… 4 days 1 hour 30 minutes until the Flood …
Arms folded, Cha-hyeon quietly watched Se-min and the Sung Cha-hyeon wearing his skin eat together.
Like kids playing house, they set side dishes on each other’s rice, fed each other deboned fish, and praised the other’s cooking. With both cheeks flushed, Se-min looked genuinely happy inside the world he’d built for himself.
“……”
After studying Se-min with a cool gaze, Cha-hyeon shifted his eyes to the back of Sung Cha-hyeon’s head.
It wasn’t that his urge to smash that illusion’s skull had faded. So why had he decided to watch them for now…? Who knew.
His gaze flicked to the opaque blue window only he could see.
~Unclaimed Rewards List~
♦ …Clear Reward… (1/3)
The numbers hadn’t filled in. Not yet.
But the fact that the thing in front of him was the original Sung Cha-hyeon—the one who’d never lost his memories, the same one Se-min knew—shoved any sense of relief aside.
Why did this dungeon drag him in? To make him hurry up, fill the numbers, and decide to piss off like a nuisance? His mood, already fucking lousy, scraped bottom.
“…Hyung, even after your memories came back, why did you want to do it more—keep pushing it?”
“What are you talking about? “After my memories came back”? Why are you talking like I ever lost them?”
Learning the truth buried deep in Se-min’s heart—that he wanted to be all lovey-dovey with the “original” Sung Cha-hyeon—made Cha-hyeon’s nails bite into the taut skin of his clenched fist.
Yet without feeling the pain, he rolled his eyes upward. He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing that he alone had to watch this, dogshit, or both. Silently mouthing a curse, he leaned his back against the wall.
This is a brand-new kind of fucked up.
He’d already guessed that if Se-min had to choose just one person for his memories to return, he’d pick that Sung Cha-hyeon. But guessing it and seeing it realized were different things.
“…Ha.”
Still, this was the nightmare he’d imagined—and for now, something that hadn’t actually happened.
His head cooled fast. Honed, razor-sharp emotion made him calm—coldly, fiercely focused.
Right. This is an imagined world where Ji Se-min gets what he wants. In other words, it isn’t real. No need to keep being pissed at something that isn’t real. But an Esper’s rationality didn’t hold for long.
In reality, even while Se-min let his feelings drip everywhere, he turned Cha-hyeon down when it came to actually dating. His reason… he said once Cha-hyeon’s memories were whole, he’d regret it.
He don’t know how much of a guardian saint Sung Cha-hyeon played to make Se-min swear he’d regret “committing incest with your own older brother,” but even so, he chose the Sung Cha-hyeon who said he’d regret it.
Se-min said once Sung Cha-hyeon comes back, he’ll regret it a hundred percent. So why pick the bastard who either bites his tongue and dies or—if he never comes back for the rest of his life—would be doing Se-min a favor? Wouldn’t the current Cha-hyeon existing forever make Ji Se-min happier—and be better for this body, too?
…No. That would’ve been great for me, but maybe not for Se-min. For a moment, he pictured the day Sung Cha-hyeon returned—the long face, the yearning Se-min couldn’t hide. Jealousy muddied his eyes.
What’s different? What the hell is so different that Ji Se-min wants the original Sung Cha-hyeon? Am I not enough as I am? My memories of you are gone, but I’m still Sung Cha-hyeon.
Just how different am I from the original Sung Cha-hyeon that Se-min remembers?
“Thanks for the food.”
“Thank you for the meal.”
While his emotions swung between bloodlust and doubt, they seemed to finish eating. As Se-min drank his water, the fake one wearing Cha-hyeon’s skin stood and began clearing the dishes.
“Ah! Hyung, I’ll take mine. Let’s do the dishes together.”
“It’s fine. Se-min, hurry up … I’ll do it.”
The middle bit didn’t reach Cha-hyeon’s ears, but Se-min clearly heard something. He shot an unmalicious little glare, cheeks flushing again.
Cha-hyeon stared openly. Picking up the remaining plates, Se-min rose from the table and took his place beside Sung Cha-hyeon at the sink. Leaning there like he was resting his arm, he looked up with gentle eyes—the look of someone who knows he’ll be loved no matter what he does.
His unguardedly relaxed face looked even more at ease than the Se-min he knew. As Cha-hyeon’s head tilted, the whites showed under his eyes.
“If Hyung soaps, should I rinse?”
“Leave it. There aren’t many dishes. It’ll be quicker if I do it alone.”
The fake spoke with a soft smile. Same face as his, yet the smile was different somehow.
Was that the difference? He’d felt the same thing a moment ago—so it wasn’t a mistake. Did the Sung Cha-hyeon in Se-min’s memory use his facial muscles like that?
“……”
The corner of Cha-hyeon’s mouth twitched up—no teeth, just a tug at the dimples.
“Leave it. There aren’t many dishes. It’ll be quicker if I do it alone.”
The pitch was subtly different. As he savored the sound, his vocal cords tightened.
“Leave it. There aren’t many dishes. It’ll be quicker if I do it alone.”
Like this?
“Still…”
“Wanna splash around next to me?”
“…This isn’t a pool. Why would I splash water?”
“Because it’s fun for me to watch.”
Sung Cha-hyeon laughed, eyes bending into crescents. The whites that had been glaring in Cha-hyeon’s eyes curved too. Still wearing that slight smile, he said,
“Because it’s fun for me to watch. Because it’s fun for me to watch. Because it’s fun for me to watch. Because it’s fun for me to watch. Because it’s…”
His voice, softening with each repetition, cut off when a flustered Se-min hugged Sung Cha-hyeon from the side. Sung Cha-hyeon let out a quiet snort of laughter.
In an instant—like he’d never been mimicking at all—his face went blank. The smile with crinkled eyes vanished, a chill spreading too sharply over his features.
Water drummed from the faucet. Sung Cha-hyeon looked down at Se-min burrowing into his chest: the gaze of someone looking at something precious, facial muscles softened, lips lifted.
Then Sung Cha-hyeon turned his eyes. The still-smiling Sung Cha-hyeon met his gaze. Uncharacteristically, Cha-hyeon flinched.
“……”
“……”
The intact-memory illusion and the not-intact-memory reality stared at each other. Maybe their lines of sight just crossed; maybe he truly looked at him. There was no telling.
In a blink—too fast to register—the background changed again.
Whoosh—the air flipped. Beyond the wide floor-to-ceiling window, the Han River sprawled dark. Nighttime Seoul, lit by the city, was dazzling and beautiful.
Warm air, the distinctive smell of hotel linens, a room glowing softly with indirect light.
Still hugging Sung Cha-hyeon, Se-min lifted his head. The fake who’d been looking at Cha-hyeon had, before he knew it, lowered his gaze to Se-min again.
The sound of Se-min swallowing reached even him. Finally, the anger he’d been balancing on a knife’s edge exploded. Never mind the sudden scene change—he’d just realized he was about to watch his Pair Partner cheat right in front of him.
Sung Cha-hyeon, embracing Se-min back, slowly dipped his head. Se-min squeezed his trembling eyelids shut.
“I can’t stand to watch this anymore.”
With a disgusted mutter, Cha-hyeon swung a fist that, in a blink, turned into black mist. His arm stretched long, a sharp, heavy, streamlined gust tearing toward the illusion.
Boom—crackle!
A clean hit. Letting the murderous intent he’d kept corked burst free felt damn cathartic.
The illusion’s skull caved in; brain matter burst out. In reality the room would’ve been drenched in blood and bodily fluids, but because this was Se-min’s world where “everything is peaceful,” what showed above the severed neck was only black mist blooming.
Even that was enough to make Se-min shriek.
“H-hyung!”
Having watched the horror unfold right before his eyes, Se-min naturally turned to find the culprit. From the instant he’d intervened in the dream, the certainty that his Pair Guide would perceive him had never felt so good. Grinning wide enough to split his face, Cha-hyeon waited for Se-min’s eyes.
Their gazes met. Se-min’s eyes went wider than ever. A base, ugly satisfaction swelled.
With his mouth hanging open like he’d seen a ghost, Se-min recoiled.
“…Cha-hyeon, Hyung?”
“Hey, Se-min.”
Waving, Cha-hyeon greeted him offhandedly—yet his gaze slid just past Se-min, fixing instead on the black mist wavering over the empty neck. His eyebrow twitched.
The black mist that had gathered into a face seemed to melt away—then a perfectly intact head of Sung Cha-hyeon appeared in its place. By Se-min’s ear, the same voice as the man standing before him spoke.
“Se-min. What are you looking at right now?”
