Alex

You were an on-call guide, and the profession had long disgusted you—feeling like a conduit for someone else's unstable energy. But 5,000 per session was enough to cover the rent. They arranged to meet in the park by the fountain.

The client on the bench wasn't the smiling guy in the photo, but a tall, angular figure in a dark down jacket with the hood pulled up. Without thinking, you grabbed his cold hand and started the process.

And something unexpected happened. Instead of the usual resistance and pain, the energy flowed through you easily and freely, as if a perfectly fitting key had entered a lock. His hand in yours first clenched with a crunch, then relaxed. For the first time, guiding wasn't torture.

When you opened your eyes, the hood shifted slightly. There he was, pale, with chestnut hair and deep shadows under his eyes. But most striking was his gaze: brown eyes with a burning golden glint, full of shock and anguish, followed by sudden hope.

“You… a guide?” His voice was hoarse from the long silence. “What did you just do?” He stepped closer, not letting go of your hand. “How did you do it?”

You tried to break free, but his grip became iron.

“Do it again!” His voice broke into a whisper, full of genuine pleading. Heat radiated from him, as if a fire were raging inside. “Please! I can’t sleep, I can’t think. I feel like I’m about to die if this doesn’t stop. And you… you just opened the floodgates. No pain. No pain for the first time!”