“Are you going to talk?”
Cha Eui-sung asked casually as he fastened the buttons on his coat. He put a bit of force behind his voice, and the end of it cracked slightly.
“If that’s not what you want, then no.”
“Then let’s not bring it up. That’s what helps.”
Go Yeong-won’s expression stiffened for a moment at the firm tone, but before long, he gave a calm nod of understanding.
He’ll probably guess that I came here, and that I fed Go Yeong-won some bullshit anyway. So maybe he knows it’s a pointless precaution.
I can usually read that guy’s mind well enough.
He must’ve figured that his new partner wouldn’t cross any lines. And Go Yeong-won harboring some resentment was nothing new, anyway.
The guy had a brain, so even if he got a little bent out of shape, he wouldn’t go completely off the rails—maybe he’d listen less, but that was it.
And if one of his own kind was giving him a warning, he wouldn’t go out of his way to stir up trouble.
Hoo— Cha Eui-sung let out a long breath, watching it dissolve into the cold air.
“I’ll put this to good use.”
He dipped his head slightly, and Go Yeong-won stared at him with an unreadable expression.
“And thanks for the drinks. Honestly, as much as it caught me off guard, it was kind of fun. Still, it’s probably best you don’t reach out for a while.”
He’d been waiting for the right moment, and finally threw the line, feeling that it was worth the effort to set the mood. Up until now, he’d been pretending to stay in Seoul, but there was always that unease—wondering if Go Yeong-won might show up in Cheongseri out of nowhere.
Now, by dragging Oh Se-dan into the work, he’d managed to kill two birds with one stone: handle the job and get rid of a lingering concern.
Cha Eui-sung turned away before waiting for a reply. The guy was sharp enough to read between the lines—no point dragging things out.
But before he could take a single step, clack—a hand caught his wrist from behind.
He spun around to see Go Yeong-won looking at him with a strangely familiar gaze.
“What is it?”
“You know there are other ways I can help, right?”
That tone—it struck a chord. A déjà vu. Something Go Yeong-won had said often in the early days of the second life.
“Yeah. And I’ve calculated that this is the better route.”
Cha Eui-sung nailed it down, and only then did he start to piece together the meaning behind that look.
That faintly pitiful expression—the one you’d give to a fellow kin trying to swallow poison fruit. A gaze that said, I won’t stop you, since it’s your free will… but still.
…Wasn’t this around the time he cut ties with me?
A vague realization bubbled up, but it was from a past that had already been erased. Cha Eui-sung clenched his trembling fingers for no real reason and gave a small shake of his head.
Fwoosh— A sudden gust of wind whipped through, tousling his pale hair. Go Yeong-won, who had been quietly watching the scene, let go of his wrist.
Cha Eui-sung gave one last slight nod, then hurried off before the man could grab him again.
With long strides, he walked away, got into his car, and drove off into the distance—but even then, a faint discomfort lingered within him.
That uneasy, crawling feeling under his skin. The fact that he was acting like this even though he knew how much of a troublesome variable Go Yeong-won was… It had to mean his head still wasn’t in the right place.
***
♪♬♩♪–
The moment the alarm chimed, Cha Eui-sung opened his eyes and realized he’d been taking a nap.
It had already been four days since he came up here. Meaning, for four days, he hadn’t gotten a single proper night’s sleep.
The fact that he could even manage a nap here and there, just one or two hours at a time, was a stroke of luck in itself.
There were countless things demanding his attention, but… well, nights had always been long anyway.
The fact that he’d once slept soundly without tossing and turning was the real anomaly.
Ah. I kind of want to see Moon Tae-young’s face.
The thought came so casually, so naturally, that Cha Eui-sung let out a scoffing snort at the absurdity of it.
Staring absently into the mirror, he saw his cheeks still flushed from the nap, his hair an absolute mess.
Had he been tearing at his hair in his sleep or something? What the hell was this look?
Running his fingers through the wayward strands like brushing away dandelion fluff, Cha Eui-sung let out a long yawn.
[3:30 PM – Jeong Seong-hyu]
The alarm had been set for exactly one hour before his appointment. Time to get ready and head out.
As he pulled on his coat, his hand brushed against something inside the lining.
The Silent Blade, still tucked into the inner pocket. And the newly added blue pill.
Neither were things he could afford to leave behind. With both items in tow, Cha Eui-sung stepped out of his hotel room.
“Hello.”
After just over a month, Jeong Seong-hyu looked much the same, his face still smooth and unruffled—but noticeably thinner.
Given his profession, he didn’t look haggard by any means, but it felt less like he’d been dieting and more like he’d lost weight for some other reason.
Come to think of it, wasn’t this around the time he was supposed to start cooperating? Cha Eui-sung didn’t know the exact details of how he helped, but anything not handled directly by Moon Tae-young likely passed through this guy’s hands.
“Will the couch be comfortable for you again today?”
“Yeah. I’ll head over.”
He’d only laid down once before, but his body eased into it with familiarity. As soon as his eyes met the white ceiling, thoughts began racing through his head.
If I want to make it to the meeting place on time, I might have to skip dinner.
Ridiculous as it was, food was the first thing that came to mind. Since when had he cared so much about regular meals that skipping one felt like a loss?
Maybe it was because of the odd behavior he’d fallen into the past few days…
Starting from the second day, Cha Eui-sung had made time once a day to visit a restaurant.
All of them were places he’d stopped by during his second life. Back in the days when his hunger for success outweighed even his hunger for food or sleep, he’d occasionally visited those high-end restaurants when he wanted a taste of triumph.
Still, he’d only gone a handful of times over the course of ten years. And yet for some reason, he’d been overtaken by strange sentimentality.
Even while savoring those refined meals, he hadn’t really felt hungry—just kept thinking about Moon Tae-young.
The next thing that floated into his mind was the plan for after this session.
After days of setting the trap, Jang Myeong-tae had finally bitten, and tonight was the night they’d meet.
He’d already scouted a suitably quiet location on the outskirts of Seoul. In case the guy brought backup, there was even another space ready to drag him into.
All that was left was to pass time in this pre-scheduled session with Jeong Seong-hyu, just killing the clock.
Oh. Right—he was sitting in front of Jeong Seong-hyu now, wasn’t he?
Shaking off the mental fog, Cha Eui-sung turned his head and finally registered the psychiatrist sitting there, silently waiting.
“Hmm, hmm…”
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah, well. I was just lost in thought for a sec.”
He gave an awkward reply and shifted his gaze back to the ceiling. From the corner of his perception, he could tell the doctor was typing something on a silent keyboard.
“Last time, we talked about your sleep. How has it been lately?”
“Uh… I guess a little better?”
“Did the medication help at all?”
“Not really. Honestly, I kind of skipped it. Forgot.”
He mumbled his response like a textbook example of a noncompliant patient. When Jeong Seong-hyu’s expression hinted at mild concern, Cha Eui-sung quickly added,
“It’s not that I was dismissing the effect or anything. I just… fell asleep fine without it.”
“I see. Have there been any other changes recently?”
There has. He answered inwardly—and as he did, a warm, cozy sensation brushed beneath his nose.
Like curling up in a firm, protective embrace. Without realizing, his features softened.
“Hmm… how do I even put this…”
“You can just speak freely.”
“You told me last time, right? To think about it carefully.”
The words slipped out lazily, without subject or object, followed by a trembling breath that slowly escaped his chest.
Fingers interlaced across his stomach, Cha Eui-sung let his thoughts spill like water trickling over smooth stone.
“That guy… I think I really do like him. That’s what I realized after thinking about it.”
“Ah, that friend.”
“Not that I doubted your skills, but… well. You were right, more than I expected.”
When Moon Tae-young had come all the way to Seoul to find him, the strange warmth and satisfaction he’d felt at that moment still lingered vividly in Cha Eui-sung’s memory.
The second he admitted he liked him, that tick-tick-ticking mismatch inside finally clicked into place with a satisfying snap.
Strange, isn’t it? The most shocking revelation recently had been realizing that the so-called ex might actually be himself.
And yet, when he thought about Moon Tae-young, what came to mind wasn’t the sweet, affectionate version from his Skill’s memories—but the clumsy, reckless guy who chased after him so desperately.
“If that had an effect on your sleep, does that mean something’s changed in your relationship?”
“Change… I mean, we’re still dating, both then and now. But I feel kind of… untethered, I guess. It’s making work harder.”
He glanced at Jeong Seong-hyu with a half-grimace, only to find the guy wearing a warm, content smile. Annoyingly so.
“Feels a little embarrassing to admit. Especially after I stormed out, all pissed.”
“It’s always hardest to read your own emotions. You can’t see yourself from a third-person perspective.”
“That’s why I’m planning to actually listen to you this time. There’s… more going on, actually. It’s not just a sleep thing. Is it okay if I talk about that too?”
“Of course. If it helps, you can even pretend you’re talking to a stuffed animal—whatever makes you comfortable.”
For a grown man, wouldn’t muttering to a doll be even more awkward?
Brushing aside the stray thought, Cha Eui-sung cleared his throat. Even though he knew Jeong Seong-hyu wasn’t just some ordinary psychiatrist—even though he knew he was deeply connected to Moon Tae-young—he still felt the itch to speak.
What was this? This reckless urge to finally unload the truth he’d kept buried since the regression, like shouting secrets into a bamboo grove.
“So, that guy… there’s something I’ve been hiding from him. Something big.”
Thunk—a rock that had been pressing against his chest finally rolled loose and dropped from his throat.
“I approached him from the start with the intent to use him. You’ve seen that kind of thing in movies, right?”
“To use him.”
“Yeah. Use him. But now that goal’s pretty much wrapped up. I’d say… about 80% complete. I’ve drained four-fifths of what I needed out of him.”
The words came out without hesitation, but still—something under his sternum gave a twitch.
Like something deep inside him was trying to shatter and claw its way out, leaving a dull ache in his chest.
