“See you at the Center later.”
“Huh?”
“Hanging up.”
The handler’s urgent voice, trying to hold on to him, was gone. The overturned phone buzzed, but he ignored it. Cheong-o drank his coffee, waiting for the guide who would appear any moment.
It was a good ten minutes or more before Se-hyeon appeared, having lingered, unable to leave the bedroom. When he reappeared — head ducked low, no greeting, slipping straight into the dressing room — Cheong-o was still just holding his coffee, unable to drink it. He’d expected him to come back changed, but Se-hyeon reappeared wearing sunglasses of all things. It was so absurd he couldn’t even laugh.
Cheong-o set down his cup and stared at Se-hyeon drinking water in the kitchen. With just a pair of sunglasses on, his bearing had grown bolder than before. Unbothered, Se-hyeon toasted bread on his own and sat down, starting his breakfast still wearing the sunglasses. Cheong-o watched him slowly chew the golden-brown toast and gulp down his milk, so absorbed in the sight that he didn’t even notice his coffee going cold.
Se-hyeon cleared the table, finished the dishes, wiped everything down until not a drop of water remained, brushed his teeth still wearing the sunglasses, and sat down on the sofa, utterly brazen. Cheong-o could roughly guess why he was acting like this. He’d cried so much yesterday, his eyes must be swollen. It wasn’t the first time Cheong-o had seen it — he was just curious why the sunglasses all of a sudden.
Sitting up stiffly yet spacing out, Se-hyeon grabbed with both hands at the sunglasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. Cheong-o clicked his tongue, having failed to take the sunglasses off without even laying a hand on them.
“Don’t!”
“Isn’t that stifling? Just take them off.”
“It’s not stifling.”
“Of course it is. You’re the only one still living in the middle of the night.”
Clutching the sunglasses so Cheong-o couldn’t use his power again, Se-hyeon got up and hid in the bedroom. For someone who’d insisted not to be treated like a child, he acted exactly like one. Cheong-o set his cup on the table and followed him into the bedroom, where he saw Se-hyeon from behind, tidying the bedding.
After a few passes, the bedding was all squared away at the corners. Straightening up with a satisfied look, Se-hyeon turned to Cheong-o, who’d just been standing there getting on his nerves.
“What?”
“Just watching. It’s kind of fascinating.”
“It’s not fascinating at all.”
“You’re not seven, but everything out of your mouth is ‘not.’” He glared, but the sunglasses hid it.
“I’m going to stop by the Center for a bit.”
“Why?”
“To work.”
“I want to go too. I have something to do.”
“…”
“Then get ready.”
When Cheong-o stepped aside, Se-hyeon walked straight into the dressing room and surveyed the closet. The only clothes he had here were his uniform, so he’d have to borrow Cheong-o’s. No one followed him in — Cheong-o must have gone to shower. Se-hyeon lowered his sunglasses slightly and rummaged through the clothes, pulling out something wearable. He wore a white short-sleeve shirt underneath and a black sweatshirt over it, rolling up the sleeves. The top was fine, but what pants would work? They were about the same height, but their builds were different… His hands moved boldly through someone else’s closet without the owner’s permission.
The jeans he finally chose had problems. The waist was too big, so they slid down even when he just stood still, and the hems were a bit long. He rolled up the cuffs and straightened up, but the jeans just slid right back down.
Frowning, Se-hyeon hurriedly found a belt and tightened it. Looking in the mirror, he saw a kid who looked like he’d secretly stolen his big brother’s clothes. He’d never been told he was short anywhere, but strangely every garment was too big and too long. Maybe the difference was muscle. As Se-hyeon looked down at his wrist bared under the rolled sleeve, a face suddenly popped up beside him and he flinched.
“Forget the Center, we need to buy you clothes first.”
“I, I can just stop by home.”
“Now I get why people like dressing other people up in their clothes. Done?”
Cheong-o looked the fully-dressed Se-hyeon up and down, then casually stripped off his own clothes. Caught suddenly looking at Cheong-o’s bare body, Se-hyeon averted his eyes. Dressed in a brown knit, black pants, and a black coat, Cheong-o got Se-hyeon into the car first, then climbed in himself. He took the blanket he’d prepared specially for Se-hyeon from the back seat and draped it over him, turned up the heat, and only then did they leave the parking lot.
Arriving at the Center, the two went their separate ways. Se-hyeon watched Cheong-o walk away after telling him to call when he was done, then entered the Guiding Center, looking around for a familiar face. He’d barely stood there in the quiet lobby, debating whether to call out to someone, when a person came bursting out from inside. The Center Director, worn out with fatigue and adjusting his glasses as he came out, spotted Se-hyeon and started toward him warmly, then gave the sunglasses covering half his face a puzzled look.
“Se-hyeon-ssi?”
“Hello.”
“Why the sunglasses… Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Thank goodness. You’re here for your letter, right?”
“Yes.”
They’d known each other for years, but conversation was still a struggle. The Center Director, who considered that very trait part of Se-hyeon’s charm, just found him endearing. Remembering that even this level of conversation had been impossible at first, it was tremendous progress.
The Center Director came back out with a bag containing a letter and bread, and pushed it toward Se-hyeon. Se-hyeon needlessly checked that no one was around, then peered into the bag, taking in a few kinds of bread and the letter in its usual envelope.
“Did they… say anything else?”
“They just say thank you, every time.”
“I see…”
“Oh, by the way — Esper Seo Cheong-o apparently visited the orphanage you volunteer at every month.”
“What?”
What was this now? His eyes went round as they turned to the Director.
“They say the orphanage started construction, and it’s all thanks to Esper Seo Cheong-o.”
“Construction?”
“He said he’d personally cover all the financial costs.”
It was all news to him. His brow furrowed and wouldn’t smooth out.
“Um… Esper Seo Cheong-o never said a word about it?”
“…Thank you for taking the letter for me.”
“Se-hyeon-ssi.”
“I’ll be… back at work soon.”
He walked off briskly, the bag in hand, his steps hurried. The words he couldn’t bring himself to say — that he could take a little longer before coming back — settled over the lobby.
Thinking of Cheong-o, who’d said he had something to discuss with his handler and gone to the Esper Center, Se-hyeon headed straight for the Esper Center.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Esper Seo Cheong-o’s handler.”
“Your affiliation?”
“Just tell them Guide Lee Se-hyeon is here. They’ll know.”
“One moment, please.”
While the man went back to his desk for a quick check, Se-hyeon’s grip tightened on the bag strap.
“I’ll show you in.”
Perhaps because he’d been with Cheong-o since his manifestation, the treatment was impeccably polite. The man rode up in the elevator with him, pressed the floor button, and held the door open until Se-hyeon got off. Not only that — he bowed to Se-hyeon as he stepped out of the elevator. Feeling odd, Se-hyeon watched the elevator descend when he heard someone running up behind him. Footsteps different from Cheong-o’s. Without even turning around, Se-hyeon knew the person running toward him was his handler.
“Guide-nim! What brings you here all of a sudden?”
“You’re with Esper Seo Cheong-o, right?”
“I was with him earlier, but not right now.”
“…Where did he go?”
“Where did he go?”
Visibly flustered, the handler avoided his eyes. He’d clearly said he was going to meet his handler. But the handler was alone right now. He’d lied to me. Yesterday he’d asked me to form an exclusive contract, and today he was lying. The irony — I was annoyed that Cheong-o had lied to me, when my own name had been a lie from the start. In front of the stone-faced Se-hyeon, the blameless handler was the only one sweating buckets.
“Cheong-o-ssi stepped out for a moment. If you wait in the office, he’ll come.”
He could have contacted him directly right now, but instead he followed the handler into the office and settled into a seat. Busy reading the mood of the much younger guide, the handler poured cold water instead of hot into the cup with the tea bag, and only belatedly flinched at his own mistake. Setting the cup down without a sound, the handler even pulled out the snacks he’d hidden away and pushed them toward Se-hyeon. In the suffocating air, the handler stood up making pointless small talk and hid behind his monitor to text Cheong-o: “Cheong-o-ssi, the guide is in the office right now, and—”
“Handler-nim.”
“Huh? Ah— yes?”
“You said you’ve known Esper Seo Cheong-o for a long time.”
“That’s right.”
“What… is he like?”
“Cheong-o-ssi is… well…”
I’ve been by his side since he first manifested, so I should answer right away. That way the guide will trust me, and Cheong-o-ssi will trust me too.
“Hmm…”
But how do I even describe him? What kind of person is Cheong-o-ssi? He is… well…
“Uhh…”
As the answer that should have come at once dragged on, Se-hyeon’s eyes narrowed. Half-hiding behind the monitor, the handler moved his hidden hand below, texting: “Cheong-o-ssi, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He hadn’t been expecting a grand answer. He’d just wanted to ask the person closest to him what kind of person Seo Cheong-o was, that was all. What was wrong with this handler. Se-hyeon sipped his tea.
“I, I heard you’ve been staying with Cheong-o-ssi lately.”
“Nothing… uncomfortable?”
“Not really…”
“But why are you wearing sunglasses?”
“…”
The words he’d been rolling around in his mouth never reached the handler. Watching him struggle so awkwardly to change the subject was pitiful. “They’re useful, right? They protect your eyes and all — maybe I should get myself a pair! Where did you get them—”
“They’re Esper Seo Cheong-o’s.”
“Ah-ha!”
And then silence again. Unable to stand it, the handler started clacking at his keyboard, pretending to be busy though he had no work, when Se-hyeon, sipping his tea, spoke first. “He’s so willful.”
It was closer to a monologue than a remark, but the handler focused on his words.
“He doesn’t care at all when he’s hurt. Says he’s fine even when his flesh is torn open.”
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