In the meantime, Cha Gweonwoo moved slowly, stepping over shards of debris. The closer he drew, the more violently the psychic esper thrashed. I had no way of predicting what would happen next. My mind went blank white.
“Please, do something!”
Choi Gihak clutched at my arm now, screaming for me to stop him.
How the hell am I supposed to stop him?!
Sweat streamed down my back. Beside me, Choi Gihak was crying; in front of me, an innocent esper was dying; and the one doing it all was my esper.
In that brain-fried chaos, I found myself lifting the summoner to my lips. With trembling fingers I pressed the transmission button and blurted out, way too loud:
“C-Cha Gweonwoo, sir!”
My reckless voice rang through Room 902-B. My lips quivered hard.
I had no clue what I was even doing. Some kind of suicidal bravado?
“Thrown into the hall and not even a broken rib? Wow, our Gweonwoo’s practically human now.”
For a moment, I remembered Kang Juhui’s words.
Yeah—Cha Gweonwoo had hurled me into the corridor like a water balloon, but he hadn’t broken my ribs. Maybe he wouldn’t kill me. He wouldn’t actually kill his partner guide… right?
Gweonwoo’s crooked gaze fixed on his summoner, then drifted lazily toward me. His black pupils stilled, quiet as death, locking on. His eyes flashed like a murderer catching sight of a witness at the crime scene. My hands and feet went ice-cold, the back of my throat cracked dry.
Seeing him again after so long—holy fuck, he looked terrifying.
The strength drained out of my legs. After spending days with de-fanged Gweonwoo, I’d completely forgotten. He was always this frightening.
Meeting his eyes, my mouth went desert-dry, my knees quivered pitifully. Instinct screamed: I’m fucked. My head spun, tangled like a utility pole’s wires.
This had to be the number-one entry on Kim Doweon’s Top Five Dumbass Moves. Would it hurt much when he hit me? Yeah, probably a lot. Would he fling me into the air again? But hey, wasn’t this glass wall supposed to protect me? They called it a safe zone.
Under his sharp gaze, I couldn’t move a muscle. Even from a distance, his stare squeezed my chest like hands on my throat. When I finally forced a gulp down my parched gullet—
My eyes went wide at what I saw.
Gweonwoo tilted his head, annoyed, and touched his own neck. A finger-thick arrow had buried itself there from somewhere unseen. Still watching me, he yanked it out like it was nothing.
And in the next instant, his eyes lost focus—and his body vanished from sight. It happened in the blink of an eye.
I couldn’t bring myself to look down. Instead, I stared blankly at the person who had opened the door.
It was Kang Juhui.
***
“Drink. It’ll help you relax.”
I took the steaming cup the doctor handed over without hesitation. Relief had never felt more urgent. As the fragrant tea slid down my throat, tension drained from my stiff muscles. I could finally breathe again.
We were in the doctor’s office. After Gweonwoo took Kang Juhui’s tranquilizer and collapsed, I was still trembling in shock. Dr. Park had gathered me up and brought me here.
I looked around. The only real furniture was a massive desk with chairs across from it, and walls lined with eight-tier bookshelves packed to bursting. Even then, extra books lay piled on the floor like abandoned bricks. I found it oddly impressive.
Once I’d calmed a bit, the doctor finally sat me down and explained: Gweonwoo had only awakened temporarily to fend off the esper invading his mind. His memories still hadn’t returned.
“He must’ve touched on a memory Cha Gweonwoo didn’t want revealed. The more private the memory, the harsher the aggression that comes out.”
Cha Gweonwoo, flinging a psychic esper around like a moving box. And me, his guide, pale as a ghost, begging him to stop.
Thinking back, I felt absurdly guilty, like a dad called to school because his kid beat up a classmate.
“Is that psychic esper okay?”
“The condition isn’t critical. He’ll be fine. Thanks to you reining him in.”
Reined him in? I scratched my head at the random compliment.
“I didn’t rein him in. He just got knocked out with the tranquilizer.”
The doctor only smiled, unhurried.
“Cha Gweonwoo’s a telekinetic-type esper. And S-class. Do you really think someone like that couldn’t block a single arrow aimed at me?”
Come to think of it, none of the other espers had dared approach him; they’d all backed away.
“The moment you called his name, Cha Gweonwoo dropped his barrier.”
I slowly turned the words over, unable to believe them.
Gweonwoo… dropped his barrier?
“No one else noticed, but thankfully Kang Juhui did.”
Kang Juhui looked like someone just back from a grueling round-the-world trip—face worn with exhaustion. She stared at me for a moment, too drained to speak, muttered she had too much to do and vanished again without a proper greeting. Said she was buried as acting captain in Gweonwoo’s stead—and in that short time, she managed to curse him out in every colorful way imaginable.
“We’re going to need your help going forward, Guide Kim Doweon.”
“…”
“To restore Cha Gweonwoo’s memory, we’ll have to keep poking at the ones he’s buried and provoking them.”
Those memories, Dr. Park said, would be both the trigger and the steering wheel back to his past.
So the conclusion was basically this:
“Please guide him actively.”
That damned guiding again…
I rubbed my head, sick of hearing the word, when the doctor hesitantly asked if I’d ever tried mucosal guiding.
Face burning, I admitted—just to kissing. She clapped her hands in delight.
“Well done! Excellent!”
Even when I learned to flip over for the first time, or toddled my first steps, or said “mama,” I doubt my mom ever looked this moved. Was this really that praiseworthy?
Dr. Park Soyoung kept repeating “excellent, excellent” until my face turned red as a baked sweet potato.
But apparently my embarrassment was mine alone, because she went so far as to draw a big heart with her hands.
“Keep trying different kinds of mucosal guiding!”
And she cheerfully suggested I try even while Gweonwoo slept through his long rest. Shameless, mortifying advice delivered with the purest smile. So I answered:
“Then just give me three bottles of soju. I’ll try it.”
Her eyes grew serious. She said she could procure it if I wanted. I frantically waved her off.
“I was joking! Just joking! You really don’t let me say anything!”
***
On my way back to the VIP recovery suite, I gazed absently out the window. It had been bright midday when I came in. Now it was pitch-black night.
The faintly open window let in a damp smell, like rain was coming.
“Rain, huh?”
I muttered at the dry sky—when lightning cracked it open without warning. A moment later, thunder crashed, and rain came down in torrents.
Seriously? What kind of weather is this? I couldn’t help but laugh.
People in the street below bolted left and right, ducking under anything for cover. Watching all those rushing heads, I wondered:
Had someone secretly stretched a day from twenty-four hours to forty-eight? How could a single day be this long?
Like special effects on a drama set, the rain poured down in sheets. I turned away and dragged my heavy body along.
According to Dr. Park, until Gweonwoo recovered I should stay by his side around the clock. If nothing else, I should at least hold his hand.
Like he’s some baby. What a handful. And when the hell is he getting his memory back?
The VIP suite where Gweonwoo was lodged rivaled a decent hotel. I set the key down and looked around.
A spacious lounge with sofa and TV, separate from the bedroom. A kitchenette tucked on one side. The bathroom was practically room-sized, with a tub big enough to swim in with three large dogs.
I made a solid plan: fill it tomorrow and swim. Tonight, just a shower. My body felt like lead after the day’s ordeal.
I didn’t even have the strength to dry my hair. Draped a towel any which way, sprawled on the sofa like a damp rag, and dozed off—until I finally drifted into the bedroom.
Cha Gweonwoo lay quietly asleep. The bed was so big, ten adults could’ve fit if I exaggerated only a little.