Chapter 32: I Was Wrong

This wasn’t a matter of personal feelings toward Chaewon. Even people who held no ill will toward Lee Chaewon as an individual would, under the banner of “objective utility,” put such words in their mouths with unsettling ease.

But at this very moment, Su-ha, who had been watching Chaewon from up close, couldn’t help but think otherwise.

What if it was precisely because it was Lee Chaewon?

Not that power had coincidentally taken root in a terminally ill patient by bad luck, but that the terminally ill patient was this kind of person.

Because it was Lee Chaewon, and no one else. Wasn’t that why such an extraordinary power had awakened?

The fingertips of Su-ha’s free hand,  the one not holding Chaewon’s, kept tracing restlessly along Chaewon’s arm. There was something he clearly wanted to do, yet found difficult to carry out.

At the same time, everything he had said and done to Chaewon until now flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern. Situations he hadn’t properly recognized back then, buried as he was in his own emotions, returned now as sharp fragments of memory.

He had thought he was doing enough.

He had constantly rationalized it, telling himself it was unavoidable if he wanted to avoid becoming emotionally entangled with Chaewon, and believed that was the right thing to do.

Because he had a goal.

From the very moment he awakened as a guide, he had run toward that single objective alone. It was unfair that he had suddenly been forced to guide someone he hadn’t wanted in the first place.

All along, Su-ha had resented a situation where no one was truly at fault, and built walls around Chaewon. He said things he shouldn’t have said, convinced himself that doing only the bare minimum was justified, and never refused to be convinced by that reasoning.

But that small body, trembling in agony in his arms.

That same body, standing boldly before the massive inferno summoned by Min I-hyeon.

How could he?

How could he possibly?

“…”

Su-ha’s hand slowly moved toward Chaewon’s face. Fingertips that carefully wiped away the cold sweat on his forehead didn’t stop there, gently brushing back his disheveled hair. The sensation of soft strands slipping between his fingers felt unfamiliar.

“I shouldn’t have done that…”

Whether it was regret, fear, or something else entirely.

Unable to define the storm of emotions crashing over him, and unable to avoid them, Su-ha sat there for a long time, staring at Chaewon’s face.

For a very long time.

****

Feeling as though his body were sinking endlessly beneath a swamp, Chaewon slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, confusion lingered, he couldn’t tell whether what he saw was reality or a dream.

He blinked his heavy eyelids repeatedly, waiting for his other senses and memories to return fully.

When he turned his head slightly, he saw that it was dark outside the window. Only then did Chaewon realize that he had collapsed during training and was just now regaining consciousness.

Even before the horrific pain he’d felt during training, what came to mind was the fact that he hadn’t given up.

It would’ve been better if he’d managed to endure without losing consciousness until the very end, or even longer, but still, the fact that he hadn’t voluntarily quit when he’d been pushed to his limit, that he’d taken one more step forward, filled him with a quiet sense of pride.

To some, it might be an insignificant achievement. They could say that he hadn’t even endured all the prescribed stages and ended up passing out anyway.

But Chaewon always tried not to forget his place. Even if it looked pitiful in others’ eyes, as long as he had done his best within his own limits, that was enough.

Tracing his memories to that point, Chaewon slowly pushed himself up. His whole body ached as if his bones were misaligned, but the sensation of being torn apart that he’d felt just before losing consciousness was gone.

At the same time, like a bolt of lightning, the memory surfaced of Su-ha pulling him tightly into his arms and pouring an overwhelming force into him.

“Chaewon. Can you hear my voice? Don’t let go, accept my energy.”

Su-ha’s voice, whispered at his ear, echoed in his mind. His heart dropped with a thud. The warmth that had anchored his fading consciousness amid the pain, that firm voice, wrapped around Chaewon in an instant.

The guiding, far more explosive than anything he’d experienced from holding a wrist or hand, was one thing, but Su-ha’s voice, heavy with concern, kept circling in his ears.

He must have hated it.

He must have already been uncomfortable just holding hands, and yet because Chaewon was weak, Su-ha had been forced to do something he didn’t want to do again. As that thought reached its end, Chaewon’s gaze sank inward.

And then, at that very moment,

“…You’re awake.”

The door to the hospital room opened, and he walked in.

Chaewon’s guide, Jin Su-ha.

****

“Su-ha, why are you here…?”

Chaewon asked in a slightly flustered voice as he blankly stared at Su-ha entering the room. When he’d first woken up, he’d adjusted to the silence of the hospital room without feeling any particular awkwardness.

Yet now, with someone, Su-ha, of all people, walking in, it suddenly felt unbearably unfamiliar.

“I’m really fine…”

Chaewon murmured, his voice smaller. It seemed Su-ha hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave Chaewon alone after he collapsed and had stayed by his side. The thought that he’d caused trouble again dampened his mood.

Even though this was all supposedly Su-ha’s duty and responsibility, as the preliminaries dictated, it wasn’t easy for Chaewon to think about it so coldly.

“How do you feel? Do you have any pain or discomfort anywhere?”

Ignoring Chaewon’s reaction, Su-ha stepped right up to the bed and asked.

Truth be told, Su-ha wasn’t nearly as calm as he appeared. He’d only stepped out briefly after staying by Chaewon’s side the whole time, he hadn’t expected Chaewon to wake up in that short span.

Trying not to dwell on the fact that Chaewon had woken up alone in the room, Su-ha sat back down on the chair he’d been using earlier, doing his best to appear natural. Chaewon, who had habitually drawn himself inward, spoke up.

“I’m fine. Nothing hurts, and I feel okay.”

“…That’s a relief.”

Chaewon tried to read the emotions carried in Su-ha’s voice. He wanted to know whether Su-ha was disappointed that he’d collapsed again, whether being here with him felt unpleasant or uncomfortable.

Su-ha’s voice was low, but it didn’t seem overtly negative. Still, Chaewon couldn’t tell whether that was truly the case, or whether it only felt that way because he wanted it to be.

“Su-ha…”

After quietly catching his breath and gauging his reaction, Chaewon carefully spoke again. Regardless of what Su-ha was feeling right now, there was something he needed to say. Su-ha looked at him silently instead of answering, and Chaewon continued.

“It’s thanks to you guiding me properly. Thank you.”

“…”

“I know you must’ve hated it… but thanks to you, I think I recovered quickly.”

You must have hated it.

Those words cut into Su-ha’s emotions like a blade. They weren’t unfounded. Chaewon’s statement was firmly based on what Su-ha himself had told him before. Silence fell over the hospital room once more.

Su-ha was thinking intensely, about how he should respond to Chaewon’s words.

First, he could pretend he hadn’t heard them and ignore the comment entirely. Chaewon didn’t seem to be expecting an answer or reaction anyway. He could simply brush it off, say that now that Chaewon was awake, he should be going, just like he always had.

Or he could acknowledge it.

Yes, he’d hated it. He still didn’t want it. But it was his assigned duty, something he’d done out of obligation, and there was no need for gratitude. Drawing that line would only put even more distance between them, exactly as Su-ha had wanted.

“Chaewon.”

Countless assumptions and choices tangled chaotically in his mind as Su-ha finally spoke.

“I was wrong.”

It wasn’t any of the responses he’d first considered. Chaewon, who’d been staring down at the rumpled blanket out of habit, hurriedly lifted his head to look at Su-ha. Su-ha briefly avoided his gaze, then met it again as he continued.

“Regardless of my personal feelings, you bear absolutely no responsibility in this matter. I was rude, and I acted unprofessionally. It was wrong.”

“No-no, it’s not…!”

Chaewon shook his head immediately, flustered, but Su-ha shook his own.

“I won’t behave rudely like I did before. I’ll do my best with guiding, sincerely and earnestly… and I won’t avoid my responsibilities with such irresponsible behavior again.”

“But you still want to be Captain Min I-hyeon’s guide, don’t you…?”

Chaewon’s question was entirely impulsive.

He wasn’t pressing him.

He wasn’t protesting, asking whether Su-ha still only had eyes for another esper no matter what.

He was simply worried about Su-ha. Worried that Su-ha, already burdened by so many irritations, would have to suppress his own feelings on top of everything else. Worried that it might suffocate him, or wear him down.