The result of Yu-geon’s hurried run was now laid bare before him. Even when she wasn’t in sight, her presence lingered in his mind. But now, being so close that he could feel her breath, his pounding heart betrayed him, hammering so loudly it seemed to scream the truth he wanted to deny.
‘No, it’s not that. Anyone would feel this way in such close proximity… wouldn’t they?’
But no—Yu-geon hadn’t reacted to any kind of stimulus lately, to the point where he wondered if he’d somehow become asexual. He decided to stop overthinking. In situations like this, past experience told him that rational judgment would only degrade further.
He gently moved Sa-weol away from his arms. The overwhelming effect of their high compatibility likely muddled his reason. Yet as the distance grew, his attention was drawn to her outfit. From above, the curves her tank top couldn’t completely conceal struck him with staggering intensity.
‘God… I’m losing it.’
This situation felt like a torturous trial, testing the limits of his patience.
‘I didn’t come here for this. I swear I didn’t… Did I?’
Doubt crept in, followed by betrayal and self-loathing. Was he truly this shameless?
Unaware of Yu-geon’s inner turmoil, Sa-weol brushed against him—an act meant to either bite his neck or tease him, he couldn’t tell. The sensation was maddening, sending an involuntary reaction through his body, already stirred by the sound of running water from earlier.
At first, Sa-weol seemed indifferent. But eventually, she awkwardly shifted her hips away, only to unintentionally provoke him further. Unable to resist, Yu-geon impulsively laid her down on the bed.
Her flushed face, startled and red, froze him in place. When he leaned close to whisper softly near her ear, her squirming movements pushed his restraint to its breaking point.
Even her usually sharp voice now carried a trembling warmth.
“Stop… please, don’t.”
Her damp eyes begged him as her trembling hands weakly pushed against his chest. The cool gray of her irises seemed to flush with faint traces of violet.
In that moment, every boundary, every trial, every resolution to keep his distance felt meaningless. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap and claim her lips.
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much…”
Sa-weol’s sudden decision to halt the guiding was, perhaps, divine intervention. Had she not stopped, Yu-geon would have surely regretted that night.
He couldn’t continue like this, swayed by emotions he couldn’t distinguish as either rational affection or something born of their roles. It wasn’t fair—to her or to himself.
He needed to take a closer look at the roots of his feelings. Where had they started, and where would they lead? One thing was certain: he couldn’t keep making the same mistakes.
“What time is it?”
“Awake?”
Lost in thought, Yu-geon was startled by Sa-weol’s soft voice. She still looked half-asleep, her heavy eyelids fluttering. He had to suppress the urge to brush his hand over her eyes.
“8:32.”
“Still early…”
“Do you have plans today?”
“Yeah…”
Her soft, dewy cheeks and lips looked too tempting. Unable to hold back, Yu-geon cupped her face and began to lean in but stopped himself at the last moment.
Feeling uncertain, he studied her expression, wondering if his behavior since last night had overwhelmed her. But she had already drifted back into a light doze, her head nodding forward slightly.
“How much… is it?”
“Hm?”
“The wavelength… what’s the percentage?”
“Oh, 38%.”
Even in this state, Sa-weol’s meticulousness shone through. She frowned slightly upon hearing the number.
“What? What’s wrong with it?”
Yu-geon couldn’t understand why she seemed dissatisfied, given how much his wavelength had improved since the day before.
“Tell me. What is it?”
He wanted to listen to whatever she had to say. Sa-weol, letting out a small groan, burrowed into his chest. Her soft frame pressed against his firm chest, leaving him momentarily stunned, unable to react.
Caught off guard, he froze like a machine experiencing an error. Then, she murmured softly.
“Just 2%… 2% more, and it’ll stabilize…”
At first, her words didn’t register. Then it clicked: she meant that just 2% more would bring his wavelength to stability.
Watching her tired face murmur, “2% more,” Yu-geon couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps, just this once, he could allow himself to savor this moment. Even if he regretted it later, it might be a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
Gently, Yu-geon patted Sa-weol’s back. Before long, she fell asleep again in his arms.
* * *
As soon as I woke up, I stepped out of the room and called Han-gyeol. I thought he might still be asleep since I hadn’t heard from him, but he picked up right after the first ring.
– Hello? You’re awake?
“Yeah, you answered right away. Were you waiting for me?”
– Yeah. I figured you were getting some good rest after yesterday.
“You should’ve called and woken me up… I thought you were still sleeping.”
– How could I sleep on a day like this?
Han-gyeol’s voice carried no traces of sleep, as though he’d been up for quite some time. It was calm, steady, and gentle as always. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw it was just past 1 PM.
“Let’s meet around 2 then.”
– Alright, let’s do that.
After setting the time, we quickly hung up. 2 PM gave me plenty of time to shower, get ready, and leave. After drying my hair and stepping out of the powder room, I found Yu-geon standing right in front of the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh? I’m heading out now.”
“Eat something before you go.”
“I’m fine.”
Despite his words, Yu-geon immediately sat down at the table as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Giving him an incredulous look, I opened the fridge and rummaged for anything edible. It was mostly stocked with water, with only some yogurt and milk nearing their expiration dates. Maybe there was cereal in the cupboard.
“I usually don’t eat breakfast. All I have is yogurt and cereal. How’s that?”
Considering he was the one insisting I eat, the options I presented felt laughably meager. If there were more time, I might’ve ordered delivery.
“Anything’s fine.”
I laid out yogurt, pre-sliced fruit, and a cereal bag on the island table. Yu-geon grabbed a bowl, poured some milk, and filled it with cereal to the brim. He barely took a few bites before finishing it.
Next, he reused the bowl to mix yogurt, cereal, and fruit. Even with such simple fare, he ate it all with an unexpected sense of diligence.
“You’re not going to be full with just that.”
“No, it’s good.”
I hadn’t asked if it tasted good, but he genuinely seemed to enjoy it. It felt like the kind of enthusiasm that comes from being hungry enough to find anything delicious.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten properly since coming back from the gate. He’d gone straight to the capsule without eating at the center and hadn’t had dinner before the guiding session either. It made sense he’d be starving.
And this morning, the first thing I woke up to was Yu-geon’s firm chest. The lingering sweetness on my tongue reminded me of how much blood I had drunk. Half-asleep, I’d bitten into the upper part of his chest and fed.
Even now, my throat still felt hydrated, and my body buzzed with a sense of vitality. It was rare for me to feel this light and clear-headed. I probably wouldn’t crave blood for a while. That’s why, instead of pushing him out of the house, I’d told him to eat before leaving.
“When did you wake up?”
“Just a bit ago.”
“You didn’t wake up because of me, right?”
“…No.”
His unusually brief reply caught my attention. I wondered if he’d realized I’d drunk his blood. It was hard to read his thoughts.
‘He told me I could drink from his arm if I got thirsty before bed, so it shouldn’t matter if he knows… Right? It’s the same thing, even if the spot was different.’
“What time do you need to leave?”
“Huh?”
“You said you had plans.”
As I was rationalizing my thoughts, he suddenly asked.
‘When did I tell him about meeting Han-gyeol? Did I mention it yesterday?’
I couldn’t remember clearly after drinking his blood and falling asleep so deeply. As confusion swirled in my mind, Yu-geon looked at me intently and repeated his question.
“Who are you meeting? Are you going outside the center?”
His tone suggested I hadn’t mentioned Han-gyeol. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him.
If I said I was meeting Han-gyeol on a Saturday morning, he might misunderstand and think it was something serious.
But explaining that I had agreed to go on three dates with Han-gyeol and that he promised to back off if I didn’t feel anything might come across as presumptuous—especially since I wasn’t dating Yu-geon. Besides, even if he misunderstood, I wasn’t obligated to clarify.
“Is it someone I shouldn’t know about? Just tell me—I’m not going to make a big deal out of it.”
Thinking honesty was the best policy, I was about to tell him I was meeting Han-gyeol when he interrupted.
“If it’s Han-gyeol hyung, that’s fine. But I heard some strange people have been bothering you lately.”
“Who? Song-yi?”
“No, not her.”
Who could he mean? Lately, Song-yi was the only person being noticeably clingy toward me.
“Someone named Lee Yeong… or something like that?”
“…Ian?”
“Yeah, Ian. Are you meeting him?”
“Why would I meet him outside of the center?”
“Then it’s fine.”
Yu-geon resumed eating his yogurt. I thought he might be rushing to finish, but after emptying the container, he leisurely picked at the cereal.
I, on the other hand, had no appetite and was merely poking at my food when our eyes met. He looked away first.
Somehow, an odd tension seemed to hang in the air between us.
For a moment, I recalled the way he had held me in his arms last night. His gaze had been different from his usual indifferent demeanor—so intense and heated that even I had felt my temperature rise.
It was clear that our deep contact during guiding last night had left both of us feeling awkward. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts, so I broke the silence.
“Hey, Baek Yu-geon.”
“Yeah?”
