Chapter 6: Just a Little Longer Please

As So-won stared at Tae-woo’s hand, memories of the horrific eight years he’d spent with him surfaced unbidden.

What if my hand breaks while guiding him?

What if it doesn’t just break—what if it gets crushed?

And what if that grotesque curse spreads to me?

The thoughts he’d once had before taking Tae-woo’s hand in the past flickered through his mind.

“Tae-woo… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Please don’t die.”

The sensation of the cold, stiff hand soaked in blood—the hand he’d held in the operating room—felt vividly real.

“You don’t need to force yourself.”

Tae-woo’s calm voice snapped So-won out of his panic.

Only then did So-won realize how pitifully he was trembling.

His hand had gone deathly pale.

He didn’t need a mirror to know what his face must look like.

So-won looked at Tae-woo.

Tae-woo, who had been looking at him, turned his head away the moment their eyes met, avoiding his gaze.

It felt as though a sharp wavelength pierced straight through So-won’s hear—sting, painfully so.

The resolve he’d made the day he collapsed in the operating room and woke up in the ER now felt hollow.

He had vowed to take responsibility for Tae-woo’s death—yet here he was again, afraid of even touching his hand, looking at him like a monster.

If Tae-woo, whose life had slipped away on the operating table, could see So-won’s filthy thoughts now—thoughts more grotesque than the dark-red curse covering his body—what would he think?

Ashamed of himself, So-won moved his hand.

His hand settled gently atop the back of Tae-woo’s, which lay still on the armrest.

Along with warmth came a sharp, tingling sensation, like a surge of static electricity.

A piercing energy surged powerfully up his arm.

Tae-woo’s wavelength raged wildly, tearing through So-won.

His body, swallowing that ferocious wave, went numb in an instant, prickling as if paralyzed.

Guiding him was still painful.

But once their hands touched, the warmth—and the intense wavelength—felt precious.

It was nothing special.

It wasn’t even that difficult.

Then why had he made guiding such an insurmountable thing until the day Tae-woo died?

When he remembered Tae-woo’s lonely final moments, eyes closed forever, his heart grew heavy again.

Suddenly, So-won wondered what expression Tae-woo was making now.

Had he been surprised by his first guiding?

Maybe he was happy.

But Tae-woo had shown no change in expression even in the moment of his death, so neither image came easily to mind.

So-won’s gaze, which had been fixed on their joined hands, slowly lifted.

Contrary to every expectation, Tae-woo had his eyes closed—his body slackening, as if collapsing inward.

“T-Tae-woo!”

Startled, So-won jumped up without thinking and caught Tae-woo’s upper body as it tipped forward.

The contact sent an even stronger buzz through him, but Tae-woo’s heavy body leaned into him as though it might drag him down too, leaving So-won no room to care.

The researchers watching the scene panicked and rushed into the examination room.

Together with So-won, they managed to lay Tae-woo onto an emergency cot, while the attending physician checked his condition.

Seeing Tae-woo lying there with his eyes closed as if dead, So-won’s face went pale.

The image of Tae-woo on the cot overlapped with the Tae-woo drenched in blood in the operating room.

It felt as though someone were choking him—he couldn’t breathe properly.

Sensation drained from his body, his insides twisting into knots.

Then, as if waking from a dream, his vision began to sway.

His ears rang, growing steadily muffled.

“Guide Lee So-won?”

The attending physician, who had just finished examining Tae-woo and was about to say he’d merely fainted, froze when he noticed So-won’s condition.

So-won was staring at Tae-woo like a man possessed.

When the doctor called his name, it was as if So-won’s wandering soul returned—life slowly returning to his vacant eyes.

He turned his head slightly to look at the physician.

His complexion was far paler than when he’d first arrived at the guiding lab.

“It seems Esper Kang Tae-woo fainted briefly because this was his first time receiving guiding.

It’s more like he fell asleep—he should wake up soon.”

Seeing Tae-woo unconscious in such a horrifying state, the doctor assumed So-won had been frightened.

His voice softened, as if to reassure him.

Thanks to that explanation, So-won barely managed to calm himself and look at Tae-woo again.

Sure enough, there was more color in Tae-woo’s face than on the day he’d died.

So-won reached out toward him.

Having guided him once already, touching him again wasn’t as difficult.

His pale fingers carefully wrapped around Tae-woo’s hand.

Warmth—not cold or rigid—welcomed him.

Even after confirming Tae-woo’s condition, even after hearing the doctor say he was fine, So-won couldn’t stop worrying that Tae-woo might die.

Was his health already this bad at this point?

No matter how terrible his condition had been, Tae-woo had never fainted from guiding before.

So-won’s anxiety only deepened.

Hoping it might help even a little, he didn’t let go of Tae-woo’s hand, which hung halfway off the small cot.

“The guiding examination can continue.

You briefly embraced him just now, but… we need a longer duration of contact.

Please get on the cot and hold the Esper for a while.”

So the test would continue even after Tae-woo collapsed.

Hold him…?

So-won’s eyes wavered.

He’d thought it would end with just holding hands.

Of course, it was something he’d have to do eventually for guiding—but he hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly, without any mental preparation.

<We will resume.>

The voice echoed through the speakers.

So-won met the eyes of the researchers observing him from beyond the glass.

They quickly averted their gazes, but not before So-won saw it written plainly on their faces—Is he really going to do that?

At least Tae-woo still hadn’t regained consciousness.

If he’d had to hold him while those dark eyes stared back at him, So-won might have truly given up on guiding this time.

Thinking that, he decided to finish quickly—before Tae-woo woke up.

The emergency cot was almost entirely occupied by Tae-woo’s large body.

Hesitating, So-won had no choice but to lie almost atop him.

Creeeak.

The cot protested under the weight of two people.

Carefully, So-won lowered himself into what little space remained beside Tae-woo.

He placed one hand on Tae-woo’s chest and gently rested his face next to it.

Feeling the firm yet yielding warmth beneath him, So-won stiffened with tension.

Perhaps So-won wasn’t heavy, because Tae-woo didn’t wake.

Each time Tae-woo exhaled evenly, his chest rose and fell—and with it, So-won moved up and down as well.

Tae-woo’s wavelength surrounded him completely.

There was a familiar scent to Tae-woo’s body.

So-won hadn’t noticed it before his regression, but now he understood.

The faint smell lingering in Tae-woo’s empty home—it had been his scent.

Tae-woo rarely returned there, yet only now did it truly sink in for So-won that it had been Tae-woo’s home.

The realization startled him.

For a fleeting moment, that hellish place felt… missed.

It was strange.

Instead of growing more tense, his tension unraveled strand by strand.

The warmth at his fingertips, the slow, steady heartbeat near his ear—it all soothed him.

Who could have imagined that So-won, who used to turn pale and tremble just at the sight of Tae-woo from afar, would one day find comfort in him?

Closing his eyes, So-won focused on the rhythmic sound of Tae-woo’s heart.

It was the same sound over and over—yet he wanted to keep listening.

Then it dawned on him that he was leaning far too heavily against Tae-woo.

If Tae-woo felt his weight, he might wake up.

But So-won didn’t want to pull away.

Just a little longer.

Just a bit more.

He wanted to feel—truly feel—that Tae-woo was alive.

Watching the surging numbers and graphs alongside that scene, the attending physician nearly burst into tears.

It had been seventeen years since he’d become Kang Tae-woo’s doctor.

Years of enduring Tae-woo’s steadily worsening condition and increasingly savage gaze felt as though they were being washed away.

This happiness existed thanks to a single guide who had appeared out of nowhere just days ago.

When another researcher had first come to him with the matching results, he hadn’t believed the numbers. 100%.

And the partner was Kang Tae-woo.

A perfect match alone was unbelievable—but Kang Tae-woo?

He’d scolded the junior researcher, asking how someone from the Esper Association could believe such nonsense.

Yet when he ran the test himself, the result was the same.

What shocked him even more was that it was a designated match.

Staring at the photo of the young man, the doctor had been baffled.

To apply for a designated match with Kang Tae-woo the moment he awakened as a guide—his gentle appearance belied a mind that must have been broken.

But the more tests they ran, the more excited the doctor became. 100%.

The matching rate was undeniably perfect.

This was a discovery of global significance.

When a 93% match had appeared in the U.S., how envious Korean researchers—including himself—had been.

And now this—100%.

These two were bound by something greater than fate itself.

If this were researched properly, every country in the world would reach out to him.

The doctor imagined his name spreading across the globe.

Just thinking about it, he could practically hear his value skyrocketing.

There was only one concern.

That the guide—crazy enough to apply for a designated match—would take one look at Kang Tae-woo’s terrifying appearance and run away.

It was a highly likely outcome.

Yet contrary to his fears, the guide wasn’t insane.

He was an angel.

As proof, there was So-won—embracing Kang Tae-woo on the cot, bodies nearly overlapping, despite Tae-woo being unconscious in a horrific state.

The doctor felt as though tears were forming and brushed beneath his eyes with a finger.

On the monitor, the graph kept hitting new peaks.

The line surged upward as if it might burst through the screen, stirring a sense of awe in the researchers—as though they were witnessing a moment of history.

Look at them.

The researchers who once trembled at the sight of Kang Tae-woo now stared as though they were witnessing something divine.

Guide Lee So-won had become a ray of light for the Korean Esper Association.