“It appears to be amnesia.”
At first, he thought it was a joke. But it turned out to be real—actual memory loss.
“So, what you’re saying is, among all of the patient’s memories, only the ones related to Ji Se-min, their Pair Guide, have vanished completely? You can’t recall even the smallest thing about him?”
He remembered his own name, age, occupation, alma mater, home address, classified operations of the Esper Bureau known only to a select few—and even the name of the dog raised by a distant great-uncle he hadn’t spoken to in twenty years. And yet, only his memories of “Ji Se-min” had been entirely erased.
“Amnesia with no preceding symptoms… I heard the dungeon that Esper Sung Cha-hyeon just cleared was a newly emerging type of gate. It’s possible this is connected.”
“Amnesia doesn’t usually target just one person’s memory like it’s been cut out with a scalpel… Typically, memories return gradually over time, but if it’s gate-related, we’ll need to trace back the incident itself…”
Could this really not be an elaborate lie? Not just a sham to fool even the doctor?
“Se-min-ah.”
Se-min, who had been deep in denial and nearly convinced it was all a lie, snapped out of it at the sound of Cha-hyeon’s voice. He had been staring at him with slightly parted lips and only then responded in a fluster.
“…Huh? Huh? Me?”
For a second, he didn’t even realize he was being called. It was hard to explain, but something about the way Cha-hyeon said his name felt strangely unfamiliar—oddly different from how he’d always heard it before.
It might sound petty to fixate on something as small as that, but… how to put it? If the usual “Se-min-ah” had felt like “(^^),” the one just now felt more like “(ⓛ_ⓛ)?”
“Se-min. Ji Se-min. My Pair Guide.”
Cha-hyeon muttered the words like he was trying to memorize a completely new fact, eyes locking onto Se-min. That smile—faint and soft—was familiar, yet off.
“Why don’t you sit?”
“…Sorry?”
Se-min repeated dumbly, dazed. The tone was gentle, just like always, but something felt… off. Probably because of that unfamiliar “Se-min-ah?” from earlier.
Cha-hyeon’s eyes curved in a lazy crescent. It looked like his usual eye-smile, but again, something was different. A strange tension ran up Se-min’s spine. That subtly unfamiliar Cha-hyeon gestured toward the chair beside the hospital bed with a jerk of his chin.
“You’ve been standing all this time. Thought your legs might hurt.”
“Ah…”
Caught off guard, Se-min quietly lowered himself into the chair. But the tension that had taken hold refused to ease.
He snuck a glance at Cha-hyeon. As expected, the other man was watching him intently, tracking every movement with relentless focus. The weight of that gaze made Se-min feel like he was being pierced through. Finally, he hesitantly asked,
“Why… are you looking at me like that?”
Cha-hyeon’s brows lifted, as if only just realizing his own behavior.
“…Huh. Am I?”
The awkward air briefly shattered, and for a moment it seemed like Cha-hyeon had returned to his usual self. But Se-min would soon realize just how wrong he was.
“I guess I was just amazed that someone this pretty is my boyfriend.”
Cha-hyeon let out a short chuckle and tilted his head.
Without even blinking, he stared at Se-min and broke into a grin.
“Will you let me off the hook?”
Se-min’s mouth fell open.
What the hell is he saying? Boyfriend? Let me off the hook? Did I hear that right?
The words had definitely come from Cha-hyeon’s mouth, in his voice, but it felt like he’d just heard a foreign language he’d never studied. He blinked dumbly at the man in front of him, barely managing to speak.
“…Boy—Boyfriend? Who? Me?”
“Didn’t Se-min just say it earlier? That you’re my Pair Guide and my fiancé.”
Again, Se-min’s jaw dropped. A shock he couldn’t begin to describe crashed over him. It was like getting smacked in the back of the head with a hammer.
“…What?”
It really was amnesia. This was real. There was no way it wasn’t.
Any lingering doubts about “Sung Cha-hyeon faking illness for a prank or to mess with the doctor” were completely wiped from Se-min’s mind.
And in their place rushed the memory of something he’d briefly forgotten—his own words. He’d been so stunned by Cha-hyeon’s strange behavior that he’d forgotten claiming to be his fiancé.
Back then, he thought Cha-hyeon was just joking around and had played along. He never imagined that the man had actually lost his memory, or that his entire existence had been wiped from Cha-hyeon’s mind.
“…No, wait, Hyung!”
Se-min jumped up with a yelp before he even realized what he was doing. Cha-hyeon’s deep black eyes looked up at him without a flicker of doubt. It was clear he felt no suspicion toward his own words.
Only now did Se-min fully grasp how serious this misunderstanding had become, and he began to stammer in panic.
“I-I was just joking! I didn’t know you’d really lost your memory—I thought you were faking it, messing around, so I played along! No, we’re not like that!”
One of Se-min’s long-held wishes had always been to grow closer to Cha-hyeon—but he’d never imagined the man would actually believe it like this.
His face flushed a deep red. Turning halfway around, Se-min fanned himself with both hands.
Unlike Se-min, who was flailing in full-bodied embarrassment, Cha-hyeon remained utterly calm. He stared at Se-min with eyes that betrayed no emotion, and then smiled faintly.
“You said it, didn’t you? That you’re my Pair Guide and the fiancé I promised to marry.”
For a moment, Se-min wondered if there was something wrong with his ears. Cha-hyeon had repeated exactly what he’d said earlier, word for word, in the same calm tone.
“…Huh?”
Still staring with slightly parted lips, Se-min finally snapped back to reality. What was going on? Ah, maybe… Maybe I wasn’t clear enough, he thought. Trying to make himself better understood, Se-min spoke again with a more composed tone.
“…Did I not say it clearly? What I meant was, calling myself your fiancé was a joke. I only said it because I thought you were pretending to have amnesia…”
His voice trailed off. Because Cha-hyeon was still smiling.
Those softly upturned eyes, the small dimple etched into his cheek—
The moment Se-min realized that Cha-hyeon looked completely unaffected by any of his explanations, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.
“……”
A tense silence settled over the hospital room. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, Se-min asked cautiously, almost suspiciously,
“…H-Hyung? You… did hear what I said, right?”
“Yeah. I heard you.”
It was an easy, sincere affirmation. A ragged breath escaped Se-min’s stiff lips. So it was just that he hadn’t explained it well enough.
Letting out an awkward laugh, Se-min did his best to shake off the lingering chill. He lifted his shoulders slightly, stretching as he awkwardly let his gaze drift to a random spot in the air.
Even that insignificant gesture didn’t escape Cha-hyeon’s gaze. His eyes tracked Se-min’s every move, and in the face of that unrelenting attention, Se-min had no choice but to straighten up awkwardly.
Another bout of uncomfortable silence followed. Normally, being in the same room with Cha-hyeon didn’t feel awkward even when no one said a word. But now, for some reason, it felt stifling. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Se-min finally tried to start a conversation.
“Um… well. The doctor did say the lost memories would come back little by little. So in the meantime, I can just remind you of everything you forgot. Right? Maybe that’ll help bring the old memories back.”
He’d only started speaking to fill the silence, but the more he talked, the more it seemed like something Cha-hyeon might actually need. Sure, it was shocking to learn that Cha-hyeon had forgotten him—but it couldn’t possibly compare to how disorienting it must be for the one who’d lost the memories.
Regretting his earlier lack of sensitivity, Se-min continued in a brighter voice.
“Do you need anything? You’re not hungry? I could grab a drink or snack or something.”
His voice was light, as if memory loss were no big deal. But Cha-hyeon’s reply was so devoid of emotion, it almost felt sterilized.
“No. I’d rather you give me guiding.”
“…Ah, right.”
Se-min mumbled in a flat tone. In his surprise over being forgotten, he’d completely overlooked something else:
Cha-hyeon’s guiding deficiency.
In truth, Cha-hyeon had been suffering from chronic guiding deficiency for some time. Even before this incident, Se-min had always worried that someday he might collapse or lose control.
S-rank Esper Sung Cha-hyeon was one of the top three most powerful espers in South Korea. But the problem was the severe lack of guiding he received. Some even joked that it was like trying to run a tank on a single milk carton’s worth of fuel. That was how absurdly low his guiding intake was.
If it had been any other esper, they’d have gone into meltdown ages ago. But Cha-hyeon had stubbornly refused any form of guiding that didn’t match his own “specific” methods. Though Se-min tried to understand that stubbornness, it had only left his nerves in tatters.
“Sorry. I should’ve at least been doing radial guiding. I’ll start now.”
He thought about returning to the chair, but it felt a bit too far away to perform guiding properly. After a moment of hesitation, Se-min perched himself on the edge of the hospital bed.
Was it just because it was a bed? For some reason, he was irrationally tense. He let out a deep breath and began to tune into his esper’s wavelength.
Click. A soft sound of a button being pressed rang out.
Se-min’s eyes immediately shifted to the source of the noise.
Cha-hyeon had pressed the red button next to the hospital bed. The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smirk.
Se-min blinked several times in confusion, then gave an awkward smile. He could see that the button had been pressed, but had no idea why Cha-hyeon would do that now of all times.
Pushing aside that minor mystery, Se-min found a moment where the tension had lifted just enough to speak again.
“…Should I… start? I think holding hands is okay today, right?”
After all, Cha-hyeon had collapsed due to a guiding deficiency. Se-min reached out his hand.
Cha-hyeon’s gaze fell on the pale palm, calloused from years of work.
His smile deepened, and without hesitation, he took Se-min’s hand.
A firm, calloused grip tightened around Se-min’s.
“Ah…”
The initial ache was brief. Like long-awaited rain falling over a parched desert, Cha-hyeon began to absorb Se-min’s guiding energy.
Without a word, Se-min exhaled. He had to work hard to keep his expression from showing too much sympathy. Every time he guided, he could feel it—Cha-hyeon’s resonance was growing more desolate by the day.
And every time he confirmed that fact, his heart ached… tangled in all the complicated emotions he carried for someone who refused any level of guiding beyond a certain threshold.
“Ugh, Hyung?”
Cha-hyeon’s grip on Se-min’s hand suddenly tightened to the point of pain. Snapping out of his own thoughts, Se-min blinked up blankly at Cha-hyeon, who was still smiling softly as he slowly tilted his head forward.
As if that gesture had triggered something, Cha-hyeon gently closed his eyes.
“H-Hyung? Hyung? What… are you… Cha-hyeon-hyung?”
Se-min whispered in a panicked voice. The slightly parted lips, the steadily closing distance—it all felt unmistakably like the moment right before a kiss.
What the hell is happening? He could tell Cha-hyeon was leaning in, but why in a way that looked like he was about to kiss him? Se-min’s brain couldn’t process it.
“Hyung…? What are you doing? Hyung…?”
There was no way Cha-hyeon would ever do anything bad to him, but… what exactly was he trying to do right now? Se-min’s neck instinctively started to shrink inward like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“…H-Hyung…?”
“Oh, Se-min-ah.”
Cha-hyeon cut off Se-min’s flustered stammering with a slightly irritated voice, lifting his eyelids slowly. The gap between them was so close now that Se-min could see each individual lash.
“Shut up and stay still. I’m gonna suck on your tongue.”
…Dong. It felt like a bell had rung somewhere—not the kind of whimsical bell that chimes during a romantic first kiss in a shoujo manga, but more like the sound effect they slap on a betrayed contestant in a variety show.
“…Cha-hyeon-hyung!”
Se-min’s yell came a beat too late. Yanking his hand free, he scrambled to put distance between them, practically throwing himself away—only to nearly fall off the hospital bed with a loud thump.
“Whoa!”
Cha-hyeon caught him by the wrist. Thankfully, Se-min didn’t fall, but the sheer panic drained all the blood from his face. With a loud slap, he jerked his wrist out of Cha-hyeon’s grasp.
Cha-hyeon’s brows instinctively furrowed. But right then, what seized Se-min’s attention wasn’t the unfamiliar Cha-hyeon in front of him.
It was the red-lit button over the man’s shoulder.
Didn’t the hospital his grandmother stayed in have a button like that too? The color didn’t feel like something to call staff with—it looked more like something meant to say do not disturb. While the thought flickered through his head, Se-min suddenly remembered:
Cha-hyeon had been admitted to a special Esper/Guide hospital.
And the most common symptom for espers brought into a facility like that… was berserking.
And the first line of treatment for an esper on the verge of losing control was—
“Gasp…!”
Se-min froze completely, eyes wide. Clutching his reddened wrist as if to hide the handprint, he opened and closed his mouth without making a sound. Cha-hyeon’s expression briefly twisted with irritation before smoothing out again.
“Why are you freaking out like that, Se-min-ah?”
His voice was gentle, but carried the tone of someone trying very hard to remain patient. Like he was holding back from raising his voice at a stubborn child, Cha-hyeon pulled his lips into a strained smile.
“You said you’re my Pair Guide, right? I was dicking around with those sub-ampoules and it only made it worse—what am I supposed to do with you just holding my hand like that? Acting all shy like we’ve never even done mucous membrane guiding before, come on…”
Cha-hyeon trailed off, brows knitting in confusion. It was the color in Se-min’s face—pale as snow just moments ago, now rapidly flushing red.
“……”
The silence that followed was heavy. Cha-hyeon, still frowning, fixed his gaze on the visibly rattled Se-min, tracking his every twitch.
“…Are you serious?”
He added the words after a long pause, his tone skeptical.
Se-min’s face looked like it might explode from how red it was.
Another awkward silence.
Cha-hyeon stared at him, dumbfounded, like he genuinely didn’t understand—and asked again.
“Why?”
Exactly. Why. Se-min had no idea where to even begin.
