“Let me make sure I have this right. You’ve been getting sleepy at all hours, the smell of food makes you nauseous, and you’ve been feeling unusually lethargic as well?”
The doctor pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up his nose and scanned the chart. His expression was grave as he went over the densely written notes again and again.
“Doctor, is there something seriously wrong with Gyujin?”
Yoon Palsik, the director of the Guide Center, asked anxiously.
What kind of center director followed a single Guide all the way to the hospital just because he was worried about his health?
Yoon Gyujin gripped the director’s shoulder, silently telling him to stop making such a fuss.
Seriously. Didn’t this man have anything better to do, considering he ran the entire Center?
“You can head back now. I’ll be fine—”
“No, Gyujin, you stay quiet for a minute. Doctor, is something wrong with him? Is it serious? It’s not some fatal disease or guiding dependency syndrome, is it?”
“Wrong… I wouldn’t exactly call it wrong. I’m just not quite sure how to put this…”
The longer the doctor hesitated, the more color drained from Yoon Palsik’s face.
“I knew something was wrong! He’s never like this, but lately he’s been drooping around like a drugged chick, nodding off every chance he gets!”
“When exactly did I—”
“Would you be quiet for a second? Doctor! What is it? Is it serious? It’s not guiding dependency syndrome, right?”
“No. I’m just not feeling well. Why would it be some kind of—”
“It isn’t an illness.”
At those welcome words, Yoon Gyujin’s face immediately brightened.
Yoon Palsik wiped his forehead in relief.
The doctor set the chart on the desk and looked back and forth between the two of them.
But now that Yoon Gyujin was paying attention, there was something strange about the doctor’s expression too.
The doctor picked the chart back up and examined it yet again, his hands trembling faintly for some reason.
“It’s… not an illness. It isn’t. But this is… Well, technically it isn’t, but…”
The doctor trailed off again.
By that point, Yoon Gyujin could no longer shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.
“If it isn’t an illness, then what is it?”
Yoon Palsik finally demanded.
The doctor muttered, “This really is something…” for what had to be the tenth time.
“You’re pregnant.”
Seven weeks along, in fact.
Yoon Gyujin burst out laughing.
“Doctor, I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m a man.”
“Yes… That’s written very clearly right here. Male, thirty-five years old, S-rank Guide.”
The doctor pointed to one section of the chart.
Only then did Yoon Gyujin realize he wasn’t joking.
His face twisted.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I would never joke about something like this.”
“No… Wait. How could a man—how could I possibly be pregnant? I don’t even have the necessary anatomy for that, do I?”
Or had everything he believed to be common knowledge somehow never been common knowledge at all?
The sun rising in the west would have sounded more believable than this.
What the hell was going on?
“The test results must have been switched, or the sample was contaminated, or there’s been some other misunderstanding. I’m a man. How can a man get pregnant?”
“That’s precisely what I’d like to know.”
“What?”
“In all thirty-five years I’ve practiced medicine, I’ve never seen a case like this. The only possibility I can think of is… considering that you’re an S-rank Guide, and assuming you have an extremely unusual physiology…”
“Assuming I do?”
Yoon Gyujin swallowed hard.
The doctor pushed his glasses up again and murmured, “Perhaps…”
“It could be a side effect of guiding dependency syndrome. Theoretically, it is possible. If the Guide has an unusual physiology, a compatibility rate above ninety percent, and repeatedly has sexual relations with the same Esper over the course of several years, then even a man can become pregnant. Theoretically speaking, it is possi—whoa!”
Before the doctor could finish the word possible, Yoon Palsik’s eyes flew wide and he toppled backward.
Crash!
Startled by the noise, the doctor shoved his desk aside and jumped to his feet.
Medical staff, alarmed by the commotion, burst through the examination room door.
Voices rose everywhere as a wheeled stretcher came rattling into the room.
In the middle of all that chaos, Yoon Gyujin started laughing.
“Hah… I’m pregnant…?”
What the fuck kind of nonsense was this?
1
[General Board] Is That Rumor Actually True? (122)
Heard Y.G. is retiring. Is that for real?
Comments (122)
Anon: Yeah. The whole Center is losing its mind right now.
↳ Anon: Bullshit. Then who’s supposed to guide K.D.?
↳ Anon: Have you been away on some months-long assignment or something? The Center’s been fucked for ages. Y.G. handed in his resignation and K.D. is reverting to how he was five years ago.
↳ Anon: Fuck. Please tell me you’re lying.
Anon: You lunatics. Instead of wasting time posting this garbage, start praying that Y.G. withdraws his resignation and comes back. I’m sick of watching rookies who don’t know shit act like this is something to celebrate. Anyone who remembers what K.D. was like five years ago is practically afraid to breathe right now. Do you have any idea what it took to turn that bastard into a functioning human being…? Forget national emergencies. This is a national emergency.
↳ Anon: Stop being so dramatic.
↳ Anon: You’re new here, aren’t you?
↳ Anon: Yeah.
A bitter smile tugged at Yoon Gyujin’s lips as he scrolled farther and farther down.
That notorious anonymous message board was overflowing with incomprehensible speculation, and this thread was hardly the worst of it.
“Want to know what I just reported? Apparently Yoon Gyujin is secretly being kept by the wife of some corporate tycoon. They’re saying that’s why you’re quitting. What, do you have some rich married woman I don’t know about?”
The man sitting across from him glanced up from his laptop as he casually asked the question.
The rumor was too ridiculous even to laugh at.
Yoon Gyujin sank weakly back into the sofa.
“As if.”
He didn’t know some rich married woman.
He barely knew anyone.
Looking back over his entire life, practically every person he knew was someone he had met through work.
Employees at the Guide Center. Espers from the Esper Bureau. Aside from them, maybe a few employees from the Administration Bureau and some reporters.
He had manifested as a Guide so young that he had never really had classmates or friends, and it had been years since he had cut ties with his family.
“You’ve worked way too hard your entire life. That’s your biggest problem.”
Ko Hyeguk, who belonged to the Guide Center employee category of Yoon Gyujin’s painfully small social circle, clicked his tongue.
He snapped his laptop shut and folded his arms.
This year marked exactly ten years since Ko Hyeguk had manifested as a Guide.
When he had first arrived at the Center, Yoon Gyujin had been the senior Guide assigned to look after him.
Even then, Yoon Gyujin had already been a veteran.
Ten years later, he was now one of the longest-serving Guides in the entire Center. There were only a handful of people left with more seniority than him.
“I don’t get why everyone has so much to say when all I want to do is retire. Can’t I just start a new life now? I heard Yoonhee quit guiding and opened a café.”
“Yoonhee left because she married her paired Esper, and technically I don’t think she’s even retired. Her Esper is on sabbatical right now, so they’re taking a break. She said she has no idea what’ll happen next year.”
“This goddamn company is evil. If I’d known it would be like this, I would’ve hidden after I manifested instead of becoming a Guide.”
Once Guides or Espers manifested their abilities, the job was practically a lifetime sentence.
The Center rarely accepted resignations.
Yoon Gyujin understood why.
Both Guides and Espers were extremely rare.
And although Esper mortality rates were high, the number of newly manifested Espers was still absurdly large compared to the number of Guides.
Which meant each Guide had to manage a tremendous number of Espers.
Naturally, the Guides were worked to the bone.
Calling it overwork almost made it sound benign.
The working conditions were so brutal that Guides who failed to adapt sometimes took their own lives.
Things had improved significantly by now, but twenty years ago, when Yoon Gyujin had first manifested, suicides among Guides had been common enough to happen nearly once a month.
“Think there’s an Esper somewhere who can turn back time? Send people into the past or something…”
“Why? So you can go back and hide?”
Yoon Gyujin silently rubbed his forehead.
Ko Hyeguk caught the unspoken confirmation and snorted.
“Not that there’s any Esper who can send people back in time, but even if there were, you couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“You really think you could go back and leave Kwon Dajung behind?”
“…Why the hell couldn’t I?”
“I’ve known you for ten years. You think I don’t know you by now? If you were capable of walking away from him, you wouldn’t have spent years drowning in rumors like these.”
Ko Hyeguk tapped the laptop with one finger.
Among the countless embarrassing rumors—breakup rumors included—the names Yoon Gyujin and Kwon Dajung were almost always attached to each other.
Part of the reason was that they had spent five years working together as a team.
The other part was Kwon Dajung’s increasingly intense fixation on Yoon Gyujin over those same five years.
“You seriously still won’t tell me? What could possibly be so important that you’re keeping it this secret?”
Yoon Gyujin, still holding his forehead, shifted his eyes toward him.
Ko Hyeguk shrugged.
“You know the entire world practically walks on eggshells around Kwon Dajung. Do you honestly think that if you tell him you’re quitting, he’ll just say, ‘Sure, okay,’ and calmly accept it? Not a chance. He’d probably kill you before he let you leave his side.”
“Kill me? Why do you have to put it like that? That sounds terrifying.”
“I’m not trying to make it sound terrifying. That’s reality. You know it too.”
Yoon Gyujin scrubbed both hands over his face and swallowed a sigh.
Unfortunately, Ko Hyeguk was right.
Kwon Dajung was Yoon Gyujin’s teammate and assigned Esper.
An unprecedented SS-rank ability user.
And once upon a time, he had been infamous as a hopeless piece of trash.
So yes.
He was absolutely capable of something like that.
Yoon Gyujin had first met Kwon Dajung five years ago, when Kwon Dajung was nineteen.
Even setting aside how young he had been, Kwon Dajung had possessed an astounding level of arrogance and had been immature in virtually every conceivable way.
Now, at least, he was properly socialized. He could interact with other people and actually took his work seriously.
Back then, however, he had been almost impossible to watch without getting angry.
Just remembering those days sent a sharp ache through Yoon Gyujin’s head as another migraine threatened to surface.
He had spent five miserable years finally turning the bastard into something resembling a decent human being…
And now Yoon Gyujin had to push him away with his own hands.
Why did life have to make it impossible to know what was coming next?
“It can’t be helped. I won’t be able to guide for a while. I’m the Guide assigned to the team, but if I can’t even guide… then quitting is the right thing to do.”
Kwon Dajung was an SS-rank Esper, and although his personal preference was unmistakable, his compatibility rates were decent with practically anyone he was paired with.
There were plenty of other Guides who could guide Kwon Dajung perfectly well.
It didn’t have to be Yoon Gyujin.
Between the two of them, Yoon Gyujin was the one with no leverage.
Completely so.
If anything, leaving was the better choice.
“That’s exactly my point. You should tell Kwon Dajung the truth about why you can’t guide him. You shouldn’t just walk up to him out of nowhere and announce that you two are done.”
Despite Ko Hyeguk’s reproachful tone, Yoon Gyujin pressed his lips tightly together.
His stubborn silence was clearly driving Ko Hyeguk insane.
“What could possibly be so bad that you won’t even tell me? Director Yoon obviously knows something, but he doesn’t look like he intends to say a word either. It’s not like your abilities suddenly vanished. I’m frustrated enough just sitting here listening to you. Imagine how Kwon Dajung feels.”
Ko Hyeguk sounded ready to tear his hair out.
Yoon Gyujin could only give him a weak smile.
No matter how much Ko Hyeguk scolded him, and no matter how spectacularly Kwon Dajung lost his mind after being dumped, Yoon Gyujin could not tell either of them the reason.
Because seriously.
How was he supposed to say:
Actually, I’m pregnant, so apparently I can’t guide for a while. I haven’t decided whether I’m keeping the baby yet, but the doctor says guiding is dangerous, so I’m not allowed to do it.
He would rather bite his tongue off and die.
“There’s just… a reason.”
Yoon Gyujin lowered his head bitterly.
Ko Hyeguk let out a deep sigh.
“You really are—”
He abruptly stopped talking.
Ko Hyeguk’s gaze shifted to somewhere behind Yoon Gyujin.
His face went slightly pale.
Then he hurriedly began packing away his laptop.
“Oh, damn. Look at me. I completely forgot I had something urgent to do. I’m heading out first. Take care of yourself. See you later.”
“You’re leaving already? You haven’t even finished your drink.”
Yoon Gyujin pointed at the cup on the table, still more than half full.
Ko Hyeguk didn’t even turn around.
He was too busy grabbing his things.
“Anyway, I’m going. Bye!”
He practically bolted away, circled through the café, and disappeared toward the back exit.
Left alone in the blink of an eye, Yoon Gyujin scratched his head.
“What could possibly be that urgent?”
He lifted his own cup and wet his lips.
Most of the ice had melted, but the drink was still cool.
He absentmindedly took another sip while considering everything he had to deal with from here.
The rumors circulating around the Center would probably die down on their own if he ignored them.
Rumors always faded with time.
Which left only Kwon Dajung.
What the hell was he supposed to do about him?
“I’m going insane…”
The unsolvable problem made his head throb, and sigh after sigh slipped from him.
He hadn’t been able to tell Ko Hyeguk, but Yoon Gyujin had attempted to break up with Kwon Dajung for the fifth time that very morning.
And for the fifth time, Kwon Dajung had refused.
No.
Actually, today Kwon Dajung had added something new.
If you want to watch me die, go right ahead. See what happens.
He had been smiling when he said it.
That only made it terrifying enough to send a chill down Yoon Gyujin’s spine.
Kwon Dajung was the kind of person who did exactly what he said he would do.
If Yoon Gyujin tried telling him one more time that they should break up—or that he was quitting his job—Kwon Dajung might genuinely start threatening to kill himself.
Yoon Gyujin desperately wished it had been a joke.
Unfortunately, the odds of Kwon Dajung making that kind of joke were next to nonexistent.
“What are you thinking about so seriously?”
Yoon Gyujin flinched.
Before he had even noticed anyone approaching, a man had come up behind him and gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
The instant Yoon Gyujin turned his head, he found himself staring at a familiar face.
Kwon Dajung smiled sweetly and tilted his head.
True to his gentle-sounding name, there was something almost impossibly tender about his expression.
He knew perfectly well which expressions suited him and exactly how far to tilt his head to look his most attractive.
Every movement he made was precise and effortlessly beautiful.
He naturally draped an arm over Yoon Gyujin’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss beside his ear.
“I told you we should go to work together. Why did you leave without waiting for me?”
He leaned closer.
“Hmm?”