Seon hadn’t seen Taeo again for two days, which would’ve been ideal—if Seon wasn’t constantly reminded of the run-in every time he winced getting out of bed. His ribs hurt like hell, and every inch of his body felt like a barely-contained storm.

Still, he dragged himself back to the training floor. Being idle made him twitchy. It always had.

Jiwon found him mid-telekinesis drill, three rods hovering around him in a lazy orbit.

“Morning,” Jiwon said, walking into his field like he didn’t just interrupt focused concentration.

Seon didn’t bother greeting back. He lowered the rods with a slow exhale, sweat sticking his shirt to his back.

“You hear about the reassignments?” Jiwon asked, way too chipper for this early in the day.

“No.”

“Well, rumor is the higher-ups are pushing for personal assignments again. One-on-one guiding. Real intimate stuff.”

Seon rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a waste of paperwork.”

Jiwon smirked. “Guess who’s on the list.”

Seon gave him a deadpan look.

“Not confirmed,” Jiwon added, holding up his hands. “Just gossip. But if you end up assigned to someone, you better hope it’s not that S-Class guy.”

Seon flexed his fingers. The rods lifted again, but they trembled slightly in the air.

Jiwon grinned. “You know, Taeo’s kind of hot. For someone with a personality disorder.”

Seon didn’t even blink. “It’s work, not a dating sim. Him being hot doesn’t exactly make him less of a pain in the ass.”

Jiwon laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“I still can’t believe you fell on him. Like, full-body contact. Peak romance.”

“Peak accident,” Seon muttered.

He focused again, trying to stabilize his control, but his powers were still shaky. It’d only been a couple of weeks since the last mission. He’d overreached—blacked out right before everything blew. He hadn’t needed a guide then, and he didn’t now.

Probably.

The rods jerked midair, clattered to the ground.

“Still can’t hold it steady?” Jiwon asked, frowning a little now.

“I’m fine.”

“Seon.”

He didn’t respond.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drills and exercises. Seon avoided the main hall during breaks, stuck to the edges. He didn’t want to run into Taeo again.

Which, of course, meant he did.

It was in the admin wing, of all places. Seon turned a corner with a file in hand and practically shoulder-checked someone.

Taeo.

Again.

“You have a habit,” Taeo said, dry as ever.

Seon stepped back, biting back the sting in his side. “Didn’t see you there.”

Taeo raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Seon waited for some kind of jab, some snide remark.

Nothing.

Taeo just moved around him like he was barely an obstacle and disappeared down the hallway.

Seon let out a slow breath, jaw tight.

Jiwon had a point.

If that was his new guide, the universe really did have a sense of humor.