Chapter 15

2. Back view

Joo Hee-beom shook his head and turned his gaze back toward the professor.

Meanwhile, Kwon I-young, after playing around with Hee-beom’s name for a while, seemed to run out of ideas and started drawing instead. Jagged teeth, sharply raised eyes, large claws, short arms and legs, a massive torso. A monster. It wasn’t a specific one with a name, just something he sketched from memory based on what he had seen inside a Gate.

I-young was deeply focused on drawing the creature, not even blinking. The middle of his mask stuck out slightly, likely because he was pursing his upper lip like a duck.

But his art session didn’t last long. After filling his wide notebook with a mess of doodles, he dropped his pen with a bored expression. Then, shifting restlessly, he lifted one side of his hip and let it drop, rocked his body side to side, and spun his head around. Hee-beom tried his best to ignore the fidgeting.

Then, all of a sudden, I-young placed his hands neatly on the desk. Slowly, inch by inch, his fingers began creeping toward Hee-beom’s left hand. Fortunately, Hee-beom kept his eyes fixed forward, occasionally taking notes when the professor spoke.

“……”

I-young continued his slow, persistent approach. Eventually, the tip of his right pinky hovered just shy of touching Hee-beom’s left pinky. He hesitated, glanced at Hee-beom for any reaction, then raised his brows and held his breath before finally making contact.

A sharp tingling sensation surged through the point of connection. I-young’s furrowed brow eased—no, it tried to.

But then, Hee-beom subtly pulled his hand away.

I-young’s eyes widened. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Even though it was just a brief touch, now that he had gotten a taste of it, he couldn’t let it go.

This time, he abandoned subtlety and reached for Hee-beom’s hand with swift determination, intertwining their pinkies like a promise.

“……”

Hee-beom shot him a look, his eyes crinkling slightly in disapproval—a silent warning to stop. But I-young ignored it and went a step further, placing his entire hand over Hee-beom’s.

With a larger area touching, the guiding effect intensified. But even that didn’t last long.

“Don’t.”

Hee-beom pulled his hand completely under the desk.

Yet, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment, I-young suddenly grabbed his hand—firmly, without hesitation.

Just as Hee-beom was about to protest, I-young beat him to it.

“I’ll just hold it. Just hold it.”

“……”

Hee-beom’s lips twisted. What kind of nonsense was this? It wasn’t even the usual ‘I’ll just hold your hand and sleep’ excuse. Did he really think saying it like that would make Hee-beom agree?

As Hee-beom stared at him in disbelief, I-young smiled innocently. Was he pretending to be clueless to shut Hee-beom up, or was he actually clueless? It was impossible to tell.

“……”

Hee-beom considered how to shake him off. Simply pulling his hand away wouldn’t work—he’d just grab it again. He needed a more definitive way to push him away.

But then, as he glanced at I-young, something caught his attention.

I-young was… calm.

Unlike before, he wasn’t moving restlessly, yawning out of boredom, or fidgeting with random things. He was just sitting still, staring into empty space. Not saying anything, not moving—just holding Hee-beom’s hand.

“…….”

It was the first time Hee-beom had seen this side of him.

I-young was always—how should he put it—cheerful? Lively? Those kinds of words suited him. But now, he was completely still. He was so quiet that even his blinking seemed slower than usual.

Had simply holding hands done this to him? Just from that? No matter how much Hee-beom was a Guide and I-young an Esper, this was too much. He looked like an animal that had just been hit with a tranquilizer dart…

“…….”

Hee-beom debated pulling his hand away but ultimately decided against it. It was just his left hand, after all. His right hand was still free, so it wouldn’t interfere with his studying too much. Besides, I-young’s usual fidgeting was more of a distraction.

Now he understood why parents showed cartoons to tantrum-throwing kids at restaurants—because it made them quiet. In this case, instead of a cartoon, he had given I-young his left hand. And honestly, it didn’t seem like a bad deal.

Hee-beom readjusted his grip on his pencil, preparing to focus on the lecture again.

But for some reason, the professor’s voice never quite made it into his ears. It hovered at the edges of his hearing, just outside his awareness.

Because of I-young’s hand.

No—technically, it wasn’t even his hand holding, but rather, being held.

It was a strange sensation. Something was flowing into I-young, and something else was flowing back into him. It wasn’t exactly a tingling or ticklish feeling, but there was definitely something being exchanged.

Was this what they called Guiding?

Was I-young feeling this, too?

As that thought crossed his mind, Hee-beom squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then reopened them. Why does that even matter?

He needed to focus on class.

Studying was what was important to him. Studying for his future.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his gaze back onto the professor.

“……”

It was a sight he had never seen before.

I-young was always… what was the right word? Cheerful? Lively? Whatever it was, those kinds of words suited him. But now, he was silent. So much so that even the rate at which he blinked was noticeably slower than usual.

Could it really be just because they were holding hands? Was that all it took? Even if he was a Guide and I-young was an Esper, this was a bit much. He looked like an animal that had been hit with a tranquilizer dart…

“……”

Hee-beom considered pulling his hand away but ultimately decided against it. It was just his left hand, after all. His right hand was still free, so it wasn’t like this was hindering his studies. If anything, I-young moving around before had been more of a distraction.

Now he understood why parents played cartoons for their tantrum-throwing kids at restaurants. Because it kept them quiet. In this case, instead of a cartoon, he had given I-young his left hand. Thinking of it that way, it didn’t seem like such a bad trade.

Hee-beom adjusted his grip on his pencil and tried to refocus on the lecture. But strangely, the professor’s voice wasn’t sinking into his ears. It circled around the edges of his hearing, never quite settling in.

It was because of I-young’s hand.

Or rather, not even the act of holding it—being held was the problem.

It was an odd sensation. Something was flowing to I-young, and something was flowing back. It wasn’t exactly a tingling or tickling feeling, but there was definitely something being exchanged.

Was this what Guiding was?

Was I-young feeling it too?

Hee-beom squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Why does that even matter? He needed to focus on the lecture. That was what was important. Studying for the future.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed his gaze on the professor.

Hee-beom filled a notebook page with dense notes and reached to turn to the next page. But with his left hand occupied, flipping a single sheet of paper became an inconvenient hassle.

He shot I-young an irritated look, making no effort to hide his displeasure. Look at what a pain you’re making this for me, his expression all but said.

But then—

“……”

I-young was asleep.

Not slumped over on the desk, but sitting upright with his head tilted to the side.

Soft, rhythmic breaths escaped him, embarrassingly gentle. Despite the awkward sleeping posture, he didn’t move an inch—he was in deep sleep.

And yet, even while sleeping, he held on tightly to Hee-beom’s hand. It was strange. And kind of fascinating.

Now that he thought about it, hadn’t I-young mentioned staying up all night at the research lab?

Despite his unusual job, he was no different from an exhausted office worker pulling an all-nighter. And no matter how much money he made, a salaryman was still a salaryman.

One of the busiest salarymen in the entire country.

“……”

Clicking his tongue soundlessly, Hee-beom turned away—only to pause when he noticed I-young frowning slightly.

It was the sunlight. The beams streaming through the window were stabbing at his closed eyelids. That spot had been empty for a reason—Hee-beom had deliberately avoided it. But I-young had no way of knowing that.

“……”

Hee-beom considered pulling the curtain shut but quickly dismissed the idea. He didn’t have telekinesis, after all. Moving carelessly might wake I-young up. But leaving him like this would probably wake him up too.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Hee-beom removed the cap he had been wearing. He gave it a quick shake in the air—not that it was dusty, but because I-young always showed up smelling like freshly washed shampoo, and Hee-beom figured he might as well match the standard.

Then, carefully, he placed his cap on I-young’s head.

It swallowed up his face instantly. His forehead, eyebrows, everything disappeared beneath it. His features relaxed. His breaths deepened. His shoulders loosened.

Hee-beom lifted a brow at the sight.

A subtle expression of satisfaction.

Running a hand through his now-bare head out of habit, he picked up his mechanical pencil again.

Then, as he resumed taking notes, a realization hit him.

This was the first time since entering university that he had attended a lecture together with someone.

Together.

He rolled the word around in his mind before scrunching his nose slightly.

“…Yeah.”

Being alone really was better.

With that thought, he continued writing down the formulas.