Chapter 5
Knowing firsthand the “hell” he’d seen and lived through, Hangyeom squeezed his eyes shut at the mere thought of the Association. The unregistered espers who’d fled after belatedly discovering its dark underbelly probably felt exactly the same way.
Out of habit, he brought a cigarette to his lips. While he’d been lost in thought, it had already burned halfway to ash, dangling between his red lips.
He took a deep drag, and the harsh smoke rushed into his lungs like always.
Just as the stinging sensation began to fill his chest—
“UGH—COUGH, COUGH!”
Puffy white smoke burst from between his lips in small plumes.
“Ugh, quit smoking already. Hyung, you’re gonna kick the bucket early if you keep this up.” Jaewoo clicked his tongue and shook his head, scolding him—
But Hangyeom’s coughing fit refused to stop. It was only when he saw Hangyeom drop the cigarette and crumple to the floor that Jaewoo realized this wasn’t a normal cough.
“Hyung, are you okay? Hyung!”
Hangyeom kept coughing, one hand clamped over his mouth.
The violent, hacking spasms felt like they were shredding his throat, rattling every bone and muscle in his body. And if that were all, he could have borne it—but a massive chill spread out from the center of his back, as though he’d been dropped into ice water.
Tears welled in his eyes from the relentless coughing. His head spinning, Hangyeom pointed toward his bed.
“Cough! Over there—ugh—the medicine! Cough, cough!”
He couldn’t get the words out through the coughing, but fortunately Jaewoo caught on fast. He rummaged through the jacket tossed on the bed, found a vial of ink-black liquid, and yanked out his handkerchief.
“Hang in there!”
“COUGH! GHK—!”
Something wet ripped loose between the coughs. Jaewoo soaked the handkerchief with the medicine and hurried over—only to see red blood dripping through Hangyeom’s fingers.
His lip caught between his teeth, Jaewoo brought the handkerchief up to Hangyeom’s nose and mouth. The black liquid he’d poured onto the fabric had already turned clear as water.
“Hyung, the medicine’s on it—take your hand away and hold your breath for a sec.”
Hangyeom forced himself to hold his breath and swallow down the cough, and the damp cloth pressed over his bloodied lips and nose in a single motion.
“Mph—mmph…!”
With his breathing cut off, his gasps came short and fast. And strangely, this was the exact moment the cough tearing up from deep inside him finally went quiet.
The scent of the medicine, dragged in through his airway, seeped into his body as fast as cigarette smoke. It sank deep into his lungs, curled gently, pooled in his heart—then swept softly through his blood, brushing every inch of him as it went.
The bones and muscles wound tight from coughing loosened all at once. His heart, slamming like it might burst, eased back into rhythm, and the strength drained out of him in the same breath.
Jaewoo eased Hangyeom back against the wall as he sagged, panting hard, and watched his pale, closed face with worry. When he carefully peeled the handkerchief away, the smear of red blood around Hangyeom’s mouth showed stark against his skin.
“Hyung… are you okay?”
He slowly wiped Hangyeom’s mouth as the man drew thin, faltering breaths. His complexion was so bloodless that even the lightest pressure looked like it might leave a red mark, so Jaewoo held the handkerchief with the gentlest touch he could manage.
Hangyeom’s damp lashes fluttered as he finally cracked his eyes open. His lips parted, but he didn’t have the strength to speak—only a shallow, wheezing breath slipped out.
Jaewoo looked at him with quiet pity, then gathered him up into his arms. Hangyeom had a tall frame, but he was so thin he barely weighed a thing.
“Let’s call it a day.”
Sudden attacks like today’s cropped up now and then. And Jaewoo knew that if Hangyeom pushed through work without properly recovering, he’d end up completely wiped out for days. Better to just close up shop and let him rest.
“I’ll reschedule everyone booked for today. Don’t worry about it, hyung. Just focus on getting better.”
Some clients showed up out of the blue, like the man from earlier, but most contacted Song Jaewoo, the guiding broker, ahead of time to lock in a slot.
For a guide who worked mainly in hand guiding, Hangyeom was wildly popular—when things got busy, his schedule filled up without a single gap between sessions. If Jaewoo, worried about his health and exhaustion, hadn’t set reasonable booking dates and forced rest periods into his calendar, espers would probably be lined up outside this run-down house right now.
After laying Hangyeom on the bed, Jaewoo unfolded the blanket neatly folded at the foot. He tucked him in snug, leaving no gap for a draft, and didn’t forget to switch off the cheap, harsh light bulb.
“I’ll put up a double barrier, so text me when you wake up.”
“Actually, forget that. Just call out for me from bed. I’ll come right away.”
Truth was, Song Jaewoo was an unregistered ability user himself, no different from the clients who came here. He was also a B-rank barrier-type esper.
His ability let him wrap a space of up to approximately 120 square yards in an invisible film, allowing only the specific people he’d designated to come and go.
He’d already set a barrier that let in only himself and pre-registered clients—but he wanted to layer on an extra one to block any desperate, uninvited strangers looking for emergency guiding.
When Hangyeom was awake, there was no esper he needed to worry about. But knocked out and helpless like this, he was nothing more than a fragile young man, and that called for extra care.
Once Jaewoo had slipped out of the house without a sound—
Beneath the blanket, Hangyeom weakly fisted a hand over his left chest.
He could still feel his heart racing from the aftermath of the attack, and above it, his lungs laboring for every breath.
Hyung…
His eyelids trembling faintly as someone surfaced in his mind, Hangyeom soon slipped into a deep sleep.
* * *
“Good job, Mr. Guide.”
A shabby old man gripped Hangyeom’s hand tight and pumped it up and down. He’d looked like death warmed over when he walked in, but now that the guiding was done, he seemed happier than ever.
“Next time I come, I’ll bring you some candy. Or snacks, if candy’s not your thing.”
The old man smiled warmly, gentle as if he were dealing with his own young grandson, and Hangyeom was sorely tempted to tell him the truth.
That he never touched anything an esper client gave him.
Because the crazy ones sometimes do weird things to food.
After a moment’s hesitation, Hangyeom nodded like he was giving in. The old man lit up, practically bouncing on his feet with delight.
Once he’d sent off the old man—giddy as a kid—Hangyeom pulled out a cigarette. There was plenty of time before his next appointment, so he figured he’d take a quick break.
Knock, knock.
Just as he took a deep drag off the freshly lit cigarette, a knock came at the door. The old man had only just left, so naturally Hangyeom assumed he’d come back.
“What now? Forget something?”
He called out, but there was no answer. And yet he could clearly feel someone standing outside.
No. Wait.
If it were the old man, he’d have knocked first—just like Jaewoo had drilled into him—then flung the door wide the second he heard Hangyeom’s voice.
He wasn’t the type to stand there in silence. Which meant whoever was outside wasn’t the old man at all.
An emergency client?
The only people who ever came here were Song Jaewoo or the clients he’d already dealt with.
Song Jaewoo’s barrier was solid and meticulous.
Because of it, only those the caster had personally registered could find the house, let alone step inside. Hangyeom was the exception—able to read the flow of an esper’s power and partially override it, he could come and go freely without any registration at all.
So it had to be one of the regulars.
Hangyeom set the barely-smoked cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and headed for the door.
“Who is it?”
The silence set him on edge, so just to be safe, he slid a knife free and hid it behind his back.
Every so often a clueless client would try to overpower him by force. Jaewoo could hear everything inside the barrier in real time and would come running—but Hangyeom still needed a small weapon on hand to buy himself those few seconds.
Whoever stood on the other side of the door stayed silent.
Face tight with tension, Hangyeom slowly pulled the door open. The unlocked, worn-out door let out an unpleasant metallic screech.
