DL Episode 77

#77

Every place Baek Sa’s hands had touched felt soft and perfect. Ha-gyeom’s beauty was so evident and natural that Baek Sa felt only a faint guilt for his desires, despite the years he had spent raising and protecting him.

“Why…”

Ha-gyeom’s voice was faint, and his gaze averted, unable to meet Baek Sa’s. His cheeks flushed a deeper red, and Baek Sa closed his eyes briefly before opening them again with a measured calmness.

“Just because you became an official guide at the Center doesn’t mean I intended to involve you in my missions.”

“…Would you have said the same if it were someone else? No, you wouldn’t. The director sent me here for a reason—”

Ha-gyeom’s retort, quiet but sharp, was cut short as his face froze. Baek Sa answered bluntly,

“Because they knew about our compatibility.”

Even though Baek Sa hadn’t disclosed his unstable state, there were always people who would report to Director Kim Hye-jeong. To her, Ha-gyeom wasn’t just an ideal option but the ‘only’ option—someone with not only exceptional compatibility but also deeply entangled past ties to Baek Sa.

Ha-gyeom’s expression was not one of surprise; he had likely pieced things together by now. Though he might not have realized it when he first arrived, it was impossible to ignore once he knew Baek Sa’s true identity as Baek Seung-woo.

Baek Sa thought back to the haughty Director Kim Hye-jeong and added, “I begged her not to send you here. Told her I’d rather die than let that happen. And yet…”

“…You knew?”

Baek Sa nodded. Ha-gyeom grabbed the collar of his shirt weakly, as though trying to shake him, though his strength was lacking. His face betrayed his frustration, unguarded and raw in its lack of pretense.

“…Since when?”

“Since I wasn’t supposed to know.”

Fourteen years old, perhaps. The memory of Ha-gyeom during training flashed vividly in Baek Sa’s mind—the way a tiny purifying wave had visibly grown the moment he approached the boy. At the time, he had reassured Ha-gyeom that compatibility couldn’t be measured yet, though, of course, it could. Just as Director Kim and Yu Hae-na had chosen to stay silent, so had he.

Ha-gyeom, unable to form a coherent reply, trembled as he held onto Baek Sa’s shirt. Seeing the trembling hand, Baek Sa pulled him into an embrace again, and this time, Ha-gyeom’s lips brushed against Baek Sa’s shoulder.

“There’s no such thing as fairness…,” Ha-gyeom whispered, his voice tinged with rebellion. From the beginning, he had been deceived, and it was no wonder he felt betrayed.

“You would never lie to me…”

Ha-gyeom’s murmured words trailed off, unfinished. Even without looking, Baek Sa could imagine how those innocent eyes must be wavering, struggling to reconcile the truth.

By contrast, Baek Sa’s own gaze hardened. Tightening his embrace, he spoke, his tone carrying a strange weight.

“Why?”

Baek Sa had always wanted to ask that question. Was it because he wanted to gauge his importance in Ha-gyeom’s world, a world where he was revered as both sacred and safe? Their bond, built over years of shared experiences, had likely cemented that reverence.

At twenty-one, Ha-gyeom still clung to ideals and values that Baek Sa no longer believed in. He was young, untainted, still holding onto things Baek Sa had long since lost.

And yet, why?

Why did Baek Sa feel an irrepressible urge to contradict that belief? Was it because he knew he could no longer live up to the image Ha-gyeom held of him as Baek Seung-woo? Or was it because there was nothing left of the man Ha-gyeom admired?

“You’re a good person…,” Ha-gyeom said, as though it were an irrefutable truth.

Baek Sa’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“A good person wouldn’t sleep with someone they saved.”

The tremor in Ha-gyeom’s body grew, and Baek Sa could tell his words had hit their mark. Whether it was guiding or intimacy, Ha-gyeom was clearly shocked by Baek Sa’s lack of remorse. Yet even as he spoke, Baek Sa himself felt no guilt.

“I’m an adult now… it’s not that strange…,” Ha-gyeom replied, his voice faltering.

Baek Sa didn’t disagree, but that wasn’t the issue at hand.

Desire wasn’t just about the body; it required the mind and heart to align. Ha-gyeom had no way of knowing what Baek Sa’s preferences were. In truth, Baek Sa had always found himself drawn to crossing boundaries, to taking what wasn’t freely given. Dominance, conquest—it all heightened his pleasure.

The boy who had once been so small and fragile, someone Baek Sa had to handle with care, was now a grown man. Yet the time they had spent together only served to intensify Baek Sa’s desires, transforming familiarity into something far more dangerous.

“That’s why I slept with you,” Baek Sa said plainly.

“….”

“And it was good. Very good.”

Ha-gyeom, flustered by Baek Sa’s blunt words, hastily countered, “It’s normal for a guide and an Esper with high compatibility to… do that.”

Despite his argument, it was clear his embarrassment lingered. Baek Sa could have pressed further, forcing him to confront the awkward truth, but he chose to stop.

“…It’s warm now.”

Ha-gyeom mumbled, as if trying to distance himself from the situation. But before he could pull away, Baek Sa tightened his hold, ensuring he wouldn’t slip out of reach.

“Don’t resist. Stay still until you’ve recovered.”

He could have been gentler, and he knew it. There was no need to treat Ha-gyeom like an object or act so coldly. Yet, he had chosen to fully embody Baek Sa’s persona, leaving no trace of Baek Seung-woo behind. It was partly to protect Ha-gyeom from the dangers of the 0 District and partly to shield himself from the emotions that would complicate everything.

Baek Sa’s life as Baek Seung-woo had been one of responsibility, sacrifice, and morality. Ha-gyeom had always been his first—a boy he had saved with a sense of justice that had long since eroded. But that past only left scars, on both of them.

Now, in this cruel place, Baek Sa could only hope that Ha-gyeom would leave as an unlucky guide dragged into this mess. But on that rooftop, as Ha-gyeom screamed not to be left behind, Baek Sa had made a decision—one he both regretted and couldn’t take back.

*“Your goal is to become one of them completely. Even if it means losing yourself, you must accept that.”*

The words of Kim Hye-jeong, spoken five years ago, still lingered. Baek Sa had never opposed her vision, knowing that becoming fully immersed in this dark world was the only way to uncover its secrets.

But even amidst countless losses, betrayals, and despair, nothing had burned itself into Baek Sa’s memory like Ha-gyeom—the boy dying in that lightless warehouse. Ha-gyeom, who had been his first salvation as much as he had been Ha-gyeom’s savior.

As Baek Sa ran his hand along Ha-gyeom’s soft back, he buried his face against the nape of his neck. The damp scent of sweat filled his senses, grounding him in a way he didn’t fully understand but knew was tied to why he had brought Ha-gyeom here, despite knowing better.

Ha-gyeom, once so defiant, now lay compliant in his arms. This unexpected obedience made Baek Sa uneasy. Guiding was necessary for Ha-gyeom’s recovery, and they couldn’t remain idle like this forever.

When Baek Sa shifted, lowering Ha-gyeom onto the bed, their eyes met. Ha-gyeom’s gaze wavered, wide and apprehensive, as his pale neck flushed red.

Baek Sa paused mid-motion, unfastening his belt out of habit, before stopping entirely. He noticed how Ha-gyeom’s complexion had turned ghostly pale, a stark contrast to his flushed neck. Pressing his palm to the bed, Baek Sa leaned forward, speaking firmly.

“I’m Baek Sa, not Baek Seung-woo.”

“….”

“So it’s fine if you feel aroused.”

His words were meant to draw a line—a reminder of the distinction between who he was now and who Ha-gyeom once knew. Yet, as Ha-gyeom grabbed at the sheets and pulled them up to cover his stomach, Baek Sa knew the line wasn’t so clear-cut.

When the time came to distance himself, he would be Baek Sa. When closeness threatened to become too much, he would allow remnants of Baek Seung-woo to show.

“I’m only going to kiss you. It’s just reverse guiding—nothing more. No need to hesitate.”

Despite his reassurance, doubt lingered in Ha-gyeom’s damp eyes. It was no surprise; Baek Sa had already blurred the boundaries too many times to be trusted completely.

Baek Sa lowered himself over Ha-gyeom, intertwining their legs as he brushed the sheets aside. Skin met skin, their abdomens pressed together, and the proximity made their breaths mingle.

“…”

“…”

Ha-gyeom’s expression was still filled with uncertainty. His face, pale and fatigued, exuded a delicate beauty—something Baek Sa had always found captivating.

“You realize, don’t you, that I’m the only one who can protect you here?”

It wasn’t true. If anything, Baek Sa’s presence made Ha-gyeom more vulnerable. But that reality didn’t stop him from scowling at the thought of Park Ha.

“Why would you cling to someone like Park Ha…?”

Though his words carried no real threat, Ha-gyeom bit his lower lip and turned his gaze away, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.

Baek Sa leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ha-gyeom’s sharp jawline.