Geon-joo looked surprised at Sa-yoon’s harshly spoken words. His expression clearly showed that he didn’t understand what Sa-yoon had just said, causing Sa-yoon to suppress a hollow laugh. Just as much as Sa-yoon couldn’t understand him, Geon-joo couldn’t understand Sa-yoon either.

They were a pair who couldn’t understand or empathize with each other.

That was precisely the distance between them.

And precisely the difference.

Would there ever come a day when this gap could be bridged?

His head throbbed. The possibility seemed slim, but that didn’t mean he could give up.

The activation quest had returned to its first step. Once the encounter quest with Han Geon-joo was completed, a quest to improve their relationship would also appear. This was something he would eventually have to accomplish.

Whether by beating Geon-joo into submission or beating his own mind into acceptance.

And Sa-yoon had chosen the former method, which was why he had come to the Bat Guild.

Because the methods for the latter option weren’t particularly good.

With the conversation seemingly concluded, Sa-yoon turned his back on the silent Geon-joo and walked toward his room. Belatedly, Geon-joo followed at a leisurely pace. After just a few steps, someone grabbed Sa-yoon’s arm.

“What now? If you have more to talk about, let’s do it inside.”

“What do you mean by ‘forced choice’?”

“I said let’s talk inside.”

“I want an answer now.”

“Han Geon-joo.”

Sa-yoon’s expression finally crumpled into something ominous.

“You still don’t understand who should be accommodating whom in this situation?”

“…”

Geon-joo closed his mouth at the threatening tone. He sighed and muttered as if in lamentation.

“You won’t give me a chance to be equals.”

Though it was a whisper close to a self-murmur, it wasn’t so quiet that Sa-yoon couldn’t hear it. Equals? At that one word, Sa-yoon’s shoulders jerked as if having a seizure, and he turned to look at Geon-joo.

Again.

Again, he talks as if Sa-yoon is infinitely below him. Even though Sa-yoon had never once stood above him.

His sanity had thinned to a thread, barely maintaining itself. Sa-yoon often wavered at the words “equals” and “understanding.” Now that Han Geon-joo, the very cause of his wavering, was actively saying such things, it was difficult to contain the rising anger. Biting his lip as if he wanted to chew it off, Sa-yoon reached for the door.

“Let’s continue this conversation inside.”

He couldn’t cause a disturbance in the hallway.

Since there was no place in the guild with better soundproofing than his room, he opened the door and entered. A white pair of shoes was visible in the entryway. Recognizing the familiar shoes, Sa-yoon looked up. A man wearing a cardigan and stroking a snake raised his head as he sensed their presence.

“Ah, you’re here?”

It was Lee Jaehee.

I sent him to the Swallow Guild, why is he here?

According to the original plan and schedule, he shouldn’t be here. It was perplexing to see him here when he should be struggling with paperwork right now. Sa-yoon blinked in surprise, and the man—whether he had escaped from piles of documents or intentionally come here—closed the book he had placed lightly on the snake and smiled. That distant smile with lowered eye corners and an upward curve only at the mouth seemed somehow familiar. Tracing his memory for when Jaehee had shown such a smile before, Sa-yoon suddenly understood what was happening without any further explanation.

This bastard fucking did it again.

That man, who was clearly blessed abundantly by the heavens, had once again read the celestial signs and come.

“Did you read it?”

“More or less, something similar.”

Was it because he had become too accustomed to Jaehee that his vague way of speaking to avoid divulging celestial secrets seemed annoying rather than pitiful? Faced with this unexpected variable, Sa-yoon sighed, took off his shoes, and stepped inside.

In truth, Jaehee’s presence itself wasn’t that surprising. If he could read celestial signs, he would have known that Sa-yoon would meet Han Geon-joo. He had shown increased interest whenever Han Geon-joo was mentioned before. This time too, he had undoubtedly come out of curiosity about Han Geon-joo.

It was evident from the interest-filled eyes of Jaehee as he looked directly at the person behind Sa-yoon’s shoulder. Sa-yoon was massaging his temple in frustration at the man who seemed to have no intention of hiding his motives, when Jaehee spoke.

“Looks like you found your path.”

“Sort of.”

It was a conversation only Sa-yoon and Jaehee could understand. Because of this, an atmosphere of exclusion formed, causing Geon-joo’s expression to wrinkle. Jaehee looked at him and smiled, his eyes curving.

“We’ll need another chair.”

With those words, the man rose and brought in a chair that had been left on the terrace, wiping it down. Sa-yoon wore an incredulous expression at the series of actions that seemed all too natural.

“Anyone would think this is your room.”

“I try to keep it as neat as my own.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Sa-yoon entered further inside with a snicker. It seemed the sharp atmosphere was somewhat softened by Jaehee’s presence. Since Jaehee was subtly skilled at handling people, having him here would likely make the conversation with Geon-joo flow a bit more smoothly.

If nothing else, Sa-yoon trusted Jaehee’s pure goodness and his skill in grasping people’s emotions. With visibly reduced tension, Sa-yoon stepped onto the floor. Jaehee, who had been curiously observing the temporarily frozen Geon-joo, noticed the pairing ring sparkling on Sa-yoon’s hand and began with an “Ah.”

“How’s the pairing ring? Have you used it?”

“I was looking forward to it, but I didn’t need to use it.”

“That’s fortunate then.”

Jaehee smiled and asked, “Should I call Rai for you?” Thinking that a soft living creature might help calm his mind, Sa-yoon nodded, and the man placed his palm on the summoning circle drawn on the floor to summon Fenrir.

Woof!

Rai, who had just appeared, rushed toward Sa-yoon. After detaching the massive creature that was pawing at him, Sa-yoon sat on the bed and placed Rai on his lap. When Jaehee asked if it wasn’t heavy, Sa-yoon replied, “Not really,” and Geon-joo watched the scene blankly.

Standing there just like a foreigner, in a daze.

Then, suddenly, he smiled with an empty face. Becoming aware of Geon-joo’s presence through that smile, Sa-yoon lifted his head, taking his eyes off Rai. Han Geon-joo was looking back and forth between Sa-yoon and Jaehee.

More precisely, at the pairing rings on their fingers.

Then he laughed with a “Ha,” tilted his head back, and ran his hand through his hair.

“Hmm.”

Jaehee hummed as if he had noticed something. Sa-yoon wished that if he had read or noticed something, he would share it. He tapped Jaehee’s leg, and the man shook his head with a smile.

“This seems like an issue for the two of you to resolve.”

“What are you talking about?”

Han Geon-joo was already enough for one day with his incomprehensible nonsense. If Jaehee started acting the same way, it would exceed the capacity his brain could handle. Just as Sa-yoon glared—

“Looks nice.”

A voice tinged with bleakness suddenly rose. Sa-yoon looked at the man who was fingering his ring.

Ah.

Only then did he notice that Han Geon-joo had a pairing ring on his finger. It was unmistakably the Fate Pairing from Palshillo.

When did he put it on?

After Geon-joo had fled, Sa-yoon had checked the ring’s connection daily for a good three months. However, there had been no sign of life from the Fate Pairing, and by the fourth month, he had given up, finding it pathetic to rely on a mere ring.

If that was the case, it meant Geon-joo had reconnected the pairing after Sa-yoon had stopped checking.

But why?

If he had run away, he should have stayed gone—why wear something that could potentially reveal his location if he wasn’t careful? As confusion set in at this inconsistent behavior, Sa-yoon suddenly recalled what Han Geon-joo had said earlier.

“I didn’t leave intending never to see you again.”

Those words had clearly targeted his escape that day. If so, could it be that they weren’t an excuse or a lie, but the truth?

Then why did he run away in the first place?

The vague reason he had given earlier didn’t explain it. Why he had fled, how he had come to harbor the thought of escaping, what he had done after escaping—all of these required more information and conversation. As Sa-yoon looked at him, suggesting he continue speaking, Geon-joo removed the pairing ring from his finger. Jaehee let out a short “Oh” of surprise at the sudden action, and a system notification window that Sa-yoon had seen once before appeared before his eyes.

<The pairing wearer has removed ‘Palshillo’s Fate Pairing’!>

It was a notification that made his blood run backward.

Sa-yoon’s pupils contracted. Thinking it might be a provocation, he turned to look at him while suppressing his anger, only to see the dejected-faced man clutching the removed pairing tightly in his hand.

“I thought flipping the game would change something. Since you were too busy keeping your mouth tightly shut, I thought I needed to change the game surrounding you to make you open up, I thought I needed to learn more about you. For whatever reason, I thought you needed to desire me less urgently.”

The man, with downcast eyes, stared at the floor. “Ha, really.” A groan-like sigh escaped his lips.

“I thought that was the only way there would be progress, so I gritted my teeth and dug in, and yet…”

It was close to a whisper. Geon-joo raised his head to look at Sa-yoon.

Their gazes met, almost missing each other. Sa-yoon blinked, unable to understand the man who had fled first yet now wore a desolate expression as if he were the one who had been abandoned.

“It looks nice.”

Geon-joo muttered softly. Repeating what he had said earlier, he threw the pairing ring he had been holding toward Sa-yoon’s feet, in front of the bed. The pairing ring rolled with a ting-ting sound, spun in place, and fell with a tick. Sa-yoon stared fixedly at the fallen pairing ring.

The pairing ring that he had never once removed.

“Does it feel good to throw people away like old shoes?”

Han Geon-joo spoke as if he were flabbergasted. At that, tick. The small amount of reason Sa-yoon had left snapped completely.

“Sa-yoon!”

Along with Jaehee’s scream-like shout, Sa-yoon lunged toward Geon-joo.

This goddamn bastard.

Sa-yoon truly could not understand Han Geon-joo.