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    Chapter 105

    At some point, the conversation faded and silence settled in.

    In the hush, Vasily’s weight leaning against me grew heavier and heavier. With the chorus of insects screeching on all sides, I couldn’t make out his breathing—but it seemed he’d fallen asleep.

    Judging by the suppression chip starting to heat up, we’d been guiding for about an hour. Even so, he showed no sign of stirring.

    ā€œMaybe I should let him sleep a little longerā€¦ā€

    He wouldn’t get proper rest while the raid continued. If he spent a full week fighting monsters without sleep, his condition would nosedive fast. Better to let him close his eyes for a while.

    I’d hold out until the chip went from hot to unbearable. When it truly became too much, I’d wake him then. After taking a little blood and sending him back into the Gate, we’d be fine.

    Listening quietly to the insects, I carefully wrapped my arms around his broad back.

    Vasily returned to the Gate just before dawn.

    I kept putting off waking him—telling myself we could guide a little longer—until dawn crept in. Unlike me, who’d been awake all night, he seemed in decent shape after sleeping soundly through the guiding.

    After all that contact, my nape was burning, of course. Only after he stood and I drank his blood did the heat finally fade.

    Right before he entered the Gate, he looked back at me—hollow-eyed as I saw him off. He only said he didn’t know when he could come out again to be guided, then left.

    That afternoon, a few exhausted Espers came out to replenish their guiding. I lingered nearby, hoping he’d be among them—but there was no sign of those striking silver strands anywhere.

    I approached an Esper who had just started receiving guidance from a temp Guide and asked quietly,

    ā€œHas Esper Vasily come out?ā€

    He flinched when he saw my face, then clamped his mouth shut with a troubled look. Right… I’d forgotten where I stood.

    Even without Vasily present, they kept their mouths shut. I understood. I wouldn’t want to risk losing my tongue either. And Vasily was not the type to make empty threats.

    I gave up getting answers and backed away so he could receive guiding in peace. Looking around, I realized everyone but me was guiding someone. Even sitting in a corner felt like an intrusion, so I slipped out of the tent quietly.

    ā€œHe isn’t outside eitherā€¦ā€

    If he still hadn’t appeared, then he hadn’t come out with the others. I loitered near the Gate, but worried it would look like I was waiting for him, I headed back to the tent.

    Vasily finally came out again on the night of the third day of the raid.

    ā€œUrk!ā€

    After twisting and tossing in the miserable cot, I’d finally dozed off when something large crashed down on top of me. Blindsided in my sleep, I clutched my throbbing ribs and shoved at the weight.

    ā€œW-wait…! Is that you, Esper Vasily?ā€

    ā€œā€¦ā€

    No response. He lay there unmoving, and then he wrapped his arms around my waist and closed his eyes, on the verge of passing out right on top of me.

    ā€œPlease, just sit up for a moment. I’ll guide you properly somewhere else, okay?ā€

    I coaxed him, flustered. Maybe my persistent whispering got on his nerves—after a long stretch of pleading, he reluctantly pushed himself up.

    He looked utterly worn out after two days. I grabbed the cot and wheeled it outside with him. The commotion made me feel guilty for disturbing the others sleeping nearby.

    The rolling clatter of wheels and the steps of two people slipped between the dark tents.

    We reached the empty changing room, and I flicked on the lights. The first thing that greeted me in the brightened space was my hand—stained red.

    ā€œWhat…?ā€

    Had I brushed against wet paint moving the cot? The texture was too thin, too quick to smear. Maybe the smell would tell me—so I lifted my fingertips to my nose. The instant the metallic tang surged up my nostrils, I froze.

    Blood.

    I wasn’t in pain anywhere. I hadn’t injured my palm moving the cot. Which meant there was only one possible source.

    I spun around to face Vasily, who had been silent this whole time.

    ā€œAre you hurt?ā€

    ā€œJust a scratch.ā€

    ā€œThere’s too much blood for ā€˜just’—!ā€

    I quickly scanned him.

    The left shoulder of his suit jacket was torn and stained dark red. From the spread, the bleeding didn’t look heavy—but if he’d sealed it with his power, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

    I started undressing him to check the wound.

    Jacket aside, tie yanked loose. He didn’t resist, and the shirt buttons came away easily. When I peeled back the collar, the wound revealed itself—sheathed in ice.

    A deep gash sliced across his shoulder. Anyone could tell it was from a monster. From the angle of it, he could’ve lost the whole shoulder.

    ā€œAn S-class Esper gets hurt in a low-tier Gate like this? And this is what you call a ā€˜scratch’?ā€

    ā€œI let my guard down for a moment.ā€

    ā€œLet your guard down? Unless you did it on purposeā€”ā€

    Mid-argument, something clicked, and I narrowed my eyes.

    ā€œā€¦Was this because of me?ā€

    There was no way a monster of this grade could injure him. Normally, he would have taken it out before it ever got close.

    That left one possibility. He’d tried to minimize his ability usage without proper guiding—and got hurt.

    ā€œYou held back on your ability and got injured because my guiding is ineffective, didn’t you?ā€

    ā€œWellā€¦ā€

    Vague—but not a denial. I fell silent. Even without his answer, I already knew. He’d been hurt because he hadn’t received proper guiding—from me.

    I bit my lip and clenched my fist.

    ā€œWait here. I’ll get a first-aid kit from the Guide tent.ā€

    I left without looking back.

    To think he’d been injured because my guiding was too weak and he had to conserve power. I despised my own incompetence. I hadn’t felt my pride sting this sharply in a long time.

    Damn it. This was all because of the suppression chip.

    I pressed hard at the nape of my neck. Nails dug into skin—a smart flare of pain—but there was no tearing out the chip buried deep beneath.

    ā€œHaaā€¦ā€

    My chest felt tight, but treating his wound came first. I dragged a lungful of cold air down and cleared my head.

    The waiting area remained quiet with everyone asleep as I collected the first-aid kit and returned to the changing room. Vasily sat on the cot exactly as I had left him, waiting.

    Seeing him like that, a few truths I’d been ignoring lined themselves up in my head.

    Vasily hadn’t improved much even after beginning regular guiding with me. He’d likely brought me to this Gate because going a week without guiding would be too hard now.

    Before my regression, he could go a week without it just fine. Unless it was an S-grade Gate, he wouldn’t get hurt either. In other words, everything now—the reason he was struggling, the reason he was injured—lay with me and the suppression chip that had made me ineffective.

    ā€œā€¦I’m going to wrap this.ā€

    I approached with the kit carefully.

    As he released his power, the ice melted, and the blood that had been held back began to flow again. I pressed the wound to staunch it, then poured disinfectant over it.

    The antiseptic would sting viciously, but his expression didn’t even flicker. My own face twisted instead, knowing exactly how that pain felt.

    I padded the wound and wrapped it with bandages. He watched quietly, then said,

    ā€œYou’re good at this.ā€

    ā€œThe Association included emergency care in the training I received as a temporary Guide.ā€

    ā€œFor that, you’re very practiced. Didn’t even flinch at the blood.ā€

    Of course I didn’t. Before the regression, wrapping myself up the moment I came out of a Gate had been routine. Sometimes I wrapped him too. I couldn’t help but be used to it.

    ā€œIt’s done. Can you move without discomfort?ā€

    ā€œYes. This should be fine even inside the Gate.ā€

    ā€œThen lie down now. I’ll guide you.ā€

    Watching him stretch out on the cot, I was grateful I’d brought it. It was too small—half of his legs hung off the edge—but lying down would still help him rest.

    I took off my top and approached the bed to begin guiding.

    ā€œThe bed’s narrow, so pardon me.ā€

    Two grown men couldn’t fit on a single cot. I had no choice but to lie partially on top of him.

    I wobbled, off-balance, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me from falling. I adjusted, careful to avoid his injured shoulder, and pressed into his chest.

     

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