“I should go home. It seems like the interesting segment just ended too.”

Having subtly moved away, she checked the time. It was the early hours of the morning when all public transportation had stopped running. As Yoon Tae-ha opened an app to call a taxi, she was taken aback by the guide’s provocative request.

“Let me sleep over.”

“What?”

The woman’s pupils shook violently.

“I said, let me sleep over.”

Cheon Geon-young didn’t regret the words he had impulsively uttered. He knew from experience. After suffering this much, Yoon Tae-ha would toss and turn for a long time at night. Just like she had at school last time.

It didn’t matter that she might be uncomfortable with him. He didn’t want to imagine her suffering alone, indiscriminately taking medication that even looked difficult to swallow, just to suppress the pain. Cheon Geon-young pointed to the sofa that could easily fit three adults.

“Sleep on the sofa. Think of me as an emergency flashlight. You only use it when you’re hurting.”

“I don’t really like making people work overtime on weekends. Even flashlights have their privacy.”

“Today is Monday.”

Thanks to the day having just changed, it was easier to make excuses. Time was on his side. After a brief hesitation, Yoon Tae-ha sighed as if the ground was sinking beneath her.

“Since I was the one who asked you to come, so... so you can sleep over.”

The end of her resigned voice trembled slightly. The homeowner went into the bedroom and effortlessly carried out a new blanket.

“It’s never been used. If you don’t like the smell of a new blanket, should I spray some fabric refresher?”

Three different kinds of pillows, the kind they used in hotels, also appeared.

“Use whichever one you like.”

Bedding for Cheon Geon-young was laid out on one side of the huge, U-shaped sofa. Yoon Tae-ha handed him a short-sleeved t-shirt with the company logo and sweatpants that she had ordered in the wrong size.

As he actually received them, he felt the tips of his ears burning. The other person was so calm. Come to think of it, this woman had shared a room with her guide. Not just him, but other people too. Several people. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.

Cheon Geon-young strode out of the living room.

When he returned a little while later, an unexpected scene unfolded before him.

A dark living room with only one dim light on. Someone was lying on the opposite side of where he was supposed to sleep. It was the homeowner. She was in the blanket, only her face showing, and her eyes were peacefully closed. To lie here instead of her comfortable bedroom was very much like her.

“I’ll receive some radiant guiding while I sleep.”

“If you’re not sleepy, get one more guiding session.”

“It’s not so painful that it’s unbearable. It’s just... this much distance is enough.”

He placed the back of his freshly washed, cool hand on her forehead to check her temperature. She didn’t have a fever. Yoon Tae-ha twitched her eyebrows once, as if telling him to go away.

Lying on the sofa, Cheon Geon-young covered himself with the blanket and looked up at the ceiling. He could hear the sound of someone tossing and turning in the blanket. After staring at the ceiling for a while, Yoon Tae-ha spoke to him.

“What are you doing, not sleeping?”

“Looking at the grid pattern on the ceiling.”

“We don’t have anything like that in our house.”

“It’s there if you look closely.”

“Now you’re saying my eyesight is better than a psychic’s.”

Her usually soft tone sounded pleasant. Every dawn Cheon Geon-young had spent awake had been grueling. But this moment was far removed from those nights.

“The numbers have improved.”

She hesitated slightly before starting to speak.

“Of course, it’s because of the guiding. The medicine is all pretty similar anyway. I’m still not in normal condition, but even the chronic pain is decreasing.”

“Is it thanks to me?”

“I was going to say something nice. But if you cut me off, Guide-nim, I don’t want to say it.”

Cheon Geon-young chuckled softly. The blanket covering the other person also shook up and down briefly.

“Thank you. As I said before...”

At her words, his lips, which had held a hint of a smile, slowly straightened.

“I don’t think we’ve ever properly introduced ourselves.”

“......”

“Now I’m really going to sleep.”

She began to breathe rhythmically, as if she had truly fallen asleep.

The space was silent. A stillness as if they were alone in the vast universe. Cheon Geon-young tried to hold on, but he couldn’t fight off his heavy eyelids, which felt heavier than they had in a long time.

And as the hour hand shyly moved a few notches over, the homeowner’s eyelids slowly lifted.

I didn’t sleep today.

Yoon Tae-ha, her eyes wide open, felt a slight elation. Afraid that the other person might wake up, she moved her body slowly.

She lay down on her side, propping herself up on her arm. He was sleeping on his back, perfectly still.

Now I can see clearly.

From the abandoned building where they had talked about the contract until now. A man who had always given the impression of hiding his true feelings. Now she could be sure.

‘Someone from the government. Hostile to illegal organizations.’

Such a person had entered Ark, using the names of the Protection Bureau and her grandfather’s company. And he had asked for the guide position.

‘Was even the contract just an excuse?’

It wasn’t that Yoon Tae-ha hadn’t wanted to report what was happening here to the government. She had wanted to when she was young. She had just been blocked every time.

She had given up after becoming an adult. It was faster to destroy one of Orca’s factories in the field than to spend time finding someone who would listen to her.

Would it be different this time? Was he different from the adults who had greeted Professor Yoon kindly while ignoring her hand?

If they were the same, it wouldn’t be difficult. She could just deal with him as she had always done. But what if he was the person who could listen to her words as she had always hoped?

Then what should she do?

Her worries deepened in the dawn moonlight. This dawn didn’t seem like it would end easily.

•

An unpleasant human.

Seo Do-jin deeply regretted running into Doctor Moon from the morning. Doctor Moon, holding her ever-present tumbler, greeted him cheerfully as he waited for coffee.

“Warm coffee today?”

“Good morning.”

Doctor Moon asked him, as if making a polite inquiry, why he didn’t have a guide these days. “Because I’m healthy,” he replied curtly, but she, whether oblivious or pretending to be, said she wanted to introduce him to someone.

“Doesn’t a person need time to rest too?”

“Espers should always have a guide. Have you ever seen me say such a thing to an E-class?”

“Are you still calling Yoon Tae-ha without considering the situation these days?”

Doctor Moon, conscious of the surrounding employees, wore a puzzled expression.

“Tae-ha seems busy playing with her own guide these days. Does she dislike it because I seem to be taking up her free time?”

“Doctor.”

“The sibling-like affection between unrelated people is truly admirable. No matter how I think about it, our national office within Ark has the most potential for growth. It’s because strong espers get along so well.”

“Can’t you just leave them alone?”

Unable to bear it any longer, Seo Do-jin interrupted. Doctor Moon used her gaze to make the other employees naturally leave their seats.

“I know you subtly bring up the story of the first guide every time I try to find stability. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t her who snitched.”

“Oh my?”

“I heard you didn’t even like your niece much. But why do you keep her photo frame on your desk?”

“Are you even interfering with my desk decor? I thought Mr. Seo Do-jin was someone who kept his boundaries, but you’re being a bit much today.”

Doctor Moon’s unusually clear eyes scanned Seo Do-jin. He wore a displeased expression.

“Don’t think that just because you saw my face a few times when I was young, you have the right to interfere with my life.”

“You need to get a guide. Your aggression seems higher than usual.”

“If my aggression is low, there will be holes in security.”

“I don’t know what you don’t like, but Tae-ha and I are getting along fine.”

Doctor Moon crossed her arms defensively. Seo Do-jin turned his head as if he was dumbfounded.

“The past is all in the past. Tae-ha apologized, and I forgave her. It seems like it’s Esper Seo Do-jin who’s trying to pull some strange tricks.”

Having finished the conversation in a calm voice, Doctor Moon left first.

Employees who had witnessed the unpleasant conversation between the powerful figure of R-dong and the head of the center’s security from the morning naturally disappeared from her path.

•

As always, Doctor Moon stayed at the company until late at night.

No one looked askance at the researcher who was devoted to the study of runaway suppression after losing her niece.

When all the employees had left, she wandered around the lab with her hands in the pockets of her tired-looking gown. Just then, the glass door opened and Min Cha-hoon entered. She glared at him.

“What kind of work are you doing? I heard the number of personnel monitoring us has doubled.”

Min Cha-hoon frowned at Doctor Moon’s scathing tone.

“I never thought I’d be criticized by someone who can’t even win over one girl.”

“Watch your language.”

He looked around the lab and rummaged through reports without permission. Doctor Moon, who was obsessively concerned with security, didn’t stop him. Min Cha-hoon got straight to the point without preamble.

“Your role was to persuade Yoon Tae-ha and get her to include just one sentence in her report.”

The sound of the experimental equipment running interspersed with his voice.

“It seems she’s connected to Orca. She came in with the intention of undermining our organization from the outside. Ark is actually the victim. Aren’t the testimonies of each agent crucial in an infiltration mission?”

“Are you blaming me for that now?”

“In this market, justification is as important as money, if not more so.”

Min Cha-hoon continued his harsh criticism.

“Isn’t that why Yoon Tae-ha is still by your side? Because of the guilt you feel about the dead Moon Seon-woo.”

Seeing the woman’s trembling eyelids, he twisted his lips.

“You don’t actually believe that child still sees you as a parent, do you?”

Only two researchers had ever received a carnation from the young Yoon Tae-ha. Doctor Moon was one of them. That was why she could speak with such conviction.

“Tae-ha trusts me.”

“The researcher who beat her until her cheek burst? Wasn’t it someone with the same name as you who isolated her from the community? Who made up the nonsense spreading among the guides?”

A precarious tension and silence filled the lab.

“I lost my only family member back then. I couldn’t have been in my right mind.”

With a surprisingly unimpressed face, he flipped through the second document. Doctor Moon argued nervously.

“That child still listens to anything I say. Don’t you know she only takes the medicine I give her and always comes to me for explanations about her health checkups?”

“The statute of limitations on guilt has expired.”

The argument, close to self-hypnosis, was punctured by Min Cha-hoon’s sharp point.

“You shouldered all sorts of disgrace with just guilt. And you kept your mouth shut about Moon Seon-woo’s betrayal until the end.”