The car pulled up right then.
When we got in, Cha Gweonwoo sat a little apart at first—only to let out a sly “whoa—” as the car rounded a corner and topple against me like a row of dominos.
I was staring dumbly out the window and nearly jumped when he leaned in. Resting his chin on my bare forearm below my short sleeve, he mumbled:
“It’s weird. Whenever I’m alone with Guide Kim Doweon, I just want to stick close. Like a magnet.”
What do you mean, alone?
“There’s three of us,” I pointed carefully toward the driver.
He didn’t care, just nuzzled his cheek against my arm, murmuring again and again that it was soft.
“That… tickles.”
I tried nudging him off, but his body was like a pine tree that had guarded the village for five hundred years—immovable. After rubbing his face against my arm for a while, he must’ve gotten content, because his eyes slipped shut.
You like it that much?
The original Cha Gweonwoo never looked satisfied when I guided him. If I even loosened my grip, he’d get snappish and squeeze harder—probably because I wasn’t giving him as much as he wanted.
But this version was different. Just touching seemed enough, like a cat melting on an ice cushion in summer.
What does it even feel like?
I found myself staring at him, rubbing his face against my arm like a child begging for attention. The tips of his unusually long lashes caught the light, glimmering silver.
“Mmm… training’s scary…” he muttered into my arm.
No wonder. After the disaster of his first training session, fear made sense.
But he’d be fine. Today a mental-type esper with restorative powers would try bringing his missing memories back. At least he wouldn’t get tossed around like a flea again.
“It won’t be scary today.”
He cracked one eye open at my words. I waited to see what he’d say.
“Will you kiss me again when it’s over?”
Why is it always that word?!
Like I had a reflex switch, I shot upright in my seat.
“No!”
He grinned, and not satisfied with hanging on my arm, he slyly threaded his fingers through mine. I shook him off like swatting at flies.
“Cut it out and sit properly.”
“Okay. I won’t. Just let me stay like this until we get there. I’m too scared.”
I just told you it’s not scary.
He folded fast, then wrapped me up in a sudden bear hug.
“But it feels so good, holding on to Guide Kim Doweon. My head goes completely blank.”
“……”
“Ahh, why does it feel so good…”
His drowsy murmur, like someone half-asleep, drained the last of my resistance.
Goddamn it, I don’t even know anymore.
***
Walking into the Center side by side with him—it felt weird, like it was my own house.
His eyes shone all the way in. He tilted his head back, staring up at the long atrium that opened from the lobby clear to the top floor, with every corridor visible.
The info desk staffer smiled at me, then caught sight of him and gasped.
“Oh my!”
“Hello.”
I greeted her, and he ducked his head with me.
“Hello.”
His voice—probably the first time she’d ever heard it—drew another startled “oh my!” Her eyes darted between us, but I just pointed to the touchpad.
“Hand here.”
He placed his palm obediently. The staffer gasped again, covering her mouth. He flicked me a puzzled look—explain?—but I only handed over my ID and guide license.
“Which floor?”
“Uh… one moment. 902-B.”
Even as she issued the access card with practiced hands, her wide eyes clung to him like she was staring at a ghost.
“Have a good day.”
I tugged his T-shirt to move him along. He leaned down behind me and whispered in my ear:
“Did I do something wrong?”
I shook my head. Of course not. It was just—he was so completely different. He still looked curious, but I wasn’t about to explain it five times.
The elevator shot us to the ninth floor.
Just like during training, guides weren’t allowed in 902-B. Only he and the mental esper would enter. His face went white as he turned back to me.
“I’m scared.”
“It’s not scary.”
“I’m still scared.”
He clung to me like a kindergartener refusing to go inside. I coaxed:
“If you do well, I’ll guide you after.”
At once, the dead look in his eyes lit up.
“A kiss?”
“No!”
“Kiss!”
“I said no!”
Fear forgotten, he bounded into the room. The door slammed shut, and the “RESTRICTED AREA” sign stared back at me.
Christ. When did mucosal guiding become his default?
If he got used to it, that was a whole new problem. Espers who got a taste for mucosal guiding usually weren’t satisfied with contact guiding anymore.
He needed the strongest kind of stabilizing, sure—but mucosal guiding was addictive. And the real Cha Gweonwoo had always hated it. So what the hell was I supposed to do? It was a trap either way.
Ruffling my hair, I slipped into the adjacent observation room, where a thick glass wall gave a full view into 902-B.
Another guide was already there and nodded in greeting. Looked like the handler for the mental esper. I nodded back, sat, and he spoke first.
“Guide Kim Doweon?”
Another stranger who knew my name. Training cohort? No—never seen him before.
“How do you…?”
The man, maybe mid-thirties, scooted his chair close and smiled.
“You’re famous among guides. Cha Gweonwoo’s handler.”
Famous where? Is there a group chat without me?
Through his glasses, his gaze swept me up and down. Too close. Too intense.
“Wow. Just as good-looking as they say.”
Huh? The random compliment made my jaw drop like I’d crunched into a cucumber in my jjajangmyeon.
What kind of rumors were flying around?
“Anyway, today’ll be tough.”
He sighed at the glass wall. I followed his eyes.
Inside, my Cha Gweonwoo was sunk deep into a chair that looked like a massage recliner. His eyes rolled nervously, like a newborn kitten crossing its first street with its mom. My heart squeezed.
It’s not scary, dammit. And already he’s spooked again.
“Yeah…” I nodded, sympathetic.
“About three years ago, my esper lost his memory too. My kid really had a rough time.”
“Oh.”
I thought he meant mine, but it was about his own. I awkwardly echoed:
“Yeah…”
“My esper’s A-class, so it won’t be easy. Yours is S-class.”
It felt like a neighbor dad saying, My kid only ever gets 90s on spelling tests, but yours always scores 100. I rubbed my nape, embarrassed, and mumbled:
“He’s lost almost all his strength now.”
“Still, sealed memories from an S-class.”
I glanced at his esper. Unlike brawny physical-types, this one looked fragile, body narrow and wiry, protective suit hanging like a sack. His face was drained, ghostly pale.
I found myself worrying for him when—
—Guide Kim Doweon?
“Shit!”
Cha Gweonwoo’s voice boomed suddenly, and I nearly jumped out of my seat. He’d pinged me through the summoner again, wringing every drop of function out of it.
I hurriedly turned down the volume and looked through the glass. He tilted his chin, saying:
—Guide Kim Doweon, you have to look at me.
How the hell did he even know my eyes had wandered? What is he, Mongolian? A hawk?
I shot him a glance. He was no longer sunk down like before—upright now, like a meerkat, eyes locked on me.
God, a headache. I pressed my forehead.
“I am looking. Focus.”
—You weren’t.