# Chapter 32
As if his soul had left his body, Yeo Dowoon—who had been silent—glanced at the towering pile of cooking ingredients in front of the refrigerator before asking,
“Did I… perhaps threaten you, Guide-nim…”
He rubbed his face roughly, as if ashamed.
“…that I’d kill you if you didn’t cook for me?”
“…Dowoon-ssi?”
“Yes.”
No matter how he reasoned through cause and effect, that was the only conclusion he could reach. Cha Haseong, who had just let out an ah of realization, followed Yeo Dowoon’s self-reproachful gaze toward the refrigerator and answered,
“I only went out to buy some while you were asleep. There was nothing but alcohol.”
“…”
“Guess the rumors about you being an alcoholic were true. You don’t even look like you could handle a drop.”
It wasn’t alcoholism—it was the risk of addiction—but Yeo Dowoon, stung by the phrase “can’t handle a drop,” retorted with wounded pride,
“Me?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he seemed to regret them, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. Cha Haseong added, as if in pity,
“If you could drink well… that’d be surprising too.”
Yeo Dowoon wasn’t just good—he was a master drinker, a legendary one at that. But he didn’t bother with false modesty and instead asked the question that had been nagging at him.
“I’d like an explanation for why you’re here. I still don’t quite understand.”
Cha Haseong answered concisely,
“They sent me to the resonance testing room because of the risk of going berserk. If I stick by your side for a week and you mark me, I can get out right away.”
“…I’ll go back to the testing room.”
Yeo Dowoon, who could easily guess his situation, declared stubbornly. Cha Haseong turned off the electric stove and refused,
“No.”
“…”
“If you go back there, you’ll just end up tied up like a slab of meat in a butcher shop.”
Yeo Dowoon couldn’t bring himself to insist. The atmosphere didn’t allow for it. Cha Haseong untied his apron with an irritated expression, then spoke in a tone far gentler than his face suggested,
“Just come eat once the decorating is done. I was about to wake you up anyway.”
“…Would you like to play the piano?”
Yeo Dowoon, realizing that Cha Haseong’s gaze had been fixed on something—or someone—behind him for some time, cautiously nodded in that direction. Cha Haseong suddenly lost his composure. His fingers, which had been tapping the table as if playing piano keys, froze mid-motion.
When he hesitated, Yeo Dowoon cleared his throat and urged him on,
“I wanted to try playing it too… but I was afraid I’d smash it to pieces if I touched it wrong. It’s brand new.”
“An instrument dies if no one plays it.”
Cha Haseong, fingers curled tightly, turned back to finish the cooking before asking,
“Dowoon-ssi… want to have a drink with me?”
***
Yeo Dowoon was, as expected, strong with alcohol. Even after emptying bottle after bottle, his complexion only grew healthier—no sign of disarray.
Cha Haseong, on the other hand, had no talent for drinking at all.
The more empty bottles piled up, the redder his eyes and cheeks became, his gaze growing hazy. The sharp scent of alcohol clung to him.
Worried that Cha Haseong might be the type to suffer terrible hangovers, Yeo Dowoon had only set out the most reputable liquors, but as Cha Haseong behaved like a man living only for today, he kept handing him water and said,
“Save the rest for later.”
Cha Haseong’s head lolled, as if he could barely hold himself up. Yet when Yeo Dowoon took his glass away, Cha Haseong buried his face in the back of Yeo Dowoon’s hand, and Yeo Dowoon felt as if he wanted to rip out his own organs and offer them up.
“You’ll be stuck in the bathroom all day tomorrow.”
Even with his earnest advice, Cha Haseong only pulled at the hand that had taken his glass. He gently pressed his palm over the back of Yeo Dowoon’s hand and smiled brightly in that state.
Yeo Dowoon, wondering if Cha Haseong was asking him to hold his hand, watched silently—until he felt soft, warm lips pressing against his fingers one after another. Cha Haseong, nibbling at the tips of his fingers, asked pitifully,
“There’s a song that comes to mind when I see you, Dowoon-ssi.”
“…”
“Want to hear it?”
Yeo Dowoon, intoxicated by the hot breath tickling his fingers, nodded. Even if he were called shameless, it didn’t matter. Cha Haseong was so beautiful it made his heart ache, and his mouth moved of its own accord.
“Yes, please. I’m curious.”
“Alright… I’ll play it for you soon.”
Stumbling to his feet, Cha Haseong made his way toward the piano. When Yeo Dowoon steadied him, Cha Haseong smiled brightly, as if grateful. Guide-nim gets even cuter when he’s drunk.
Yeo Dowoon silently matched his pace, feeling as though he understood why Cha Haseong never attended company dinners. If he had faced those Esper brats in this defenseless state, they would have devoured him without leaving a scrap.
Cha Haseong collapsed onto the piano bench and pulled Yeo Dowoon down beside him, saying,
“Listen carefully…”
His face was so innocently radiant it made Yeo Dowoon’s chest tighten.
His pale fingers began to glide over the keys as if they had been waiting. Note by note, they interlocked, forming a harmonious melody.
Yeo Dowoon, mesmerized by the movement of his fingers, suddenly looked doubtful. He asked in a hollow voice,
“It’s a carol, isn’t it?”
The song that came to mind when he saw Yeo Dowoon was a carol? He had expected something grander, so the disappointment was crushing.
“Yeah… a carol. You look like a Christmas carol. Like Rudolph.”
“…Should I show you my horns?”
Amused by the playful reply, Yeo Dowoon’s mood immediately lightened. He flicked his fingers, scattering thin shards of ice, and Cha Haseong, delighted, played the keys with a bright smile.
Harmony upon harmony, the melody grew more complex. It was definitely a carol, but as the variations continued, the original melody became unrecognizable, replaced by a passionate, frenetic tempo.
Just as Yeo Dowoon unconsciously held his breath—
BANG! Cha Haseong struck the keys as if he meant to smash them, then clutched his right hand, eyes squeezed shut.
His fingers trembled slightly. Naturally, Yeo Dowoon could only steady him, his own heart crumbling.
His throat tightened, aching. His eyes grew damp, as if the water inside him were rising in reverse.
“…Who did this to you?”
Yeo Dowoon grabbed Cha Haseong’s wrist and demanded an answer, but Cha Haseong evaded, as if in pain.
“…I don’t know.”
“…”
“I don’t know… I just woke up in your room, shoved inside…”
Cha Haseong, who had wiped away the tear sliding down Yeo Dowoon’s cheek with his own hand, finished calmly,
“My hands… they were dead.”
Then he staggered and collapsed into Yeo Dowoon’s arms. The memories that had been sealed away must have resurfaced—his mental manipulation aftereffects were likely worsening.
Yeo Dowoon carried him to bed and tried desperately to hold back his own tears.
An S-class Guide’s guiding maximizes an Esper’s physical efficiency, restoring them to peak condition. Thus, Kwon Jeonghoo’s second mental manipulation had failed to take effect.
Yeo Dowoon left the house, replaying the scent and voice of Kwon Jeonghoo as he had pinned him against the wall and kissed him.
Kwon Jeonghoo, Kwon Jeonghoo, Kwon Jeonghoo, Kwon Jeonghoo!
Driving toward Kwon Jeonghoo’s officetel was no difficult task. Even blindfolded, he could find his way there.
From the first-floor lobby to the 11th floor, Yeo Dowoon rubbed his face as if to erase the traces of tears, letting out a sigh.
Ding. The elevator doors opened, and he rushed out, panting.
“…Yeo Dowoon?”
The password, as Kwon Jeonghoo had hinted before, was the same as always.
Everything inside—even the vases he had gifted years ago for Kwon Jeonghoo’s birthday, now empty—remained in its place.
“If you ever feel like coming to your senses, come find me. Haa… The captain was the one who… suggested it first.”
His suppressed voice leaked out.
Kwon Jeonghoo, who had only just returned from work and seemed to have finished showering, wore nothing but a robe as he approached Yeo Dowoon, reaching out to stop him from removing his outerwear.
But the atmosphere only spiraled further toward the edge.
“Once you’re satisfied… give my memories back.”
“…Dowoon-ah.”
“Cha Haseong’s hands—!”
Yeo Dowoon’s face was soaked.
Kwon Jeonghoo had seen him cry only once before.
Back in a dungeon they had raided as a pair, when Yeo Dowoon had coughed up blood on the verge of death from excessive bleeding, his face—clutching Kwon Jeonghoo and sobbing, Don’t die—had been exactly like this.
“You ruined Guide-nim’s hands, didn’t you?”
Despite the intermittent questioning, Kwon Jeonghoo showed no change in expression. Without answering, he pulled Yeo Dowoon’s hand and tied the robe’s sash for him, then asked,
“If you want to do it until you’re satisfied…”
As if offering him the chance, he jerked his chin toward the entrance.
“You’ll have to spend more than a week rolling around here with me. You sure you can handle that?”
