The petty little man chose to keep his words to himself.
What he’d said earlier had come from the heart, but it seemed Se-min believed he’d just gotten carried away trying to empathize. Still visibly moved, Se-min folded his hands together politely once more.
“…I guess I just didn’t realize how heavy the pressure would feel—having to get my memories back.”
Letting out a deep breath, Se-min looked at Cha-hyeon with a face that had softened considerably. Naively enough, it seemed he’d developed a sense of emotional closeness just from having shared something personal. His voice was gentler now, more sincere, as he asked,
“When you first came to this house after losing your memory, Hyung… how did you feel? It’s a strange place, but there are traces of me everywhere. Didn’t it scare you? Realizing this is what a memory gap feels like?”
Cha-hyeon’s expression twisted, becoming more difficult to read. Scared? That wasn’t the word for it. He’d been obsessed—nearly delirious—with the scent of Se-min saturating every inch of the house.
And then he’d immediately jumped on him—picking up right where the hospital had left off—because he couldn’t hold back a second longer.
The memory of that moment clawed its way up, and Sung Cha-hyeon’s conscience started throwing a fit.
“……!”
A moan nearly escaped him, but Cha-hyeon bit it back just in time. His face drained of color.
There was something lodged around his solar plexus—normally the size of a walnut—that now flared with sharp thorns, jabbing through his insides like a living, thrashing thing.
How could you do that to Se-min if you were even remotely human? raged one voice. But another answered back with equal venom: You’re only saying that because you didn’t get to have him.
The two voices—both his and not his—ripped into each other like wild animals, neither willing to give an inch.
“Ugh…”
Eventually, a faint groan slipped from between his clenched lips. Cha-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shove his unruly conscience back down.
But to his surprise, the internal war ended more quickly—and more quietly—than expected.
Once he stripped away his resentment toward the original Sung Cha-hyeon…
He had no choice but to admit it:
If he could sleep with Se-min for the first time again, as the person he was now… He’d want to do it gently. Softly. Tenderly.
“…….”
As the ache in his chest began to fade, Cha-hyeon bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
“…Hyung-nim…?”
Se-min called out hesitantly.
Seeing Cha-hyeon wincing, rubbing at his collarbone with a pale, stricken face must’ve seemed bizarre. He didn’t even realize he’d slipped the honorific “-nim” back in, but that subtle shift in formality was already creeping into his voice.
Before the emotional momentum could slip away, Cha-hyeon tried to steady the conversation—keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
Leaving out what had happened right after they’d arrived at the house, he gave a more general account of how he’d felt at the time.
“…Yeah, it was strange. Being told this unfamiliar place was my home, even though I had no memory of it.”
Se-min’s face lit up immediately.
Cha-hyeon couldn’t help but think: maybe this was how you reached Se-min. Even if you didn’t fully understand him—just showing empathy might be enough.
…Come to think of it, Se-min had always…
The thought stumbled.
Had Se-min—who’d shown such unwavering, unconditional understanding—ever hoped to receive the same in return?
Only after losing the Se-min who had loved him did Cha-hyeon begin to ask himself that question. The realization arrived with a quiet sting. A subtle ache poked at his chest.
His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly. A flicker of emptiness crossed his face, but he managed to speak again before too much silence passed.
“It’s still just the first day. Isn’t it a little early to be panicking over your Favorability not going up yet?”
Unlike earlier, Se-min didn’t look like he was about to crumble under pressure.
He simply pressed his full lips together and mulled the thought over, like: Maybe he’s right…
“What’s your Favorability at right now?”
Se-min’s gaze drifted toward empty space. His lips wavered, hesitant, then curled slightly inward as he mumbled in a whisper-soft voice,
“…Um, so… uh… ten…?”
“Ten percent?”
Current Favorability: 17%
Se-min nodded, his lips retreating further.
It felt awkward to admit how quickly it had jumped up.
A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience—he’d lied—but the status window was visible to him alone anyway.
And Cha-hyeon, who didn’t even consider that Se-min might be lying, simply murmured,
“Huh… That’s a bigger jump than I expected.”
A flush began to color the rims of Se-min’s ears.
Clearing his throat, he scrambled to change the subject.
“A-anyway. You’re right. It’s still just the first day… But I do feel a little better, now that I’ve said it out loud. You know what they say—happiness doubles when shared, and fear cuts in half.”
God, that’s such a Se-min thing to say, Cha-hyeon thought.
If it were him, he would’ve hoarded the happiness for himself and chalked fear up to weakness.
“Anyway, yeah.”
Looking a bit sheepish, Se-min gave a small nod and picked up his spoon again.
Then he paused, noticing Cha-hyeon hadn’t touched his yet—and began awkwardly setting his down.
“Go ahead and eat. Before it gets cold.”
“…Yes, sir!”
Only after Cha-hyeon picked up his utensils did Se-min start eating again.
His previously tense face had returned to normal, and he dug into his food with all the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t just been sulking a minute ago.
Cha-hyeon watched him discreetly, as if studying him—eating rice, picking at side dishes, sipping soup—and then mumbling to himself,
“This seriously tastes just like what Grandma used to make…”
He hadn’t expected Se-min to be scared of his memory loss.
Not everyone thinks like I do, he supposed.
He, on the other hand, had barely given the memory gap any thought. If anything, he’d been more preoccupied with the idea of the original Sung Cha-hyeon still lingering somewhere in the equation.
But now…
Wasn’t this actually a golden opportunity?
If the memory gap frightened Se-min, then the fastest way to overcome that fear was simple: raise his Favorability.
Don’t break up. Get to know each other again, slowly.
He’d assumed he’d have to carry the emotional weight of that decision like a burden. But now… a far more effective strategy had presented itself.
A thrilling sense of triumph began to bloom in his chest.
Se-min would be motivated to get his memories back. And eventually—he’d fall in love with him all over again.
Se-min continued eating quietly, but curiously glanced over at him.
Cha-hyeon suddenly realized he’d let too much emotion slip onto his face.
He quickly pretended to be focused on his chopsticks.
“If the memory gap scares you that much, then yeah. Raising your Favorability quickly is probably your best bet.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Se-min swallowed his mouthful before replying.
No hesitation. He must’ve already resolved to recover his memories as soon as possible.
Cha-hyeon kept his tone light and casual, pretending not to be paying close attention.
“So, Se-min… what do you think is the fastest way to raise your Favorability?”
Se-min had just lifted his spoon again when his eyes went wide.
Cha-hyeon had his gaze lowered, lashes casting a soft shadow over his eyes—but then he slowly lifted his lids, revealing a gentle, almost coaxing gleam.
Se-min’s lips twitched, like they wanted to smile—but instead, he panicked and shoved the spoon into his mouth.
He clearly thought he was playing it cool, but to Cha-hyeon, it was obvious he was flustered.
Cha-hyeon, who knew how to wield his looks to full effect, curved his lips into a warm, inviting smile.
And Se-min’s panicked chewing only got more intense.
Eventually—after (in his mind) calmly swallowing his food—he replied with practiced indifference: “…That’s something you—I mean, Hyung—should be thinking about, not me.”
His tone was a little snappish, but Cha-hyeon knew by now: Se-min always got prickly when he was embarrassed.
His own smile deepened.
Se-min’s cheeks flushed even redder as he fired back,
“You’re the one who has to seduce me for my Favorability to go up.”
Pfft—
The laugh that burst out of Cha-hyeon caught even him off guard.
That cheeky, deadpan answer felt like a slap of clarity.
Right. I have to seduce Se-min to raise his Favorability.
Clutching his mouth and trying to stifle his laughter, Cha-hyeon glanced over at his pair guide, eyes twinkling with mischief.
A lover who’d lost his memories. Now, a target whose Favorability needed to rise.
Someone he’d once loved naturally, and who had loved him just as naturally in return.
Now, he would court him again—like a proud peacock in full display. And the thought made his blood run hot with anticipation.
“You’re right. Good point, Se-min.”
His voice was calm, but the way he dragged out the words made Se-min’s ears go bright red.
He gave a small, barely-there nod and resumed eating with sudden focus—like he was going to war.
His cheeks puffed up like a hamster as he stuffed food into his mouth, and in the end, Cha-hyeon couldn’t stop the laughter that came bursting out.
“Aha-ha!”
Se-min shot him a betrayed look—but with his whole face flushed pink, the glare didn’t exactly land.
It was like some wild, restless energy had taken over Cha-hyeon’s entire body—like he was a predator about to strike.
