"Okay," Minho replied, not missing a beat. His face gave nothing away, but it was clear he was bending over backward to be understanding, which felt almost ironic given everything he'd put Jae-woo through.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

Jae-woo looked up at him, his eyes betraying the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. A part of him wanted to laugh at how pathetic he felt, needing someone to stay with him like a scared kid.

But he was exhausted. Exhausted from pretending everything was okay, from carrying the weight of his guilt and pain alone. And the idea of sitting by himself, trapped with his own thoughts once again, was just too much to bear.

Then there was Minho—his tormentor and, strangely, his lifeline. The man who saw through all his defenses but still stayed.

Clenching his fists, Jae-woo spoke in a low, almost defiant voice. "Stay. I—" He paused, struggling to keep his composure. "... I don't want to be alone. Not right now."

"Okay," Minho said again, his tone unchanged. "Where do you want me?"

Jae-woo felt a flicker of irritation at his own weakness, but it was quickly drowned out by a wave of relief.

"Here," he whispered, patting the space next to him on the bed, his eyes fixed on the floor.

He didn't want to think too much about the fact that he was asking—no, begging—the man who had tormented him to sit beside him. But in that moment, he was too worn out, too exposed, to keep pretending otherwise.

Minho didn't say anything more. He simply sat down next to Jae-woo, leaving a respectful distance between them.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating, but there was something oddly comforting about Minho's quiet, bland presence. It made the air feel a little less heavy, a little less cold as well.

Jae-woo found himself fidgeting, his fingers nervously tugging at the frayed edges of the bedsheet. "Do you..." he started, but hesitated. The question felt too raw, too desperate, almost like he was exposing a wound that hadn't even begun to heal.

"Do you regret what you did?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at Minho. "Everything you put me through..."

His voice trailed off, and he was immediately hit with a wave of shame. Was he really this pathetic, looking for comfort from the very person who had torn him apart?

"Yes and no," Minho replied with a calmness that suggested he had nothing to hide. It was the kind of brutal honesty that Jae-woo had almost forgotten existed before knowing this white-haired man.

"I don't regret pushing you to agree to go into the Banshee," Minho continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're our best chance at conquering it, and if we don't, the world's pretty much screwed." He paused, his voice remaining steady. "What I do regret is that I couldn't find another way, given how little time we have before the dungeon would appear."

There it was—Minho regretted having to resort to such drastic measures, but he didn't apologize for what he had done. He wasn't making excuses, just stating the facts.

Jae-woo gave a small nod, his jaw tightening so slightly. So, this was it—the cold, hard truth. It wasn't sugarcoated, and oddly enough, that made it easier to accept.

But then came the real question, the one he'd been too afraid to ask. It was right there, lingering on the edge of his mind. It felt like he was about to rip off a bandage, knowing it would hurt like hell.

"Do you..." Jae-woo started, his voice barely audible, as if the words themselves might shatter him. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on anything but Minho. "Do you regret bringing me here? Do you regret... me?" The last word came out in a whisper, as if it physically hurt to say it. He braced himself, expecting the worst, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from his chest.

"No," Minho replied without missing a beat, meeting Jae-woo's gaze head-on. "When I said I'd never leave you, I meant it."

Jae-woo froze, taken aback by the blunt honesty. He'd been ready for some form of rejection, a half-hearted excuse, maybe even a regretful sigh. Instead, he got a simple, straightforward 'no'. It was so disarming that it actually made him feel... relieved? Almost happy? The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, leaving him sitting there, stiff as a board, trying to make sense of his own emotions.

One word echoed in his mind, like a catchy tune that wouldn't quit: Never. What was Minho really saying here? Was this just about the mission, or was there more to it? The tiny, irrational hope that it might mean something more started bubbling up inside him, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. The more he fought it, the stronger it got, stubborn as a weed.

He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. His hands were trembling slightly, and he clasped them together, hoping Minho wouldn't notice. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings, all fighting for his attention. He wanted to ask more questions, to dig deeper, but he was terrified of what he might find if he did.

Minho watched him closely, clearly picking up on his inner turmoil. Without a word, he reached out and pulled Jae-woo into a gentle hug. "Let's get you into that bath," he said quietly, giving Jae-woo an easy out from the emotional minefield he were navigating.

Jae-woo wanted to resist, to stay strong, but his body betrayed him. He leaned into the hug, clinging to it like a lifeline. The warmth of Minho's arms was strangely comforting, chasing away the cold that had settled in his bones. His mind was still spinning, but his body was slowly starting to relax, the tension easing bit by bit.

Minho led him to the bathroom, and Jae-woo followed like he was in a trance, his steps uncertain. The large tub was already filled with steaming water, the scent of herbs and oils filling the air, making him feel a little more human, a little less like the mess he was inside.

He reached the tub and hesitated, throwing a nervous glance at Minho. The idea of being so exposed, so vulnerable, was pretty much his worst nightmare. Ironically this was how he was feeling despite having the appearance of a rugged man and the power of an S-rank. At the same time, the thought of sinking into that warm water was just too tempting to resist.

"I'll stay behind the curtains," Minho offered, pulling them back just enough for Jae-woo to step in. The fabric was thin, but it offered just enough privacy to make this whole situation bearable.

Jae-woo felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wasn't ready to be completely laid bare, not even with Minho. But knowing the man was there, close but not hovering, made it a little easier to breathe.

"Thanks," Jae-woo mumbled weakly, his voice barely more than a croak, as he finally let himself sink into the warm water, feeling the weight of the world start to lift, even if just a little.

He tried not to think too much about the memories lurking beneath the surface. Instead, Jae-woo focused on the present—the soothing feel of the water around him, the gentle rustling of the curtains, and the reassuring warmth just beyond them.

About an hour later. Minho peeked through the curtain to find Jae-woo, sound asleep in the tub. It was good to see the man finally resting, but sleeping in water wasn't ideal, even for someone with Jae-woo's ability.

With a brief calculation, Minho used his strength to gently lift Jae-woo from the water without waking him. He dried him off, wrapped him in a towel, and carried him to the bedroom. The redhead's muscles and form were impressive, but Minho managed just fine.

Meanwhile, Jae-woo woke slowly, groggy and confused. He felt something wrapping around him and lifting him up, and instinctive panic flared briefly. But then a familiar scent and aura reassured him.

Blurrily, he realized he was being held against someone's chest. As his vision cleared, he saw Minho carrying him.

"M-Minho..." he mumbled, his voice a bit rough—yet, soft. Embarrassment flared at being carried like a child, but the safety he felt made it just so comfortable.

"I'm here," Minho said softly, glancing down at Jae-woo. He gently laid him on the bed, keeping his movements steady and calm.

Jae-woo settled onto the bed, feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort. He looked up at Minho, his emotions a jumbled mess. The initial panic had faded, but now he was acutely aware of his exposed state—half naked, with only a towel for cover. The pathetic feeling crept up again as he thought about how he himself was acting like a school boy rather than a mature adult.

Minho didn't mention the awkwardness of the situation. Instead, he carefully covered Jae-woo with a blanket, ensuring he was shielded entirely. There was no hint of mockery or pity, just a quiet, gentle care.

Minho then slid his hand under the blanket, discreetly pulling the towel away. Jae-woo felt a mix of relief and embarrassment as he was snugly covered. The warmth was a huge contrast to the bareness he had felt moments before.
As the days went by, Jae-woo started to feel more like his old self. It was surprising how the changing scenery and the passage of time were helping him. He was still wary of opening up and trusting anyone, especially after everything with Minho. But despite his reservations, he found himself oddly comfortable around Minho.

It was such a weird feeling. Even though he'd been furious at being manipulated into helping with the Banshee, he had to admit that Minho was more considerate and caring than he had expected. It was a big shift from the ruthless, scheming image he had of the S-rank hunter.

One morning, Jae-woo woke up feeling more energized than he had in ages. The past few days at Minho's place seemed to have done him some good. He stretched out of bed, letting out a long yawn before heading to the kitchen.

Minho was already at the counter, cooking breakfast and sipping coffee while scanning a tablet. He was clearly deep into preparations for the Banshee raid.

Jae-woo entered the kitchen, immediately hit by the smell of breakfast. He gave Minho a nod as he took a seat at the counter.

"Morning," he mumbled, still groggy. He ran a hand through his messy red hair, making it look even more disheveled. His tired eyes wandered over the spread, his stomach rumbling. "How long have you been up?"

Minho glanced at his watch, noting it was 6 a.m. He turned back to his tablet, still engrossed in the raid preparations. "25 hours," he said bluntly, as if it were no big deal. Honesty was Minho's thing, and they both knew that being S-rank meant having a higher tolerance for these kinds of marathons. Twenty-five hours wasn't really a stretch to him.

Jae-woo raised an eyebrow at Minho's response. Twenty-five hours without sleep? Even for an S-rank hunter, that seemed excessive. He could barely handle twelve hours of wakefulness on a good day, thanks to his own sleeping issues.

"You seriously haven't slept in a whole day?" Jae-woo asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "You're going to collapse from exhaustion, you know."

"I'll sleep after five more hours," Minho replied, still glued to his tablet and sipping his coffee. Apparently, he was aiming for a total of thirty hours awake.

Jae-woo rolled his eyes at Minho's casual attitude. "No, you won't," he shot back. "After this, you're going straight to bed."

He dug into his breakfast, casting worried and annoyed glances at Minho. His own sleep-deprived habits seemed practically normal compared to Minho's extreme lack of rest.

Minho didn't comment, just kept working on the tablet and sipping his coffee.

Jae-woo finished his breakfast in silence, irritation growing as he watched Minho. The man's disregard for his own well-being was infuriating.

After a few minutes of this, Jae-woo couldn't hold back any longer. "What exactly are you doing that makes you think staying awake for 25 hours straight is a good idea?" he asked, his concern more evident now.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Arranging the raid teams, giving out assignments, and dividing the guarding shifts," Minho said, making it sound like a walk in the park. Given there were a hundred hunters involved, the workload was anything but light.

Jae-woo grimaced, running a hand through his tousled hair. "So, you're trying to manage a hundred hunters, assign tasks, and set up guarding shifts all by yourself while barely sleeping? Are you kidding me?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "That's a disaster waiting to happen. No one can handle all that properly without sleep."

"I can," Minho said bluntly, as if it were an undeniable fact. He took another sip from his mug, only to find it empty.

Jae-woo couldn't help but scoff at Minho's arrogance. "Yeah, sure. Because running on empty and a fried brain is the perfect way to do it."

Jae-woo got up and headed to the coffee maker, grabbing the pot. "What you really need to do is take a nap and let your brain recharge. Once you're rested, I'll help you sort out the teams and everything else."

Minho glanced up with a look of rare surprise that Jae-woo was willing to pitch in—especially given how much he disliked hunter work. But the white-haired man kept quiet, watching as his mug was refilled.

Jae-woo handed the mug back to Minho, giving him a pointed look. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his mind racing. Helping with the Banshee wasn't just about repaying a debt—funny how he viewed the situation as so; it was also about confronting his own demons.

The redhead took a deep breath, steeling himself. "You need to cut down on the coffee and get some rest," he said firmly. "I'm not going to babysit you through the raid if you're too wiped out to move."

Despite only knowing Minho for a month—starting with those annoying visits to his apartment and getting roped into the raid, then living with him—Jae-woo had seen Minho's cruelty firsthand. The man wasn't just harsh with others; he was just as tough on himself. It wasn't about getting a kick out of being cruel; it was about achieving the best results, even if it meant sacrificing his own well-being.

Jae-woo watched Minho drink his coffee, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hand.

He took a few steps closer and loomed over Minho. "You're going to collapse if you don't get some sleep," he said firmly. "You can't even hold your cup steady. Go to bed, now."

"I'm not going to collapse," Minho replied calmly, setting his mug down and grabbing his tablet. He walked off to his office.

Jae-woo's irritation boiled over. "Damn it, Minho," he muttered, following him into the office. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face set in a scowl.

"You're a freaking ticking time bomb," he snapped. "If you keep pushing yourself like this, you'll burn out before the raid even starts."

Five hours later, Jae-woo was pacing like a caged animal outside Minho's office, his patience wearing thin.

Finally, he had enough. He burst into the office and found Minho slumping over his desk, sound asleep with his tablet still clutched in his hand.

"Seriously?" Jae-woo muttered under his breath, debating whether to just let the man be or move him to the couch.

With a defeated sigh, Jae-woo decided to act. He walked over, carefully lifting Minho, and carrying him to the couch.

He laid the man down gently, setting the tablet aside and brushing a stray lock of hair from Minho's forehead. The exhaustion on his face was palpable.

Despite his irritation, Jae-woo felt a glint of sympathy. Minho had been working himself to the bone preparing for the raid.

Jae-woo grabbed a blanket and draped it over Minho, stepping back to make sure he was settled. When did he start getting soft?

Days continued to pass with no sign of the Banshee's appearance. The Oracle—a super machine that was built to detect the occurrence of dungeons—could only catch its energy, but not pinpoint when it would show up. Despite the uncertainty, Minho was still on edge, always on alert.

Currently, Jae-woo was at the dining table, buried in a mountain of paperwork about the Banshee dungeon, and it was almost. Yes, it even surprised himself how much excitement he had felt like before the retirement. Jae-woo was now hunting for any weaknesses or potential threats that might come their way.

He looked up when he heard footsteps, and saw Minho trudging down the stairs, looking as worn out as usual.

The white-haired came up behind Jae-woo, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on Jae-woo's shoulder. It had become a normal thing for Minho to do these little gestures, and Jae-woo had to admit, he secretly liked it—even if he'd never admit it out loud. Minho glanced at the file but didn't comment.

Jae-woo tried to stay focused on the file, but the warmth of the other's body against his made that pretty difficult. He felt a blush creeping up, hoping Minho wouldn't notice.

"You're being touchy again," Jae-woo said, his voice trying to sound casual but giving away his flustered state.

"Hm," Minho hummed, pressing a kiss to Jae-woo's neck and tightening his embrace.

Jae-woo's breath caught at the unexpected kiss, and his heart started to race. He tried to keep his focus on the files, but Minho's actions had thoroughly derailed him.

"You're doing this on purpose, huh?," Jae-woo said, his voice now a little shaky, despite the defiant smirk he managed to put on.