LLHT Ch 2.1

After the unwanted bonding with Chiyeong, Gi Baekhan returned from a six-month deployment and fell into a rampage precursor state.

Because he was bonded, guiding supplements were incompatible with his body. Forcing them caused Gi Baekhan immense pain, and from that point on, his esper aura began to overflow abnormally, causing headaches and tinnitus in other espers within its range.

However, accepting guiding from another guide felt strangely unsatisfying.

For another esper, this might have been dismissed as picky eating, but the problem was that Gi Baekhan was a high-rank esper.

An incompatible guiding aura slowly eroded the esper’s aura system.

Even though he wasn’t in a state of guiding depletion, the sudden onset of rampage precursor symptoms was due to this.

The higher the rank of an esper, the more stages they go through before reaching a full rampage.

The rampage phenomenon for high-rank espers progresses through precursor, pseudo-rampage, and full rampage stages, with devastating effects starting from the first stage.

If not confined to an aura suppression intensive care unit, the building housing the esper would shake as if hit by a magnitude 5.0 earthquake, causing cracks in the interior walls.

That was Gi Baekhan’s situation at the time. The Center was under Hatch 3, an emergency alert state.

A single unconscious high-rank esper could potentially erase Seoul, parts of Gyeonggi, and even portions of Chungcheong from existence, as if scooping them out with their hands.

In such a situation, Chiyeong had to enter the intensive care unit without any protective gear.

“Is protective gear really necessary? Once Lieutenant Ahn goes in, Lieutenant Colonel Gi will probably spring right up. No, I mean, not that something else springs up, but that he’ll regain consciousness, you know.”

The researcher sneered at Chiyeong, who had requested protective gear. Even though a Code Blue could escalate to a Code Black, the researcher indulged in sexual harassment. It was malice, as if saying, “Go in there and die too.”

But Chiyeong couldn’t take issue with his attitude. With his esper in a critical state, how could he turn away?

In the six months since Baekhan left, Chiyeong had been subjected to unprecedented ostracism.

Gi Baekhan, who had never been compatible with any guide, had been forcibly bonded to a candy wrapper guide from an anti-government group.

Part truth, part lie, that story spread like wildfire through the Center. And it sparked jealousy in the hearts of guides who had regarded Baekhan as something celestial.

Until then, Baekhan had only engaged in relationships with espers. Given the Center’s culture, which viewed esper-esper relationships as akin to sports, no guide had ever managed to capture Baekhan’s heart.

For two years, guides had tried to deny Chiyeong’s existence, but the gifts Baekhan sent Chiyeong every season and the official directives he sent to the Center to take good care of Chiyeong rendered their efforts futile.

After denying and denying, they felt as if a blessing had come. Guides welcomed the news that Baekhan had come to hate Chiyeong more than anyone else.

And, naturally, their harassment turned toward Chiyeong.

Espers were no different. The great Gi Baekhan’s bonded partner was just a “candy wrapper”?

Espers paired with C-rank guides or bonded with D-rank guides laughed gleefully.

Low-ability espers could only propose to guides after higher-ranking espers had made their pair requests.

Even then, it was common for espers who refused to acknowledge their gratitude to be dissatisfied with pairing with low-rank guides.

That guy must be getting amazing guiding. That guy’s doing better than me, so guides must be flocking to him.

Living steeped in inferiority, doing nothing for self-improvement while excelling at self-consolation, they all whispered about Gi Baekhan’s guide.

Gi Baekhan’s guide has a lower rank than mine. So Gi Baekhan’s no different from me!

It was absurd logic, but the less capable someone is, the deeper their delusions and misconceptions run.

In those delusions, Chiyeong was exposed time and again. In places he knew, places he didn’t, and sometimes in completely unexpected places, Chiyeong had to face immense malice.

That candy wrapper satisfied the great Gi Baekhan, huh? Does that mean he’s great in that department?

The whispering espers began to flirt with Chiyeong.

For Chiyeong, already cornered by various troubles, it was like piling on more misery.

His esper, who bonded with him and then abandoned him completely; guides swallowing their anger with jealousy, sharpening their claws; and bastards cackling, begging for just one taste—amid all this, Chiyeong lost all the vibrancy a man in his early twenties should have.

In just those six months.

“There’s no time. Can you take responsibility if Lieutenant Colonel Gi rampages, Ahn Chiyeong? Why are you dawdling?”

In the end, even the title was improper. Calling Lieutenant Ahn “Ahn Chiyeong” despite his rank.

Despite the researcher’s blatantly dismissive tone, Chiyeong was trembling too much to respond.

It was his first time doing proper guiding. And that first time had to be for an esper in a rampage precursor state, an S++ rank at that.

Even a veteran would be terrified. But the researcher, wearing protective gear himself, shoved Chiyeong forward.

Thus, the guide Ahn Chiyeong, driven out without protective gear, had to walk on his own into the midst of an esper’s aura exploding like a flash of light.

“Argh…”

The isolation room was engulfed in a piercing aura.

It felt like being covered with a blanket made of needles. Moving through the aura that tightened around his body, Chiyeong slowly began with radiant guiding.

Anticipating his bonding with Baekhan, Chiyeong had diligently studied and trained in guiding.

Even though he was exhausted by rigorous training and lagged behind other guides who had already mastered intermediate or higher guiding techniques at the guide training academy, Chiyeong had Baekhan.

He believed effort was his only weapon. And back then, he was certain a day of reward would come.

He was told to wait, so he waited. Baekhan returned in a completely different form, but he was still Chiyeong’s esper.

Chiyeong unleashed his guiding aura generously toward his esper.

The radiant guiding he slowly released was endlessly sucked into Baekhan. Unlike contact guiding, radiant guiding could be stopped with focus, but it wouldn’t halt.

“Ah…!”

A groan escaped involuntarily. Something pulsed heavily beneath his diaphragm. Tears quickly welled in Chiyeong’s eyes.

The dashboard of the machine connected to the nodes attached to Baekhan’s body, lying on the bed, still showed a red graph indicating danger, but the risk level visibly decreased.

“Guiding depends on the guide’s rank, but compatibility is paramount. Nevertheless, the Center prioritizes a guide’s rank. This is because a guide’s rank compensates for low compatibility between a guide and an esper. If the match rate with a B-rank guide is 80% or higher, there’s no need for an A-rank guide, but in cases of low match rates, there’s no need to receive guiding from a B-rank guide.”

Recalling what his instructor taught him, Chiyeong slowly took Baekhan’s hand. He’d thought it would be cold due to Baekhan’s pale skin, but it was startlingly hot.

The elegant, long fingers were, upon closer inspection, covered in calluses. Chiyeong swallowed a gasp.

His match rate with Baekhan was 95%. An unprecedented number.

Not only was it unmatched among Baekhan’s rates with other guides, but no guide-esper pair in the Center had ever achieved such a rate.

That’s why Chiyeong had received special treatment during the two years Baekhan thought he was a woman. Such a high match rate was a first.

The Center, and even the military, valued that match rate highly. Until Baekhan rejected Chiyeong, that is.

Guides couldn’t create power on their own.

It was something espers bestowed upon guides. No matter how much they claimed to value guides, it was difficult for guides to achieve such power independently.

What Chiyeong had thought was his had never truly belonged to him.

“Hrgh—!”

Guiding began pouring out frantically from the hand he held. Clutching Baekhan’s hand, Chiyeong couldn’t help but gasp as he was overwhelmed.

The sensation was so intense that veins stood out on his forehead and neck. The guiding, shifting from radiant to contact, was quite effective, as Baekhan’s readings shifted from a red graph to a yellow one. It meant the danger stage had passed.

That’s when it happened.

“You…”

A seething voice. A voice sharp with the intent to reject everything about Chiyeong.

Chiyeong, swallowing his breath, couldn’t move under the gaze of those flickering eyes, dripping with heat.

The sensation of guiding being pulled out was palpable.

“This is what guiding feels like…”

Chiyeong thought dazedly.

Even so, he was pulled by the hand he held. Chiyeong was sucked into his esper’s embrace. It happened in an instant.

At that point, the esper’s aura began to seep into the guide’s body.

As if seeking out hidden guiding, unwilling to waste even a strand, Gi Baekhan’s aura, accustomed to plundering, took everything hidden within Chiyeong’s body.

Perhaps even his breath.

“Hngh…!”

“…”

Chiyeong, as if his respiratory muscles were paralyzed, couldn’t exhale after inhaling.

Gi Baekhan’s esper aura was as rude as Gi Baekhan himself. Like plundering was its habit, it seemed to suck up the guiding aura flowing slowly across Chiyeong’s skin.

Because of this, his senses became muddled. Chiyeong was particularly sensitive to the feeling of guiding being drawn out. It was as if his highly sensitive nerves were startled by the invading esper aura.

Their eyes met. The flickering, similar to the plundering aura rampaging within his body. A black shimmer, like the glint of waves in the middle of the sea on a moonless night.

Gleaming like the scales of some great beast, it seemed violent, as if to show that not everything that shines is good.

Chiyeong initially thought it was hunger. He later realized it was a deep red lust that appeared black. But at the time, Chiyeong didn’t know.

He merely let his gaze scatter aimlessly over Baekhan’s sharp nose, thick eyebrows, and lips that would be utterly captivating if curved into a smile.

The air was strange.

Baekhan closed and opened his eyes. Frowning as if enduring something, the words that slipped through his grinding teeth were more wretched than a beast’s growl.

“You, you damn…”

“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Colonel, it’s not like that…!”

Chiyeong, at a loss, blurted out excuses. Desperation rose in his eyes, smooth as polished stones.

Unaware that his legs were entangled with Baekhan’s, or that their chests were pressed together without even a sliver of space, he began pleading.

He didn’t want to fall further into Baekhan’s disfavor. He was already terrified to death. In the six months without Baekhan, Chiyeong had withered like a sapling planted in barren soil.

It was Baekhan who had rescued him. It was Baekhan who had let him live in a dream for two years. Even if Baekhan had driven him into a corner over the past six months, Chiyeong couldn’t hate him.

He hoped Baekhan would like him, even a little. But his corroded courage left him unable to speak. Not knowing what to say, Chiyeong could only tremble beneath Baekhan.

He felt Baekhan’s broad chest rise and fall with a deep breath. It was as if he were held in the embrace of a giant beast, his neck constantly targeted.

“…”

“Lieutenant Colonel… I…”

“…Shut your mouth.”

Guiding kept seeping into Baekhan from the point where their bodies pressed together.

Held tightly, whatever Baekhan said reverberated back like a vibration.

A faint scent of cologne wafted. It was a fragrance designed for espers with sensitive senses of smell. Warmed by Baekhan’s body heat, the alcohol evaporated quickly, blending into something like his natural scent.

A mix of faint magnolia, birch, and musk filled Chiyeong’s nostrils. Chiyeong felt his body temperature rising. A warm heat climbed up his spine.

Something heavy pressed against his navel. Chiyeong thought it was a pistol, like a Tokarev.

Trying to shift unconsciously to escape the discomfort, Baekhan growled, pulling Chiyeong even tighter.

“Stay still. I’m already in a foul mood—if I snap and bite your neck, what then?”

“…”

The breath against his neck was hot. The esper aura that had been electrifying his body gradually calmed, as if it had taken all it wanted.

Told to stay still, Chiyeong couldn’t even exhale, only rolling his eyes to glance at the dashboard.

The yellow light had shifted to a yellowish-green. A full green would mean the esper was stabilized.

Chiyeong let out a sigh of relief without realizing it. It slightly disturbed a portion of Baekhan’s hair.

Being held so tightly, Baekhan’s firm embrace tormented Chiyeong. The heavy, oppressive sensation was uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t pinpoint. Told to stay still, he couldn’t disobey, so he could only breathe shallowly.

It felt like a long time had passed, or perhaps only a few seconds. Baekhan sat up as abruptly as he had first pulled Chiyeong in.

Beep— Beep—

With the readings stabilized, the red lights indicating an emergency shut off, and the graph turned a solid green.

Baekhan sat up, looking down at Chiyeong, and ripped off the wires connected to the nodes on his chest.

Only then did Chiyeong realize Baekhan wasn’t wearing a shirt. So, this whole time, he’d been pulled against Baekhan’s bare skin…

Chiyeong’s face flushed red in an instant. Looking down at him, Baekhan spoke with a hint of disdain.

“You’re something else. Enjoying this? Forgot all about how I rejected you, huh. What a pushover.”

Frowning, Baekhan tossed the wires aside. Already standing by the bed, barefoot, Baekhan moved to leave the room.

Chiyeong, barely sitting up on the bed where Baekhan had been lying, nearly stumbled trying to follow.

Baekhan was already grabbing the doorknob.

“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Hey, you bastards! Feel good locking people up? Sending in just one F-rank and locking the door?”

Espers showing rampage precursor symptoms are confined to isolation rooms.

After trying the doorknob a few times and realizing it was locked from the outside, Baekhan ripped the doorframe clean off.

Chiyeong swallowed a gasp. Even though the readings had stabilized and the isolation room’s internal aura suppression system had shut down, restoring his esper physical abilities, tearing apart a titanium door and frame with his fingertips was astonishing.

Whether Chiyeong was shocked or not, Baekhan crushed the frame like tofu, opened the tattered door, and stepped out.

The researcher waiting outside turned pale.

“Lieutenant Colonel Gi! If you destroy the isolation room door like this…!”

“Talkative, aren’t you, damn it. Seems you’ve got a lot to say, but sorry, can I curse first?”

“P-Please refrain from profanity…”

“Shut your trap, like I’ve been saying.”

Baekhan snatched a tablet PC from the startled researcher’s arms, snapped it in two, and handed it back.

The researcher, stunned by the effortless motion as if breaking a thin cracker, gaped at the broken tablet returned to him.

“Lieutenant Colonel Gi, what’s the meaning of…!”

“You feel bad? If you cared about equipment, you wouldn’t have sent that guide in alone without protective gear. Aren’t guides national property too? Doesn’t it cost a fortune to train one, more than this junk?”

“…”

“Seems you locked up a guide raised with taxpayer money to die with me. What’s your name… Park Hansik? Next time I rampage, I’ll find you, hug you tight, and we’ll die together. Let’s get our names side by side on a memorial stone.”

The researcher’s face turned ashen. His trembling expression screamed that he’d crossed the wrong person.

As if his inhumane treatment of Chiyeong was a separate issue and this moment was the problem, Baekhan, facing the researcher’s stiff face, curled his elegant lips into a mocking sneer.

“Hey, Hansik. Let’s behave properly. Did I look like I was about to die? Seems you wanted to test me, but if that idiot guide dies, you all die too.”

“Lieutenant, Lieutenant Colonel, that’s not what I…”

“But damn, why do pathetic losers always try to rile people up? The kind that’d get crushed if stepped on.”

The tone he used, spitting words at the researcher, was chillingly cold.

His voice, as if annoyed by a bothersome insect, held no trace of mercy, making it terrifying.

Gi Baekhan stared at the researcher for a while before speaking.

“Hey.”

Chiyeong, standing dumbly by the broken doorframe, flinched at being called. He’d been thinking that Baekhan’s anger toward the researcher didn’t quite feel like it was for his sake.

Turning slowly, he saw Baekhan looking at him with cold eyes.

Chiyeong recalled Baekhan’s eyes, black with a sinister glint, like the shimmering waves of a moonless night sea.

Unlike that moment, filled with incomprehensible heat, Baekhan now had eyes as cold as a biting wind.

“Don’t get cocky and just live. You see I didn’t spare you for being pretty.”

“…”

“What was your name again? Anyway, stay out of my sight, buddy. Before I chew you up, suck out the sweet parts, and spit you out.”

It was the warning of a beast. Chiyeong couldn’t recall whether he nodded or said, “Yes, understood.”

All he could vividly remember was the broad back walking away and the bed where he’d been held and then discarded like trash.

“What was your name again?”

There wasn’t a trace of warmth in Baekhan’s voice as he asked.

Only then did Chiyeong realize. He could never again be Gi Baekhan’s guide.

🚀

At the Center’s guesthouse, a welcome ceremony was held to honor the hard work of the Chunran Brigade members, who had returned after a long absence.

Alongside this came news that the Chunran Brigade, which had been deployed like mercenaries for the past five years, would now become the Center’s standing army.

It wasn’t a grand affair, just a simple ceremony, and among the higher-ups, only the Center Commander stopped by briefly.

The members grumbled that the meat was getting cold as the Commander shook hands with each one, praising their efforts.

To wrap up the greetings, starting with the youngest member, the Center Commander gave Baekhan a warm smile and patted his shoulder.

Baekhan’s towering height forced the Center Commander to stretch his arm upward, but he managed to maintain a benevolent expression.

“You worked the hardest.”

“Looks like your head got balder, old man?”

“You little—watch your mouth… Fine, I’m leaving, so make sure this guy doesn’t get drunk and piss on the street somewhere.”

The Center Commander pointed at Baekhan, addressing the battalion members standing around. There was no hint of jest in his face, and everyone understood he meant it sincerely.

Even if it was somewhat crude language to direct at someone born in the National Army Capital Hospital, part of a royal family with general-rank esper parents, and the youngest battalion commander with an S++ rank.

In truth, the battalion members knew better than anyone that Gi Baekhan was the kind of lowlife who’d get drunk and piss anywhere.

Despite his refined face, Baekhan often did things that made others gasp in shock. Even those initially charmed by his appearance would scatter like leaves at his consistent outrageous behavior.

Now, as a battalion commander with more responsibilities, he’d toned it down a bit, but when he was newly commissioned as a second lieutenant, it was far worse.

His superior, who constantly expressed inferiority over Baekhan’s background, appearance, and abilities, would pick fights over everything. One day, they ended up in a bet for a boxing match.

Gi Baekhan, who hadn’t reacted to the provocations, stepped into the ring and immediately bit off his superior’s ear, spitting it out.

In a military where obedience to superiors is the first law, public opinion raged for Baekhan’s punishment for biting off his superior’s ear, but the Center Commander, only two days into his tenure, let it slide.

However, Gi Baekhan’s lunacy wasn’t in biting off his superior’s ear or slithering out of deserved punishment like a snake.

It was that he actually enjoyed the provocations his superior threw at him.

Like someone eagerly waiting for an unripe fruit to ripen, Gi Baekhan quietly bided his time until the moment was right, then bit off his superior’s ear—perfectly timed with the Center Commander’s inauguration.

That wasn’t even the end of his outrageous antics, leading to rumors that his body might naturally produce drugs or propofol.

For a Center Commander, a brigadier general rank, to hear from a lunatic that his head had gotten balder in the time they hadn’t seen each other—rumors of drug use were the least of it.

But the Center Commander didn’t get angrier and hurriedly left in a sedan driven by his aide, citing a nighttime golf appointment.

The Chunran Brigade members, celebrating a victory but finding the attitude lackluster, smacked their lips in disappointment.

“What, only soju for liquor?”

“There’s beer too.”

“You’re so simple, aren’t you? Pisses me off.”

The espers grumbled but ate and drank. The food prepared by the cafeteria was plentiful, but they seemed deflated that the first drink upon returning was soju sold at the PX.

“The battalion commander’s drinking it fine, so why are you complaining?”

Captain Park Hyeong-in, one of the team’s seniors, clicked his tongue. Sure enough, at the head table, Gi Baekhan was already mixing soju and beer. In an absurd 1:1 ratio, no less.

“Battalion Commander Gi’s taste is so cheap. Growing up refined, shouldn’t you be complaining about soju?”

“Why? I like soju.”

Baekhan said this while lifting an untrimmed tenderloin steak, grilled over charcoal, with his knife, not bothering to cut it.

He stuffed it all in his mouth, washing it down with soju-beer mix whenever it got stuck—a somewhat barbaric eating style.

This mission involved suppressing a terrorist group in the Mojave Desert. Because of that, he had to dig a pit and lie in wait during sandstorms.

Even desert lizards mistook Gi Baekhan for a shallow ridge in the desert, crawling over his head and face.

Under a foreign sun that didn’t burn but desiccated people, after four nights and five days of lying in wait, he successfully rescued hostages and captured key terrorist figures.

But the four days of lying in wait under the sun were preferable. The covert operations leading up to it were far more tedious and annoying.

Having spent another season abroad and just returned, Baekhan planned to drink crates of soju and stay out of it for two days.

Tired of the foreign spice smells clinging to his sinuses, he welcomed the steaming hotpot the cafeteria ladies had lovingly prepared.

At a long table laden with mostly meat dishes, lacking any menu cohesion, the beautiful face stuffing food paused to look at his disgruntled subordinates and tossed his wallet to the youngest member.

“Go buy some.”

“Battalion Commander, you’re the best!”

In-kyo, the youngest member of the Chunran Brigade, gave a thumbs-up, clutched the wallet to his chest, and sprinted full speed toward the PX.

The members, chuckling at the youngest darting off like his tail was on fire, ate and drank for a while longer.

The liquor In-kyo bought from the PX was the priciest whiskey and brandy sold at the military store. Baekhan mixed them with beer.

After more drinking, they lit a fire in the front yard and grilled pork belly on a cauldron lid someone had brought from who-knows-where.

With a flame esper’s ability, the cauldron lid sizzled without needing firewood or charcoal.

Tomorrow, complaints would likely roll in about the guest house’s front pavement blocks being scor charred, but to the drunk espers, that was a distant concern.

One member, who’d gone to the kitchen to fetch old kimchi in place of the cafeteria ladies who’d prepared the food and left, received pocket money from Gi Baekhan.

But even at such a lively gathering, there’s always someone yawning from exhaustion and abruptly standing up.

“I’m off to see my guide.”

“What?”

“Me too. Feeling like some guiding.”

The members who stood, stretching, grinned at their phones. They seemed to be messaging their guides.

Baekhan, who’d been tearing into beef ribs, froze. His expression screamed total buzzkill.

“It’s been months since I’ve seen my pair guide’s face. Even going now, I’m late and might get chewed out. Cut me some slack, Commander.”

“Happy being whipped? Get lost.”

“What about me?”

“Fine, all of you, get out.”

Lieutenant Heo In-na, a female member, raised her hand enthusiastically. When she asked what to do since she had no “attachments,” their commander waved dismissively.

Do whatever you want—Baekhan’s attitude prompted everyone to pack up.

After tough battles, the desert nights spent endlessly staring at photos of their guides saved on their phones were over. They wanted to see their faces and kiss them already.

Baekhan’s striking face crumpled without restraint. He looked like he couldn’t fathom what was so great about it.

Wiping his grease-stained hands with a napkin, Baekhan stood. He tucked a couple of soju bottles under his arm.

“I’m heading out first, so you guys clean up here.”

“What?! We ate together, why just us?! What about you, Commander?!”

“If you don’t like it, get promoted.”

Baekhan left the cafeteria expressionlessly.

High-rank espers rarely got drunk. Even drinking crates, it only made their bodies slightly warm, not intoxicated.

Ignoring the clinking of the soju bottles in his hands, Baekhan walked down the Center’s quiet paths.

Of course, Baekhan wasn’t without a guide to return to. The problem was that he still had one.

He twisted off the cap of a green bottle and tossed it anywhere.

The Center’s CCTV had good resolution, so a fine might arrive at Baekhan’s office tomorrow for littering, but that didn’t matter.

Pressing his lips to the soju bottle’s mouth, Baekhan drank all the alcohol inside and arrived at the guide-exclusive quarters.

🚀

Bang bang.

Chiyeong knew exactly who was pounding on the door hard enough to make it shake.

Sighing, he approached the door lock and opened it, revealing a face he hadn’t seen in months, wearing a desolate expression.

It wasn’t the face of an esper looking at a guide he’d bonded with. His face, so beautiful it seemed impossible to sculpt, was hardened as he spoke dryly.

“Missed me, babe?”

“…You’re here.”

Babe, huh. His eyes, cold and arid as if devoid of any warmth to share with his bonded guide, contrasted with his words.

Having known Gi Baekhan for years, Chiyeong found the situation far from amusing.

“Other guides were at the airfield, squealing welcome-back greetings. My babe must be busy?”

His face screamed disgust at even looking at Chiyeong, yet his tone was oddly sweet. Every bit of it was an insult to Chiyeong.

Once, it had all hurt. Now? Well, he didn’t feel much of anything.

“Yeah. It’s spring, so I planted some seedlings…”

Chiyeong pointed to the balcony visible from the entrance.

Cherry tomato seedlings were neatly planted on the balcony. Wooden chopsticks stuck in as supports were visible too.

One of Baekhan’s eyebrows rose. As his demeanor grew menacing, Chiyeong scratched his cheek with his index finger. He still hadn’t invited him in.

“Here for guiding?”

Chiyeong immediately released radiant guiding. He stood at the entrance, expressionless.

Since the host didn’t invite him in, the guest had no choice but to stand there, bathed in guiding like fine rain.

It felt like gold-infused water in a low-molecular state falling over his body. Baekhan ground his teeth.

Even now, this guiding made his mind hazy. It was a feeling of desire boiling up for something he wasn’t even drawn to.

Baekhan’s body, ignoring his emotions, ignited with need.

As that feeling intensified, it later turned into disgust.

Even as a trainee, Gi Baekhan would faint when male guides tried guiding him.

As a cadet, he’d punched a guide who grabbed his hand without permission, caving in their temple and landing himself in solitary.

The only reason he could become a soldier despite such behavior was that his abilities were the strongest in the current military.

The military hammers down what sticks out and pulls up what’s sunken to meet the standard.

What the military wants isn’t one exceptional individual but tens of thousands of uniform soldiers. Gi Baekhan, rejecting that average, was worth five stealth missile-equipped fighter jets.

As an esper worth five fighter jets, each costing 30 million dollars, bureaus didn’t reprimand his picky tastes. They accommodated him so he wouldn’t need guiding from male guides.

That was until the accidental bonding with Ahn Chiyeong.

Still, “this” was somewhat better. It didn’t evoke the kind of disgust that made him want to tear the other apart just for touching his skin. Instead…

Staring down, he grabbed Chiyeong’s wrist and pulled. Chiyeong, standing barefoot at the entrance, let out an “Ah” as he was abruptly pulled into Baekhan’s arms.

He was scrawny. …Tch, starving himself to skin and bones again.

The entrance door closed behind Baekhan. At the click of the door lock, Chiyeong swallowed hard.

“Urgh…!”

Chiyeong was shoved against the wall. His cheek pressed against it. Baekhan, grabbing Chiyeong’s arms from behind like restraining him, made resistance futile.

A sound like a beast scratching its throat came from behind. Chiyeong felt as if a massive beast was pinning him down from behind.

Even the mocking voice was low and beastly.

“So damn pretty. I didn’t show my face at the landing strip because I might’ve puked just seeing Lieutenant Ahn’s face, right?”

“…It hurts.”

“Babe, gonna keep saying such thrilling things?”

Hot breath grazed Chiyeong’s nape. A faint smell of alcohol lingered. Had he drunk a lot? Probably a ton.

Even after drinking crates like a monster, this was likely the extent of his intoxication. Chiyeong had never seen him drunk on hard liquor.

The problem was the heat he carried.

Already a high-body-temperature person, alcohol made him even hotter. The heat radiating from him was vivid. Chiyeong tightly shut his eyes and opened them.

Even in a drunk state, there seemed to be no change beyond this temperature shift. Though the temperature itself was an issue…

But Chiyeong knew from experience that this man was worse when sober.

“…This is the entrance.”

Look at him now. Pinning a guide against the wall by the entrance, pressing heavily from behind.

What kind of esper would treat their bonded guide like this?

He’d rather hit him. Slap his face, punch his gut, make it clear he completely despised and hated him.

But Baekhan only spat words that stung worse than a punch to the chest.

“What then? Hoping I’d carry you to the bedroom? Getting coy, not like you.”

“…Shut up.”

“Should I? Wanna shut up, do what we need, and part ways? Your scent’s getting me worked up, big brother.”

Lies.

It was a lie. Gi Baekhan didn’t get aroused by Ahn Chiyeong’s scent. Maybe by the guiding seeping from their contact, but not his scent.

But using the absurd excuse of scent was because Gi Baekhan, while aroused by Chiyeong’s guiding, denied it.

Insisting it was just the bonding, he ignored his body’s reaction to Chiyeong’s guiding aura.

The one suffering from such self-deception was Chiyeong. Because Baekhan denied his own desires, Chiyeong’s very existence was being negated.

So here he was, stuck at the entrance, unable to even step inside, enduring Baekhan’s advances. Chiyeong closed his eyes in disillusionment, watching the entrance sensor light flicker on and off.

Baekhan felt disgust at contact with Chiyeong. So even these acts were done as if it was only right to keep clothes on.

When Chiyeong still had dreams, he’d waited eagerly for the day he’d have proper contact guiding with Baekhan.

Now, the situation was somewhat laughable.

“…Ngh.”

“Damn…”

Things like Baekhan biting his nape, pressing against him without removing a single piece of clothing.

Chiyeong made his internal guiding flow more smoothly. Contact guiding couldn’t be controlled by the guide’s will.

Contact was more effective than non-contact, and mucosal contact maximized guiding’s effect—a process where the guide’s intent had no place.

But Chiyeong could lock his guiding. If he didn’t want to, he could suppress both radiant and contact guiding auras.

In other words, he could push a large amount of guiding into an esper with minimal contact.

The problem was that the amount was significantly small.

Of course, Chiyeong didn’t hide his ability to control guiding because he wanted to.

The amount was so small that locking or not made no difference.

Who would care about the capabilities of an F-rank guide anyway?

But it was different for the esper bonded with Chiyeong.

“…Living off sugar water? Why’s it so sweet, damn it.”

Baekhan, rubbing his forehead against Chiyeong’s shoulder, panted heavily. The sensation of guiding being drawn out was intense.

Trapped between Baekhan and the wall, Chiyeong only wished for this moment to pass. Baekhan didn’t let him go easily.

As his rubbing made Chiyeong’s head keep hitting the wall, irritation flared.

Even so, he simply endured this time.

Because it would be over soon.

“…Urgh.”

Baekhan, who’d been burying his face in Chiyeong’s nape, engrossed in drawing out guiding, abruptly left him and stormed into the house in his combat boots.

He flung open the bathroom door, grabbed the toilet, and began vomiting.

Though Chiyeong wasn’t small, the much larger man banging into things made it seem like even the bathroom door hinges had loosened.

Chiyeong, watching this, adjusted his clothing.

…Knew it.

Baekhan always retched like this after guiding with Chiyeong. So the time Chiyeong had to endure wasn’t long.

“Ugh, killing me.”

As if his stomach had been punched, Baekhan grimaced, retching incessantly. Struggling alone, he hit the bathroom wall, cracking the ceramic tiles. It didn’t seem intentional, more like he couldn’t control his strength in pain.

He only calmed after emptying everything in his stomach. As if he’d eaten spoiled food, he had to purge it all to feel relief.

Chiyeong glanced at the bathroom door. Sure enough, the upper hinge was dangling. Baekhan had opened it with such force.

…That strength-obsessed hippo bastard.

Inwardly cursing Baekhan, Chiyeong grabbed a rag and wiped the combat boot marks he’d left around the house.

The sound of flushing was followed by running water from the sink, then silence. Emerging with slightly wet bangs from washing his face, Baekhan looked relieved.

“Phew, emptied out, now I’m hungry. Order some hangover soup.”

“…Ha.”

“Sighing, babe? Not even worried while I’m retching over the toilet?”

“…Yes, this is Guide Quarters Unit 1015. One hangover soup, please. Oh… really? Yes, understood.”

Not wanting to talk further, Chiyeong wordlessly called the soup place. Hanging up, he saw Baekhan, who’d somehow shed his shirt, scratching his stomach in a black sleeveless undershirt issued by the military.

“What’d they say?”

“It’s far from the commercial district, so we have to pick it up. If you stop by on your way to your quarters, Lieutenant Colonel…”

“Wow, sounds delicious!”

Baekhan clapped his hands with a bright face.

…That bastard.

Chiyeong, irritated, grabbed his wallet and stepped out the entrance.

Walking through the Center’s streets, where the lights were off and no carts roamed, Chiyeong chewed on his curses. He hated this life so much.

The only small consolation was that Baekhan, who caused him such pain, didn’t seem particularly happy either. That alone let Chiyeong know they were both in the same hell.

Chiyeong walked aimlessly, looking at the faint lights flickering in the commercial district. His cozy quarters were currently invaded. By a shameless hippo, no less.

To get him out quickly, he’d have to feed him hangover soup or something.

But Chiyeong’s steps slowed aimlessly.

He vaguely thought he wanted to wander these streets endlessly and just disappear.

🚀

“…You’re staying the night?”

“What’s with that face? Don’t like it?”

Baekhan smirked at Chiyeong.

It was a smile that knew full well Chiyeong couldn’t dare reject him.

After forcing Chiyeong, who’d brought back a single serving of hangover soup and said he wouldn’t eat, to share it, Baekhan rummaged through the bathroom cabinet as if it were his own home.

Chiyeong watched with a half-exasperated face, silent, until Baekhan finally found a new toothbrush and brushed his teeth.

Shameless bastard. Chiyeong shook his head.

To be fair, Baekhan was that familiar with Chiyeong’s quarters.

“Hey, you’re a salaried guy, why do you live so frugally? Look at this worn-out bed. Want big brother to buy you a new one?”

“…”

“Swallowing my words, huh, babe?”

“You’ve got a new bed at your own quarters, don’t you, Lieutenant Colonel? Why insist on sleeping on a trash bed?”

“I never called it trash. Don’t be so cold. It’s been a while, so we should catch up, you and me, babe.”

Babe, my ass. Every word out of his mouth was deceit. Chiyeong felt hollow inside. Even though his stomach was bloated from Baekhan forcing him to eat the hangover soup he didn’t want.

“Hey, babe. Didn’t I tell you not to throw out my underwear?”

“It’s over there.”

“Where?”

“The console box by the bed.”

“Why put it by the bed? What are you planning with my boxers? Suspicious, you.”

“Are you actually insane…”

“I hear all that cursing.”

Baekhan chuckled, effortlessly pulling his boxers from the bedroom console drawer and heading to the bathroom.

The guide-exclusive quarters were sparsely populated. Guides only stayed there for a day or two before being assigned to a team.

Those who received even a bit of consideration from their teams would pool money to spend a night at a hotel outside the Center, citing the weak security of the guide quarters.

In that isolated place, Chiyeong lived alone, and only Baekhan knew his home.

Where everything was, what to open to get what—besides Chiyeong, only Gi Baekhan knew it all.

It was inevitable to feel strange every time.

Baekhan still cursed the bonding between him and Chiyeong. Yet, after deployments, he’d return and seek Chiyeong out like this.

…It was almost like a couple in a rut, unable to ignore each other, reluctantly stepping into the same entrance after a business trip.

Chiyeong let out a bitter laugh. Not at Baekhan, but at himself, fussing over Baekhan’s bedding despite this miserable situation.

When Baekhan showered and asked for a towel, confirming he was really staying, Chiyeong frowned but handed him the softest, best-dried towel.

If he’d known the hippo bastard would say something to flip his stomach again, he’d have tossed him the rag he used to wipe up spilled milk that morning.

“Contact guiding failed, so at least do radiant guiding while I sleep.”

His tone implied that since Chiyeong, a lacking guide, made him nauseous, the least he could do was this.

Chiyeong regretted the towel. More than the sting in his chest, he regretted the towel wasted on a jerk.

He must be getting tired of this relationship itself.

But the fault was always that bastard’s first. Radiant guiding all night? A guy who thinks a pretty mouth excuses spouting nonsense…

Chiyeong inwardly hurled scathing curses.

His demand was too rude for a guide like Chiyeong, whose guiding output was severely limited.

Radiating guiding all night would deplete Chiyeong’s internal guiding system before dawn, collapsing it entirely.

It starts with a mild headache and could end with his heart stopping.

There’s no way a lieutenant colonel in the Esper-Guide Special Forces wouldn’t know that.

Jerk hippo bastard.

Muttering curses inwardly, Chiyeong threw Baekhan a pillow with a freshly washed pillowcase.

He’d forgotten his regret over the towel and pulled out a new pillowcase—only to regret it the moment he threw it, especially after Baekhan caught it, said, “Oh, thanks,” and winked.

Humming, Baekhan tossed off his sleeveless shirt and climbed onto Chiyeong’s bed. Chiyeong laid a thin mat on the floor, turned away, and lay down, but hearing rustling behind him, he turned back suspiciously.

“…What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep with clothes on. You know that.”

Baekhan shrugged, tossing his pants carelessly onto the floor. Thankfully, he kept his boxers on.

A body like a war god of ancient myth was revealed. Now half-naked, Gi Baekhan pillowed his head on his clasped hands and whistled.

What a piece of work…

As Chiyeong, irritated, reached to turn off the light, Baekhan picked a fight from behind.

“Don’t dawdle, get to it.”

“…I’m about to, right now.”

Before he’d even lain down after turning off the light, Baekhan was rushing him to start radiant guiding. Chiyeong sighed and began guiding.

Guiding all night would leave him dead tired tomorrow morning, but he could take the morning off and get an IV at the communal guiding room.

…Though he might pass out before that.

Other guides said they felt nothing during radiant guiding, but Chiyeong distinctly felt it draining, his fingertips tingling.

The sensation grew stronger with contact guiding, like static electricity rising from the contact area.

Lying on his side, pillowing his freshly washed, warm arm, the sensation of guiding draining made his sensitized body feel unpleasant.

Gi Baekhan, languid from the guiding, moved as if stretching.

The bed creaked softly. It never made a sound when Chiyeong slept on it, but Baekhan’s thick frame and height made it groan under his weight.

‘My bed…’

Baekhan had called Chiyeong’s perfectly fine bed trash, likely knowing it couldn’t handle his weight.

‘Is he crazy? Then sleep at your own quarters.’

A sigh escaped. His body ached against the hard floor. Losing his bed left him no choice.

Why didn’t he have the courage to tell Gi Baekhan to sleep on the floor?

No. It wasn’t a lack of courage—he didn’t want Baekhan to sleep on the floor.

His lukewarm love disgusted him. Baekhan might be acting this way because he knew it.

Chiyeong’s love was despised by both its object and Chiyeong himself.

“Hey, you’re not focusing.”

A low voice seeped from the bed. A voice roughened, melted by the guiding.

Mixed emotions swirled. The humiliation of groveling on the floor, guiding, compared to how other guides were treated by their espers, clashed with the satisfaction of Baekhan receiving his guiding.

The former was a natural human indignity, but what was the latter? A bitter laugh at himself burst out.

Chiyeong closed his eyes and refocused on guiding.

Gi Baekhan, as if completely uninterested in Chiyeong’s inner turmoil, spoke.

“Man, why don’t others taste like this?”

“…”

“Must be that damn bonding tying me up… Still, others don’t taste this good.”

Oblivious to the emotions behind Chiyeong’s radiant guiding, Gi Baekhan rambled freely.

Flames flared in Chiyeong’s eyes.

“Do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Whoa, whoa? Shut it. Your voice makes me wanna puke again.”

He spat the insulting words as naturally as warning not to touch something hot. Humiliation blurred Chiyeong’s vision.

To insult him like that while receiving his guiding.

When they first met, Chiyeong’s voice was thin for a man due to damaged vocal cords. In the two years without Baekhan, the Center’s attentive care and treatments gradually restored his voice.

His voice now clearly marked him as male, so Baekhan must mean it ruins his mood.

As Chiyeong endured the humiliation, the room filled with Gi Baekhan’s breathing. He wanted to die, his face burning.

In the darkness, making him radiate guiding without a shred of affection, Baekhan was now…

Shame flooded him. He used to wonder why he had to endure such humiliation.

Now, he just wished all the waves would pass over him. And yet, you, once again…

Chiyeong collapsed onto his back. Without covering his ears, he stared into the darkness, tears streaming endlessly.

Why not just leave the room? If he could, Chiyeong wanted to fill a bucket in the bathroom and splash it on that bastard’s face.

But unable to do so, he simply let the tears flow silently as they came. Stepping over the quietly crying Chiyeong, Baekhan went straight to the bathroom.

Gazing at Baekhan’s figure reflected in the bathroom light, Chiyeong kept crying.

“You’re not supposed to step over people… Jerk to the end…”

Chiyeong muttered, wiping his cheeks expressionlessly. Having cried so much, his hands were slick with tears.

Just as his guiding had a set limit, Chiyeong believed everything had a “quantity.”

Over the past few years, Ahn Chiyeong had scattered his love for Gi Baekhan on the streets.

Since the other didn’t accept it, it was wasted uselessly.

One day, he scattered it on the way home; another, on the way to work.

He scattered it on the paths to meet him, on the streets where he found him.

Scattering, discarding, spilling, burning, drying.

No matter how much he loved Gi Baekhan, it wasn’t an endless spring.

So he had to wait.

Scattering, discarding, spilling, burning, drying—until the love, finally drained, showed its bottom, not a drop left.

“…”

Chiyeong faced the wall shrouded in darkness and cried more. Though silent, it wasn’t without hope.

Soon, it would hit bottom. These tears, this love.

Nothing in this world has an unlimited quantity, and his love for Gi Baekhan must be the same.

In the darkness, Chiyeong quietly awaited that moment.

🚀

Exhausted from guiding all night, Ahn Chiyeong, already pale, looked even paler as he went to work.

Ignoring Baekhan’s suggestion to take the day off, he left the house without a word.

Chiyeong knew Baekhan had a foul temper, but he himself had a pretty nasty streak. If pushed, he’d bite.

Baekhan, as if soothing a feral dog, let Chiyeong go without a word.

Then, wearing the largest hoodie from Chiyeong’s place, he returned to his quarters.

The Chunran Brigade’s quarters were at the edge of Nanseul-dong, the lodging district.

Designed by an award-winning architect that year, the modern house sat on a 300-pyeong plot with a 110-pyeong building area. Clad in metal and Philippine basalt, the three-story building had a separate garage for two additional vehicles.

Quarters assigned based on a team’s strength varied in size, but the Chunran Brigade’s three-story house was spacious enough for five espers to live comfortably.

Pushing open the heavy iron entrance door, Baekhan was greeted by Heo In-na, who was at the house, flashing a creepy grin.

“Had a good night? Your face is all shiny.”

“In-na, you sexually harassing me? First time getting it from a subordinate—kinda thrilling.”

“Ugh.”

In-na made a gagging motion. The battalion members lounging in the first-floor living room looked at Baekhan with faces that said, “Here we go again.”

Baekhan, expressionless, cooed, “What do I dooo? I’m tremblinggg,” shaking his shoulders lightly.

The members’ faces collectively soured as they watched his broad shoulders sway rhythmically.

“Hani…? Did the commander just call himself Hani?”

“It’s a nickname. I hear they still call him that when he visits home.”

“Damn, ugh.”

One member clutched their mouth as if nauseous. Baekhan grinned brightly.

“The one who just cursed, hundred laps around the drill ground.”

“It was admiration for the commander’s sweet looks. Hani suits you perfectly.”

The members, groveling to survive, shut their mouths with expressions screaming, “That jerk has a nickname too?”

No one wanted to run a hundred laps around the drill ground carrying eight tires for a single curse.

Even so, as humans, they couldn’t help but wonder.

How did Gi Baekhan, raised with proper love and care in a good family, end up so twisted?

During his Iraq deployment, Gi Baekhan’s nickname was Sarjan.

It meant executioner in their language, fitting for an esper who, face shrouded in a black turban, dropped from the sky without a parachute and obliterated two or three bases in one go.

He sliced through terrorists’ heads so often that they once used a newly awakened child esper as a shield.

Facing the trembling child esper gripping a rifle, Gi Baekhan said:

“Your god sent me to catch and crush all you filthy bastards.”

The child esper, overwhelmed by the sandstorm surging from behind Baekhan, wet himself. But the storm targeted those behind the boy soldier.

The terrorists were buried under the sandstorm Baekhan’s ability unleashed, suffocating with lungs full of sand.

When the crazed child esper charged at him, Baekhan snapped his neck without a second’s mercy.

If he was truly raised with love in a good family, why was he so merciless?

Shouting “By God’s will,” the boy soldier died, and Baekhan tossed his body aside without burying it. In the end, the members dug a pit, buried the boy, and held a simple funeral.

Baekhan didn’t stop them but lay in the shade, looking like he thought it was pointless. With his turban over his face, he napped through the brief, bitter funeral.

Serving such a man as their commander, the Chunran Brigade’s motto became “Fend for yourself.”

An esper stronger than the military’s mightiest tank. His presence at the front was reassuring, yet there was a firm belief he’d never save their lives.

That was the Chunran Brigade members’ view of their leader, Gi Baekhan.

And to reinforce that view, Gi Baekhan, with his pristine face, spouted lunatic nonsense again today.

“Last night, some of you left this commander behind to puke with your guides, leaving a deep wound in my heart. I’ve realized your loyalty is thinner than tissue paper. To instill vigilance, all members will temporarily cease personal guiding starting today.”

“What’s his deal? Can’t get guiding himself, so he’s dragging us down…”

“I hear everything.”

Despite the members’ whispers, Gi Baekhan didn’t retract his lunatic decree with a stern face.

Now he was even banning guiding from personally paired guides.

“Come on, are you joking? Just appoint a team guide then. We want constant guiding like the Dongjuk Brigade.”

“Exactly. I heard Major Gi Baekyeon personally guides the Dongjuk Brigade. We want to switch commanders. To Major Gi Baekyeon!”

“Absolutely!”

The members rose like a swarm of bees.

In truth, even teams with much lower mission ranks than the Chunran Brigade had team guides. The Dongjuk and Chuguk Brigades had them too.

Major Gi Baekyeon served as both platoon leader and guide for the Dongjuk Brigade, while Captain Lee Seungkyun, Major Kim Yiseok’s pair guide, was the team guide for the Chuguk Brigade.

Despite being the top combat unit among the other companies, the Chunran Brigade had no team guide.

It was partly because no combat guide was suitable, but they could just grab a high-rank, experienced guide to fill the role.

Plenty of guides wanted to join the Chunran Brigade as team guide.

Typically, a commander’s pair or bonded guide takes the team guide role, but the issue was that this guide—a candy wrapper, an F-rank—lacked the capacity to handle the Chunran Brigade, whose members’ ability ranks far surpassed those of other teams.