TG Ch 5 Part 8

[You have that A-rank Guide, don’t you? He’s in his twenties, right? Getting him to S-rank would be a huge accomplishment.]

“Forget it… Ha. I just want to keep him safe.” 

[Why? Is his condition bad too?]

“Yeah, he keeps hiding his symptoms, so I had to lock him up in the recovery room…” 

[Aigoo. That’s the type that stresses you out the most…]

Kwon Jiwon’s voice was laced with sympathy. Sijin hated it when people hid their symptoms or lied about their condition. It was a diagnostic examiner’s nightmare.

Still, confiding in his friend had lifted a weight off his shoulders. They chatted for a while before Sijin started organizing the data. He had to leave soon.

Then, Kwon Jiwon’s voice turned serious.

[Sijin.]

“Yeah?” 

[Another examiner’s gone missing.]

“Ah… Where?”

[Seoul. A professor and an examiner. Both missing.]

“…Two of them this time?” 

[Yeah.]

“…..”

A shadow fell over Sijin’s face. Despite Kwon Jiwon’s casual tone, they both understood the gravity of the situation. Retaliatory attacks against examiners, once a rare occurrence, had become alarmingly frequent.

There had been three cases in a month, when there were usually only one or two a year.

Sijin felt a knot in his stomach. Sensing his unease, Kwon Jiwon tried to sound lighthearted. 

[Just… be careful.]

“…You should be the one being careful. You’re a father now.” 

[What do I have to worry about? I’m at Central Center, with an S-rank Esper.]

Sijin chuckled. He couldn’t argue with that.

But he couldn’t shake off the worry. Two examiners had already disappeared in Seoul. Even Central Center wasn’t entirely safe.

He wasn’t exactly in a vulnerable position either. He had three active A-ranks around him, one of whom was Ham Geonwu, the Esper who’d saved his life. He forced a smile and said, “I’ll be fine. I told you, the Esper who saved me is here.”

[Yeah, I know. The one who’s handsome as a buffalo.]

“Come on, he’s not…” 

[I knew right away when I saw the F12 Center’s promotion test applications. I was like, ‘Oh? What’s this? Baek Sijin’s type?’ And there he was.] 

“Hey…”

Sijin’s voice was stern, but he couldn’t hide his pride. He quickly rubbed his cheek, worried that he might be grinning foolishly. But Kwon Jiwon had already seen it.

[Don’t tell me you two are already a thing.]

“Of course not. I’m a diagnostic examiner, how could I…”

[What’s wrong with that? My wife’s an Esper.]

“That’s different. He’s someone I’m responsible for.”

Kwon Jiwon had married a D-rank Esper. At that level, government-funded guiding was sufficient, so it didn’t affect their daily life much. It was a different story for A-ranks, who required regular guiding.

Sijin said defensively, “Anyway, it’s not like that. We’re closer now, but Geonwu just enjoys… teasing me.”

He trailed off, a realization dawning on him. 

‘It’s too bad you’re a regular person, Doctor.’

‘I wonder why he was so angry earlier.’

‘We’ll bring you the documents. Get some rest.’

‘Is Puppy awake?’

When had Ham Geonwu started looking after him so naturally?

Sijin sighed. Now that he thought about it, there had been plenty of instances that could have been misconstrued. 

‘I’d rather he was a playboy…’

The fact that he had grown accustomed to Ham Geonwu’s kindness was even more unsettling. Fatigue had acted as a shield, but now, with a clear mind, he was finally realizing the magnitude of the situation. If he had been fully aware, he would have been a nervous wreck.

Kwon Jiwon, having witnessed the whirlwind of emotions on Sijin’s face, asked playfully:

[So, you don’t mind being teased by him? I thought diagnostic examiners weren’t supposed to be involved with Ability Users?]

“Of course… not. I… It’s not like I like him.”

He felt like he was being interrogated by Jeong Taeyul. Frustrated with himself, Sijin blurted out, “It’s just… he’s… familiar. I feel a sense of security around him. He saved my life, you know.”

[Sure… I believe you.]

“I’m serious!”

[Mhm… sure.]

Kwon Jiwon’s tone was skeptical. Sijin glanced at his watch, shaking his head. Six minutes left. It was time to end the call.

“Jiwon, I know the difference between security and affection.”

[Right.]

Kwon Jiwon sighed audibly, interlacing his fingers behind his head. He muttered to himself:

[Our Dr. Baek is so smart, yet so clueless about his own feelings.]

His droopy eyes looked tired.

Ignoring his friend’s jab, Sijin shook his head. Kwon Jiwon said:

[That… Baek Sijin-ssi. Look here. Let me, your senior in life, give you some advice.]

“Here we go again.”

He suddenly held up a small cactus pot, presenting it like a product on a home shopping channel. Sijin chuckled, knowing his friend’s penchant for dispensing unsolicited advice. 

Kwon Jiwon said:

[Now. See this lovely cactus pot?]

“Yes.”

[Let’s call the soil in this pot ‘security.’] 

“…Stop imitating me.”

Ignoring his complaint, Kwon Jiwon continued his earnest explanation. 

[And let’s call the cactus that’s rooted in this soil ‘affection.’]

“…..” 

Sijin froze, staring at the screen in a daze.

[Do you understand what I’m saying? Security and affection are not separate things. In fact, affection can only grow if there’s security.]

“Ah…” 

His words, as annoying as they were, made perfect sense. Sijin bit his lip, a wave of realization washing over him.

He was right. They weren’t separate feelings, just like the relationship between love and guilt he had explained to Yoo Seunghwa.

He chuckled, a hint of awkwardness in his smile. He was speechless. Kwon Jiwon sighed and said:

[There’s only one thing I’m worried about.]

“…What?”

[What if you, our 33-year-old Confucian scholar Baek Sijin, fall for an Ability User?] 

“Haha…” 

Sijin laughed, a hollow sound. Espers and ordinary humans. A chasm existed between them, a chasm called ‘guiding,’ that even romance couldn’t bridge. He looked down, a wave of sadness washing over him.

He appreciated his friend’s concern, but his priority was work. And even this video call was cutting into his precious time.

“Don’t worry, Jiwon. I’m not that naive…”

[Sure.]

“Thanks for the data. Get back to work. I have to go.” 

[Alright~ You can go.]

Sijin ended the call. 

His reflection, a faint, melancholic smile on his lips, stared back at him from the now dark screen. He sighed, picking up his documents.

A single thought lingered in his mind. 

‘Security…’

Sijin knew he craved stability.

And as he entered his thirties, he had learned to rely on himself for it. Depending on someone else only burdened them with his insecurities. He didn’t want his anxieties to weigh down someone he cared about.

But that was a logical understanding. Instinctively, he gravitated towards those who offered him a sense of security, a safe haven for his weary heart.

Lost in thought, Sijin opened the door to the recovery room.

And stopped dead in his tracks. He saw Jeong Taeyul, fast asleep.

‘But… I feel more secure around Jeong Taeyul.’

Jeong Taeyul. He was intimidating, yet he also offered him a profound sense of security.

And Ham Geonwu… well, he made him laugh, putting him at ease.

What was the difference? Sijin, lost in thought, chuckled and shook his head. 

‘What’s the point of fertile soil if there’s no guarantee the seeds will sprout?’

He laughed, a hollow sound, then glanced at his watch. Time was running out. He approached Jeong Taeyul’s bed.

Jeong Taeyul, oblivious to his presence, was sleeping soundly. The wave regulator was attached to his bare, toned chest, one arm resting on his forehead. 

Sijin carefully checked his readings and the wave regulator’s status. 

[-63%]

‘The regulator’s not doing much… I’ll suggest guiding when he wakes up.’

Despite having rested all morning, his readings had only improved by -2%. Sijin sighed, adjusting the patches on his shoulder.

And then it happened. 

Grab. 

His wrist was caught in a firm grip. Sijin flinched, startled.

Jeong Taeyul was awake, his gaze fixed on Sijin. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, held a gentle warmth. 

“Y-You’re awake? I’m sorry, I was just checking the regulator.” 

“…..”

Jeong Taeyul didn’t answer. His hazel eyes, still hazy with sleep, blinked slowly, focused solely on Sijin’s startled expression.

Then, a smile spread across his face. 

‘Oh…’

Sijin stared at his smile, mesmerized. He had been seeing it a lot lately. People said it only appeared when Shark was angry, but all Sijin saw was… happiness.

But why was he smiling at him like that? Sijin felt his cheeks burning. He lowered his hand, fidgeting with his sleeve, then, for some reason, pulled the blanket over Jeong Taeyul’s exposed chest.

Jeong Taeyul rubbed his forehead and asked sleepily, “How long have I been asleep…?”

“Let’s see… Four hours.”

“…I slept for four hours?” 

“Yes. You were sleeping soundly.”

“…..”

Jeong Taeyul looked disbelieving. Sijin couldn’t understand his reaction. It was normal to sleep for that long. 

However, Guides often had trouble sleeping when their wave energy was high. They claimed that the constant awareness of surrounding wave energy made it difficult to sleep. Sijin, being an ordinary human, simply attributed it to heightened sensitivity.

“Your readings have improved a little. But you’re still in pain, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Should I send you to the guiding room?”

“…No.” 

Jeong Taeyul frowned, his grip on Sijin’s wrist tightening. 

Why was he so resistant to guiding? Sijin was curious, but he knew some Ability Users, like Yoo Seunghwa, had aversions to s*x guiding, so he respected his choice.

“Okay. Get some more rest then.”

Sijin’s voice was gentle, soothing. His readings were finally stabilizing, and he didn’t want to stress him out. Thankfully, Jeong Taeyul didn’t protest, his gaze fixed on Sijin.

Then, Jeong Taeyul suddenly pulled him closer.

“What is it…?” 

“…..” 

His next action was even more perplexing. His calloused hand gently traced Sijin’s palm. Sijin stared at him, baffled.

His long, slender fingers intertwined with Sijin’s, his grip firm yet gentle. The difference in their hand size was such that Sijin felt like his hand was being engulfed. The warmth of Jeong Taeyul’s hand spread through his own, sending a strange shiver down his spine.

“What… What are you doing?”

“…..”

“Jeong Taeyul…?”

Jeong Taeyul, ignoring his question, continued to stare at their intertwined hands, his gaze intensifying.

Sijin hesitated, then tried to pull his hand away. But Jeong Taeyul held on, his touch moving from Sijin’s palm to his wrist, tracing the delicate skin beneath his sleeve. It was a simple gesture, yet Sijin felt exposed.

Then, Jeong Taeyul frowned and said, “…Yoo Seunghwa.” 

“…What?”

“You held hands with Captain Yoo Seunghwa.” 

“…..”

Sijin was speechless. He hadn’t expected him to notice something like that.

Sijin frowned, his earlier trust waning. The subtle expectation he’d felt dissipated. 

‘Wait, expectation?’

He was startled by the thought. He quickly pulled his hand away, his gaze fixed on Jeong Taeyul. “Why does it matter?”

“Captain Yoo Seunghwa hates physical contact. Like me.” 

Jeong Taeyul’s gaze lingered on Sijin as he said, ‘Like me.’ Sijin felt a pang of guilt, though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Jeong Taeyul chuckled, his voice laced with annoyance. “I leave you alone for a few hours, and you’re already touching other Ability Users… And now Yoo Seunghwa?”

“We just held hands… It’s not a big deal…”

Sijin’s words made Jeong Taeyul’s face darken. His readings, which had stabilized after a half-day’s rest, plummeted to -65%. 

Sijin, exasperated, tried to appease him. This was a diagnostic examiner’s worst nightmare.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Calm down. Your readings were finally improving…!”