Episode 62. A Good-Bad Guy, a Just-Bad Guy, and a Weird Guy (5)

She wasn’t sure what she’d said this time to offend him again, but even as she named the person responsible without resistance, she had to revise her words several times. Only then did Juyul’s expression ease ever so slightly as he spoke with cold clarity.

“I was the commanding officer for this subjugation. That means you were supposed to wait for me.”

“……”

“Let’s make sure nothing like this happens again. For your own safety.”

I said ‘a little’ eased, not completely. His tone still carried a sharp chill, and as his cold words continued, Sodam’s mind began racing to keep up.

What on earth had she said to set him off this time? Could it be—no way—but just in case, she called out to him cautiously.

“Juyul… ssi?”

“……”

“Juyul-ah…?”

“Just rest until we leave. You’ll need to be able to walk on your own, at the very least.”

Pretending not to hear her, Juyul left the room, tossing out one last pointed comment like a knife as he practically fled. Sodam was left alone, unsure whether her final attempt had gotten through to him at all. If she’d just focused a bit more on him, she might’ve noticed the back of his neck turning red as he walked away—but something else entirely grabbed her attention.

She could hear his footsteps outside the room far too clearly, and—far worse—she realized there had been no sound of the door closing when he left. That dreadful silence became undeniable reality as she slowly turned her stiff neck and saw the broken door lying in a corner of the room.

Pale-faced, Sodam muttered in a horrified whisper.

“…Don’t tell me the door’s been open this whole time?”

It made sense if Seonghwa had anticipated everything to come—but what about Daram, who’d done nothing wrong and was now forced to overhear someone else’s sex life? Even if the words hadn’t been crystal clear, she had definitely heard Sodam shouting exactly what Juyul had told her to say.

Thinking back to Seonghwa, who had left the room before things escalated, and herself, who had remained, Sodam knew Daram would inevitably piece together some version of the story. And the worst part was—her version probably wasn’t far from the truth. Even if Sodam tried to explain later, her own hesitation would only make the misunderstanding worse.

“And that’ll just make it stick even deeper…”

No matter how much water she drank, her voice remained dry and cracked—it was heartbreaking. But even more heartbreaking was the possibility that Daram, who had once looked at her with the admiration reserved for a respected senior, might never look at her the same way again. It wasn’t a kind of respect she’d ever really wanted, but losing something is always harder than never having had it at all.

And this? This easily ranked in the top two worst-case scenarios that could happen to a rookie Guide. Daram had gone on this trip just to learn the ropes, only to witness a messy love-and-war between superiors—Sodam couldn’t even begin to guess how she must be feeling, and the thought filled her with dread.

So, Sodam chose to close her eyes and escape from reality.

“I don’t care, I don’t care. Baek Juyul can deal with it. I’m the victim here.”

Shaking her head, she slowly drifted off to sleep, hoping that when she woke up, she’d find herself somewhere—anywhere—she could hide. The Guiding Room, her own home, it didn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t here.

* * *

By the time Sodam fell asleep, trying to restore her battered body with rest, two figures stood outside the villa on a half-destroyed beach.

Just that morning, the shore had been beautiful and peaceful—but now, the torn bodies of monstrous creatures littered the sand, as though revealing the rage of a predator. Large rocks and thick trees lay broken and splintered, as if struck by a storm.

The only sound came from small crabs scurrying away to avoid the returning predator. Then, one of the two finally spoke.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? With your abilities, you could’ve easily blocked the sound.”

“…”

“What if Sodam had tried to run? A guy who acts completely on his own isn’t attractive, Juyul-ah.”

“Don’t call me by name so casually.”

As sparks flashed in Juyul’s cold eyes, the surrounding air dropped several degrees. It was a chill Seonghwa hadn’t felt since Juyul awakened—an unfamiliar cold that wrapped around his entire body. There was no need to wonder whose name had triggered that reaction. It belonged to someone who wasn’t here.

A quiet laugh escaped. Raising the temperature around him with his ability, Seonghwa tilted his head slightly and said,

“What’s so important about a name? It’s just something you say. If ‘Sodam-ssi’ feels too distant, should I call her ‘Sodam-ah’?”

Crack.

A shard of ice shot toward Seonghwa, shattering into pieces in midair and melting away. It didn’t take much to guess that, if he’d meant to truly attack, he would’ve used far stronger power.

This was a warning—a clear expression of possessiveness, telling him not to put her name in his mouth. But Seonghwa had no intention of backing down. With a crooked smile, he took a deep breath. Revealing the pettiness in his heart wasn’t easy.

He touched his lips unconsciously, feeling awkward about the unfamiliar profanity he’d nearly muttered. And then he remembered Sodam’s lips—smaller, softer than his. He hadn’t touched them, but he was certain they would offer a sensation unlike anything he’d known. Still—

“This… isn’t like me.”

The cowardly act she had spoken of—he knew very well how difficult that kind of honesty was for him. Suppressing the desire beginning to peek through, he addressed his childhood friend directly, in his own straightforward, unflinching way.

“…Do you remember? The first time you came to our house, seven years ago?”

“…”

“I hated you from the start.”

Juyul’s eyes widened slightly—clearly, he hadn’t expected that. Seonghwa found that reaction strangely satisfying and continued.

“That day… was supposed to be mine. A day I was promised to spend with my father. You know how rare that was. But then he said something came up and brought you home instead. I was just a kid, so I hated you immediately.”

“…”

“We fought constantly back then. I was always the one who got scolded. …Well, later, when I learned more about your circumstances, I tried to understand.”

There was no hint of bitterness in Seonghwa’s voice as he recalled those days. But what followed came laced with clear resentment.

“After I was rated S-class, I thought we’d finally become equals in some way. That was before I realized our father saw it differently.”

“…Father—”

“Adores you. Deeply. I used to think if I surpassed you at something, he’d finally love me. …It’s stupid, but I was desperate.”

“…”

“No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t understand that he could only see you. So I wanted at least to have the person you gave your heart to. I knew it was low—but I couldn’t help it. Because otherwise, I really would’ve ended up hating you.”

There was a bitter note in Seonghwa’s voice—like the truth Sodam had hinted at earlier was finally within reach. But even now, Juyul couldn’t just nod and agree. Because Seonghwa’s understanding… was its own kind of misunderstanding.

“He doesn’t care for me.”

“If you’re trying to console me, don’t bother.”

Juyul had spent so long ignoring the complexities of human relationships that he had no idea what to say in moments like this. After several failed attempts to speak, he finally continued, slowly but firmly.

“He doesn’t care for me. He cares for the tool called ‘Baek Juyul.’ That’s why he always kept you near me—because he’s afraid this tool might break.”

That man—who had taken Juyul in as a child—had only ever reached out after hearing of his rank. He hadn’t wanted Juyul, just his classification. And even knowing that, Juyul still longed for even a drop of affection, simply because that man was the only adult who ever stood by him.

He knew, more clearly than anyone, that their father was constantly weighing him and Seonghwa against each other. But he couldn’t help it. Because that man was the only one who ever acknowledged Baek Juyul, who belonged neither to monsters nor gods.

But now, everything had changed. There was someone by his side who embraced him not because of Guiding—but because of him. Before he saw her with Seonghwa, it had been enough just to tie her to him through a contract. But now, it wasn’t. He would use everything he had to keep her from leaving.

My Guide.

The one who belongs only to Baek Juyul.

That name was no longer just hers—it was carved deep into his heart like a brand. All those tangled, dark emotions boiled from deep within him. Releasing them was the easiest part.

“Maeng Sodam is mine. She’s not someone that man gave me out of generosity—she’s the one I chose and pulled in. The only one that belongs to me.”

If Sodam had heard that, she’d probably scream, “I belong to myself, you lunatics!”

But Sodam was sound asleep in her dreams, and no one was there to correct him.

Feeling the suffocating weight of obsession in Juyul’s words, Seonghwa couldn’t even force a smile.