“What the hell? How did you get out?”
“My princess called for me. I heard you requested to the Center to see me.”
“When did I ever—?!”
Hee-young answered in a panic, his whole body giving an involuntary jolt from the shock. He had genuinely never once opened his mouth to say he wanted to see Shin-yul, or asked for him to be released. He had absolutely no idea what Shin-yul had been told, and the sight of that warmly smiling face looking at him sent a chill crawling down his spine.
Just one day. One single day. That was all the time he’d had to himself. Hee-young felt like he might faint. No, wait — he was supposed to be restrained! He said he was being disciplined!
Shin-yul, utterly unbothered by Hee-young’s twisting expression, moved toward the bed and without a moment’s hesitation dropped to his knees, looking up at Hee-young from below. The face that had voluntarily assumed that humiliating position was a complicated tangle of worry for Hee-young and something like satisfaction.
“You said you were anxious and struggling without me around. Hm? Are you okay now? Leaving our little princess all alone like that. I couldn’t keep my promise. I should’ve come sooner.”
“What are you talking about?!”
Shin-yul spoke in a soft, gentle murmur and carefully stroked Hee-young’s cheek — Hee-young scowled fiercely and slapped his hand away.
When was I ever anxious?! When was I ever struggling?! I’m anxious and struggling right now, seeing your face! What is this lunatic planning to con me out of next?!
Hee-young stared at Shin-yul in silence. He felt almost ashamed of himself — he had actually thought it was remarkable that they were treating someone who wore a collar and handcuffs and who, no matter how performative it was, had done nothing wrong — and yet here was Shin-yul, back out in a single day. It was absurd. Hee-young let out a hollow laugh.
Even under Hee-young’s sharp gaze, Shin-yul didn’t drop his smile. His eyes were nothing but endlessly gentle and compliant.
But Hee-young wasn’t fooled by Shin-yul’s expression. He had been wearing that face from the very first time they’d met. A face that looked like it couldn’t contain how happy it was to see him. A manner and way of speaking so considerate it seemed like he’d give everything he had. Shin-yul had always been like that. Hee-young stared back at those golden eyes blinking slowly at him.
Infuriating. It’s so infuriating and it drives me insane and I don’t want to admit it — but the feeling that Shin-yul is someone I can trust inside a Dungeon hasn’t changed. How could I not trust him? That desperate expression as he came running toward me. That earnest, pleading voice, frantic about whether I might abandon him even while stripped of every dignity.
Hee-young had lived at rock bottom, dealing with all kinds of people and getting knocked around by life, and because of that he could tell — Shin-yul was genuinely invested in his safety. That was precisely why Hee-young could trust the Shin-yul inside a Dungeon. What Hee-young wanted was absolute survival and safe return from the Dungeon. That, and nothing more.
But outside of that, in a situation like this, it was different. This was not a place where safety was the top priority. This was the middle of ordinary life. He had to consider all the different things tangled together. And in that case, Hee-young couldn’t think about a single part of his life without factoring in Han Shin-yul. The person who would be closest to him and share most of his moments. The most trusted person at his back. A partner. In other words — the most important human relationship he needed to navigate in order to adapt to living in this body.
Hee-young had made up his mind to understand this world. And the person he needed to be closest to and understand most was, without question, Han Shin-yul. Without understanding him, he couldn’t even understand his own existence.
And so Hee-young stayed on guard against Shin-yul’s flattery and tricks. He had no idea what was going through his head when he kept deceiving him, but without trust there was no understanding, and without understanding a relationship was bound to collapse. Hee-young decided he would find a way to fix him and make him work. After all, he was his matched Esper, and there was no malice behind any of his actions.
On those grounds alone, Hee-young gave Han Shin-yul high marks. What Shin-yul wanted from Hee-young was simple and clear. Survival. He wanted to survive through Hee-young. He had no other options. Only Hee-young could save him. And so Hee-young and Shin-yul were equals. Han Shin-yul, who wanted to live through him. Himself, who wanted a safe return through Shin-yul.
Those things were the most basic starting point for understanding Han Shin-yul. At the same time, they were the most important reason Hee-young had come to think he could trust Shin-yul. Someone with many desires and great ambitions is not easy to trust. Greed only grows the more you feed it. But Han Shin-yul simply wanted to survive. Hee-young could give him that. No matter how much Shin-yul tried to bind and constrain him, no matter how threatened he felt by the prospect of the power dynamic flipping — that fact would remain, like an immutable truth of the world.
Hee-young stared at Shin-yul for a long moment, then raised his hand and roughly scrubbed it all over his face. It was somewhere between petting a puppy and ruffling a child’s hair. The touch itself, of course, was far rougher than either.
Even under the rough handling, Shin-yul seemed content — he let his eyes fall gently shut and simply felt Hee-young’s hand. The Guiding that seeped out with every scrubbing stroke was sweet. Hee-young flicked the smooth forehead of the docile Shin-yul, who was just sitting there taking it — only to yelp ow! himself, more hurt by it than Shin-yul was.
“Damn it, I almost needed a cast on my left hand too! Is your head made of rock?!”
“Princess, look, are you okay? I’ll blow on it.”
“Blow on it my ass!”
Hee-young had been the one to hit him, and now he glared daggers at Shin-yul. Shin-yul fussed over whether Hee-young had hurt himself, then reached out and took his hand. The moment their hands met, Guiding flowed in — clearly enjoying the sensation, Shin-yul rubbed his hand slowly and languidly and stared at him with burning intensity. Those golden eyes shimmered, the desire within them faintly surfacing. Hee-young watched him and clicked his tongue.
According to Ha-ram, that tendency to exaggerate pain and unreservedly cling and wheedle at one’s Guide was a common trait shared by all Espers. He’d referred to it informally as “fox behavior” and rattled off their various habits one after another.
Honestly, calling it misbehavior felt generous. It was “fox behavior” in the most literal sense. Whining about being in pain when they weren’t. Taking every opportunity to beg for Guiding. Declaring to the whole world that no one else would do. Going out of their way to show off their strength in front of their Guide as a way of advertising how capable they were. And so on and so forth…. It was all nothing more than the clumsy, ridiculous behavior of inexperienced children, but Ha-ram had said he only mentioned the lighter examples to keep Hee-young from being put off. They’d learn the rest gradually, as they went.
Hee-young had agreed. He was already trembling with a sense of betrayal toward Shin-yul — if he heard just how extreme their behavior could get, he felt like even the faint thread of trust he still held might crumble entirely. In truth, he felt like he could already half-guess. Hee-young knew all too well how dangerous people with power could get when things went wrong. Either way, it all came down to one conclusion. They needed their Guide, and they carried a deep fear of a life that would end without Guiding.
Then the way to hold his leash was simple. He had never known fair or proper methods to begin with. Holding someone’s weakness and using it against them — that was the only way he knew. Hee-young smiled in that mean little way of his. His pretty face curled into a mischievous grin, and Shin-yul reflexively smiled back.
Right, when I see things like this, he really is quite tame. Isn’t there some way to break him in? Hee-young wanted to tame the wild beast in front of him.
“Hey, Shin-yul. How exactly did you get out?”
“Hm? Ah…. Baby doesn’t need to know. It’s fine.”
Look at this….
Hee-young’s face twisted into a scowl again at Shin-yul’s non-answer, and he reached out his hand — Shin-yul promptly offered up his own head. Watching him tilt his head forward to make it easier to grab his hair, Hee-young let out an involuntary sigh, his head beginning to pound, wondering just what kind of warped person does this. Even so, there was no reason to let go of something offered up so readily, so Hee-young grabbed a fistful of that thick, smooth hair. The moment he took firm hold, Shin-yul smiled and looked up at him.
“Shin-yul, I heard something interesting — you’re fine even at 50%, right?”
“…Who told you that?”
“Can’t you just answer yes or no? Why does it have to be a whole thing?”
“…But princess, you promised you’d Guide me. Hee-young, I’m always hungry for you.”
Shin-yul’s voice dropped low and heavy. Kneeling there with his hair in someone’s grip, eyes cast downward — anyone who saw him would have thought he looked pitiful.
Hee-young paid no mind to any of it and shook the hand gripping Shin-yul’s hair.
“There you go again, dodging the question. Hm? I went all the way to visit you when you got dragged in, and you come waltzing out in a single day. All that whining about needing Guiding — that was all just an act. Shin-yul, how is Ajeossi supposed to trust you and crawl into a monster pit with you? This worn-out body did everything it could. Even with arms and legs all broken, have I ever blamed you for it? But why does this kid always give me some non-answer whenever Ajeossi asks him something?”
“Then do you want to go to another Dungeon? I’ll protect you properly this time.”
Like hell I would!
Hee-young made a face and released his grip on Shin-yul’s hair. Shin-yul slowly rose from his knees, and the enormous shadow that the soft ambient light by the doorway cast behind him swallowed Hee-young whole. He leaned his body slowly down toward Hee-young. Hee-young bristled, trying to pull back, but lost his balance and collapsed onto the bed with a soft thud.
Shin-yul lunged over him, planting one arm on the mattress and bringing his face close — close — to Hee-young’s. The creaking of the bed. The ticking of the analog clock’s second hand. The shallow breathing that brushed against each other up close. All of it echoed through the dark and quiet hospital room. Shin-yul slowly stroked Hee-young’s cheek. That large hand wrapped around Hee-young’s small face all at once and moved unhurriedly. Hee-young, without meaning to, shrank back at the cold touch against his cheek. Shin-yul saw that and smiled softly.
“Or — do you really want me to tell you everything?”
