“I should have at least lied about being sick.”

Choi Taehun stared at the ground, blaming himself for failing to overcome his conscience earlier this morning. He was currently attending a mandatory group training session for all guides affiliated with the center—something he had previously been exempted from due to lingering trauma from a past incident.

This rare gathering of guides, who typically operated independently, served as a place for networking, sharing resources, and, of course, the birthplace of countless rumors.

Taehun barely managed to suppress a sigh, knowing that drawing more attention to himself was the last thing he wanted. The unwanted attention he had already received that morning was more than enough. Walking into the auditorium, he had felt the collective gaze of everyone there as conversations slowly died down. The stillness in the room had been suffocating.

Now, all he could think about was how to escape. But as someone who had spent his entire life being a role model for his five younger siblings and adhering to the rules, skipping out wasn’t an easy concept for him to grasp.

*“How could I fake an injury, like spraining my ankle?”*

Instead of devising a clever excuse, his thoughts drifted into increasingly absurd and self-deprecating scenarios. Just as his expression darkened from his internal musings, someone called out to him.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

For the first time since arriving, Taehun spoke, and he immediately thought his voice sounded foolish.

The man addressing him, sporting a friendly smile and an easygoing demeanor, gestured to the seat beside Taehun. “Is this seat taken?”

“No, it’s free.”

“Phew, thanks! I overslept! Is attendance really that strict?”

“They mentioned verifying it through fingerprint scans when we entered.”

The man’s disheveled appearance made it clear he had rushed to get there. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, and his forehead was damp with sweat—a testament to a hurried morning.

For the first time all day, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Taehun’s lips.

As the man fanned himself and slumped into the chair, Taehun hesitated but then handed him a few tissues from his pocket. “I’m Choi Taehun.”

“I know, I know. Who doesn’t?” The man’s grin widened. “I’m Kim Gwonsuk. Haha, you’re famous, Taehun. You’re Ji Gwanyeong’s boyfriend!”

Taehun nearly dropped the water bottle he had just opened.

“Ji Gwanyeong’s… what?”

“Ji Gwanyeong’s boyfriend.”

Taehun now had a new title to add to his growing list: Ji Gwanyeong’s boyfriend. Gwonsuk laughed heartily at Taehun’s bewildered expression.

Even as he tried to maintain a neutral demeanor, Taehun couldn’t help but sigh with a mix of exasperation and resignation.

“Oh, come on. You’re dating the most popular celebrity right now! Talk about hitting the jackpot. Plus, you’re officially paired. And your names are even linked together!”

“…What?”

“Seriously, meeting them was pure luck. You might never have crossed paths otherwise.”

Gwonsuk’s casual chatter and playful comments made Taehun feel both flustered and slightly amused. His face reddened slightly as he scratched his jaw, unsure how to respond.

Gwonsuk was right, after all. If they hadn’t met at that fan event, he and Ji Gwanyeong might have gone their entire lives without knowing each other. Even their official pairing and the shared name connection could’ve ended up incomplete.

But the real issue was Ji Gwanyeong.

Publicly, Gwanyeong was known to have recently manifested as an Esper, but in reality, they had spent over a decade without a guide. It was a miracle nothing catastrophic had happened in all that time.

As Gwonsuk read Taehun’s expression, he laughed again and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, when can I meet Ji Gwanyeong? Why are they so hard to catch? Do they have a usual schedule for coming to the center?”

“They only come when their schedule allows, so it’s not set.”

“Get me an autograph, will you? My partner’s a huge fan. You wouldn’t believe how much they gush about Ji Gwanyeong all the time!”

“All right.”

Taehun nodded, his politeness evident despite his slight discomfort with the subject. Gwonsuk’s laid-back attitude and genuine friendliness began to put him at ease.

As the conversation continued, Gwonsuk suddenly asked in a softer tone, “By the way, is your partner an Esper?”

“Yes. The most beautiful one in the world.”

Pride tinged Taehun’s voice as he showed his phone’s lock screen: a picture of a woman with short hair and a radiant smile.

“Beautiful, isn’t she? Absolutely gorgeous, right?”

“She’s stunning,” Taehun replied sincerely.

“See? I can only show her picture because she’s dating me. Otherwise, I’d be too scared someone might try to steal her away!”

Gwonsuk’s playful remarks, though teasing, carried a warmth that lightened the atmosphere. Despite the occasional embarrassment, Taehun found himself feeling a bit more relaxed.

Thanks to Gwonsuk, what had initially seemed like an unbearable day turned into something a little easier to endure. For the first time, Taehun felt he might actually make it through the rest of the training.

When lunchtime arrived, Gwonsuk grinned at him. “What about lunch? The food here’s pretty good.”

“I think I’ll just rest for a bit. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Haha, fair enough. I’ll grab some coffee on my way back.”

Choi Taehun awkwardly waved at Kim Gwonsuk, who was being swept along with the crowd heading out. For the first time in hours, the guide found himself alone. As the auditorium emptied, Taehun leaned back against his chair, almost collapsing into it. The realization that he now had this vast space all to himself brought a sense of relief.

The guide stretched his stiff, cramped body, his neck and back cracking noisily as he moved.

“Ji Gwanyeong’s boyfriend.”

The nickname Kim Gwonsuk had mentioned earlier suddenly surfaced in his mind, prompting a soft, deflated chuckle to escape his lips. He wondered what his pair would say if they heard it. Knowing Gwanyeong’s personality, he could imagine him laughing in disbelief.

Smiling faintly, Taehun stretched his arms that had been immobile for hours. But then, it happened—a man’s voice rang out in the space, one he absolutely should not be hearing here.

“What’s so funny?”

Taehun shot upright, his upper body snapping into place as if doused with a bucket of ice water. He couldn’t believe his eyes—or rather, he didn’t *want* to believe them.

“…Is this a dream?”

“Choi Taehun, did you sleep through the lecture?”

It was Ji Gwanyeong.

And not just any version of Ji Gwanyeong—it was the “top star Ji Gwanyeong,” dressed like he’d just stepped out of a primetime drama.

The rhythmic sound of his polished shoes echoed as he walked through the center of the auditorium, his stride confident and fluid, like the rightful protagonist of today’s scene. Taehun had seen this man countless times over the past few months, but he was certain: today, Gwanyeong looked more flawless than ever.

The guide instinctively pressed his fingers to his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

—

For every step Ji Gwanyeong took forward, Choi Taehun darted three steps ahead, panic evident in his movements.

“Ji Gwanyeong, please, I’m begging you—please leave right now. Act like you were never here and disappear completely.”

“Why should I? Begging is best saved for the bedroom.”

Standing at the podium, Gwanyeong casually examined the complex equipment, his voice unbothered and calm. For a moment, Taehun was rendered speechless by the Esper’s seamless dive into suggestive remarks. Quickly recovering, he resumed his frantic mix of pleading and threats.

“If you don’t leave, I swear, I’ll never see you again!”

“Don’t say things you can’t actually follow through on. Shouldn’t you save such a major card for something truly worthwhile?”

“…Ugh, please, just—!”

Taehun checked the time and grew more anxious. Lunch break would end soon, which meant that this auditorium would soon be flooded with guides. These were the same people who had already spent the entire morning eyeing him with curious stares. If they found the Ji Gwanyeong here on top of that, his day would be officially ruined.

When the Esper pressed a few buttons, the podium lit up dramatically, as if on a stage. Taehun’s voice sharpened with exasperation.

“Why didn’t you just stay at the dorm? Why on earth did you come here of all places?”

Gwanyeong’s expression shifted at that moment, his eyebrows raising sharply. Tilting his head slightly, he stared at his guide with intent focus, his dark hair gleaming under the light.

The proximity made Taehun gulp involuntarily, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. Ji Gwanyeong, beloved by millions and the pinnacle of fame, stood before him.

It was a startling realization that hit Taehun anew: this man was not only his Esper but also his partner.

“Choi Taehun,” Gwanyeong’s voice was tinged with mockery, “don’t tell me you think I’m an unwelcome guest?”