“…Hah, no, that’s not it….”

“Quite the attitude to show your ‘lover’ who just managed to stop by after an all-nighter on set.”

The word *lover* was enough to seal Choi Taehun’s lips, cutting off whatever complaints he had been ready to spill. Watching the tips of his guide’s ears instantly flush bright red, Ji Gwanyeong’s lips curved into a crescent-shaped smile.

It amused him endlessly to see Taehun’s reaction every time he was reminded of their new title, wearing his embarrassment so openly.

Love, and being lovers.
These sweet, weighty words had never held any significance in Gwanyeong’s life until now. Yet, they had the power to bring such vivid expressions to Taehun’s face.

Leaning in, he captured his guide’s lips, his touch causing Taehun’s tense shoulders to flinch slightly. Despite knowing how far they’d come, Choi Taehun was still endearingly shy about even the smallest displays of affection. For someone who had learned to surrender himself so completely on their bed, this kind of intimacy still made him flustered beyond belief.

Ji Gwanyeong relished it, taking his time to melt his lover’s resistance. As his tongue slid past Taehun’s parted lips, teasing his teeth and grazing the soft interior, the tension in his guide’s body began to dissolve. It was especially delightful to trace the roof of Taehun’s mouth and feel his innocent, almost virginal responses—like he had never kissed anyone before.

“…Hah… Mmm…”

The broken moans slipping from Taehun’s lips were laced with sweetness. Gwanyeong found himself chuckling quietly. For someone who had been so adamant just moments ago, Taehun had melted in his arms once again.

His hand slid down to trace the curve of Taehun’s waist. The firm muscles beneath his fingertips brought a rush of possessive satisfaction, and the thought of the mark etched onto Taehun’s shoulder—his name, a declaration of ownership—only added to it.

When their lips finally parted, Taehun’s face was a deep shade of red, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Ji Gwanyeong couldn’t help but tease him with a knowing look.

Recently, he’d started to wonder about the supposed role of guides. They were said to stabilize Espers, to bring them clarity. But when he looked at his Taehun, all he could think was that the opposite seemed to be happening.

Who could resist those clear eyes, glistening with emotion?

As their connection deepened, the air around them grew hotter—until they both suddenly froze. Gwanyeong was the first to notice the approaching voices, and as realization dawned on Taehun, the blood drained from his face.

Of all places to get caught up in this, why did it have to be on the brightly lit stage?

Panicking, Taehun shoved Gwanyeong away and scrubbed at his lips with the back of his hand. The voices outside the door grew louder, and his mind raced with anxiety.

Gwanyeong, meanwhile, seemed unfazed, even amused. He opened his mouth to reassure Taehun, but his guide beat him to it.

“We’re screwed. Oh my God, we’re so screwed. Dammit!”

Hearing Taehun curse for the first time made Gwanyeong blink in surprise. Those sharp words, so out of place with his usual reserved tone, were strangely thrilling.

“What do we do? What do we do? What do we—”

“Choi Taehun.”

Gwanyeong hadn’t even finished calling his name before Taehun spun around, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him to the far corner of the stage. His determination made it impossible for Gwanyeong to resist, even though the effort behind Taehun’s tugging was laughably weak.

They stopped at the edge of the platform.

“Get in.”

Behind the thick, dusty curtains was a cluttered, dimly lit space no one in their right mind would willingly step into.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Just—just hide in there! And don’t make a sound!”

Gwanyeong looked at the curtain with visible distaste. As he opened his mouth to object, Taehun shoved him firmly.

“Hurry up! Just get in already!”

“Choi Taehun, I swear—”

With a look of sheer exasperation, Gwanyeong allowed himself to be pushed behind the curtain.

Seconds later, the auditorium doors swung open, and voices filled the space as guides returned from their break. The instructor’s gaze fell on the slightly disheveled stage and frowned.

“Hmm? Who moved this?”

No one answered.

Amidst the growing noise of shuffling chairs and settling guides, Gwanyeong crouched in the shadows, stifling his laughter.

-Choi Taehun, your heart is racing right now.

-Shut up. Just stay quiet, will you?!

The guide, worried that the sound might leak outside, lightly patted their Esper’s chest. Who would have thought, in that fleeting moment, that he would pull them into hiding? As a result, Taehun was now so worried that his rapidly beating heart might be audible to those outside.

However, despite being fully aware of his lover’s anxious state, the Esper simply wore a rare, sharp smile instead of his usual faint one, as though finding the whole situation amusing. Just beyond the thick blackout curtain, the voice of the instructor could be heard. To Taehun, it felt too close for comfort, so he quickly covered his mouth with both hands.

“Seriously, how many people have left now? Every break, at least one of you sneaks off! Over there—who left their bag and phone behind and just disappeared?”

The instructor pointed toward the seat belonging to none other than Choi Taehun, the central figure in the most scandalous rumor involving the Center. The guides all knew whose seat it was but couldn’t bring themselves to say it aloud, their gazes turning subtly awkward.

Kim Gwonsuk set his coffee down on the empty desk, thinking it was unexpected. Taehun hadn’t struck him as someone who would sneak away. Meanwhile, hiding right behind the instructor, Taehun lowered his head further, realizing they were talking about him.

The instructor’s clear voice continued.
“Alright, I trust you all had a nice meal. Let’s shake off the drowsiness with a bit of chit-chat, shall we? Anyone here dating their Pair?”

Ji Gwanyeong subtly raised Taehun’s hand, wrapped within his own. The flushed guide lightly smacked his Pair in silent protest.

“Not as many as I thought. When I visited the branch in Gyeonggi Province last week, almost everyone except two people were either dating or married. Anyway, for those of you in relationships, let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered about this?”

The faint sound of laughter rippled through the group of guides. Ji Gwanyeong found the blend of their laughter and his guide’s rapid heartbeat oddly pleasant. It was the first time he had ever felt such a positive connection to the happiness of complete strangers.

“‘Ah, does this person really like me for who I am? Or do they just like me because I’m a guide?’”

The polished voice that delivered the question had likely pondered it many times before. Yet, the moment it was spoken, silence blanketed the auditorium, as if everyone held their breath.

“Whew. That made the atmosphere tense, huh? You know, I’m a guide too! Seriously, I am!”

Ignoring the instructor’s attempt to lighten the mood, Ji Gwanyeong traced the contours of Taehun’s face with his fingertips. As the only Esper in the room, he had clearly seen the expression his guide wore when that question was asked. A mix of emotions—like a deeply hidden secret had been exposed or something had dropped heavily inside him—momentarily crossed Taehun’s face before vanishing in an instant.

“This chilling atmosphere probably means you’ve all thought about it at least once, right? Right?”

“At least once.”

Ji Gwanyeong repeated the phrase in his mind. The instructor’s question was something he, as an Esper, had never asked himself. In fact, it wasn’t even something he could conceive of.

Does Choi Taehun really like me? Or does he like me just because I’m an Esper?

He didn’t need to ask. Choi Taehun was the only person who could perfectly piece together the misaligned fragments of his mind, the one who softened its sharpness day by day. For that, he willingly placed his life in Taehun’s hands.

Looking back, it was almost absurd how willingly… how effortlessly.

But Taehun might feel differently. Was he experiencing that “once” the instructor spoke of now? Ji Gwanyeong wondered, watching his guide avoid meeting his gaze.

“Alright, let me tell you a story about someone I know.”