The air in the testing room felt too still, heavy with something unspoken.

Dr. Han stood between them, setting down a black watch and a silver bracelet on the table.

“These,” she said, her tone calm but absolute, “are your connection devices. You both need to wear them.”

Neither Seon nor Taeo moved.

The silver bracelet reflected the room’s white light, pulsing faintly as if it were alive. Seon’s gaze lingered on it—his stomach twisting at the thought of putting it on.

Taeo folded his arms. “I thought pair assignments weren’t finalized yet.”

“They aren’t,” Dr. Han replied, “but the system won’t stabilize until both of you are linked. Once you wear them, the connection becomes official.”

She looked at Seon for a long moment before continuing, her voice softer.

“The bracelets and watches are permanent. They can’t be removed unless one of you is reassigned… or if one of you dies.”

The words dropped like glass shattering on tile.

Seon flinched, barely noticeable, but Taeo caught it.

He remembered the last one.

The last guide who wore something just like that.

The one whose signal stopped blinking one night—and never came back.

“I don’t need it,” Seon said, his voice steady but low. “I’ll manage on my own.”

Dr. Han sighed quietly. “You said that before. And last time, someone died because of it.”

Silence.

Taeo’s jaw tightened, impatience flashing in his eyes. “You’re wasting time. Just wear it so we can get this over with.”

Dr. Han slid the devices closer. “Woo Taeo, you too. Both of you.”

After a pause, Taeo fastened the black watch around his wrist. The small screen flickered to life, glowing faintly blue before fading again.

Seon stared at the bracelet for a long moment, then finally slipped it onto his wrist.

The metal felt too cold. Too final.

As soon as it clicked shut, the air around them shifted—a faint hum filled the room as both devices blinked in sync. For a second, a soft blue thread connected them in the air before it vanished.

Taeo looked down at his wrist, expression unreadable. “That’s it?”

Dr. Han nodded. “That’s it. Taeo’s watch can track Seon’s location, his condition, and his stability levels. If Seon’s stability drops below ten percent, the watch will alert you instantly. The bracelet will also start beeping on his end.”

Seon’s eyes lowered to the faint glow. “So it’ll remind me when I’m about to lose control.”

“It’s not a reminder,” Dr. Han said gently. “It’s a lifeline.”

She turned toward the door, then paused. “And one more thing—since you’re now officially registered as a pair, the Association has assigned you both a Guide-Esper Residence. It’s required for all active pairs.”

Seon blinked. “We’re… living together?”

Dr. Han nodded. “Yes. Each residence has the basics you’ll need—two rooms, shared living space, kitchen, gym access, and direct connection to mission briefings. You’ll move in today.”

Taeo frowned. “Is that really necessary?”

“It’s regulation,” she said simply. “You need to synchronize, and living apart makes that harder. You’ll find the location in your devices once you leave this room.”

When she left, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving the two of them in the quiet hum of the lights above.

For a while, neither spoke.

Seon looked at the bracelet—the way it pulsed faintly, almost like it was syncing with his heartbeat.

Taeo’s sleeve hid his watch, but the faint light beneath the fabric betrayed it.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Seon muttered.

“Neither did I,” Taeo said, voice quiet but sharp. “But now we’re stuck with it.”