising — exactly the reaction he’d expected. As people collected their medicines one by one, empty seats started to open up.
The place was packed, and Se-hyeon’s prescription had only just gone in, so the wait was obviously going to be a while. Cheong-o approached Se-hyeon, standing alone in the wide space.
“Sit down.”
“…”
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