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“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says, “I’m really, sorry. I’m sorry,” folding in half for a respectful - and begging for forgiveness - bow. His arms are glued to his side, fingers curled in tight fists. He doesn’t realize that he’s digging his nails deep into the flesh of his palm, only noticing the blood when Jimin tugs at his nearest wrist.
“That’s enough,” Seokjin, an SSS-level guide and their captain, says from across the room. The room turns colder at the voice of the person in charge, his eyes into a sharp gaze.
The sentinels and guides in the training room, about 8 people in total, not counting the three moderators for this today’s session, froze at the sound of Seokjin’s voice from the entrance. His sentinel Yoongi, stands beside him, eyes scanning the trainees and future members of the S&G forces.
They’re everyone’s dream pair. Seokjin and Yoongi—the sentinel and guide who defeated and stopped the terrorists from bombing an entire city, three times. That’s their specialty: counter-terrorism operations. Aside from preventing terrorist attacks, Seokjin is given the task to train the newbies and assign their designations once done with training.
This year, Hoseok, an SS-level guide known for sabotage and hostage rescues is helping Seokjin. He’s not alone, of course, his two sentinels - Taehyung and Jimin - are with him. The three of them have only been part of the forces for five years but their bond is almost as strong as the eternal pair—of Seokjin and Yoongi.
“Captains, what a surprise!” Hoseok tries to lighten up the mood. Seokjin only nods at him, throwing him a glare to contain his amusement for later.
“Heard one guide lacks empathy,” Yoongi grumbles, taking a step forward. His gaze automatically lands on the red-haired lanky guide standing just a few feet away from Jeongguk.
“Chinmae is just feeling frustrated,” Taehyung supplies with a boxy smile. Jeongguk feels Jimin’s hold around his wrist tightens. Chinmae wasn’t just feeling frustrated, he locked Jeongguk out. Chinmae cut their mind link without even coaxing his mind guide.
“It’s Jeongguk’s fault, captain Min,” Chinmae argues. The tension in the room intensifies. What was an already cold room feels like being drowned in a sudden snowstorm. Yoongi stares at Chinmae, waiting for him to continue. But Yoongi flashes his mind guide - a trait only SS & SSS-level personnel could do - before the rest of them.
The trainees are fully aware not to piss Captain Min. Apparently, Chinmae didn’t receive the memo. Or maybe he hadn’t attended the orientation two months ago.
The piercing grey eyes of the snow leopard mirror Yoongi’s gaze, heavy and sharp, never leaving Chinmae’s already shaking form. The leopard-mind guide approaches Chinmae slowly, steps and aura big and overwhelming. Every step leaves a cold gush of breeze, and the other mind guides succumbing to the authority the leopard holds.
“What is that?” Yoongi tucks his hands inside the pockets of his pants and grits his teeth. “Speak properly at me, trainee.”
Chinmae swallows thickly and throws a glare at Jeongguk who was still looking down at the floor. Yoongi grows annoyed at the act and controls the leopard to approach faster. Like a predator hunting its prey. Min Yoongi is the ballistic guide to ever exist in the forces.
Territoriality is a common temperament of sentinels and Yoongi’s the most territorial sentinel out there, among all ranks. Any guide who would try to challenge, much less attempt to calm Yoongi would be signing a death wish. Not only he’s powerful, but Yoongi’s spiritual strength could light the entire peninsula with how strong he is. No guide could ever calm him down.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin says, his amur leopard mind guide appearing as soon as he stood beside the other captain. The yellowish-red leopard runs after the snow leopard, asking to play tag. It’s a cute sight—two mind guides chasing each other and acting like calm animals in the wild.
Seokjin is the only guide who can control such a monster. In an instant, with a simple touch at the back of his nape, Yoongi calms down. Only those who are very familiar and close to the two captains would know that Yoongi turned pliant and Seokjin has taken total control over the guide, but still switching on other nerves in Yoongi to appear as if he’s present with everyone else in the room.
Chinmae is still shaking and Taehyung takes a step back. As much as Seokjin looks more calm compared to the other captain, Seokjin’s a strong guide that can invade any guide’s mind. Hoseok calls for him through their own bonding, the mind link specially curated between a sentinel and a guide, creating their own communication line.
“Jeongguk didn’t do anything wrong, captain Kim,” Jimin says, tugging at Jeongguk’s wrist stronger this time. The blood has stopped flowing from the tiny wound, but it left a couple of droplets on the floor.
“He’s the one at fault, though,” Chinmae insists with a sharp hiss, couldn’t keep his tongue to himself. Seokjin raises a brow, his hand still at the back of Yoongi’s neck. Jimin glances at Hoseok who only blinks at him before flashing a warm smile. His squirrel-mind guide scurried at the deer-mind guide of Jimin’s, nosing the fur between its ears.
His hand loosens around Jeongguk’s wrist. The sentinel is feeling less territorial now, but still protective and Jeongguk can’t help but think that for years since they’ve joined the forces, Jimin and Taehyung had always been protective of him.
It’s just depressing that for five years, Jeongguk still hasn’t found the person he’d commit to protecting. Unlike his hyungs, Jimin and Taehyung, despite only being level A, two levels lower than Jeongguk, they already found their intended guides.
Worrying about the obvious would only push him off the well, and if he doesn’t get a grip, he’ll definitely drop at the zone out. But that’s the thing, he could never ever get a grip, could never control himself. Because being out of control is the sole purpose of a sentinel. They shouldn’t worry about losing their minds, or senses. No. They rage because they know nothing but to protect. It’s all instinctive.
And that’s the one thing Jeongguk hates about himself.
For each sentinel, there’s a guide. It doesn’t matter if it comes into pairs like Seokjin and Yoongi, or a polyamorous partnership with more than one sentinel like Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. What matters is for every sentinel, there’s at least one guide who would influence the sentinel.
Five years, and still, Jeongguk has none.
His eyes are still on the ground, sight already seeing particles and molecules floating in the air. He could hear the footsteps outside the training room even though the entire space is sound-proofed. Jimin’s hold feels so heavy around his arm, touch burning and sizzling but he couldn’t open his mouth to speak. He couldn’t even pull his arm back to break free.
Jeongguk hates it when this happens. It doesn’t help that he can’t even do anything about this part of him.
Having hyperactive senses is part of being a sentinel. A guide is the only being - entity - who can stop these senses from acting up, from going berserk.
Ah, right. Jeongguk has no guide. Seokjin and Chinmae are still discussing the little mishap that happened between Chinmae and Jeongguk.
It wasn’t big, but it was petrifying that Jeongguk flinched, causing a disturbance at their mind link. But he was only defending himself, he thought to himself and explained to his mind guide. Chinmae had been his partner for a week and they’d been doing so well until now.
The issue about Jeongguk spreads every year like a fable.
A dark sentinel, that’s what they call him. Despite his bubbly and cute personality, his sentinel side is one high-maintenance beast. He’s fussy. He’s furious. He’s fucked up, that’s what they call Jeongguk. He couldn’t even keep a guide to save his life, couldn’t have a guide to finally protect and call his own.
Chinmae was an S-level guide even at the beginning of the program and Jeongguk was hopeful that after months of training and learning with each other, Jeongguk would finally form a perfect bonding.
But, alas!
He sees his white mute swan mind guide standing before him, beaks plucking at the loose thread of Jeongguk’s pants. It doesn’t do anything, really, but Jeongguk tries to flash a smile at his mind guide. Jeongguk knows that it’s a vision, a companion, but for most normal humans, mind guides are nothing but imaginary friends that keeps their sentinel or their guides safe, connecting them to the spirit world to feel the deeper part of the universe.
“Then you should’ve not snapped at him!”
Jeongguk freezes at how deafening Yoongi’s roar was. Jimin’s hand tightens again around his wrist, his deer-mind guide standing before the white swan, protecting him.
Jeongguk wants to explode.
(He can easily snap his neck on his own since he’s got super strength and the capability to do so. But his hyungs, especially Seokjin and Yoongi would be there and stop him even before he could count one.)
But instead, Jeongguk tries to recenter his breathing. He could now taste the cold air and smell the burning rubber from the incinerator kilometers away from their building. His skin is starting to warm up more than normal, almost burning Jimin.
The deer-mind guide bends down to bump its forehead into the swan. But the swan turns away and pecks Jeongguk’s ankle instead. His mind guide is known for being social, just like Jeongguk, at times. And just like Jeongguk, his mind guide is starting to feel restless so the swan closes itself away from everyone else, no matter how comforting the deer wants it to be. The two captains who are scolding the trainees only cause Jeongguk to panic.
No, no, no, his mind cries. Every damn time, his hyungs would turn vicious against those who make him feel bad. He knows that it’s for his sake, that the reason why they’re defensive of Jeongguk is that Jeongguk isn’t a bad person, to begin with. He’s the kindest, nicest, and most adorable person one could ever meet. Just like his mind guide, Jeongguk is just as sweet and lovely.
It just so happens that his sentinel tends to be too…powerful for any guide that had joined the forces. And no guide would willingly be there to control him, be there when he’s at his most vulnerable, losing hold of all of his senses. No one stayed.
Chinmae was his closest thing to almost. It only made Jeongguk feel even more disappointed in himself. It’s a good thing that Seokjin, their captain, is there with them. Right now, the emotions are too much for Jeongguk—another year of being abandoned. Another year of proving to everyone else that Jeon Jeongguk the top sentinel, with abilities, and skills so admirable is nothing but trash in the forces.
It’s all becoming too much.
And so, Jeongguk screams, voice shrill and piercing, making everyone in the room flinch at the head-splitting tumult. Hoseok is quick to turn off Taehyung and Jimin’s hearing, making sure Jeongguk’s mood won’t affect his own sentinels. Those guide trainees who are quick to act luckily made it. Only half of the group made it, the remaining half came furling on the floor, hands pressed tightly against their ears.
They still need more practice, Hoseok thinks.
Jeongguk inhales deeply, tugging his wrist free.
Pointless, useless. That’s what Jeongguk is. Only a tool. Temporary. Never enough. Never going to be enough. No matter how many times he attends the same training, masters every skill, and sharpens his every sense—his sentinel is all but in vain without a guide who would willingly be emphatic to his needs.
His emotions will forever consume him. A dark sentinel. An ace. But to Jeongguk, the title is nothing but an insult to his name.
He turns to face Jimin, pupils dilated. His irises are becoming larger and larger, the white of his eyes slowly disappearing. Feral, animalistic. The swan is no longer there, and Jeongguk’s senses are all active, exceeding their hundred percent capacity.
He’s slowly showing his true form, the reason why he’s called the dark sentinel. Not all sentinels can enhance their senses all at once. Jeongguk’s the second sentinel in the forces who can do that, the only sentinel at an SS level. He’s already as strong as the ticking time bomb Min Yoongi, but because Jeongguk hasn’t met his intended yet, he’s as destructive just as he is talented.
Jimin sentinel steps back, his deer-mind guide following him and disappearing in thin air. Jeongguk tries to reach for him, with a simple swing of the arm. Had Jimin been too clumsy, Jeongguk could snap his windpipe in a flash. It’s a good thing that Hoseok is there to pull him with a haste tug on his nerve
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jeongguk screams, taking a step forward, his foot digging into the floor and breaking the cement. He swings like bamboo under a storm, too much, too strong, too harsh. Taehyung shouts at Hoseok, begging him to control him so he can stop Jeongguk.
“No,” Hoseok counters, shutting off Taehyung’s autonomic nervous system. Taehyung’s bear-mind guide blocks him from taking a step further.
“Jimin, get Taehyung-ah,” Hoseok instructs, tugging at his in-ear and calling other officers outside the room.
“But—” Jimin tries only to be met by Yoongi’s form, his eyes wide.
“He’s stronger than you and Taehyung combined,” the older sentinel says. Seokjin’s control of him is so strong he looks like he’s had everything under reign when in fact, all of Yoongi’s senses are shooting off the roof. He could taste fear from the trainees around him. He could hear all of their rapidly beating heart, afraid that Jeongguk might eliminate everyone with a single snap of his fingers.
A couple of men rush inside, pulling the trainees and guiding them out of the scene. Hoseok pulls Taehyung and Jimin with him, tailing at the group. Yoongi follows behind only to shut the door and guard Jeongguk.
“Yoongi!” Seokjin shouts, standing between the two sentinels. Yoongi cracks his neck from side to side and breathes in deeply. He closes his eyes and raises his arms, his bones popping at the sudden movement.
“Speed,” Yoongi tells him. “I’m faster than him,” he adds, informing his guide of what he should do.
Seokjin studies Jeongguk’s form, hunched yet feet planted firmly on the ground. His biceps are bulking bigger at every blink of an eye. The guide looks at Yoongi and shakes his head.
“I’ll calm him down through the bonding,” Seokjin informs his sentinel. His amur leopard flashes before Yoongi and rubs at his knee.
“Hyung!” Yoongi shouts, not liking the idea. He’s very territorial, and he doesn’t like the idea of letting Seokjin help when Jeongguk is in his full dark state. A sentinel in that state can pull any guide to the well, switching off the guide’s empathic and senses, turning them into a vegetative state. Only the sentinel who made the guide turn off all of his senses is the only one who can retrieve it back. But Jeongguk hasn’t learned that part yet, he couldn’t because he hasn’t met his intended. And if he accidentally induces Seokjin into comatose then it’ll only make things even more complicated.
“You can’t!” Yoongi reminds him, heart beating fast, afraid at the possibility that he’ll lose his intended. “Let me fight him instead!”
“We can’t always do that,” Seokjin takes a careful step and sees Jeongguk clench his jaw, fingers curling and uncurling in succession. “Besides, we have a mission tonight. I need you in your best condition, Yoongi-yah.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Jeongguk screams, his swan mind guide swimming in circles on the lake created by his mindscape.
The human subconsciousness where the mind guide would usually stay and communicate is called the mindscape. It looks different from one to the other and in Jeongguk’s case, it’s nothing but a vast lake. At the end of the lake, almost near the endless border, there’s a black which is keyed as the well.
When a sentinel reaches a zone out of all his senses, achieving overdrive, the pull from the well becomes stronger. The sentinel would lose his spiritual consciousness and would eventually die if they fall into the pits of the well.
That’s why guides exist. To prevent the sentinel from killing their life.
This isn’t the first time Jeongguk toyed near the well. His mind guide had swum near the borders a lot of time, almost encouraging Jeongguk to just end it all.
It’s so lonely being alone.
“Hyung!” Yoongi shouts when Jeongguk springs himself toward Seokjin and tries to land a punch on his face.
Just in time, before the guide could let out another scream and punch the floor or throw Seokjin across the room - for how overwhelmed he is feeling - Seokjin stretches his arms, hands cupping Jeongguk’s cheeks.
The first step in initiating the mind link and trying to form the bond is through physical contact.
Any type of contact - emphatic and caring enough - would halt any aggressiveness, stopping the bloodlust. If it’s done by the intended, then its effect would be greater, like shutting off the zone out entirely and making the sentinel fall asleep.
But Seokjin and Jeongguk aren’t intended. Seokjin’s just lucky that his spiritual strength is stronger than Jeongguk’s. He’s lucky that he’s formulated a strong connection outside the spiritual world that a mere caress on the sentinel’s cheeks is enough to calm him down.
Jeongguk snaps out of his zone out, he blinks at Seokjin and sees the leopard drinking calmly at the lake, the white mute swan floating only a few feet away.
It’s calm, his mindscape. There are no waves, no ripples, and Jeongguk thinks it’s the best feeling ever.
To be not alone during his most vulnerable state.
“There, there, Jeongguk-ah,” Jeongguk hears from somewhere, his eyes still calmly observing the amur leopard by the lake. “Hyung is here, hyung has you.”
Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close, content.
Almost.
Tears run down his cheeks easily but his heart will forever be heavy. Yet again, another reminder that he’s alone and there’s no guide for him.
There’s no denying that despite the soft assurance of touches and whispers, the well looks more tempting this time.
Jeongguk doesn’t leave his room after the incident. He still sleeps in the training grounds even though he’s been permitted to get an apartment of his own. It’s easier this way, he reasons.
Hoseok and his two guides had offered the apartment next to theirs so Jeongguk wouldn’t feel lonely. But Jeongguk denied them and insisted that the rooms in the training facility can handle his sentinel best.
He just couldn’t admit out loud that despite being adored by everyone else in the forces, he could see behind their warm and bright smiles that they were afraid of the dark sentinel that would go amuck for not being tamed.
Chinmae managed to find a sentinel, they’re not intended but it’s a sentinel that willingly obeyed Chinmae’s guide.
In the succeeding year, Jeongguk went on with the training again, a new batch of sentinels and guides recruited in the forces. Jimin and Taehyung are yet to improve their spiritual levels but Jeongguk can’t find any reason to belittle them considering the differences in their spiritual strength. If anything, Jeongguk pities himself since just like in the previous years, he hasn’t found a guide suitable for his sentinel.
Another two years passed.
Finally, at S-level, Taehyung and Jimin enter Jeongguk’s room to pick up their dongsaeng for the beginning of the new training period.
“Your hair had grown so long now, Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin muses, taking a seat on the bed and pulling Taehyung with him. Jeongguk’s at the other side of his room, contemplating which uniform to wear. They’re all the same—cargo pants, a black shirt, and black boots. Only those who have made it successfully could wear fancy uniforms. Like what his two best friends are wearing.
“Decided to keep it long this time,” Jeongguk replies. He finally selected a less faded black shirt and quickly wore it. “Will you be present in this class as well?”
Taehyung shakes his head. “Hoseok-hyung received a report. We’ll be attending a meeting while Seokjin and Yoongi-hyung train this batch.”
Jeongguk only nods and grabs the hair tie on top of his dresser. “I heard there’s a new captain helping him this time.”
“Captain Kim Namjoon,” Jimin pipes up. “Says he’s from overseas or something.”
“Have you met him?”
Jimin shakes his head and pouts at Jeongguk. “Only heard about him during the meeting this morning. He wasn’t there though. Yoongi-hyung said he’s an SSS-level guide and worked in the internal defense branch.”
“He’s like superhuman strong but hasn’t met his intended yet,” Taehyung adds, patting his thigh. Jeongguk only sighs and plops himself on Taehyung’s lap. “Oof! You’re getting heavier.”
“I’m twenty 25, hyung,” Jeongguk deadpans. Taehyung only laughs and reaches for the hair tie. He fixes Jeongguk’s hair in a bun and tucks the loose locks.
An SSS-level guide and still without sentinel? That’s unheard of.
“You’re still our baby,” Jimin giggles, sitting up straight and poking at Jeongguk’s cheek. “Now, let’s all get lunch. It’ll be a long meeting for us and it’ll be a long day for you as well, we all need our strength.”
Jeongguk sighs, much heavier this time, before getting off Taehyung’s lap and standing on his feet. If his two best friends notice the way Jeongguk fidgets on his feet, teeth digging at his lower lip with worry, then they simply waved it off their minds and tugged Jeongguk out of the room, flashing their warmest smiles.
“Cheer up, it’s a new batch, a new year. A new hope!” Taehyung cheers.
New hope? Yeah right. Every year his dark sentinel becomes stronger and stronger at every reject. If anything the well is only hoping to swallow his swan-mind guide for good. Preferably together with him.
Taehyung is smiling warmly at him. Jeongguk smiles back with a meek nod.
It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“We’ll be discussing mind links today,” Yoongi says, eyeing the new thirteen recruited members of the S&G forces. They’re in the same training room that Jeongguk’s very familiar with. He’s seated at the same spot he’s already claimed as his property in his third year being in the same space. Unsurprisingly, he’s glad that his best friends aren’t present. He’d long ago learned to kick away the pettiness he’d felt whenever he catches his hyungs’ gaze at him.
Seokjin and Yoongi will always be the ones in charge of training. Despite meeting them young, Jeongguk admired their strength and the perfect completion of their bond. Their mind guides are added bonus on how cute they appear. Yoongi’s snow leopard-mind guide likes to lie down all the time, while Seokjin’s amur-mind guide would always tease and ask for a couple of rounds of playing chase.
After the event with Chinmae, Seokjin made sure to clear out all the unnecessary talks and tattle about Jeongguk. No high-ranking officials would dare question Kim Seokjin and his time-ticking bomb sentinel Min Yoongi. It was a big factor when Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung would flash pleasing smiles before gazing at each soul in the forces with a cold warning look.
“Creating a strong mental link to your partner is one of the basics needed in everyday life, especially in the field. A strong mind link will continue to function no matter how far apart you are from one another,” Yoongi proceeds. “The mind link is our only means of communication when our partner is out of our social space. The social space is utmost the distance we can physically and quickly reach for our person.”
“For example,” Seokjin chimes in with a much kinder voice than his sentinel.
Despite having to see this training for seven years, going eight, Jeongguk still watches with so much attentiveness. Yoongi remains to where he is standing in the middle of the room while Seokjin walks away from him. There are circles painted on the floor, a mark of distance, a drawn range. The inner and smaller circles mean intimate space, colored in red. Blue means personal space, yellow means social space, and green circle means public distance.
The captain-guide stops at the other end of the room and stands inside one of the red circles he could find. When he turns at his sentinel, their green spheres meet. They’re apart from each other at a comfortable distance. The trainees watch as Yoongi loosens his button and starts fisting his knuckles.
An arrow lands on Yoongi’s foot, playing at his emotions. Jeongguk watches - still - with amazement at how Yoongi dodges the next batch of arrows aimed at him. His fellow trainees are quiet and amazed, just like him, at how fast Yoongi managed to block and even hold the arrows.
The next batch fires faster this time, making Yoongi twist and turn inside his intimate space. Jeongguk notices that Yoongi is looking less and less aware of his surroundings, attention only aimed at the arrows being shot at him.
“We’re at the 10-minute mark,” Jeongguk whispers and the trainee beside him glances at him with confusion.
“Hmm?” She mumbles, brows furrowed.
Jeongguk shakes his head and points at Seokjin instead.
“We’re past 10 minutes,” Seokjin says, standing firmly on the ground and looking at the thirteen students. “For newly created bonds, this is already considered a long time for such a distance. A minute more past this, then the sentinel might end up getting hurt. This will also cause the guide to lose its capacity to control the sentinels.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin calls softly. The arrow has stopped being fired at the sentinel and everyone watches in silence when Seokjin’s amur leopard starts galloping toward Yoongi’s snow leopard. The snow leopard was bearing its fangs to the ceiling, ready to lash out at the next set of arrows.
The yellowish-red fur ball collides with the snow leopard and instantly, Yoongi snaps his eyes as if waking up from some sort of slumber. The two leopards tackle each other on the ground, playing like domesticated cats.
It was a cute sight to witness, seeing how Seokjin and Yoongi through their mind guides have a strong bond. But considering that they’re both at the highest level and match each other’s rank, then it’s no surprise at all. Jeongguk knows it will take the trainer and even him at least half a year to master this lesson alone.
A second later, the two leopards growl, and Yoongi lands on his knees. Jeongguk feels his skin come alive, hair rising all over his body at the cold aura enveloping the room. It’s a good thing that all of the guides are asked to take a suppressant pill that lasts for an hour during their lecture session.
If they didn’t take the pill, all the guides would have snapped at the feeling of a dangerous enemy looming in the air.
The girl beside Jeongguk swallows thickly. It’s only then that he realizes that all eleven trainees are looking behind him. When Jeongguk turns to follow their gaze, he sees another officer, a strong officer, standing at the farther end of the room.
The training room is about the size of a basketball court, and while the trainees are huddled in the imaginary logo painted in the middle of the court, Yoongi and Seokjin are only a few feet away from them. The distance between the pair is only 15 meters apart, standing on the sidelines.
The new man, the instructor (?) is standing at the other end of the room, about 30 meters away from Yoongi and Seokjin. Jeongguk blinks his eyes for a moment. For being a trainee for so long, and having to deal with suppressants, the pill he doesn’t enjoy taking, Jeongguk has learned how to dilute and switch its effects on his body when needed.
His eyes flash brightly. He just wants to see the face of the stranger, curious.
The white swan flaps its wings in surprise, spooked. Jeongguk’s calm mindscape of a lake ripple at the sudden outburst of the swan. Its wings are spread out, beak pointed in the air and Jeongguk searches for an intruder in his mindscape.
He founds none. Instead, he sees the man’s eyes shot directly at him.
“You will encounter enemies far stronger than yours,” Seokjin then says and the trainees look back at the captain. The two leopards are standing between Seokjin and Yoongi, forms alert and fangs exposed. Yoongi is throwing daggers at the intruder too, eyes cold and heated.
“You need to make sure that your mind link is impenetrable because enemies will try and tap into your mind links and destroy the sentinels through the bonding,” they watch as another animal mind guide appears.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen at the massive black swan dashing toward the two leopards. It looks like an eagle or a phoenix, Jeongguk isn’t certain. All he knows is that it’s a black swan, bigger than his own white mute swan, bigger than any normal-sized swan he’d ever known.
Yoongi shouts, earning everyone’s attention, and readies his form.
“It’s instinctive for the sentinel to protect the mind link, the mind guides, and his own guide,” Seokjin explains, watching the intruder step forward. Before the black swan could reach the two leopards, it vanishes into thin air and the next thing everyone is witnessing is that Yoongi had moved outside his intimate space and is now dashing at the intruder.
Jeongguk can feel the bloodlust in Yoongi and could see the cold and deathly gaze from the intruder’s eyes. Seokjin remains rooted inside his circle.
“The guide’s important role is to make sure to support the sentinel when he’s zoning out—this is when the sentinel focuses on one sense and utilizes it to the maximum of his ability. The guide has to make sure that the mind link is intact—”
Jeongguk blinks at Seokjin when he stopped talking. When he looks at the other side of the room, he sees Yoongi raised, the intruder is holding the sentinel by the throat.
“You—” Seokjin screams, taking a step forward, alarmed. Jeongguk starts to panic, and the small ripple in the lake starts growing bigger.
The spiritual strength is so strong, Jeongguk could taste the intention to kill. He hears a body falling behind him and when he glances over his shoulder to check, he sees seven bodies with the word sentinel printed on the left chest of the shirt curled on the ground. Not only the man managed to infiltrate Seokjin and Yoongi’s mind link, but he also managed to invade all of the sentinel’s mindscape, stilling them.
Jeongguk fears for his life next.
Yoongi shouts and grabs the man’s forearm. He focuses all his weight on his upper body, swings his legs, and lifts himself in the air. Jeongguk remains still when Yoongi manages to sit on the man’s shoulders, his hands automatically reaching for the man’s chin and forehead.
Is Yoongi going to kill him?
Jeongguk’s swan appears out of the blue, scaring the girl, a guide, beside him. He sees the man eyeing him and continues to stare as he reaches for Yoongi’s wrists, making the sentinel scream. The rest of the newbies, the guides, all went to their colleagues, laying their heads on their laps, tapping them awake.
It’s useless, Jeongguk tells himself. No physical contact out of impulsiveness could tap the sentinels awake. If they haven’t seen each other’s mind guide and created a mind link, their attempts are all in vain.
Jeongguk holds on to his swan-mind guide, staying at the end of the lake, calming himself.
Seokjin is running towards them, strengthening the mind link, but Yoongi looks lost, their own bonding already cracked. The man is still looking at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk’s swan-mind guide squawks beside him, flapping its wings in some sort of protectiveness.
Yoongi looks incredibly tiny on the man’s shoulders and Jeongguk wonders if he can really do anything. Size difference alone, Yoongi looks like he’s going to vanish with a mere flick on the forehead. The man - definitely a guide - doesn’t move no matter how much Yoongi trashes over his shoulders.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin calls, earning a quick snap of the sentinel’s head to his voice. The man takes this as an opportunity and wraps his hands around Yoongi’s ankles. He crouches low and removes Yoongi over his shoulders, swinging him by the right ankle.
Yoongi grits his teeth and blinks his eyes, finally gaining consciousness, finally feeling the mind link.
“Off,” Yoongi demands and Jeongguk knows that Yoongi is asking for Seokjin to let him zone out on all of his five senses so he could attack with his full potential. The man swings him one more time and Jeongguk fears that his friend will snap.
But Seokjin must’ve let him go feral, softening the mind link, like a bridge made of pillows and clouds. So that Yoongi could always land somewhere soft after he’s used all of his energy. Guides tend to do that, tend to shape the mindscape to whatever will be comfortable to their sentinels.
Jeongguk doesn't know that. He’s only known at the cold bridge he’d created with previous trainees and the massive lake his own mindscape had formulated. Both Seokjin and Hoseok never attempted to shift his mindscape into a space they thought would fit Jeongguk’s needs. Doing so would only formulate a bond, doing so could create a dent in their bonding with their intended.
Yoongi folds his left leg and kicks the man in the face. That surprised the man and releases Yoongi, the sentinel landing on his feet.
“Bond!” Seokjin shouts and Yoongi nods, albeit with an empty gaze. Seokjin meant that he was strengthening the bond and that Yoongi would never ever get lost in the well even if all of his senses go overdrive.
The man wipes the stain on the cheek and glares at Seokjin. Jeongguk now understands that this is part of the training. Especially when Seokjin only rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers.
Yoongi calms down and instantly falls on his back. The conscious trainees gasp around Jeongguk, fearful that the sentinel might fall on the floor. But the two leopards appear, catching Yoongi just in time. The black swan is present too, pecking at Yoongi’s legs. They look like they’re friends..?
The sentinel huffs and glares at the man.
“Yah, Kim Namjoon!”
Jeongguk shivers. Apparently, he’s the new instructor. He’s strong. And deadly. Stronger than Seokjin, maybe? If he didn’t have control, he could’ve killed Yoongi. But it’s a good thing that they’re friends, maybe? And this is all just part of the training.
However, Jeongguk doesn’t want a guide like him. He’s frightening. He’s—maybe darker and scarier than anyone else Jeongguk has come to know.
He tries to look away, skin getting sweaty, panic filling his mind. The white swan is still marching around him, beak picking at his knees and feet. He tries to switch his senses back, tries to coax the suppressant from the back of his throat, begging for the pill to work.
But he’s too emotional, too all over the place, too…scared. That no matter how much he’s trained this aspect of himself for years, he doesn’t remember how to actually do it. He needs a guide to control his senses. He’s been waiting for so long, seven years too long.
The girl beside him moves away, like the rest of the new recruits who have now regained their consciousness and are sitting up. They watch with confused looks on their faces at the way Jeongguk curls on the ground and holds his own throat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jeongguk screams.
Jeongguk would always apologize for ruining things. For being not enough, for being too much. For being the almost perfect sentinel, for being the most pathetic sentinel to exist. His eyes are rotating rapidly under his closed eyelids, fingers digging deep at his neck.
“What’s happening?” One of the students asks, eyes wide.
“He’s turning blue!” Another girl says, taking a further step back.
Seokjin reaches for him, about to cup Jeongguk’s face but halts when Namjoon calls his name.
“You might create a bond, hyung,” Namjoon’s voice is gentle. He helps Yoongi up to his feet and reaches for the microphone on the collar of his shirt. “He’s almost feral, past the zoning out stage. It won’t be good especially since your mind link’s a bit fuzzy at the moment.”
Seokjin bits his lower lip and feels Yoongi’s hand on his nearest shoulder.
“Get all the students out and into the lecture hall,” Namjoon says into the device. “I think they need some readings to do.” It was meant to lighten up the tension but it’s impossible to simply take a breather when a person is about to lose his life.
The door swings open and the trainees all piled outside, Yoongi and Seokjin nodded at the lady officer looking at them sternly.
“We’ll go meet you there,” Seokjin tells Aera. “Jeongguk just needs to calm down.”
Aera doesn’t reply but simply bows and ushers the students down the hall. Jeongguk’s episodes, despite having grown a soft spot in the heart of all officers in the forces, are something that they pity and look away to. Once the door is shut, Namjoon sits before Jeongguk’s form and then closes his eyes.
“Will you be fine?” Yoongi asks Namjoon, thumb digging at Seokjin’s shoulder. His guide reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers.
“I’ll be,” Namjoon assures. “I’ve done this a billion times, hyung.”
“We know,” Seokjin replies. “But Jeongguk’s a—”
“A dark sentinel?”
Seokjin nods, surprised that Namjoon already knows. He was in a meeting the days prior and he hadn’t had the time to read the files of the new batch.
“I could feel it,” Namjoon answers the unvoiced question, eyes still closed. “It’ll be fine.”
“Should we leave you?”
Namjoon cracks an eye at them and smiles. “If possible, yes.
“I’d prefer it this way,” Namjoon replies. “This way, Jeongguk won’t run to another mind link in the vicinity.”
“Will he be fine?” Yoongi asks. His eyes were on the shaking Jeongguk. He pouts at his dongsaeng and sniffles. He’s always been extra protective and emotional toward his younger friends, especially Jeongguk.
Namjoon squeezes the back of his knee. “I’ll make sure he’ll be. Now quickly,” Namjoon chins at the door. “Leave so I can help him.”
There’s a storm brewing at the farthest end of the lake. Jeongguk is floating in the middle of the water, the soft ripples lulling him to comfort. The white swan swims around him, gliding smoothly across the water.
The swirling sound from the black hole under the storm clouds is getting louder and louder. When Jeongguk tries to look in the direction of the cyclone, he’s not fazed by the distance. He’s more excited to finally reach the well.
The swan squawks at his feet. Jeongguk only hums and closes his eyes, head facing in the direction of the well, pulling him. He’s always been tempted to end everything since his third year on the training grounds. What’s the point of being friends and earning everyone’s pleasant smiles when no one would willingly stay beside him and be his guide?
Not that he’s going to blame and hurt everyone, it’s just depressing at times. Especially when it’s not his fault to be like this. Yoongi once told him that he’s just extra protective and extraterritorial, something like him but also intense compared to Yoongi. Jeongguk knew what the elder meant—Yoongi had it easy since Seokjin not only remained but Seokjin is also his intended mate. Their bonding and guiding instantly processed in just a span of one minute.
That’s why they’re called the eternal pair in the forces.
Jeongguk would never have the someone. And even if he has an intended mate, it’ll only make his guide’s life miserable. He’s a dark sentinel. He’s a root of destruction. And if his intended mate won’t as strong as him, then Jeongguk would only make his life even more miserable.
So, why hope? Why waste time, effort—years and long for something that would only be washed away by the storm?
Speaking of storms, it should be raining by now. But the spiritual storm clouds in his mindscape look like it’s stopped collecting all the clouds and air, and would no longer drizzle rain. The swan has stopped gliding around him and when Jeongguk tries to check the distance left from where he was and the cyclone, he shrieks when he sees that he’s at the waterbed.
“What?”
“Jeongguk-ssi?” Jeongguk looks to his right and squirms away.
In the spiritual world, everything looks real. Hence, his clothes are all drenched after swimming for so long, his skin is pruney and cold. Namjoon only flashes a warm smile and offers the bench that Jeongguk has never seen in his mindscape in all the years he’s spent time there.
There’s a towel on Namjoon’s lap and Jeongguk wonders what on earth is happening. He’s never brought a towel in here, could never—
“You’re in my mindscape,” Jeongguk stammers, still on the ground. The rocks under his palms dug at his skin. “How—why?”
Namjoon only pats the bench again, silently pleading for the sentinel to sit beside him.
His assumptions about Namjoon are correct. He’s a strong guide, his spiritual level is even stronger than Soekjin. They’re both SSS-level but Namjoon is on a different and special level. Seokjin had never attempted to wander and “chill” in Jeongguk’s mindscape, fearful that the bond he’d created with Yoongi would be damaged. Hoseok had never done it too, afraid that he’d lost connection with his intended sentinels.
Besides, modifying some aspects of his mindscape had never happened before. Jeongguk’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets when Namjoon shows two cartons of banana milk before him.
“You might be starving,” Namjoon grins, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, it’ll still taste like your favorite banana milk even if it’ll only feed your spiritual energy.”
“Where are you getting all of this?”
“From my own spiritual energy, of course,” Namjoon explains, reaching out an arm and offering his hand. “Now, if you please, little one,” Namjoon beams, “sit beside me so we can enjoy the wonderful rainbow in front of us.”
Jeongguk furrows his brow and when he looks at the lake, he sees the colorful arch in the sky, the spiritual rainbow looks beautiful, even prettier than in real life. It must be Namjoon’s doing, fueling and making things even more appealing with his spiritual power.
Finally getting off the floor, Jeongguk settles beside Namjoon and wraps the fluffy towel around his shoulders. As soon as the cloth wraps his frame, his clothes dried up instantly and he is no longer feeling cold. Namjoon’s emphatic strength is immeasurable.
It’s warm and tickling and makes the insides of Jeongguk happy.
For a moment, Jeongguk thinks that maybe…just maybe, Namjoon is his intended.
He flutters those thoughts away and blinks at the banana milk being inserted in his hand. The straw is already poked at the center, breaking the foil. Jeongguk smiles to himself and takes a sip of the drink. Just like Namjoon had told him, it does the same. It’s weird, consuming spiritual energy made in the form of his favorite items.
Everything is at peace, and Jeongguk’s worry no longer sizzles from the core of his mindscape. With the two of them quietly sitting at the bench by the lake, the rainbow flashed before them, the events prior felt like they were only created by the figment of Jeongguk’s fear and imagination.
Namjoon looks calm and beautiful. He looks like the most wonderful guide to ever exist, and that’s something since his Hoseok and Seokjin hyungs tied at the top of his list. But silent and brooding and admittedly petrifying Namjoon looks gentle and magnificent up close.
Maybe this illusion is charged by Namjoon’s spiritual energy. Maybe that’s it.
But every time Jeongguk blinks, even if the background changes once in a while - the sky of his mindscape and the white cushion walls of the training room - Namjoon’s soft and warm look on his face remains the same.
It’s weird. He thought Namjoon is only smiling at him in the mind link.
Jeongguk’s body quivers on the ground, he’s now back in the training room, hands no longer curled around his throat. Instead, they’re cradled around Namjoon’s palms, thumbs running at the soft skin of the sentinel’s inner wrists.
“Jeongguk-ah,” Namjoon’s voice is deep yet dripping like honey.
If the golden hour is a flower, Jeongguk thinks it’s in the form of Kim Namjoon. He blinks at the guide, head on Namjoon’s lap. His lower body feels heavier than normal and when he glances down he sees two swans glued to his thighs.
“What are they doing?” Jeongguk asks, voice meek. It feels pleasant, Namjoon’s skin against his. It feels wonderful, to finally have someone to connect to.
Especially when he’s vulnerable like this.
Maybe this is what an intended mate feels like.
“Did you know? Swans only have one mate for life,” Namjoon tells him, lifting a hand to card through Jeongguk’s hair. “They sometimes wait for so long to meet the right one.”
And finally, Jeongguk understands why he had to wait for so long.
He finally has his guide for life.