Cha-hyeon’s sudden interjection made both Deputy Chief Jeong and Ji Se-min turn their heads at once. Though still slouched against the sofa and visibly drained, Cha-hyeon was now radiating an aura so sharp it bordered on lethal. The helplessness from earlier had vanished completely.
Deputy Chief Jeong seemed just as taken aback by the abrupt shift. After blinking a few times, he asked with a puzzled frown,
“…Sorry? What was that?”
“That thing you said earlier. That line Eros supposedly said when he left.”
Jeong’s eyebrows lifted at the unexpected question from Cha-hyeon, who had been dead silent until now. Se-min, wearing the same startled expression, glanced between the two of them.
“Oh… you mean, ‘Love and doubt cannot coexist’?”
“Yeah. That one.”
Jeong looked even more confused now. But Cha-hyeon, as if holding onto something only he had noticed, asked in a voice low and taut with restrained anger,
“Is that a famous line or something?”
“A famous line? Hmm… maybe? I guess some Awakened active during the Third Gate Flood might know it, but people who remember the exact phrasing like I do are rare. I basically memorized the entire book. But why are you asking?”
Cha-hyeon didn’t answer. He merely rubbed slowly at the corner of his mouth, saying nothing. Though his body remained slack, the air around him was sharp enough to cut—a clear sign that his mind was racing.
Current Favorability: -14%
Maybe because it had already dipped into the negatives, Se-min felt nauseated just from the pressure rolling off Cha-hyeon. As he sullenly pouted, barely visible, Cha-hyeon spoke again.
“If someone didn’t know that myth… would that line still work as advice? What do you think, Deputy Chief?”
His quiet question sliced through the thick air. Jeong paused briefly, then replied with a thoughtful hum.
“Well… I guess so? Like the moral lessons you find in old fairy tales. Some people interpret that quote as a metaphor. Eros, as you know, is the god of love, and ‘Psyche’ in Greek means ‘soul’ or ‘mind.’ People say love resides in the soul and heart, right? So if you start doubting those feelings… it just turns into paranoia. If that line was meant to say, ‘Have faith in love,’ then sure, it makes sense. But seriously—what’s this all about?”
Now Jeong’s curiosity was starting to boil over. Had Cha-hyeon given even a half-hearted response, it would’ve been enough to close the conversation. But his silence only stoked Jeong’s interest to maddening levels.
“What is it? What happened? Don’t tell me someone actually said that to you, Sung Cha-hyeon? That’s nuts… Unless it was the Director herself, there’s no one in Korea reckless enough to try that… unless another Sung Cha-hyeon said it—”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
Jeong’s jaw dropped, as if it took him a second to register what he’d just heard. Meanwhile, realization dawned on Se-min too. This was that Esper—the one who’d sat beside Cha-hyeon in that video, the one who casually said, “We’re dating.”
He hadn’t recognized him at all. In the video, the man had been in an Esper-only combat suit and looked impossibly charismatic. But in person, without the gear and wearing an oddly soft, emoji-like expression, he’d seemed like a completely different person. Just like Jeong, Se-min now wore a matching expression of shock.
“…Excuse me?!”
“He’s the one who said it to me.”
Jeong’s jaw seemed like it might hit the floor. But unbothered by his reaction, Cha-hyeon slowly sat up from the sofa.
Reaching forward, he picked up the clustered pile of Black Bread and golden fleece. With a quick glance at the box Jeong still held, he asked,
“So. What’s missing from this? You said the thing Psyche got during her third trial wasn’t here, right? What was that?”
“W-Wait, hold on. Are you telling me… the other Sung Cha-hyeon—like, the version that briefly regains his memory during the reward phases—he’s the one who said that? What the hell?!”
Jeong looked too rattled to respond properly. He knew that every time a Conditional Reward was triggered, a version of Cha-hyeon with full memories would briefly return. But this was the first he’d heard of that version leaving a message behind for the current Cha-hyeon.
“That’s even possible? I thought when he came back, he didn’t retain any memories from the moment! How the hell could you communicate with him? No—why didn’t you tell us any of this until now?!”
Cha-hyeon stared at him blankly, his expression practically saying, “I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Jeong’s stunned face twisted into a scowl. If he’d had a Favorability window for Cha-hyeon, it probably would’ve dropped at least 10 points right then.
But Cha-hyeon couldn’t have cared less if Jeong’s Favorability dropped by 10 or even 1000. Jeong, realizing this, could only sigh.
“…Hah. Fine. Better late than never, I guess. Still… for even another version of yourself to think you were being paranoid enough to say that line… ‘Love and doubt cannot coexist’ as advice? Tsk.”
Clicking his tongue and muttering like it was no big deal, Jeong kept shooting sideways glances at Cha-hyeon. But Cha-hyeon ignored him, quietly turning the Black Bread and golden fleece in his hands.
“Well, since we’re on the topic… anything else you haven’t told us?”
“…No.”
“Seriously?”
“And if I say yes, would you believe me?”
Watching the two grown men bicker like schoolboys right in front of him, Se-min felt a deep, overwhelming desire to vanish into thin air. He couldn’t tell if they were close or just always at each other’s throats. Completely drained by their nonsense, Se-min finally stepped in.
“Um… Deputy Chief, Hyung. It’s really late… You’ve got to get home soon too, right? It’s almost bedtime. If there’s nothing else urgent to discuss, maybe we can call it a night?”
At the mention of “going home,” the petty tension in the air began to ease. Jeong quietly set the box he was holding onto the table, his face now that of a worn-out salaryman.
“Right. Like Guide Se-min said, let’s wrap this up unless there’s something more. Oh, by the way—Guide Se-min. Since Esper Sung Cha-hyeon lost all memory of you, the Guide Department Head authorized information-sharing with us. So now that things are the way they are, we’ll be handling all updates going forward.”
“Oh… yes. Thank you.”
Se-min, who hadn’t even thought to worry about such details, gave an awkward reply—like someone wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit. No matter how many times he saw his balance, checked his status window, or read the comments on YouTube, it still felt surreal to be reminded he was an S-rank Guide.
“Let’s see… that’s about everything I can think of. If anything else comes up, I’ll reach out. Take care of yourself. I’ll get going now—”
“Deputy Chief. I still have one more question.”
Cha-hyeon interrupted gently just as Jeong had turned toward Se-min with a soft, fatherly tone. Still holding the two items, he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought,
“So after Eros left… why did Psyche have to go through four trials?”
Jeong blinked in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected that. His face plainly read: Should I just tell him to Google it?
Still, Jeong—ever the kind and patient man—chose to explain. Of course, the explanation was a bit more trimmed-down than what he gave Se-min. He was dying to get home.
“After Eros left her, Psyche went to his mother, Aphrodite, saying she wanted to see him again. Aphrodite told her that if she really meant it, she’d have to complete four trials. And they weren’t just any trials—they were impossible for a human to pass.”
The Black Bread. The golden fleece. The box that once held the Queen of the Underworld’s beauty.
Cha-hyeon studied the items he and Se-min had received, one by one.
“But didn’t you say earlier the third item hadn’t appeared yet?”
“Oh, yeah. That box—in the myth, it’s the last item she gets. But you know, once the Favorability bar is full and the Clear Reward is unlocked, technically you could say you’ve collected all four.”
Dungeon Gates were still a mystery. While they often drew from myths, some elements could be distorted or restructured.
Rather than insisting on something uncertain, Jeong simply shrugged. Cha-hyeon’s cold, black eyes stayed fixed on the box, its surface morphing with every passing second.
“So. Psyche managed to complete all four of those impossible trials?”
“Yeah. She did. Though when she opened the box, she fell into a deep, deathlike sleep—something no human could survive. But Eros came back, lifted the curse, and the other gods finally acknowledged their marriage. Psyche became a goddess, and the two of them lived happily ever after.”
“…Ah.”
Cha-hyeon let out a quiet murmur and blinked slowly, lost in thought. As silence settled over him, Jeong took the opportunity to nudge things to a close.
“No more questions?”
“…What if,”
Looking down at the items in his hands, Cha-hyeon began to speak—his voice calm, but distant, his eyes half-lidded like he was seeing something far away.
“What if Psyche passed all four of Aphrodite’s trials, but ended up losing the items she received because of them? Would it still count as completing the trials?”
Because, really—there was always a chance. Some unpredictable, catastrophic accident could happen. The items could be burned to ash and lost forever.
