60

Unlike Ha-gyeom, who was caught in a whirlwind of confusion, Baek Sa seemed more perplexed by the question itself. Was this Baek Sa’s way of throwing him off, or was it Ha-gyeom’s own fault for not accepting that the espers of District 0 didn’t adhere to what he considered common sense?

Baek Sa’s steady gaze only deepened Ha-gyeom’s discomfort, but he didn’t look away. The truth was, he wanted to know. He wanted an answer.

“I’m asking because I don’t know.”

Ha-gyeom replied, his heart pounding as Baek Sa moved even closer, narrowing the space between them to mere inches. Ha-gyeom’s eyes flicked down to Baek Sa’s lips, still bearing the faint mark of their earlier kiss, and the memory of that moment flashed vividly in his mind. He knew that, given their high compatibility, it wasn’t strange to kiss whenever they needed to guide each other, but…

“Blurring the lines between guiding and everyday life… It’s not a good idea.”

Ha-gyeom managed to say, almost stumbling over his words. He had been about to say.

“It’s not a good idea, according to what I’ve learned.”

But he knew that would only invite more ridicule. He was relieved he’d caught himself in time.

“Who says so?”

Baek Sa asked, his voice laced with a challenge.

My instructor, Ha-gyeom thought but didn’t dare say it aloud. Instead of answering, Ha-gyeom stayed silent, prompting Baek Sa to start rubbing his earlobe more deliberately. The touch made Ha-gyeom flinch, but this time, he didn’t let himself connect it to Baek Seung-woo’s habits.

“…Why do you even care?” Ha-gyeom retorted, deflecting the question. After all, there was no evidence that Baek Sa remembered anything about him. If this were Baek Seung-woo, he would have found a way to avoid any physical contact after that first accidental guiding. He wouldn’t have left Ha-gyeom feeling so anxious and uncertain. He wouldn’t have tried to control him with harsh words and a domineering attitude.

So, with Baek Sa, it could just be a matter of man to man, or esper to esper. The realization sent a shiver down Ha-gyeom’s spine. His thoughts drifted to the many espers at the Center who had wielded their power carelessly, treating both men and women with the same lack of regard, as if their emotions were just another tool to manipulate.

He remembered catching these espers sneaking kisses in dark corners, flaunting their exploits as if playing with emotions was another mission to accomplish. Now, sitting in the dark with Baek Sa, their breaths mingling, Ha-gyeom wondered how different they really were from those people.

“You said you had someone you liked before. Haven’t you ever done anything like this with them?”

Baek Sa’s sudden question caught Ha-gyeom off guard.

Why is he bringing that up now? Ha-gyeom couldn’t hide the blush spreading across his face.

“What does that have to do with this?” he shot back, flustered.

“I mean, doing it just because you feel like it.”

“…Just because you feel like it?”

“Yeah. Do you think about guiding every time you want to?”

“I’ve never wanted to do it ‘just because.’”

Ha-gyeom lied, though not entirely. There had been moments, like when he had stared at Baek Seung-woo’s closed lips while he slept, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Right now, it’s probably you, not me, who wants to ‘just do it,’”

Ha-gyeom added, trying to sound defensive. Baek Sa’s eyebrow twitched at the remark, but he didn’t remove his hand from Ha-gyeom’s ear.

Just minutes ago, Ha-gyeom had fled after discovering Park Ha and Yeo Jin-joo. He now understood that the espers of District 0 didn’t draw clear lines between guiding and their daily lives. They didn’t adhere to common sense and couldn’t control their desires, regardless of time or place.

“Me?”

Baek Sa repeated, his voice tinged with curiosity and perhaps a bit of amusement.

“Yeah, it’s you.”

Ha-gyeom replied, his voice wavering slightly. But before he could say more, Baek Sa closed the distance between them, and Ha-gyeom instinctively turned his head away, causing Baek Sa’s lips to brush against his cheek instead. The sensation was warm, familiar, and far too intoxicating for comfort.

When Ha-gyeom didn’t yield his lips, Baek Sa let his kiss trail down to Ha-gyeom’s jawline. It was a dangerous game, one where Ha-gyeom wasn’t sure how far he’d let things go. The face before him was so similar to Baek Seung-woo’s that he found himself repeatedly weakened, falling under Baek Sa’s spell.

Finally, Ha-gyeom pushed Baek Sa away with as much strength as he could muster. He rubbed his cheek and jaw where Baek Sa’s lips had touched, trying to erase the lingering sensation. Baek Sa pulled back slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on Ha-gyeom.

“You don’t look like you hate it.”

Baek Sa murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I do hate it. Unlike you, I keep a clear line between guiding and everyday life.”

Ha-gyeom retorted, making a show of brushing off the blanket to disrupt the mood. Baek Sa chuckled softly and finally backed off, but the tingling sensation that had spread through Ha-gyeom’s body didn’t fade as easily.

Ha-gyeom deliberately avoided Baek Sa’s eyes, but then Baek Sa asked a question that stopped him cold.

“Is it because I killed someone that you hate me?”

The air between them grew heavy with tension, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the conversation. Baek Sa’s words brought back the memories Ha-gyeom had been trying so hard to suppress. He looked up, but Baek Sa’s expression wasn’t one of guilt or remorse.

Ha-gyeom realized that answering with a simple yes or no wouldn’t do justice to the gravity of the situation.

“Just because someone’s dying doesn’t mean you have the right to decide their fate. I don’t understand what gives you the authority to judge who lives or dies,” Ha-gyeom said quietly.

Baek Sa, who had been leaning casually against the wall, straightened up. He planted one hand on the ground and leaned closer, his eyes flickering with a strange interest.

“Many people have already died. More will continue to die,” Baek Sa said, his tone matter-of-fact.

For Ha-gyeom, the deaths of humanity were not a current or ongoing tragedy. The chaos of the invasion had ended long ago. Just because many people had died didn’t mean the fundamental values of humanity had disappeared.

“…It’s more horrifying now when people kill each other than when monsters wiped out humanity.”

Ha-gyeom continued, though he didn’t reveal the deeper, more personal pain—that the ones who had taken his family were not monsters, but people. The ones who had taken Baek Seung-woo from him were also people, not monsters. The fact that Baek Sa had shot a living person, or that a young boy had died because of the mission Ha-gyeom was a part of, was overwhelming to process.

As he bit his lower lip, Baek Sa reached out again. Ha-gyeom almost allowed himself to be comforted by the warmth of the touch on his cheek.

“You’re too kind for this world.”

Baek Sa said softly, almost to himself. It wasn’t a mockery, but there was no agreement in his tone either.

“It’s not kindness; it’s just the right thing to do.”

Ha-gyeom insisted.

“There’s nothing ‘right’ in this world anymore. You should know that by now.”

Ha-gyeom could see the deep regret in Baek Sa’s eyes. Although they were the same person, Baek Sa and Baek Seung-woo stood on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. What had happened in those five years? Even if Baek Sa had lost his memories, it was hard to believe that someone as noble in spirit as Baek Seung-woo could have become so different.

“Still, someone has to protect what’s left. They have to try.”

Whether it was life, justice, or values.

“Even if you seem to have given up already.”

Having been saved by Baek Seung-woo, Ha-gyeom couldn’t give up. Even if Baek Seung-woo’s memories never returned, Ha-gyeom was determined to uphold the values Baek Seung-woo had once held dear.

Forever, if need be…

Suddenly, Ha-gyeom’s eyes welled up with tears. How could someone so close feel so distant? He was finally beside Baek Seung-woo, yet he had never felt more alone.

Baek Sa was not Baek Seung-woo. Ha-gyeom couldn’t even let his guard down, not like he had the previous night. He couldn’t imagine seeking comfort in Baek Sa, so he held his emotions tightly in check. Yet, despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing when Baek Sa’s hand, which had so tenderly caressed his cheek, rested there again.

“No matter what, it’s hard to give up on your destined partner,” Baek Sa remarked, his tone almost teasing.

Even now, trying to change the mood didn’t offer much comfort. Ha-gyeom looked at Baek Sa with wide, hurt eyes.

“That’s only because it would inconvenience you. Without me, you wouldn’t be able to perform at your best, and if you’re unlucky, you could die. I understand that much.”

“Maybe. But what do you know, kid?”

Baek Sa replied, his voice lightly condescending.

“And yet, with that kid, you’ve…”

Ha-gyeom started, but his voice faltered, embarrassment choking off the rest of his words.

In the silence that followed, Baek Sa took advantage of Ha-gyeom’s hesitation. With a swift, strong movement, he grabbed Ha-gyeom’s shoulders and pushed him back.

Ha-gyeom fell easily onto the blanket, his back hitting the ground with a thud. He stared up at Baek Sa, who now loomed over him, his expression a mix of fear and defiance.

“Yeah, we’ve done it all. Kissed, touched, had sex.”

Baek Sa said bluntly, his tone unyielding.

“Don’t degrade guiding like that!”

Ha-gyeom protested, struggling against the pressure of Baek Sa’s body.

Baek Sa pinned Ha-gyeom’s legs with his own, holding him down effortlessly. He leaned closer, his voice low and accusing.

“You’re the one who seems to be using guiding as a shield every time you’re in a tight spot.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ha-gyeom demanded, bewildered.

“Just because we roll around together, doesn’t mean you can slap the word ‘guiding’ on it and call it that,” Baek Sa shot back.