TGIC Ch 126

Chapter 126

Vasily lifted his hand and took hold of Gidam’s arm.

Thinner than expected. His fingers closed fully around the forearm; as he pressed and gauged the meager muscle beneath his palm, he noticed Gidam’s expression twist with discomfort at the contact.

“We’ll need to build some muscle. And put some weight on you.”

“I was planning to start training anyway.”

“Good. Then we’re in agreement.”

Vasily smiled lightly and rose to his feet.

“Shall we go?”

“…Go where?”

“The conditioning room. You need to build stamina before we enter the Gate.”

Gidam stilled, clearly unenthusiastic, yet after recalling how quickly he had tired in the last Gate, he lowered his gaze and nodded.

Since their intentions aligned, there was no reason to delay. They left the private room immediately and walked on.

Today, they were not heading to the combat training hall, but to the conditioning room. Sparring like before would be enjoyable, but stamina came first. Gidam was even weaker now than he had been then.

Upon arrival, Vasily surveyed the spacious room filled wall-to-wall with training equipment.

Not a single person was inside—thanks to Vasily, who had instructed the Association to clear out all Espers using the space. This way, he could train Gidam without interruption.

Gidam had already removed his suit jacket and begun stretching. Vasily’s gaze followed the shifting fabric of the dress shirt as he asked,

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable changing clothes?”

“I don’t have anything to change into.”

“I can have combat gear delivered at once.”

“Combat gear is more uncomfortable than a suit.”

His refusal was firm, but Vasily had already decided. He wanted to see Gidam in combat attire properly—he’d glimpsed it before, but never truly had the chance to appreciate it.

“If you’re not planning to enter the Gate in a suit, you’d better get used to the combat gear.”

“…I will wear it.”

“Good choice.”

Realizing his opinion held no weight, Gidam exhaled and nodded with resignation.

Vasily immediately called the Association and ordered combat gear in Gidam’s size. Shortly after, an employee arrived with a set that fit him perfectly.

“You brought it correctly. Put it on.”

Gidam turned toward the changing room.

“You don’t need help?”

“I can do it myself.”

Vasily let him go. A self-sufficient guide—good, but somehow disappointing. His lips pressed together as he watched Gidam walk away.

When Gidam returned, he was dressed in the combat suit, though without the heavy vest and tactical gear—just the base uniform. And Vasily found he… preferred it.

However, a problem immediately arose.

“This is…”

“……”

“Terrible.”

Even faced with Vasily’s blunt judgment, Gidam said nothing. He could not; every machine in the room defeated him completely.

All the equipment here was designed for Espers. Vasily had expected Gidam to struggle, but he hadn’t expected him to fail at everything.

Gidam attempted to lift a dumbbell—his arm trembled violently, yet the weight didn’t so much as budge from the floor.

“You can stop. It’s not going to work.”

If he started at this level, improving in a short time was nearly impossible. Vasily felt disappointed, though he chose not to show it—Gidam already looked shaken enough.

Most equipment here was beyond him. Just as Vasily considered abandoning the idea and finding another method to train him, he spotted a row of treadmills near the window.

“You can at least use that, right?”

“…Yes.”

Gidam’s pride clearly took a hit, but he nodded.

Tap, tap, tap—

Light footsteps echoed through the quiet space as he ran.

Even running seemed to strain him—sweat poured from his face. Vasily sat on a bench, eyes leisurely tracing Gidam’s frame.

After running and slowing to a walk repeatedly, Gidam stepped off, struggling for breath.

“Haa…”

“You’re done already?”

“…I will run more.”

Vasily’s casual remark made Gidam bristle and climb back on, setting the speed even higher this time.

So easy to provoke.

Vasily smirked—but the smile soon faded.

Just one hour, and he’s in this state. Pathetic.

Humans were frail—absurdly so. Illness killed them, cars killed them, monsters tore them apart without resistance. And that fragility applied even to his own Guide.

Would training make him stronger?

Perhaps. Yet if Vasily looked away for even a moment, he might die. Like last time—when another Esper had nearly tempted him away.

There was only one answer: keep him close. Every day. Bring him into Gates. Train him personally. He would be safe at Vasily’s side.

If a car charged at him, Vasily would block it.

If a monster lunged, Vasily would kill it.

He could isolate him, keep every other Esper—or any person—from drawing near.

Gidam was far too luminous to trust him among others. Something that sparkled so brightly in Vasily’s eyes would not look like a mere stone to others.

Vasily’s gaze darkened.

He could not afford to relax.

He must guard him all the more.

There was only one person in the world who could be his Guide: Gidam.

“Hah… huff…”

Another hour passed. Gidam staggered off the treadmill, lungs heaving, legs barely supporting him. He was at his limit. Any further, and he might collapse entirely.

Vasily stood, walked over, and held out a bottle of water. Gidam glanced at it, as if considering refusing—but thirst won. He snatched it and drank greedily.

“Haa…”

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His head tipped back, sweat running from his hair, down his cheek, tracing his jaw to his neck. Vasily’s gaze followed the droplets helplessly.

His hand lifted without thought.

A soft touch.

Skin hot as if fevered.

He brushed back sweat-damp hair, revealing the stark scar at the nape of Gidam’s neck. When his fingertips pressed lightly over it, he felt life throb beneath.

Gidam’s mouth parted, breath unsteady, lips wet and flush. Vasily’s focus tunneled, drawn helplessly forward.

“…Esper Vasily?”

He froze.

Hearing his name snapped him from the fog. Awareness rushed back in an instant. Their faces—far too close. Gidam blinked up at him, tension evident; and Vasily realized it had been him closing the distance.

Gidam’s face betrayed disquiet. Vasily felt just as unsettled.

He leaned back slowly, composing himself.

“You smell like sweat. Go shower.”

“I was going to without you saying it!”

Gidam swatted his hand away and stormed toward the showers.

Vasily glanced down. His trousers had been uncomfortably tight for some time—now straining visibly.

“…I must have strange tastes.”

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, eyes narrowing at the bulge as if it personally offended him.

Was he aroused by the sight of Gidam glaring at him with disgust?

Utterly incomprehensible. And yet, at the center of this bewildering reaction, one thing was certain:

It was all because of Gidam.