Nigel couldn’t get used to Inas’s aggressiveness. The overly deep kisses made it hard to breathe, and the way he was being touched felt ticklish and awkward. When Nigel didn’t know how to react, Inas scowled.
“You’re way too drunk. Kinda kills the mood tonight. You’ve been saying weird stuff since earlier. How much did you drink, anyway?”
“Two bottles.”
“Soju?”
“Yeah…”
“Even if it’s soju, with your tolerance, that’s nothing. Why are you so wasted?”
Nigel wished he were more drunk, but his mind was annoyingly clear. Still, if he admitted he wasn’t, Inas might come at him again, so he kept his mouth shut.
The mild buzz made Nigel’s thoughts float a little, but he tried hard to stay calm. Even if this was all just in his head, it felt wrong to mess around with someone who wasn’t even the real Inas. He felt guilty toward the real Inas. Embarrassed, too.
He pretended to wobble like he was drunker than he was, and Inas sighed.
“I was really looking forward to tonight since you said you’d sleep over.”
Grumbling, Inas leaned in and gave him a light kiss. His body pressed against Nigel’s with a comforting weight. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Nigel leaned back, and Inas let go with a chuckle.
“Let’s just get you cleaned up and go to bed. I’ll make you hangover soup tomorrow.”
“Okay…”
Nigel answered weakly. Inas scooped him up and carried him into the bathroom. He sat Nigel on the edge of the tub, brushed his teeth for him, and insisted on giving him a shower too. Nigel said he could manage on his own, but Inas wasn’t hearing it.
“What if you slip while you’re drunk? Don’t suddenly get shy on me. Just stay still.”
Don’t suddenly get shy, huh… Just how clingy was he in this world? His face burned with shame.
And Inas really did wash him—everywhere.
The attentive care was embarrassing enough, but Nigel found it hard to keep his eyes from drifting toward Inas’s body. Unlike in the real world where Inas rarely showed any skin, this version stripped down without hesitation, saying he didn’t want to get his clothes wet.
It wasn’t like he’d never seen Inas naked. He’d seen him a few times in reality and plenty more through memories from earlier save files. But this was the first time he was seeing him so up close for so long.
His body was damn near perfect. Actually, just… perfect. Broad shoulders, naturally large frame packed with thick muscle. A firm chest with plenty to grab, shadowed abs cut into sharp lines. And below that…
“……”
Nigel scolded himself for letting his eyes wander there.
The Eye of the Abyss supposedly showed the depths of one’s soul. So was this shameless fantasy really his true self? Ordering around a version of Inas who seemed to be his lover, just to ogle him? If anyone ever found out, he’d want to die.
Inas noticed where his eyes had gone and let out a soft chuckle.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re gonna make it hard to control myself.”
He said it while tightening his grip on Nigel’s arm.
…And he really was getting hard.
Nigel quietly averted his gaze, locking his eyes on the bathroom tiles. Inas, with a smile on his lips and a shadow in his eyes, finished washing him.
Inas carried Nigel out of the bathroom and laid him on the bed. Nigel lay there, deep in thought.
How the hell did this version of Inas even come into existence? What kind of illusion was he seeing right now?
Just a few hours ago, when he’d been hanging out with friends, none of this had crossed his mind. But seeing a version of Inas that felt so real yet so off had brought up a storm of thoughts.
Meanwhile, the root of all this confusion—Inas—was acting like it was just another peaceful morning.
“Go to sleep. It’s already past one.”
He pulled Nigel into his arms, gently patting his chest. Nigel silently wondered why Inas always acted like he could put him to bed like that—but still, he closed his eyes obediently.
It was a dream, but could you sleep inside a dream?
Apparently yes, because Nigel was out like a light. When he woke up, he was still inside the illusion.
Staring at the oddly shaped ceiling light, Nigel wondered when this hallucination would finally end. None of the usual info windows popped up like they used to, so he couldn’t even check for clues.
He tried to think seriously about his situation, but hunger hit first. His last meal had been the bar snacks from last night. Stomach growling, Nigel finally opened the door and stepped out.
The moment he did, a faint smell hit him like a wave. He instinctively took a deep breath—it was a scent he’d never encountered before, but it was… delicious.
“Did you sleep well?”
Inas called out from the kitchen. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, holding a ladle and a soup bowl.
“I was just about to wake you. Made some dried pollack soup. Come eat.”
Incredibly, Inas had cooked. According to Nigel’s memories, cooking had always been one of the slowest skills for him to learn. He didn’t have the talent or the interest. So there was no way a regular 20-something Inas should be able to cook this well.
So Nigel stared suspiciously at the bowl of soup in front of him—a soup he’d never seen before. The clear yellow broth with unfamiliar ingredients floating on top looked strange. But he couldn’t just sit there staring, so he braced himself and took a spoonful.
“…It’s good.”
Surprisingly, it was light and savory. He’d thought it was a smell he’d never known, but somehow it felt nostalgic. Had he eaten this before?
As Nigel eagerly spooned up the broth, Inas watched him with the fond look of a parent feeding their child.
“I got it right today, huh? The seasoning’s perfect. How’s your stomach?”
Nigel nodded. When he picked up the chopsticks, his hands moved automatically, even though he didn’t think he knew how to use them. On the table were fried eggs he’d just made, reheated beef bulgogi, and neatly plated napa cabbage kimchi.
He was surprised he even remembered the names. Even though the food felt completely different from what he was used to, it went down easily. It was too delicious for Inas to be an amateur, and before he knew it, Nigel had buried himself in the meal.
“Look at you go today.”
Inas glanced at the plates, now visibly emptier. Nigel had eaten way more than usual.
“Did I eat too much?”
“No way. It’s nice seeing you eat like this. Want another bowl of rice?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, eat up.”
Inas brought him another bowl, then headed into the bedroom, seemingly done with his own meal. It felt a little awkward eating so much alone, but Nigel went right back to it. He cleared every last dish Inas had set out.
He couldn’t remember ever eating this much before. Stuffed full, he began clearing the dishes into the dishwasher when Inas reappeared.
He was now dressed in a full, perfectly tailored black suit. The formal wear hugged his frame, restricting his movements more than his usual clothes—but the dignified look gave him an air of restraint that felt elegant, almost provocative.
Nigel stared, entranced, unable to tear his eyes away.
Inas noticed and smirked.
“Don’t look at me like you’re gonna lick me clean. Makes me want to skip work and eat you instead.”
“Work?”
“You lost track of the days after finals, huh? It’s Monday. Gotta go to the office.”
“Oh…”
So even this dream version of Inas had a job. Well, in modern society, that made sense. Still, Nigel had sort of hoped they’d stay together all day. He felt a little disappointed.
“Get dressed. I’ll drop you off at home.”
Home.
The word was both terrifying and thrilling. Nigel almost said no out of reflex, but then realized—he didn’t even know how to get home. So he nodded instead.
Inas’s officetel wasn’t far from Nigel’s supposed apartment. He drove into the complex and parked in front of Nigel’s building. Nigel hesitated, then looked back before getting out.
“Hyung. Do you know what my apartment number is?”
“Building 101, unit 1701. Why? Is this a quiz?”
“I just… couldn’t remember.”
Nigel admitted honestly. Inas frowned deeply. It was an odd thing to say, and he clearly thought so—but this was all just an illusion, after all.
Nigel had asked his friend ■■ a few offbeat questions yesterday too. They’d scolded him, but never took it seriously.
“You’re still drunk?”
As expected, this version of Inas brushed off what could’ve been a major red flag.
Losing memories from drinking that much? Shouldn’t they be worried about alcoholism? But Nigel kept that thought to himself and nodded.
“Maybe. By the way… does my place have a passcode like yours?”
“Of course it does. It’s 2580963. Press straight down the middle row, and swipe up the right column. But now that you mention it, you should change it—it’s too simple.”
“Okay.”
“Take care going in. I’m heading out.”
Inas offered the advice with a smile and drove away. Nigel watched the car disappear, then let out a sigh.
So even if he acted out, the illusion wouldn’t break unless he strayed too far from its script. Maybe he needed to push the limits a little more. Just how much would this hallucination tolerate?
He just wanted out.
Nigel stood there, lost in thought, then slowly forced himself to move. Even if the place scared him, he couldn’t just stand around forever.
He moved as slowly as he could, but the elevator got him to unit 1701 in seconds.
Entering the code Inas had given him, the door to the unknown apartment clicked open.
Just past the entrance, there was a frame sitting on the shoe cabinet. A photo of four people was inside, but their faces were blurred out. Probably his parents, his sister, and himself. Nigel stared at the eerie photo for a moment before instinctively taking off his shoes and stepping inside.
The first thing he saw was the living room. It was still early, but the morning sun bathed the room in light. Next to the TV stand, a plant—probably cared for by his sister—grew tall, stretching toward the window. On the opposite wall, a used cushion lay on the three-person sofa, with a picture they had picked out together hanging above it. A white room overlooking a brilliant blue sea.
He hadn’t remembered any of this until just now. A complete stranger’s house. But now, it looked familiar.
No, it felt familiar. The moment he saw it, a wave of longing hit him.
He’d lived here for over ten years. From when their parents were still alive, all the way until now.
Always…
“You’re back early.”
A woman’s gentle voice called out.
Nigel turned his head.
She stepped out from one of the rooms, gave him a quick glance, then went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Nigel stared at her in a daze.
Loose curls in light brown hair. Eyes just a little below his own. Her face was still blurry, like looking through frosted glass—but clearer than his friend ■■ from yesterday.
Her faint frown, probably from Monday-morning irritation, looked oddly familiar.
And as soon as he saw her face—the one he’d forgotten—it all became real.
Even if this was a dream, the one who was supposed to be here wasn’t Nigel Grau Montstein.
It was ■■■.
