Before Nigel could answer, the other guy suddenly slapped his shoulder. It was the kind of rude gesture he’d rarely experienced before—but weirdly, it felt… familiar, like something that had happened many times.
“What’re you daydreaming about? Didn’t even answer. Come on, let’s cross.”
“Uh…”
When he looked up at the guy’s voice, the traffic light that had been red had turned green. Almost on instinct, Nigel gave a short reply and followed the man across the not-so-wide street.
Once they reached the other side, the building’s shadow vanished and the sunlight beat down directly onto his head.
“Shit, it’s hot as fuck. Let’s sit near the AC when we get in.”
The guy grumbled as he turned to glance back at Nigel. The moment their eyes met, Nigel froze.
Tanned skin under a short-sleeved T-shirt, black hair. The guy was looking at Nigel—or probably was. His head was turned this way, and Nigel could feel his gaze. But somehow, it was like looking through fogged-up glass—he couldn’t make out the guy’s face at all.
Strangers passing by were perfectly visible. But this person—someone who clearly knew him—was a complete blur.
“What, you checking me out or something? Think I’m ugly?”
“N-No! Not at all!”
Startled by the guy’s gruff tone, Nigel shook his head and scrambled to apologize. The man, however, just frowned, seeming a bit irritated. Nigel could faintly see his eyebrows arching in frustration.
“Hey, I’m just messing with you… If you keep looking that serious, what’s that make me? I mean, I’m not as hot as you, but I’ve got my own fanbase, you know?”
“Right… sure…”
Something clicked in Nigel’s mind. Unlike Nigel, who had always been buried in his studies and constantly turned down confessions, this guy had been dating since middle school. A little mischievous but cheerful and unexpectedly thoughtful—there had been quite a few girls who liked him while pretending not to. Nigel had always found that kind of person fascinating.
The memory surfaced naturally—and with it came a dull ache. It felt like he’d scraped the bottom of a dried-out well just to pull up a bucket of old memories. Nigel couldn’t bear it and pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Hey, you sick or something?”
The guy asked, his tone still a bit curt but now laced with concern. Nigel still couldn’t make out his face, but somehow, he didn’t feel like a stranger at all.
“■■■…”
Nigel spoke the man’s name before realizing it. And then he flinched. He had said the guy’s name—he was sure of it. But he didn’t know what name he’d said. He couldn’t remember. It was a blank.
Still, the guy replied like nothing was wrong.
“Huh? What?”
The name had rolled off Nigel’s tongue naturally, and the man responded to it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“We’ve been friends since middle school, right?”
“Yeah… Why?”
“I just can’t believe that we were ever friends.”
Nigel murmured honestly. The guy seemed to take it as a joke. He smacked Nigel’s back so hard he nearly pitched forward—but then quickly grabbed him to keep him from falling.
“Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were sick again.”
Again? That was news to him.
“I was sick?”
“What, acting like it’s the first time? Don’t pretend like you weren’t. You got in that accident in Jeju and were out of it for ages. Missed a whole year. You’re still frail as hell. Look at this body—it’s like a pair of chopsticks.”
He couldn’t be talking about the trip Nigel had taken as a child with his parents—so it had to be the last trip with his sister. Jeju was where his memory in this world ended. A horrible accident, one he hadn’t survived. No matter how many fragments of his past he’d recovered over the last seven years, there was nothing after Jeju.
If there had been something afterward, he’d remember. Wouldn’t he?
But then again, this wasn’t reality. None of this was real.
This world was just a manufactured illusion.
The realization sent a chill through Nigel. He wanted to escape this twisted reality immediately. Far from being tempted by the illusion, it was making his skin crawl. And yet the fantasy held firm, refusing to shatter. It just kept feeding him lost memories, insisting this world was real.
“You sure you’re okay? Want me to call an ambulance?”
Seeing Nigel grimace, ■■ looked at him with obvious concern. Nigel barely managed to force a smile and shook his head.
“I’m fine. Just… haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“You need to sleep, man. You look like you’re about to drop dead. And eat something, for god’s sake.”
“Mind your own business… You worry about you.”
“Wow, I show some concern and this is the thanks I get? Whatever. Come on, let’s get some food. There’s a great tonkatsu place nearby.”
What the hell was going on? He didn’t know how to get out of here, and with no clear exit in sight, maybe it was better to just go along with it and wait for an opening.
Having made up his mind, Nigel nodded and followed the guy. On the way, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window. All around him were black-haired Koreans—but in the glass, his own hair gleamed gold. Just how much of this was real memory, and how much was fabricated?
There wasn’t time to ponder it.
He ended up eating tonkatsu with ■■, then went to a PC Bang to play games. He remembered liking cheese tonkatsu and being pretty good at games. His rank had even been high.
But the game screen felt utterly foreign. He barely grasped the controls, and a complete newbie wasn’t about to play like a pro. He botched everything, got cursed out by ■■ repeatedly, and nearly got into a fight out of sheer frustration.
Eventually, they left early. “You really aren’t feeling well,” ■■ muttered, then insisted that what Nigel needed was a drink. Which made no sense—who drinks when they’re sick? Still, Nigel didn’t mind the idea of getting drunk.
The college-area pub was crowded and noisy. Pressing a call button on the table to summon a server was interesting, at least. But the cheap snacks and soju? Couldn’t understand why anyone liked that crap.
Nigel scowled at the noise, but ■■ happily drank and chatted away. Apparently, he’d had a huge fight with his girlfriend recently—one of those ridiculous drama-fueled arguments that sounded like a complete disaster.
Meanwhile, two strangers approached Nigel to ask for his number. It happened twice. He remembered that this wasn’t unusual.
It was loud—but peaceful.
And yet Nigel felt no comfort in the peace.
It all just felt… wrong. Like clothes that didn’t fit. He’d fought with Inas for years and struggled through seven years to return to this world.
Not because he loved it here—just because he didn’t belong in the other world.
He’d figured that if he could just come back to the place he used to live, he’d somehow make it work.
But right now, if someone asked whether he really wanted this world—Nigel could say no without hesitation.
While he was lost in thought, ■■ nudged him.
“Hey. Your phone’s been buzzing nonstop.”
Phone. The word took a second to register. Nigel finally reached over and pulled the vibrating smartphone off the seat and set it on the table.
Inas
010-xxxx-xxxx
He frowned.
What the hell?
He stared at the screen, and ■■ asked why he wasn’t picking up. Truth was, Nigel didn’t even know how. While he hesitated, the call ended.
“Why didn’t you answer? You drunk?”
“No… not really.”
The phone buzzed again, but Nigel left it.
After it ended again, ■■ gave a dramatic gasp from across the table.
“Dude… Are you seriously not answering your hyung’s call?”
“…Hyung?”
“Yeah? It’s your hyung, right? Did you guys fight?”
Nigel scowled. “Hyung” didn’t sit well. So Inas was his brother in this world, too? They’d never met here, but it was a hallucination—of course Inas could show up as a sibling. Still, why that specific role?
“You guys did fight, huh?”
Nigel shook his head and ignored the repeated questions. Then when the phone buzzed again, ■■ grabbed it and answered himself.
“Hey—don’t just take my—”
“Relax. Yeah, hi, this is ■■. Oh, yeah, he’s kinda drunk. But no! I didn’t make him drink that much—he just seemed down today. Okay, okay, I’ll stop giving him any more. Ah—right. We’re at…”
He gave Inas the bar’s name and location. The deferential tone irritated Nigel. Even if it was just an illusion, why the hell was ■■ acting like that to Inas?
Nigel rubbed his forehead.
Why am I even mad about this?
■■ was just a figment. Even if he’d once defended Nigel when kids mocked him for being orphaned, even if they’d shared countless memories, ■■ had nothing to do with Nigel Grau Montstein.
But he still felt pissed.
When Nigel reached for another drink, ■■ grabbed the glass and stopped him.
“Hey. That’s enough.”
The gentle voice from across the table made Nigel look away. If he couldn’t drink, there was no point in staying. He tried to get up, but ■■ stopped him again.
“Hang on. Your hyung’s coming to get you.”
“…Why?”
“Why? Dude, you’re wasted. Just drink some water and chill. You said you were crashing at his place tonight, didn’t you?”
So they lived separately despite being brothers? He almost asked, but decided against it. Whatever. It’s a dream. No need to run from it. If Inas was coming, maybe facing him would bring some answers.
About ten minutes later, after a message from Inas, ■■ got up. Nigel followed awkwardly.
They stepped out of the alley and onto a busy street, where a car was parked at the curb. Through the open window, Nigel saw Inas scowling.
It was the Inas he knew. But this version wasn’t in black armor or a sleek uniform—he wore the same short-sleeved, casual clothes as everyone else.
While Nigel stood frozen, Inas greeted ■■ like they were friends. When Inas offered to give him a ride home, ■■ declined and waved goodbye to Nigel before leaving.
Now it was just the two of them.
On the noisy street, Inas said nothing—just gestured with his chin. Nigel awkwardly opened the car door. He even managed to close it, though the silence inside made him stiffen. Inas stared at him for a long moment, then sighed.
“You’re seriously drunk. And ignoring my calls?”
With an annoyed murmur, Inas leaned in. Nigel tensed—but all he did was pull the seatbelt across and buckle it for him. The usual faint scent of blood was gone. In its place was a gentle whiff of cologne.
“Inas.”
Nigel tried saying his name out loud. It came out clearly. He could hear it just fine. Inas blended naturally into the city—but at the same time, felt completely out of place among Koreans. Maybe not strange for a foreigner, but the real dissonance came from the fact that this was Inas, living in this world.
Suddenly, Inas made a strange face—and pinched Nigel’s cheek.
“OW!”
“Who told you to call me by my name like that?”
He hadn’t even pinched that hard, but it hurt enough to bring tears to Nigel’s eyes. The scolding tone only made it worse, and Nigel clammed up.
Was Inas really his brother? Why this relationship, in this world? It wasn’t like he even liked the idea of them being related.
Noticing Nigel’s sulky silence, Inas didn’t apologize—just clicked his tongue.
“You don’t even smell that drunk. How much did you drink? Can’t even recognize your own hyung.”
Come to think of it, Inas had been speaking casually to him the whole time. Arrogantly. Sure, if he was his older brother, it made sense—but still…
When Nigel pursed his lips and said nothing, Inas started the car without further complaint.
They drove in silence to Inas’ apartment—a ridiculously tall high-rise officetel. Inas parked roughly, grabbed Nigel’s dawdling hand, and dragged him toward the elevator. All the way up, he held Nigel’s hand tightly, like someone anxious.
As soon as they entered, he shoved Nigel up against the wall.
Just as Nigel was about to protest, Inas kissed him—not just a brush, but something much deeper.
When he pulled away slightly, Nigel tried to speak—but Inas closed the gap again, swallowing his voice. His body heat pinned Nigel in place.
“Mmph…!”
He couldn’t think. His body and mind were both being pulled into Inas’ orbit. Every place he touched ignited with heat, like he’d burn up and disappear. Nigel, dazed and overwhelmed, finally managed to shove him away.
“What the hell are you doing…? You’re my brother. Why are you kissing me?”
“…What?”
“We’re family.”
This wasn’t like their original world where they were only technically family. This time, they were blood. So what the hell was this heat-crazed behavior?
But Inas looked even more baffled.
“Why would I be your family?”
“…What?”
“If anyone older than you counts as family, you’ve got dozens of relatives running around.”
Then it hit him—Nigel had called him hyung. The cultural misunderstanding made sense now. Inas probably thought Nigel was just another Korean guy.
“Uh… it’s just…”
“If we were brothers, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
When Nigel’s eyes darted around nervously, Inas let out a low chuckle. He looked down at him, sighed deeply, and let the heavy breath fall against Nigel’s skin.
“No, actually… even if we were blood, I still would’ve brought you here.”
Was that a joke? Or was he dead serious? Nigel couldn’t tell. He blinked in confusion—just as Inas lunged forward again.
