“I’m done. I’m too tired…”
“You’re not drinking any more blood?”
“In a little while.”
I closed my eyes briefly to catch my breath, and when I opened them again, his gaze was still fixed on me, unwavering and intense.
He gently stroked my cheek, his touch filled with tenderness rather than heat. The tension in my body eased, and I felt like I could just give up and drift into sleep right there.
“Alright, let’s stop.”
He bit his lip as if holding back something, then suddenly collapsed onto his back beside me, as though completely drained. The bed swayed under his weight, tilting slightly toward me.
Yu-geon slid his arm beneath my shoulders and pulled me into a tight embrace.
“If you change your mind, bite my arm to drink more.”
“What? Why are you closing your eyes?”
“I’m sleeping. Relaxing like this makes me sleepy.”
“What do you mean ‘relaxing’? You didn’t even do anything!”
“You have no idea how much self-control I had to use. I’m completely drained—mentally and physically. I’m never doing this again.”
“You still need to finish guiding. You can’t sleep now! Hey.”
Ignoring me, he made up his mind and fell asleep. At first, I thought he was pretending, so I shook his shoulder, but his body remained slack, utterly unresponsive. He must have been exhausted, having not slept since the gate incident. Still, falling asleep within three seconds of hitting the pillow seemed extreme.
As his body completely relaxed, the arm around my waist started to feel unbearably heavy. I tried lifting it and moving it to the side, but he instinctively pulled me back in, holding me tighter than before.
It felt like being trapped in quicksand. His unconscious grip tightened, leaving me no choice but to wiggle and gasp for some breathing room.
I glanced at the smart watch on his wrist to check his wavelength. It had risen to 34%—an 8% increase in such a short time.
The same progress 20 Guides couldn’t achieve had been accomplished through our earlier interaction, raising it by nearly 10%.
It struck me how exceptional our compatibility must be, but it also made me wonder why Yu-geon had been so resistant to this in the first place.
We were already midway through guiding, and with just a little more, I could probably bring him to stability. But instead, he’d gone to sleep. For a moment, I considered following his lead and drifting off too.
It had been an exhausting day for me as well. The warmth of another person made my eyelids grow heavier, inviting a wave of drowsiness.
His soft hair brushed against my forehead, and his steady, rhythmic breathing was oddly soothing. The consistent beat of his heart and the gentle resonance radiating from him felt like being wrapped in a soft, comforting cloud.
His resonance was as warm and gentle as he was. Some say a person’s resonance reflects their true nature. Trusting people is hard, but maybe I could trust this resonance. Being exposed to it made me feel like anyone would naturally relax and let go of their defenses.
Giving in to the growing haze of sleep, I leaned into him, resting fully against his chest. Once I stopped resisting, his embrace felt all the more secure and comforting.
“Baek Yu-geon… Tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll see…”
Before I could even finish my sentence, I succumbed to the pull of sleep and drifted off completely.
* * *
Before full consciousness returned, a subtle fragrance stirred Yu-geon from his sleep. It was a fresh, clear scent, reminiscent of dew on leaves at dawn.
Despite the fatigue that had been building up over time, which should have made his eyelids heavy, his body felt unexpectedly light.
As he shifted, his fingers brushed against something soft and warm beside him. Instinctively pulling it closer, the object squirmed and let out a small, muffled sound.
“Ugh… Can’t… breathe…”
The voice was familiar, yet strange—one that shouldn’t be heard at this hour, let alone in his bed. It couldn’t possibly be her. Was this another dream? Yu-geon struggled to shake himself free from the haze of sleep.
But the sensation was too soft, too comforting. Instead of fighting it, Yu-geon allowed himself to relax and pulled the source of the pleasant scent even closer into his arms.
“I said… I can’t breathe…”
The words were clearer this time, snapping him wide awake. His eyes opened abruptly, and before him was a small, round forehead framed by dark hair with a faint bluish sheen.
Lowering his gaze, he noticed Gu Sa-weol’s thick eyelashes trembling, as if she was about to wake. Startled, Yu-geon froze, his body as stiff as a statue.
‘What is she doing here?’
Time seemed to crawl as he waited in tense silence. Thankfully, Sa-weol remained asleep, her breathing slow and steady as she snuggled back into his embrace. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, Yu-geon relaxed his rigid shoulders.
He should have stopped there, but the urge to look at her face was irresistible. Turning his gaze, he studied her features.
Her sharp nose and sleek, upward-slanting eyes softened by sleep; her slightly parted, plump lips emitting faint breaths; her bare face, devoid of makeup, appeared gentler than usual.
A small mole near her jawline, usually hidden, stood out more prominently now.
‘Ah, I want to touch her.’
The tension from earlier seemed meaningless as Yu-geon was overwhelmed by the desire to stroke her cheek or kiss that adorable mole. The sight of her peacefully asleep in his arms on this warm morning felt like a dream he couldn’t believe was real.
Not long ago, in the elevator, he had told her he wanted to keep his distance. He’d resolved not to be a burden to her.
If he couldn’t be of help, he at least didn’t want to cause her trouble.
Every time they were together, Sa-weol seemed anxious and uneasy. He knew it was his fault. Using the excuse of wanting to grow closer, he had intruded into her personal space and meddled excessively in her life. For someone as naturally guarded as her, his actions must have been unwelcome.
Once he realized his mistakes, he felt like a complete fool.
He needed time to sort through his emotions—whether what he felt for her was genuine affection or merely an Esper’s obsessive attachment. That was why he’d decided to keep his distance.
Perhaps, as Sa-weol suggested, canceling their pairing and staying away from her would make things better. Even so, he wasn’t ready to sever the thread of connection between them.
Even if it wasn’t romantic, he wanted to remain close enough to call on her for help as a friend or trusted colleague. Maintaining the right distance might allow her to lower her guard and build trust over time.
Yu-geon also believed that sticking too closely to her clouded his own judgment, so keeping some distance seemed like the best option.
To that end, he had stopped seeking her out. If they crossed paths by chance, he limited their exchanges to simple greetings. Whenever his excitement slipped into his tone or expression, he quickly reined it in.
“Oh… yeah. You’re heading to the office, right? I need to check on the training grounds.”
Sa-weol didn’t react much to his words. Whether he was there or not, it seemed she didn’t care. That thought weighed on him, dampening his mood further.
‘Really, Yu-geon? Feeling down because Sa-weol doesn’t care?’
It was clear something was wrong with him. He had decided not to think about her, yet she appeared in his dreams every night, tormenting his subconscious.
It was as if telling himself not to think about her only made him think of her more. Like a reverse psychology trick his brain had fallen for.
During a B-rank gate expedition, he bunked with his teammates but stayed awake all night, afraid he might call out her name in his sleep. The accumulated lack of rest dulled his mind, and his longing for her grew more intense by the day.
When he heard she was conducting a radiating guide session at the center, his first instinct was to rush over and protest, as he might have done in the past. But he held back, suppressing the urge.
Though the frustration burned inside him, he bit his tongue and only asked Ji-soo for updates in between battles, sending occasional messages: ‘Is everything okay at the center? How’s the radiating guide session going?’
“Sa-weol is doing just fine on her own. You should focus on managing your own wavelength,” Ji-soo replied.
As expected, Sa-weol was handling everything perfectly without him.
He knew this would be the case, yet the realization that his absence had no effect on her stung deeply.
‘That’s enough, Yu-geon. Let it go. She doesn’t even care about you.’
Day by day, his mood sank further into despair. He recalled hearing somewhere that it takes at least three weeks to break a habit. Maybe Sa-weol needed even longer to forget about him—or perhaps he had never held any value to her at all.
Or worse, maybe she still disliked him.
With a lingering sense of melancholy, Yu-geon lay on a capsule bed after completing a gate mission when Ji-soo entered and spoke to him.
“Baek Yu-geon, still alive?”
The playful tone was because she knew he had safely returned to the center without losing control.
“I’ll probably outlive you.”
“Dream big. At this rate, you might not even make it through tomorrow.”
Checking his smart watch, he saw his wavelength rate was at 26%. Despite the efforts of over twenty Guides, it had only risen by 1%. Ji-soo’s comment wasn’t entirely a joke.
Yu-geon let out a sigh, frustrated by the situation. Sensing his mood, Ji-soo added some encouraging words.
“Still, a lot of people are worried about you. Even Sa-weol asked where you were as soon as she woke up.”
“Gu Sa-weol? Why?”
“Don’t know. Maybe she had something to say? When I offered to pass along a message, she just said never mind. Probably nothing important.”
Yu-geon’s brain, which had been sluggish moments ago, started whirring at full speed.
‘Why was Gu Sa-weol looking for me today? Is it because my wavelength is low? Was she worried I might lose control? She’s not the type to care about me like that…’
As countless possibilities swirled in his mind, an ominous thought flashed through him.
‘Oh, right. It’s past the day I was supposed to go for her feeding session.’
“Excuse me. Guiding is over for now. Everyone can clock out. Thank you for your hard work.”
“What are you doing?” Ji-soo’s voice came as Yu-geon abruptly shot up from the bed. He roughly pulled out the needle administering his stabilizer. Since his wavelength showed no signs of improving anytime soon, he had been resting, but now he hastily addressed the Guides in the capsule before hurriedly putting on his clothes.
“Hey! Baek Yu-geon! You’re going to lose control!”
Behind him, Ji-soo’s voice echoed like a distant warning as he dashed out of the capsule. The awakened ones nearby paused to watch Yu-geon running like a madman, but he paid them no mind.
‘Feeding is important. It should be fine to check on her for a moment, right?’
Yu-geon felt as though a tangled knot inside him had suddenly been undone. Not long ago, he had made a firm resolution to keep his distance from her, but that decision now seemed laughable. The thought of possibly seeing Sa-weol instantly lifted his gloomy mood.
His steps felt lighter than ever, almost as if he were walking on air.
