The sound had been so faint that only Cha-hyeon heard the door lock from within the hospital room. The black mist, stirred into existence by his will, slid into the latch, clicked it shut, and shimmered briefly before vanishing into the air.
“……”
His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then again, as Cha-hyeon stared off into the distance.
The door was locked. Just that simple fact alone sent a strange thrill coursing through his chest. His pale fingertips curled unconsciously as dark, extreme thoughts began to spiral in his mind.
Se-min had been right. If he really didn’t want to regain his memories, then the safest thing to do was avoid raising his Favorability. Getting rid of the item was nothing more than a reckless gamble. And yet… wasn’t this contradiction proof that what Cha-hyeon truly wanted was Se-min’s affection, the same love he used to have?
But what if… what if he locked Se-min up?
A strange light flickered in Cha-hyeon’s dark eyes. Yes. What if he locked Se-min inside the house they used to live in together? That familiar space—etched into memory so clearly he could summon every detail with his eyes closed. It was so easy to picture Se-min inside, unable to leave the room.
At first, Se-min wouldn’t accept it. Then, when he realized Cha-hyeon had actually imprisoned him, his face would crumple in shock and disbelief. With no memories, no love for Cha-hyeon, Se-min would change even faster.
He’d get angry. Cry. Beg. Try to reason with him. Tremble with betrayal. Plead. Hate him.
Cha-hyeon didn’t know whether the pounding of his heart was truly his own or just some remnant emotion from the original Sung Cha-hyeon—but even he didn’t like where his thoughts were going.
But still… they’d be together. Like a bird in a cage, Se-min would have no choice but to live only for him, to look only at him.
The thought made his head burn. He had never once imagined a future without Se-min. Even when he found out Se-min had lost his memories, he’d instantly latched onto the man who shyly insisted they were engaged.
If that fantasy became real—if he truly made it so—then the opportunity to raise Favorability would disappear forever. And so would the chance to regain memories. But… if that meant they could stay together for the rest of their lives…
Gulp. Cha-hyeon swallowed dryly. In the narrow tunnel of his fear—that Se-min no longer loved him—this ending looked disturbingly appealing.
That Se-min was his one and only pair guide didn’t matter anymore. What Cha-hyeon wanted—desperately—was Ji Se-min. He had finally realized that he loved him. There was no way he could accept a future where this ended in separation.
His eyes, now glimmering with some twisted conviction, drifted toward Se-min. Noticing the silence, Se-min glanced back, his expression subtly worried.
You want to break up? Even if you’ve lost your memories, how could you say that so easily? You’ve forgotten your love for me, and now you want to walk away like we were nothing?
Absolutely not. He couldn’t let Se-min go.
He could already picture that small face twisting in disgust and hate. And yet, if they could just be together…
“……!”
Fuck. A searing pain punched through his solar plexus, and Cha-hyeon instinctively curled into himself. Just when he thought he was starting to get used to the pain, it crashed through him again—tight and brutal, as though wringing out his heart.
His hand—still faintly marked with scribbles from a felt-tip pen—gripped the front of his hospital gown. His previously bloodless face flushed a deep red in an instant.
“Hyung! Hyung-nim!”
Se-min’s panicked voice rang out, louder than before. He sounded stunned—completely unsure what to do. Though he didn’t come any closer, his alarm was obvious.
“A-Are you okay? Hey… excuse me, are you…?”
Flustered, Se-min crept forward carefully. A tentative warmth touched Cha-hyeon’s hunched back. The touch wasn’t affectionate—just the cautious gesture of someone checking on a stranger in pain. The loss hit hard.
Different from the pain of conscience, this was raw instinct—and Cha-hyeon had to grit his teeth to endure it.
He’s going to hate me. He was already casually throwing around the word “breakup” with Favorability in the negative. If it dropped any further, who knew what kind of venom he’d spit?
Could I even take that? Could I still cling to him, satisfied just to have his body even if he doesn’t love me anymore?
No. That wasn’t what Cha-hyeon wanted.
He had already tasted the sweetness of Se-min’s unconditional, pure affection. That’s why he’d pushed so hard, contradicting himself at every turn—just to bring back Se-min’s memories.
He couldn’t trap Se-min in a cage.
But if he wanted Se-min’s love, he’d have to accept the death of who he was. And if he couldn’t accept that… he’d have to give up the love they once shared.
He was stuck—paralyzed—facing an unsolvable question. His chest ached with helplessness, and even the pain began to morph into something else. Something shapeless and uncertain.
“Hyung, are you really okay? Should I call the doctor? No—no, I’ll call someone—!”
Clearly overwhelmed, Se-min fumbled with his words. He looked like someone witnessing real human suffering for the first time. Cha-hyeon’s teeth stayed clenched tight, and a faint sheen of moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes.
“I don’t want to break up.”
The despair that had been festering in his chest finally spilled out, sounding more like a whimper than anything else. Se-min flinched—his hand still resting gently on Cha-hyeon’s back.
“I don’t want to die either.”
His voice trembled. What had felt like soul-crushing despair now sounded heartbreakingly fragile when spoken aloud.
Cha-hyeon clenched his teeth harder and shut his eyes, trying to hold down the storm inside him. He’d suffered so much—agonized for so long—and yet when the words finally escaped, they sounded so weak. So pathetic.
The anxiety, the memory loss, the breakup. Whether it had lasted a second or an eternity, it all washed over him in one dizzying wave. He held his breath and endured it, then finally let out a long, shaky exhale like he was trying to expel it all.
His chest still ached. Eyes slightly red, Cha-hyeon slowly lifted his head. If I don’t want to break up, and I don’t want to die… what am I supposed to do?
For once, he wanted to run away. That thought alone felt so unlike him.
“…Ahem, uh…”
As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of Se-min’s flushed cheeks. Se-min quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. Even with his body heavy from exhaustion, Cha-hyeon’s brows lifted slightly.
Se-min’s eyes darted toward him again, then quickly turned away once more when he realized he was being watched. The soft sound of him swallowing didn’t escape Cha-hyeon’s heightened S-rank senses.
What is this? Instinct kicked in. He began to observe.
Se-min’s cheeks—still baby-soft—twitched faintly. There was tension in his neck, but it wasn’t the kind that came from fear or discomfort.
Still curled forward, Cha-hyeon looked up at him again. Sensing the gaze, Se-min stole another side glance, then awkwardly looked away. His cheeks deepened in color.
A flicker of realization passed through Cha-hyeon’s mind. Come to think of it—hadn’t Se-min always acted shy and a little… flustered whenever he saw Cha-hyeon vulnerable?
He pictured the way Se-min used to look—like a loyal puppy, determined to protect what was his. His head tilted slightly. Just maybe…?
The question came out soft, tentative, almost like a confession.
“…I really don’t know what to do anymore.”
The words were barely more than a murmur, but the confusion he deliberately projected had the desired effect. Right on cue, Se-min’s face hardened—he now looked like a brave little puppy, determined to take responsibility.
“A-Ahem… It’s just… you said that regaining your memories would be like dying, so I thought maybe—to be sure—we should break up. Or, uh… at least not see each other for a while…”
Se-min’s eyes flicked toward the air. Cha-hyeon followed the glance—likely toward where the Favorability window floated—then subtly looked back.
Ah… so even with no memories, your preferences haven’t changed, huh?
“I mean… I know we were lovers. That we were even engaged. And honestly, I’m open to getting to know you again. So maybe instead of breaking up right away, we could… take things slow. Get to know each other all over again.”
Cha-hyeon lowered his lips in a subtle pout and gazed up at him with desperate eyes. Just as he predicted, Se-min’s face turned a deep, flustered red under his gaze.
They had decided not to break up. To slowly rediscover each other. First, he needed to make sure that resolve didn’t waver—by any means necessary.
“But Se-min…”
The shadow of his long lashes cast down across his cheeks. If Se-min’s personality remained the same even without his memories, then placing a little emotional burden on him would be enough to keep him anchored. Cha-hyeon spoke in a low, almost sorrowful tone.
“What if… even if we try again, the Favorability doesn’t rise? What if I lose my pair guide? You’re the only one who can guide me, Se-min…”
“Uh…”
Without his memories, Se-min still identified strongly as a Non-Awakened. If Cha-hyeon had to guess, Se-min must’ve thought of him in the moment he awakened as a Guide.
He probably hadn’t even considered what it meant to be a pair guide. For a second, Se-min looked dazed. But then, his expression firmed with determination.
“Hmm… well… maybe if we meet up now and then and have sex, it’ll be okay?”
