Deputy Chief Jeong looked at Cha-hyeon with a grimace. Ji Se-min wore a similar expression, staring blankly at him.
It was a question no one had expected. A strange, indescribable chill coiled along their spines. It felt like the sort of question that wouldn’t occur to a normal person.
“Well… I dunno. I’ve never even thought about it from that angle…”
Deputy Chief Jeong trailed off, studying Cha-hyeon carefully, as though observing a specimen. Cha-hyeon raised his head and curved his lips into a gentle smile—a disarming expression, like he was saying there’s nothing to be afraid of.
“I was just really curious. If you think about it, it’s kind of a divine mark that proves you passed a trial from the gods. So if that disappears… what happens?”
He murmured in a tone of innocent curiosity, then quietly set the Black Bread down on the table. But in his other hand, he was still gripping the golden fleece like a hostage. Slowly, he rolled it between his fingers.
Aphrodite, who wanted to curse Psyche after people began praising Psyche’s beauty over her own. Eros, who defied his mother and fell in love with Psyche.
Psyche, who broke her promise to Eros not to look at his face. Eros, who left her, declaring that love and doubt could not coexist. Psyche, desperate to get her husband back, sought out Aphrodite and was given four impossible trials.
Cha-hyeon couldn’t remember it, but speculation had been circling that the S-rank dungeon that awarded him three Unclaimed Rewards and one Conditional Reward had been based on the myth of Eros and Psyche.
Mythology-themed dungeons typically offered items tied to the stories they were based on. If that was the case, then wouldn’t these items be acting in accordance with the will of the goddess who set the trials?
And if one were to lose the proofs of those trials—proofs designed by a goddess who couldn’t bring herself to accept her hated rival as her son’s wife—would that goddess really offer a fair and impartial judgment?
It felt like he’d discovered a loophole in what was supposed to be an inevitable final Conditional Reward. Cha-hyeon could feel the heat rising to his head, and the heart that had been numb with despair started pounding again, alive with excitement.
“Esper Sung Cha-hyeon.”
Deputy Chief Jeong finally spoke, his eyes fixed on the glint of madness flickering in Cha-hyeon’s gaze. At some point, he’d taken on the same composed, emotionless expression Se-min had seen back during the interview. Calmly, Jeong asked,
“Are you trying to get rid of the item?”
Cha-hyeon’s eyebrow arched slightly. He kept the same soft smile as he stared back at Jeong, saying nothing—but everyone in the room instantly understood what kind of answer he wanted to give.
“You don’t want to get your memories back?”
Jeong asked again, just as calmly. Cha-hyeon’s black eyes flicked left, then returned to center.
“Maybe.”
His reply was casual, but Se-min had to hold back a sharp gasp.
He really doesn’t want his memories back?
Now, after reading the updated notice, it finally made sense why Cha-hyeon had changed—but at the same time, it didn’t make sense at all.
It felt like a contradiction. Cha-hyeon wanted Se-min to get his memories back, but didn’t want to recover his own. To Se-min, that was an incomprehensible way of thinking.
Deputy Chief Jeong sighed softly, then seemed to think for a moment before speaking in a gentle, conciliatory tone.
“Esper Sung Cha-hyeon. I’m not a therapist, and I’m sure you have your reasons, so I won’t try too hard to understand. But if there’s one thing I can say right now… Have you talked to Guide Se-min about it?”
Se-min flinched the moment his name was mentioned. Cha-hyeon’s black eyes turned toward him. Unlike before, his gaze now gleamed with a strange kind of faith and excitement.
“It’s a Conditional Reward, right? Guide Se-min might want his memories back. Just because you want to stay like this doesn’t mean you can just destroy the item.”
He stared at Se-min with something almost unhinged in his eyes, and then suddenly pressed a hand lightly to his solar plexus—subtle, like he was trying not to let it show. Watching him, Jeong continued to speak gently, coaxing him.
“And… if it were me, I wouldn’t risk something that uncertain. Like you said, if the item was influenced by the dungeon’s myth, then destroying it might erase the proof that you cleared the trial. Of course, it could also mean nothing happens at all. If Guide Se-min’s Favorability hits 100%, maybe you’ll both get your memories back without a problem, but…”
He paused to take a breath, then spoke with sincerity to Cha-hyeon, whose eyes were still gleaming with a manic light.
“But what if only you regain your memories? And Guide Ji Se-min doesn’t, Esper Sung Cha-hyeon?”
At last, Cha-hyeon looked away from Se-min. He’d been so fixated on the possibility of not getting his own memories back that he hadn’t even considered the risk Jeong was pointing out.
Jeong, sounding almost exasperated, kept going.
“Or what if neither of you recovers your memories? Is that really the future you want, Esper Sung Cha-hyeon?”
Cha-hyeon’s throat bobbed visibly. Jeong slowly shook his head and stood up, speaking as if delivering a bittersweet truth—one that felt a little too selfish, even if it came from concern.
“If it were me, I wouldn’t do anything rash. If the two of you can talk this through properly, and your Favorability gets close to 100%, and it feels like the right time to get your memories back—then maybe, you can think about making a decision. Just… think it over. I’ll be on my way.”
“Ah…!”
Se-min, who had been sitting on pins and needles the whole time, shot to his feet reflexively. Jeong waved a hand to motion him back down, but then, after checking Cha-hyeon’s condition, seemed to change his mind.
“Guide Se-min. Could you walk me to the elevator?”
“Ah, yes…”
Stealing a quick glance at Cha-hyeon, who sat pale and visibly shaken, Se-min quickly followed after Jeong.
It felt awkward, seeing someone off who supposedly knew him well when he himself felt like they were strangers. As they stepped out into the cooler hallway from the warm hospital room, Jeong spoke up again.
“Back when Esper Sung Cha-hyeon first lost his memories, you were the one who saw him off. I just remembered that. Not that you’d recall.”
“Ah, haha… No, I don’t…”
Se-min answered awkwardly. Jeong offered him a faint smile and, noticing how guarded he was, spoke from the heart.
“Don’t let Sung Cha-hyeon walk all over you.”
“…Sorry?”
Se-min stopped walking without realizing it. Jeong, who had been walking in step with him, also stopped. Once he confirmed they were far enough from the hospital room, he continued in a quiet but firm voice.
“I’m just saying this because I’m worried. What if he pressures you into giving in? Your memories and feelings for him are gone too, so I don’t think you’ll give in easily—but still. He’s not exactly… level-headed, is he?”
Se-min let out a small, awkward laugh. He probably shouldn’t be laughing, but… he couldn’t help it. Jeong had a point.
“He’s panicking. So obsessed with getting a specific result that he’s lost sight of everything else. And now that your Favorability’s at negative ten…”
Jeong added jokingly. In reality, it had dropped to -14%, but Se-min didn’t bother correcting him. He just picked up his pace again.
“This whole situation… if you two can reach an understanding, maybe it’ll be okay. But right now, Esper Sung Cha-hyeon’s convinced that you don’t love him anymore. He’s probably thinking that if you just regain your memories, you’ll fall for him again. That’s how he’s landed on such an unhinged conclusion.”
Jeong shrugged and smiled, a bit playfully. Hearing someone who clearly knew Cha-hyeon well explain it all out loud… helped. It made Se-min feel like maybe he could understand why Cha-hyeon had acted that way.
Though he still didn’t understand why Cha-hyeon didn’t want his memories back.
Almost as if reading his mind, Jeong offered an answer.
“And as for why he doesn’t want his memories back… I honestly don’t know. But personally? I don’t think the old Cha-hyeon would’ve been able to love you romantically, Guide Se-min. Maybe some part of his conscience is still holding onto that.”
That, at least, was something Se-min did know. After losing his entire family in the Third Gate Flood, Cha-hyeon had ended up living with him. Having grown up together, it made sense that from a moral standpoint, it would’ve been hard to fall for each other. That’s probably why the Favorability had dropped in the first place—people going, “Even though they were that close, they still dated?”
“Yeah… I guess from the older person’s perspective, maybe it wasn’t something they should’ve accepted.”
For a moment, Jeong’s face shifted into a strange expression—like a dad realizing that his youngest daughter, who’d just dumped her sleazy, three-times-divorced fiancé thirty years her senior, had actually made the right call. For Jeong, who had worried Cha-hyeon had somehow forced the relationship, it was touching.
“Anyway… Don’t let him steamroll you, but talk it through. He didn’t tell me the real reason he doesn’t want his memories back, but maybe he’ll be honest with you.”
As they chatted, they arrived at the elevator. The doors opened the moment Jeong hit the button. Se-min gave a polite bow, and only lifted his head again when the doors closed behind him.
Talk about why he doesn’t want to remember… Se-min’s expression twisted slightly. Jeong had meant well, but with their Favorability at -14% and Cha-hyeon basically a stranger, having a deep, meaningful conversation with him seemed… daunting.
Besides, didn’t Cha-hyeon not want to remember?
Honestly, it wasn’t like Se-min felt especially uncomfortable not remembering him either. Things seemed fine the way they were.
“…Huh?”
A realization suddenly flickered through his mind.
If neither of them wanted to remember, and they didn’t need to raise their Favorability anymore, then wasn’t there one incredibly simple way to solve everything?
“…We could just break up.”
