Come to think of it, Joo Seunghyuk had been calm from the very beginning.

Even when the guiding rejection symptoms emerged—when every match rate with other guides fell below 3%, when his entire future as an Esper was hanging by a thread—he hadn’t shown the slightest hint of anxiety.

If anything, he’d stuck by me in the hospital, worried only about my health.

And today was no different.

Even in a situation that could end his career as an Esper, he showed no signs of tension.

Granted, Seunghyuk was in a position where he didn’t need to cling to being an Esper. But even so, something didn’t add up.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Seunghyuk was obsessed with me. If his guiding rejection symptoms continued, he’d have no choice but to quit being an Esper and withdraw from the academy. And that would mean—naturally—no longer crossing paths with me.

You’d think he’d want to keep going as an Esper just to avoid that. But even before the match rate test, he’d been relaxed. He even seemed reluctant to part with me for just thirty minutes, yet acted like the results—results that could determine whether he stayed or left the school—meant nothing to him.

And when the astronomical 90% result came out, he didn’t look the least bit surprised. Instead, as if he’d been waiting for it, he casually said, “My guide.”

No way...

I had assumed his composure came from not caring about being an Esper. But what if that wasn’t it?

What if... Seunghyuk already knew what our match rate would be?

Or worse—what if all of this had been orchestrated by him?

The sudden guiding rejection symptoms that didn’t exist in the original story. The abnormally low match rates with every other guide. And now, the 90%-plus rate between us. What if he’d planned all of it?

"Looks like the only person who can guide me now... is Lee Yeonsu."

He whispered it low beside my ear as he wrapped his arms around me.

Just like that, I had become the only guide capable of guiding Joo Seunghyuk.

***

Regardless of how it happened, Seunghyuk hadn’t been guided for over twenty days. Even with mana recovery potions, nothing could fully replace guiding.

We were both shaken by the turn of events, but we headed to the nearest guiding room in the KR Center, not far from the lab.

Since the incident where Seunghyuk almost went berserk, all mock trainings had been suspended. The large guiding room was completely empty.

The space was divided into several small private rooms. Apparently, it used to be fully open in the past, but because of the deep physical contact often required during guiding, they’d gradually shifted to more enclosed spaces.

Initially, the curtain dividers were meant to preserve some level of privacy, but complaints continued until dedicated rooms were eventually installed—and now, almost every unit had one.

Inside each room were two chairs. One was a large, adjustable recliner for the Esper, capable of reclining into a near-lying position. Beside it was the guide’s chair—an ordinary office chair with an emergency button on the armrest.

If an Esper tried to initiate unwanted physical contact during guiding, the guide could press it to call for help.

“Have a seat.”

As we entered the room, the honorifics slipped out automatically.

Startled, I glanced at Seunghyuk—but he only smiled and replied politely, “Yes, Guide Lee Yeonsu,” before sitting obediently.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to adjust the chair?”

Every Esper had their preferred position. Some liked to sit upright, while others preferred lying back during guiding.

With frequent clients, you could usually tell just by looking at them, but since this was Seunghyuk’s first time, I had to ask everything one by one.

“I’m fine.”

He glanced at the fully reclined chair.

“So... you usually lie down?”

“No. But I will now. Because it’s you.”

That was a strange answer.

“Not going to lean back?”

Despite the reclined position, he sat upright with his back perfectly straight.

“If I lie down, I won’t be able to see your face.”

He leaned in, staring straight at me.

For a moment, idiotically, I caught myself thinking—he really is good-looking. Even after everything that had happened after telling him that exact thing.

You haven’t learned a damn thing, Yeonsu.

I instinctively leaned back and reached out my hand.

“If you’re ready, I’ll start the guiding.”

Seunghyuk stared at my hand, then slowly traced the scar across my palm with his finger.

I’d gotten that scar while guiding him, trying to stop his rampage. While I was unconscious, Seunghyuk had apparently poured S-class healing potion into the wound—each bottle worth at least a hundred million won—but the injury had been severe enough that a faint scar remained.

“I’m sorry.”

He never missed a chance to apologize for that scar, like it really bothered him.

“It’s fine. A scratch like this is nothing for people like us.”

“No. Leaving a scar on your hand—it’s an unforgivable crime.”

“It’s really not that—”

The scar was barely the size of a pinky joint. If you didn’t look closely, it just blended in with the lines on my palm.

“I’ll take responsibility.”

“...What?”

“I said I’ll take responsibility. Hyung, when should we get married?”

What do you mean you’ll take responsibility?! How did the conversation end up there?!

He’d been relatively quiet while I was in the hospital, but the moment I was discharged, he was back to this again.

In the original story, there was a similar event—Yeonsu got injured while guiding Seunghyuk. Though it was entirely Seunghyuk’s fault, he’d turned it into an excuse to demand “responsibility” from Yeonsu.

I’m already barely holding it together, watching all the main uke’s events get dumped on me—and now this feels like I’m adding a death flag from a villainous side uke on top of it.

“No, really, I’m fine. This isn’t something worth taking responsibility for.”

“If you say so. I’ll let it go then.”

“Thanks.”

Still, I guess he’s a little easier to talk to now than before.

“Then you take responsibility for me.”

“...What?!”

“Why are you so surprised? You said you’d take responsibility.”

“...”

Right. Even if Seunghyuk didn’t take responsibility for me... I had to take responsibility for his purity.

Except it wasn’t even purity. And I was the one who had it stolen. Why was I the one being guilt-tripped?!

I pouted without realizing it—just in time for our lips to meet.

A light kiss. Then Seunghyuk gave a bright smile.

“Sorry. You’re just so pretty, Yeonsu. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Seunghyuk, when we’re guiding, just focus on guiding...”

But he ignored me and wrapped his arms around me.

“We don’t have to guide. I already feel full.”

“But it’s been so long. You need more—”

“No. Right now, I want to hold you.”

If it had just been sexual desire, I would’ve pushed him away, no matter how scared I was.

But the way he held me—like a child desperate for someone to lean on—brought back memories from seven years ago. And I just... couldn’t bring myself to refuse.