I Am Your Guardian (1)
I quietly set the business card down in the basket, and the next thing I picked up was an expensive wristwatch.
This is the one that asshole used to brag about, spitting all over the place while drunk off his ass, saying it cost several months of my salary. Well, I don't really have a fixed salary staring at charts all day—whatever I make selling stocks is my income for that day. Every time he'd grind my gears with that shit, I'd seriously think about dumping it just to piss him off.
The guy had zero regrets about leaving his watch hostage in my place. Hell, he even brazenly boasted that if he ever caused trouble here later, he'd cover it with this thing. Memories of that infuriating Han Junseo from back then bubbled up, and I couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle.
"Gimme your hand."
"Huh…? Okay…."
At my sudden demand, she hesitated before slipping her slender arm out from under the blanket. I fastened the watch around her thin, pale wrist—the same one she'd worn back in the day. Click. But of course, the band that had fit snugly around my thick wrist now dangled loosely, like some oversized bracelet or a slack pair of handcuffs.
"Haha… yeah, it doesn't fit at all anymore."
I laughed awkwardly, and she gazed bitterly at the watch hanging off her wrist before speaking up.
"Just… sell it. It's no use to me now…."
"That's way too pricey just for a few days' rent. Let's keep it."
"Okay…."
From her perspective, even this shiny, expensive watch was just a relic of her dead past—she probably wanted it out of sight. But honestly? What a waste. It was one of the last traces of the old Han Junseo left in this world. I carefully unclasped it and put it back in the basket.
Next, I picked up the beat-up leather wallet she'd tossed aside as worthless.
"Mind if I look at the photos inside?"
A few old pictures poked out from the edges. Even if it was abandoned junk, it was still someone else's wallet—I figured I should at least ask. She just nodded silently.
Am I pushing too hard into her past right now? I felt a twinge of worry, but I decided to believe that facing bits of her old self like this, little by little, would help her find something in the end.
I started pulling out the sticker photos tucked into the wallet's compartments one by one. With every picture, her flashy, ever-changing hairstyles and colors jumped out, matched by the parade of different girls glued to her side, their faces a rainbow of variety.
Damn… this guy really lived it up.
Me? I'd spent all of college labeled the world's safest guy by my peers—completely walled off from dating. Meanwhile, this jerk treated every day like a festival. A flicker of petty jealousy hit me, but I swallowed the snort of laughter threatening to escape.
I casually shoved the photos of her cheek-to-cheek with ex-girlfriends back into the wallet's corner without a word. Finally, I picked up the single ID photo slotted in the clear pocket. Probably taken for a job resume back then—crisp suit, hair neatly combed over, face squared perfectly.
She seemed interested in this one, staring intently at my fingertips.
"Guess we'll have to take a new one soon."
Seizing the moment, I tossed her a practical task for the coming days. Her eyes wavered.
"Take… a new one? Then I'd have to… go outside…."
"Probably. You'll need an ID photo for even a temporary ID."
I laid out the reality calmly while showing her the photo, and her face started draining of color again. She clutched the blanket with both hands, trying to pull it over her head—but this time was different. Her hands froze right at her nose. Instead of hiding completely, she stopped with just her eyes peeking out, alternating glances between the ID photo in my hand and me.
"My ID… the me from a few days ago…."
She mumbled haltingly, looking up at me with terrified eyes that wanted to flee but were fighting to stay brave. I gave her the faintest smile and nodded slowly.
"Yeah. We can get it back."
"How…?"
Her eyes trembled as she gazed up at me, and I explained step by step, counting on my fingers.
"I saw a government poster at the convenience store once—something about issuing temporary IDs for full mutation patients."
"And…?"
I unfolded my fingers one by one toward her skeptical face, outlining the next steps.
"First, apply at the community center or wherever. Second, meet with the official and go through the process. Third… like I said, new ID photo."
"The photo… I'm scared to go outside…."
"No need. These days, you snap one with your phone, send it through an app, and the photo shop handles the background removal, corrections, everything."
"Oh… okay, got it…."
Thankfully, she accepted it without fuss or bolting. I carefully returned her abandoned mementos to the plastic basket, then slid the whole thing into the drawer under the TV instead of the corner shelf.
"Pull it out anytime you wanna look later."
I closed the drawer a bit louder on purpose so she'd hear, but she said nothing. When I turned around, she was peeking at me from under the blanket up to her nose, just like before. But her eyes weren't as hollow or vacant as yesterday. There was a faint, subtle spark of life in them.
Relief from not having to go out, mixed with a sliver of trust that I'd figure it out somehow. Seeing my sincerity reach her, I let out a quiet sigh of relief inside.
"Alright. It's early, but we ate a solid dinner, so take your meds and crash. Tomorrow's gonna be busy."
"Okay…."
She nodded faintly and wriggled out from under the blanket. I stood first and headed to the kitchen for the pill packet, and she scurried after me with quick little footsteps, right on my heels.
Jesus, what am I, mama duck? She was a full-grown adult who'd soon get an official government ID. Whatever. We'll take it slow, step by step.
She couldn't strut the streets confidently overnight like her old self. But this trailing-behind-me bit? I could chalk it up to cute charm and laugh it off.
I gave her the evening meds, and like the night before, we lay down together in my bedroom bed. The Pacific Ocean of space between us could've fit another person, but true to form, she reached out a small hand from under the blanket and gripped my pinky tight.
It was too early for me to sleep, so I just blinked into the dark. But she'd been tense all day and was already out, breathing soft little snores in deep slumber.
Staring at the ceiling, a silly thought crossed my mind.
What if I gotta hit the bathroom in the middle of the night? If I slipped my finger free and vanished, would she wake up panicked and cry? …What the hell am I even thinking?
She's an adult—she'd wait if I said I was going to the john. It was ridiculous picturing some third-rate romance fantasy where she was totally dependent on me. I scolded myself for the dumb daydream and focused on her steady breathing under the covers, counting it once, twice in my head until sleep finally pulled me under.
The next morning, still uncomfortable in someone else's place, she had neatly folded her beloved blanket military-style and was waiting in the living room. The difference from yesterday? She wasn't ramrod straight like a fresh recruit, hands on knees.
Today, she lounged against the sofa in a fairly relaxed pose. I yawned as I shuffled out and plopped down, and she scooted her butt over slyly to my side.
"Wake me if you got up early."
"No…."
Her voice was much calmer than yesterday, settled deep. Was it the promise last night to slowly reclaim her identity? Or the meds finally kicking in, easing her body and mind? Either way—or both—as long as she was more composed, that was progress.
"Eat first, then we'll look up temporary ID stuff nice and slow. I'll grab something simple for breakfast. Cold or hot?"
"Cold…."
No hesitation or questions this time—instant reply.
"Got it. Back from the store quick—watch TV. Peek out the window if you're bored."
"Okay……."
I'd half-hoped for a casual "come back safe," but words tied to the outside world still didn't come easy. No need to push. Answering right away was enough of a win.
I grabbed my wallet and headed to the door. Her relaxed face promised a pretty good start to the day.
At the convenience store, I picked cold desserts she'd like: a soft milk cream bun from the fridge and a pricey little cup of ice cream from her favorite brand. Grabbed a cup ramen for myself and checked out.
Bag in hand, I came home to her waiting, as expected.
Ooh… she actually came out to greet me, all the way to the entrance. Well, just one extra step into the hallway from the door to the living room—but compared to yesterday, huge progress.
"Got your favorite ice cream. Eat this while we look stuff up slow."
I held up the bag at eye level, and curiosity won—she hesitated, then took one more step toward me. But that was it. She stood at a distance, staring intently.
Bribe with food, get one extra step, huh. I smirked inwardly. Big guy or tiny pretty girl, she was still entertaining as hell in her actions.
I went to the living room, set the cream bun and ice cream on the table in front of the sofa.
"Eat up. I'll grab some water."
I headed to the kitchen for hot water for my ramen. Standing at the counter, powering up the coffee pot, I heard rustling from the living room—the plastic wrapper tearing open.
Guess skimpy breakfast left her starving.
Listening to her tear into the bun greedily, a ridiculous image flashed in my head. Once she fully relaxed, maybe she'd whine for food like the old days, nagging me like back then.
Old male Han Junseo? I'd smack his back and tell him to shut up. But if this version pitched a fit… what a sight.
Like a cute manga girl, flailing her hands in a tantrum? Or pouting with stomped feet? And if she really jumped around like that…
Still no bra 'cause I botched the size on panties-only shopping, just loose shirt hanging—those heavy tits would jiggle dizzyingly with every whine.
Fuck. What the hell am I imagining now.
Blood rushed south in a hot rush at the dangerous thought. I shook my head hard to snap out of it, focused on the bubbling coffee pot water, and ripped open my ramen packet a bit roughly.