In the room where Esper’s scent lingered the deepest, the fragrance he often used was present. As soon as Choi Taehun realized this, he unconsciously bit his lip. The thought that he was stepping into Ji Gwanyeong’s most personal space, a place he had never been before, made his heart race.

In truth, Choi Taehun had to make an effort to manage his expressions as he observed the dense, map-like memories created by his lover.

‘Not now, but…’

Seeing the traces of love from the man next to him in the memories was enough to poke at his heart and, at times, wield everything he’d been holding back until now.

Although he tried to act nonchalant, with a slightly amused expression as if chasing a funny trace, his emotions had long been teetering on the edge.

“I am this person’s Esper.”

Truly, he had never wanted his somewhat locked voice to be heard by the Esper standing next to him. Choi Taehun slowly blinked at the last sentence he had written and spoke.

“…Honestly, this is a bit touching, though?”

“I didn’t write it.”

“Then I wrote it?”

He said it jokingly, brushing it off lightly, wondering if the other might feel burdened. After finally getting this close, he would not be able to bear it if they were to grow distant again.

Choi Taehun said this to himself over and over.

He could feel the Esper carefully observing his expression with a slightly suspicious gaze. Taehun pretended not to notice it and barely lifted the corners of his lips.

In reality, Ji Gwanyeong was genuinely unsure.

The guide was throwing jokes with a calm face, but there were reactions that didn’t quite match that composed appearance. For instance, the heartbeats that had grown loud enough to echo in his ears, or his tightly clenched fists were signs of this.

Fearing that his feelings might be discovered, Choi Taehun squatted down and began flipping through thick documents, thankful that Ji Gwanyeong wasn’t a mental Esper.

Every time he traced the memories left by his lover, who had forgotten him, the love hidden in those moments made his heart waver, making it hard to hold back his feelings. The memories and the love he had once felt made him want to spill everything out.

Despite knowing that the traces of the past 8 months were nothing more than a string of forgotten moments for Ji Gwanyeong, Taehun couldn’t stop his desires from emerging.

If only he hadn’t held his hand so gently, so carefully, he might have been able to bear it! Taehun bit his lip until it hurt and focused his eyes. He didn’t regret being stubborn enough to see this through.

He was happy just knowing that Ji Gwanyeong, like him, hadn’t given up until the very end. Sitting crouched, Choi Taehun breathed deeply and began gathering the scattered papers as if tidying up the floor.

The emotional turmoil he thought he had kept hidden had long been noticed by Esper’s sharp eyes. However, Ji Gwanyeong did not probe or question it.

How long had the sound of paper rustling been heard?

Choi Taehun’s gaze landed on a corner of the now relatively neat bedroom floor. It was so glaringly out of place that it almost seemed strange he hadn’t noticed it before. The red case stood out distinctly against the otherwise monochrome surroundings.

As a result, Ji Gwanyeong, who had been watching Choi Taehun’s every move, finally looked as though he had made a small mistake.

Taehun stared at the palm-sized box for a long time before slowly tilting it open. Ji Gwanyeong, with a somewhat blunt voice, spoke first.

“…It was just a fuss on your own, so let it go, Choi Taehun.”

The cleanly shaped ring, with a faint red tint depending on the light, was something Ji Gwanyeong had thought would suit Choi Taehun well when he first saw it. It was certain that even the version of him before he lost his memories had thought the same and prepared it.

However, the situation was different now from back then.

This was the part when Choi Taehun had come here. The guide, while watching the reason for my earlier lie being exposed, had an incredibly warm look, as though he found something enjoyable about it. The Esper, seeing that expression, unconsciously clenched and relaxed his fist repeatedly. As the guide followed the memory, he occasionally shared stories that Ji Gwanyeong didn’t know.

“At that time, Ji Gwanyeong was really rude at the center,” he said.
“Oh, I got one on the minister.”

Of course, such quiet explanations made me sure that my past self had intentionally left gaps in these memories. It was quite a despicable thing. I knew better than anyone that only one person could fill the time that had gaps, ones that had fallen out like broken teeth. Maybe I hadn’t left any room for memories since I wouldn’t be able to remember, and had told myself to handle whatever was left. The Esper cursed my past self from a few weeks ago.

As Taehun moved further into the mansion, his faint smile stiffened slightly when he came upon an article with a somewhat unkind explanation.

Ji Gwanyeong scanned the photo of a massive prison made of melted, warped metal and spray-like water from a distance.
[Choi Taehun and Itaewon.]
That was the full explanation for this day. However, the Esper had immediately recognized that the monstrous form in the article had been created by me. And now, watching the guide’s expression, I realized that something here was something Taehun didn’t know.

Taehun fiddled with the red string around his wrist. The sensation had become very familiar by now. The guide hesitated for a long moment, his lips pressed tightly together, before almost whispering,
“This… is a leather bracelet.”

The Esper’s gaze briefly turned to the guide’s wrist.
The dark red leather string, with its simple, rough design, wasn’t particularly delicate, but it was unadorned and suited Taehun quite well. However, Ji Gwanyeong couldn’t keep his gaze on the beautifully delicate wrist for long.

He remembered all too well the sharp, mocking words he had thrown when he first went to the guide’s official residence. Taehun, who seemed to be barely holding it together, had completely crumbled when asked about it.

Even before Taehun spoke, I could already sense the meaning behind that insignificant item. Honestly, it felt like an eerie realization. It was even more so when the words came out of the person’s mouth.

“Ji Gwanyeong bought it for me.”
“…”

“It was the first time we went out together, aside from coming here… that day, we had a lot to do. Haha. Actually, it’s always been like that with Gwanyeong.”

The voice that tried to keep things light pierced my ears. Ji Gwanyeong suddenly recalled the boastful words Taehun had said to him:
“The words you said the other day, you’ll regret them, I’m sure.”

It was a moment where the well-crafted pride had to be put aside, and a moment where it should be humbly admitted. Now, the Esper regretted the sharp words he had spoken that day, filled with envy for the precious pieces of his forgotten past. Those bitter words, the poison he had uttered in jealousy, were truly regretted.

Yet, even though Taehun was clearly recalling those unkind words, he did not reproach me in the slightest. He only moved his feet, faintly smiling, as though he were following the last memory left by his lover.

Ji Gwanyeong followed silently behind.

Of course, in his nearly perfect mind, words that hadn’t yet formed were drifting about. He couldn’t just casually apologize with simple words like “I’m sorry” for something that couldn’t be forgiven with such common words. He knew better than anyone that it couldn’t be solved that easily.

The thoughts Taehun had shared with him during the checkpoint now surfaced like a heavy weight pulling him upward. “I don’t think I can do this,” “I’m scared,” “I never expected to feel so miserable.”

The expressions that tore at his insides were all words his tongue had created, the painful words that hurt Taehun’s heart. Ji Gwanyeong suddenly found himself wondering, where did the strength to hold on to a lover who had forgotten everything in just a few days and was now spitting out sharp words come from? Where did it come from in this fragile man?

“What is this room?”

It was a voice filled with unconditional affection.

Ji Gwanyeong briefly gazed at the guide’s face before opening the door to my bedroom himself. This room held the last memories of the lost eight months.

When the unexpected space appeared, Taehun’s eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated to take a step, just like before. The guide, hesitating, spoke in a somewhat cautious tone,
“…Is it okay if I go in?”

It was a very Taehun-like question, but the guide had been taught from a young age never to enter someone else’s bedroom recklessly. Especially not the room of an adult. He had taught his younger sibling the same. But now, the one before him was none other than a man who could be counted as picky, and whose space this was.

In the end, Ji Gwanyeong grabbed the guide’s hand, which was still looking a bit uneasy, thinking, “Between the time we spent in the hotel changing clothes and rolling around, what could have happened?” It was a thought that would turn Taehun’s face bright red if he knew, but Ji Gwanyeong dragged the guide in with a slightly uncomfortable expression.

The emotions that Choi Taehun had been carrying—the mourning for Kim Gwonseok, the pain of looking at a lover who had lost their memory, and the overwhelming burden of a heavy responsibility—had finally broken free, like a dam bursting.

“…Gwanyeong, si.”

“Yeah, don’t cry. Taehun, …what are you crying for? Choi Taehun.”
‘Taehun.’

The guide, hearing the affectionate voice that dropped my surname for the first time, was overwhelmed with emotion, gasping for breath. In contrast, the Esper’s reaction became even more pale. Even though he was crying, Ji Gwanyeong gently patted Taehun’s shoulder, struggling to find words.

Well, calling it “gently patting” was actually an understatement.

He was handling the situation as if he were dealing with something fragile, afraid that even a slight misstep would cause a disaster, helpless in front of the pair who were shedding tears.

“Gwanyeong si, just a little… really, just a little.”
“Mm. Okay.”

Ji Gwanyeong, now trembling with emotion, watched as Taehun struggled to continue speaking and clenched and unclenched his fist, then repeated the motion again. It was as if, at that moment, anything that came out of Taehun’s mouth would be granted.

There was truly nothing more he could give.

“If you love me… Huh, can you… please?”

The Esper’s large hand, which had been brushing against Taehun’s thin shoulder, suddenly froze in place. In that instant, the brain, which had been filled with hundreds, thousands, or even millions of possibilities, came to a complete halt.

The guide, interpreting his lover’s response, continued, his face turning as red as his neck as he almost pleaded with the words.

“If it’s just a little, just a little, that’s all I’m asking for. I won’t ask for much…”
“….”
“Please, just a little, can you love me?”

The word “love” was something he dared not utter recklessly, fearing that the man before him might come to dislike him. Ji Gwanyeong silently watched Taehun with a mysterious gaze.

Thanks to this, the guide, now almost crying, confessed while tightly holding onto Ji Gwanyeong’s shirt collar, as if he feared that his lover might abandon him.

“I really… h-honestly… I can make you happy.”

As expected, Taehun was truly foolish. Esper sighed inwardly. The man before him, not even realizing that he held the reins of this relationship, revealed his vulnerability first.

If those words, spoken through tears, were ones that blamed him, he would have quickly wiped them away and comforted him.

Just as Taehun had said, he would have immediately apologized. If asked to kneel, he would have, and if told to lick his feet, he might have done so without hesitation.

But this beloved and foolish guide, instead of asserting himself, came to me first, holding up a white flag and pleading for only a fragment of my heart, as though that was all he wanted.

Like it was the only thing that mattered, he clung to me.

The cunning monster didn’t miss that chance. Ji Gwanyeong, gently scratching Taehun’s back with his fingertips, softly spoke. In an instant, the situation reversed. Though he still inwardly struggled with the guide’s tears, Esper suppressed his emotions, hiding them.

“How will you make me happy?”

“Really, really, I’ll do it well… h-huh…”

“So how? Are you going to make more money than I do, or what else do you have?”

Even in this moment, not a word was out of place.

Taehun, shedding the tears that had gathered on his cheeks, moved his lips, which had been tightly sealed. Honestly, Taehun still frightened him a little. If he delayed in answering this question, it felt as though the person he loved might completely distance himself and disappear.

Eventually, the guide, thinking he was foolish, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“…Quit smoking.”

Honestly, this was the biggest crisis where Ji Gwanyeong almost lost the composed expression he had maintained. However, with a stern face, he gently pressed further.

“Again.”