Ghost Apple

“Ugh!”

His eyes snapped open. The blurry view that came into focus was the same room as before he’d fallen asleep.

Only, Seo Won—who should’ve been seated at the desk—was now beside him.

With a crushing grip on Han-gyeom’s right hand, he was forcibly absorbing his GP. Because of that, Han-gyeom had to endure the same violent, nerve-grating sensation from the day before—like his very energy was being chewed apart.

“No sense of… decency, seriously…”

Flinching and glaring up at him, Han-gyeom locked eyes with Seo Won as the latter set down a file.

“The contract clearly states you must guide me whenever I need it.”

Sure, Han-gyeom had agreed to that and signed it—but still, leeching off his GP without a word while he was asleep? That was just messed up.

Waking up with that disgusting sensation, Han-gyeom tried to pull his hand away from Seo Won’s grip.

“I’ll do it myself. Let go.”

This method was inefficient and brutish.

It was no different from eating raw, unseasoned meat—nothing refined, no finesse.

Seo Won, visibly dissatisfied, didn’t release his hand so easily. He had only just gotten a taste of something sweet, and he wasn’t nearly full yet.

Still, just for now, he let go—deciding to humor him. He’d watch what Han-gyeom planned to do. And if he didn’t like it, he’d simply grab him again and drain him dry, no complaints.

Once Seo Won released him, Han-gyeom rose to his feet and stood in front of him.

“Take your clothes off.”

Seo Won let out a soft snort.

“Didn’t you say you’d do it?”

He spread his arms slightly, as if inviting Han-gyeom to undress him himself.

Han-gyeom hated that smug expression.

Of course someone raised in a position of privilege wouldn’t be thrilled about having some lowly Guide as their Imprint. Still…

Even while seated, Seo Won looked down on him with those arrogant eyes, as though he were gazing from a mountaintop.

Han-gyeom had noticed it during previous Gidings too—Unregistered Espers had a tendency to look down on Guides.

Actually, they looked down on all regular humans with no abilities, treating them as inferior by default. But when it came to Guides in particular, it was even worse.

Espers needed Guides to suppress and stabilize their violent ESP. But that sense of need often warped into possessiveness and obsession—and eventually, into a twisted desire for control.

Espers affiliated with the Association, on the other hand, received immediate training the moment they came under management.

Their first lessons were always about Guides: understanding their importance, learning how to communicate effectively, and most importantly, being taught the basic respect and etiquette necessary for high-quality Guiding.

That’s why most Espers affiliated with the Association know to treat Guides with care and prioritize their well-being above all.

If a Guide is uncomfortable or afraid of the Esper, the efficiency of the Guiding drops drastically—often well below average. Which is why registered Espers go out of their way to avoid even raising their voices.

But unregistered Espers? They’ve never received that kind of education.

All that remains is their raw, unrefined nature.

So when it comes to their deeply ingrained desire for Guides, they can’t—and don’t want to—control it. And that’s why this arrogant predator-like superiority, this instinct to look down on the one they’re meant to ‘dominate,’ bleeds through so naturally, just like now.

Even if this guy weren’t an Esper, I bet he’d still be arrogant as hell.

Whenever Seo Won looked down at him with those icy, dispassionate eyes, Han-gyeom was reminded of countless other gazes that mirrored the same disdain.

There had been Espers in the Association’s unofficial research facility who, despite being experiments themselves, received no education at all. No matter how much time passed, they remained like children.

Suffocated under unbearable pressure, forced into agonizing procedures without the right—or courage—to say no. They were expected to expose every part of themselves, as if even hiding their pain was a luxury they weren’t allowed.

And at the very bottom of that dehumanizing hierarchy were the Guides.

The only things those worn-down, over-experimented Espers could trample on. The only toys that could stir a spark of satisfaction or pleasure in their otherwise hollowed-out selves. Tossed into the midst of half-feral predators, the fragile prey had no choice but to be torn apart, piece by piece.

Etiquette? Respect?

As if that had ever existed there.

What they needed wasn’t manners—it was power. Not just to endure being used and dragged around, but to control those very Espers. To dominate them.

Han-gyeom’s hand moved toward Seo Won’s neck. He loosened the neatly knotted tie and undid the top button of his black shirt.

Click. Click. One by one, the buttons of his shirt and vest came undone.

Han-gyeom paused, staring at Seo Won’s body—covered in grotesque black veining known as Black Vein.

Despite it, his physique remained solid, well-toned—something that drew the eye on its own. But what stood out more than anything was the vivid red sigil burned into his chest. Surely, the matching Imprint on Han-gyeom’s back must be glowing just as red in resonance.

Steadying the fine tremor in his chest, Han-gyeom placed his hands on both of Seo Won’s shoulders.

“I’m going to get on for a bit.”

Seo Won frowned as Han-gyeom climbed onto his lap without waiting for permission. Facing him directly, straddling him like a rider, Han-gyeom pulled the shirt open even further—especially around the shoulders, pushing the fabric down all the way to his arms.

“Didn’t expect you to be this forward.”

“I’m just earning my paycheck. Now shut up and stay still.”

Seo Won let out a short, scoffing laugh while Han-gyeom intently examined the spread of Black Vein across his shoulders and neck.

There were countless strands. Originally a single channel, the flow had splintered wildly—fragmenting and shooting off in every direction. Naturally, that meant there were multiple endpoints.

Around both shoulders, Han-gyeom found several vein tips trailing downward, and one particular strand—rising like a snake—seemed to slither up toward the neck.

Among the many strands branching in every direction, three of them were closest to his head.

If it’s this bad, even just one day of depression could be dangerous, Han-gyeom thought.

But he quickly shook the thought away.

Seo Won, with depression? That image was laughably absurd.

Clearing his mind, he turned his focus back to the Black Veins.

First, he had to gently smooth out the tips of the strands and slowly push them back—guiding them, little by little, in the reverse direction they had come from. If he kept at it, even if it took a long time, they could eventually return to their original, balanced pathways—the way they had been before the Black Veins ruptured.

I can’t say how long it’ll take to completely purge it all…

But for now, the urgent parts needed tending first.

Han-gyeom softly laid his hands on either side of Seo Won’s shoulders and leaned in close. His palms covered two of the strands, but to make contact with the one crawling up the neck, there was only one option.

He had to use his mouth.

“…!”

Seo Won flinched as a pair of soft lips touched the side of his neck. The sensation—the same one he’d tasted the night before—was now trailing down through his skin.

“I’m starting now.”

Han-gyeom’s whisper brushed against his ear, and the warm breath that followed tickled along his neck.

A gentle, unforced Guiding began—through Han-gyeom’s hands and lips.

A soft red glow flowed from Han-gyeom’s lowered eyes, and the same crimson current spread from his hands and mouth, surging into Seo Won’s body like a charge of electricity.

This wasn’t Han-gyeom’s first time attempting to control Black Vein. It was something he’d seen often in the Espers at the lab, and even some clients who came for Guiding had been infected deeply enough with it to risk losing control. None of them had been as severe as Seo Won, though.

And yet he acts like he’s perfectly fine, walking around like that?

With Black Vein spread this extensively, a person’s circadian rhythm would be in complete disarray. Their body would ache like they were constantly ill, and migraines would strike without warning. On top of that, whenever their powers started to surge chaotically from within, it could feel like seizures—and so, their nerves would always be on edge.

Guessing just how ruinous his condition was, Han-gyeom began methodically tending to each strand.

He gently rubbed the jagged tips until they dulled, smoothing them down until they formed soft, rounded curves. Over and over, he coaxed them into submission with delicate strokes.

Even as he worked, the black tendrils kept trying to swallow his energy whole—like gaping maws ready to devour him. But each time, Han-gyeom’s GP calmly met the channels, soothing them with warm, steady pressure.

And every time the Vein started to behave, like a beast tamed by its keeper, Han-gyeom carefully sculpted its edge again.

While Han-gyeom remained focused on this meticulous Guiding, Seo Won felt a rising heat wherever their bodies touched.