Chapter Text
The walk to the testing chambers felt longer than it should have.
Evelyn led the way with an almost jaunty step, heels clicking softly against the sterile floor, clipboard hugged to her chest like she was escorting guests to a tea party instead of dragging a guide into something morally questionable.
Yoojin followed a few steps behind her.
Hyunjae stayed beside him.
Not behind. Not ahead.
Beside.
The chain around Yoojin’s waist never loosened.
It didn’t tug. It didn’t pull. It simply existed, a constant, undeniable reminder of where Hyunjae wanted him to be. Close. Anchored. Within reach. Yoojin could feel its weight with every step, feel the faint hum of mana humming through it like a pulse.
He opened his mouth once.
Closed it again.
He was too tired to yell. Too tired to argue. Too tired to process the sheer insanity of everything that had happened since he’d woken up.
His head throbbed. His limbs felt hollow. Every time he blinked, the memory of Hyunjae’s arms around him threatened to resurface—too warm, too tight, too safe in a way that made his stomach twist.
Hyunjae, meanwhile, looked perfectly fine.
More than fine.
He walked like someone whose world had just narrowed down to exactly one thing—and he liked it that way.
The testing chamber doors slid open with a muted hiss.
The room inside was circular, larger than the recovery chamber but far more oppressive. Mana-absorbent walls glowed faintly with embedded runes. Thick cables snaked along the floor, connecting to a massive machine at the far end—its display screens already lit, waiting.
Two chairs sat at the center.
Opposite each other.
Yoojin squinted at them tiredly.
Evelyn stepped aside and gestured cheerfully.
“Guide Han, please take a seat.”
Yoojin dragged his feet toward the indicated chair, every movement heavy, like gravity had doubled just for him.
Hyunjae stopped short.
“…Why is he sitting on the opposite side?”
His tone wasn’t angry.
It wasn’t loud.
It was genuinely confused.
Evelyn paused mid-click, fingers hovering over the console. She blinked once. Then twice.
“…Why wouldn’t he be?” she asked.
Hyunjae frowned slightly, like she’d just asked why the sky was blue.
“Because he’s supposed to be sitting beside me.”
Silence slammed into the room.
Not the awkward kind.
The dangerous kind.
Yoojin let out a low, miserable groan, dropping into the chair and scrubbing a hand down his face.
Somewhere beyond the one-way glass, several directors flinched in unison. One of them audibly sighed. Another rubbed his temples like this was exactly the kind of career-ending nonsense he’d expected today.
Evelyn stared at Hyunjae for a long second.
Then she sighed.
Still smiling.
“You can’t,” she said lightly. “This is a testing chamber. Its purpose is to measure how much mana a guide expends during guiding and how much an esper absorbs. It is not—” she glanced pointedly between the two of them, “—for flirting.”
Hyunjae tilted his head.
“…Oh.”
He looked unconvinced.
But after a moment, he scoffed quietly and sat in the opposite chair anyway, folding his arms and glaring at the machine like it had personally offended him.
Yoojin didn’t miss the way the chain adjusted itself as Hyunjae sat—still loose enough to allow movement, tight enough to remind him that distance was temporary.
Evelyn busied herself with preparations, moving efficiently as she attached sensors to Yoojin’s wrists, chest, and temples. Soft pads adhered to his skin, thin wires trailing back to the machine.
Hyunjae’s gaze followed every single motion.
When Evelyn placed a circular mana reader against Yoojin’s sternum, Hyunjae’s eyes darkened.
“…Do you have to put that thing there?” he asked flatly.
“Yes,” Evelyn replied without looking at him. “It reads core output most accurately from the chest.”
Hyunjae clicked his tongue.
He didn’t argue further.
But he didn’t look away either.
The machine hummed to life.
“Alright,” Evelyn said, stepping back and clasping her hands. “Guide Han, it’s okay if you only perform minimal guiding. We’re just measuring your average mana output.”
She glanced at Yoojin, her tone softening just a fraction.
“If you’re too tired, say so. We can stop and let you rest.”
Yoojin shook his head immediately.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t.
He knew that.
But he wanted this over.
He wanted out of this room. Out of Hyunjae’s reach. Out of whatever nightmare the Association was quietly constructing around him. He didn’t even know what had happened to Yoohyun after he’d passed out—and nobody would tell him anything.
Evelyn studied him for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright then. Please begin guiding Esper Sung Hyunjae.”
Yoojin swallowed.
Slowly, reluctantly, he reached out.
Hyunjae’s hands were already there.
Waiting.
The moment Yoojin’s fingers brushed his, Hyunjae closed the distance, intertwining their hands deliberately, threading their fingers together like it was second nature.
Yoojin sucked in a sharp breath.
He wanted to protest.
Didn’t.
Just clenched his jaw and let his eyes fall shut.
Then he guided.
Mana flowed from him like a quiet tide—gentle, steady, controlled. He kept it light, careful not to push himself, careful not to trigger anything unpredictable.
The room grew very quiet.
Hyunjae’s breath slowed almost immediately.
The dull pressure behind his eyes—there for days now, a constant throb he’d learned to ignore—eased. His shoulders relaxed. The chaos in his mana settled, smoothed out like ripples on water.
It felt—
Good.
No.
Better than good.
It felt right.
Addictive.
Hyunjae swallowed, fingers tightening just slightly around Yoojin’s. He wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to drag him across the space between their chairs, press his mouth to Yoojin’s, guide him the proper way.
But he didn’t.
Because this—
This was already perfect.
The machine beeped suddenly, loud and sharp.
Yoojin flinched, his mana stuttering dangerously as his focus broke.
Before he could pull back, Hyunjae tightened his grip and re-intertwined their fingers firmly, anchoring him.
Yoojin hissed, shooting him a glare.
Hyunjae only smiled.
A slow, knowing curve of his lips.
“That’s enough, Esper Sung Hyunjae,” Evelyn said briskly, stepping forward to remove the sensors from Yoojin. “You can release him now.”
Hyunjae glared at her.
Then—reluctantly—let go.
Yoojin yanked his hands back like they’d burned him, flexing his fingers as if trying to rid himself of the lingering sensation.
Hyunjae stared at his own hands afterward.
As if memorizing the feeling.
As if afraid it might fade.
Addictive, he thought again.
“I must say,” Evelyn said brightly, checking the readings, “that was excellent. Guide Han, your mana quality is remarkable. With output like this, you could guide multiple A-ranks—and even S-ranks—with proper training.”
Hyunjae’s gaze snapped to her.
Sharp.
Cold.
He didn’t like that.
At all.
Evelyn noticed.
“Of course,” she continued smoothly, “your compatibility with Esper Sung Hyunjae is above ninety percent. Which is… quite rare.”
Yoojin’s stomach dropped.
“And,” Evelyn added, glancing between them, “with compatibility above fifty percent, imprinting is often recommended.”
“No,” Yoojin said immediately, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
Hyunjae, on the other hand—
His eyes lit up.
“…Imprinting?” he echoed softly. “That’s where he becomes my permanent guide, right?”
“Yes,” Evelyn replied cheerfully. “A permanent, irreversible bond.”
Hyunjae’s smile widened.
“And the effects?”
“The esper becomes mentally and physically dependent on their guide,” Evelyn said without hesitation. “And the guide gains heightened influence over the esper’s mental stability.”
She clasped her hands together.
“Isn’t it incredible?”
Yoojin felt cold.
Hyunjae looked thrilled.
“The side effects,” Evelyn added lightly, “are less pleasant. Long-term separation causes distress, hallucinations, migraines, and potential collapse—for both parties.”
Hyunjae hummed.
“So if my guide runs away…” he said pleasantly, “…he won’t survive without me anyway?”
Yoojin’s eye twitched.
“Yes,” Evelyn replied. “It’s risky. But effective.”
Silence fell again.
“Well—what if we imprint right now—”
“It’s finished, right?” Yoojin shot to his feet abruptly. “Can I go now?”
Evelyn smiled apologetically.
“I’m afraid not.”
Yoojin blinked.
“…What?”
“Esper Sung Hyunjae is currently in detainment,” she explained. “And you are now listed as his exclusive guide.”
The world tilted.
“What—WHAT?!” Yoojin shouted. “Exclusive guide?! Who decided that?!”
“I did,” Evelyn said pleasantly. “And no one objected.”
Hyunjae laughed.
Low.
Satisfied.
“You can’t just do that without my permission!” Yoojin snapped, shaking.
“Guide Han,” Evelyn said gently, “you’re the first guide to stabilize him without adverse effects. The Association already agreed.”
She smiled wider.
“They even suggested imprinting immediately.”
Yoojin couldn’t breathe.
Behind the glass, the directors stared at the readings in disbelief.
An F-rank guide.
Stabilizing an S-rank.
Perfectly.
Hyunjae leaned back in his chair, chains coiling lazily around Yoojin’s waist again.
“Looks like you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured softly.
And Yoojin realized, with a sinking certainty—
This wasn’t a test.
It was a sentence.
The detainment room closed around them with a sound Yoojin would remember for the rest of his life.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just a low, airtight thunk—like a coffin lid being pressed into place by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
The lights adjusted automatically, dimming to a soft neutral glow. Mana suppressors hummed faintly beneath the walls, constant and unyielding, soaking up excess energy before it could spike. The room smelled clean. Sterile. Thoughtfully designed.
There was a bed anchored to the floor.
A couch.
A small table with water already poured, condensation clinging to the glass like it had been waiting.
Yoojin stood just inside the threshold, frozen.
The chain around his waist followed him in.
It didn’t disappear.
It didn’t slacken.
It didn’t even pretend this was temporary.
Hyunjae stepped in behind him, unhurried, posture relaxed—like he’d just arrived somewhere familiar. Somewhere safe.
The door sealed.
Yoojin flinched.
“…So,” he said hoarsely, forcing his voice to work. “This is it?”
Hyunjae glanced around, eyes sweeping the room with casual interest.
“Mm. Better than the last one,” he said. “They upgraded the suppressors.”
That made Yoojin’s stomach drop.
“You’ve been here before,” he muttered.
Hyunjae smiled.
“Many times.”
The chain tightened just enough to remind Yoojin that standing too far away was not an option. He took an involuntary step back, shoulders brushing Hyunjae’s chest.
Too close.
Always too close.
Hyunjae’s hand came up—not touching, just hovering near Yoojin’s waist, fingers ghosting over the chain like it was an extension of himself.
“You don’t need to look like that,” Hyunjae said softly. “This isn’t punishment.”
Yoojin laughed once.
Sharp. Unsteady.
“Oh? Then what is it?”
Hyunjae leaned down slightly, voice lowering.
“Protection.”
Yoojin turned on him, eyes blazing despite the exhaustion dragging at his limbs.
“From who?” he demanded. “You?! The Association?! Or me trying to leave?!”
Hyunjae studied his face carefully.
Then—
He reached out and gently brushed Yoojin’s hair back from his eyes.
Yoojin went still.
Not because he wanted to.
Because his body betrayed him.
“From everyone who thinks they can touch what’s mine,” Hyunjae said calmly.
Yoojin’s breath stuttered.
“Don’t—” His voice cracked. “Don’t say that.”
Hyunjae didn’t retract his hand.
“Why?” he asked. “It’s already written down. Signed. Filed.”
His thumb traced the edge of Yoojin’s jaw, feather-light.
“You’re my exclusive guide now.”
Yoojin’s knees weakened.
He turned away abruptly, dragging the chain with him as he moved toward the couch. He dropped onto it heavily, elbows braced on his thighs, head bowed.
“This is insane,” he whispered. “I didn’t agree to this. I never— I just wanted to do my job and go home.”
Hyunjae followed.
Sat beside him.
Not touching.
Close enough that Yoojin could feel his warmth, steady and grounding in the most dangerous way possible.
“You did agree,” Hyunjae said gently. “You just didn’t realize it.”
Yoojin looked up, eyes bloodshot with frustration.
“When?”
“When you guided me,” Hyunjae replied. “When you didn’t pull away. When your mana fit mine like it was made for it.”
He smiled faintly.
“When you held onto me and asked me not to let go.”
“That doesn’t—!” Yoojin swallowed hard. “That doesn’t mean I belong to you.”
Hyunjae’s expression softened.
Almost tender.
“You don’t belong to me,” he corrected. “You stay with me.”
That was worse.
Yoojin pressed his palms to his face, dragging them down slowly. His hands were trembling now, exhaustion finally winning over adrenaline.
“I need to see my brother,” he said quietly. “Please.”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Hyunjae stiffened.
“…Oh. You mean Yoohyun,” he said, tasting the name.
Yoojin nodded, eyes still downcast. “I don’t even know where he is. I passed out and nobody will tell me anything. If something happened to him—”
“Nothing happened,” Hyunjae said immediately.
Too quickly.
Yoojin looked up sharply.
“You’re lying.”
Hyunjae met his gaze without flinching.
“…I checked,” he said. “He’s alive. Stabilized. He’s okay.”
Yoojin’s shoulders sagged in relief so sharp it almost hurt.
“…You swear?”
Hyunjae leaned closer.
“So long as you stay here,” he murmured, “They’ll keep him safe.”
The words wrapped around Yoojin like chains of their own.
A trade.
An unspoken one.
Yoojin realized it instantly—and hated himself for the way his body relaxed at the promise.
“…That’s not fair,” he whispered.
Hyunjae’s voice softened further. “Life rarely is.”
Silence settled again.
Minutes passed.
Hyunjae didn’t move away.
Didn’t crowd him.
Just stayed—an immovable presence at his side.
Eventually, Yoojin’s breathing slowed. His head tipped forward despite his best efforts. The room was warm. Too quiet. His mana felt heavy, sluggish from overuse.
Hyunjae noticed the exact second Yoojin started to drift.
Carefully, he shifted closer and guided Yoojin down onto the couch, arranging him without waking him fully. The chain loosened as Yoojin curled instinctively toward the heat.
Hyunjae watched him sleep.
Watched the tension drain from his face. Watched the fear soften into something vulnerable and unguarded.
He reached out and brushed his knuckles along Yoojin’s cheek.
“So fragile,” he murmured. “And they thought they could take you away from me.”
Hyunjae leaned back, settling in.
The suppressors hummed.
The door stayed locked.
And for the first time since awakening—
Sung Hyunjae rested easily.
Because his guide was here.
And detainment, he decided, wasn’t so bad at all.