Se-min jolted at Cha-hyeon’s words, as if struck by something unimaginable. No matter how much he understood in theory, the gap between knowledge and experience was vast—and this was something else entirely.
“Nngh—ugh, what the hell… is this…?”
But the shock didn’t end there. Every time Cha-hyeon rocked his hips, savoring the afterglow, clear fluid seeped from the tip of his cock. The sight of his half-hard length pulsing, dripping with each throb of his abdomen, was too much to process. Se-min’s mind reeled.
“Ah—ahh… nngh…”
His voice trembled, caught between a whimper and a gasp. Cha-hyeon moved until nothing more spilled out, then finally pulled free, looking more satisfied than ever. The tight, sensitive heat inside Se-min clenched at even that small withdrawal, and a final bead of fluid escaped the flushed tip. A shaky breath, almost a sob, slipped past Se-min’s lips. Watching it all unfold before his eyes left him stunned.
“What… what is this…?”
This wasn’t a dream. Was it? Wait—was it a dream?
Thud. Thud-thud-thud. The room shook violently, as if the world itself were unraveling. Se-min pushed himself up on his elbows, heart pounding as he glanced around. The force of it was undeniable—even Cha-hyeon, watching with detached amusement, and Se-min himself, who had been clinging to denial, couldn’t ignore it.
But Hyung was different. Like a defeated rival shoved aside, he withdrew to the edge of the bed, acting as if nothing had happened. His voice was cold as he snapped at Cha-hyeon.
“Stop messing with Se-min.”
“Messing with him? This looks like messing with him to you?”
Cha-hyeon scoffed, idly tracing a finger over the damp, fluid-stained sheets. Hyung ignored him completely, his expression softening with concern as he leaned toward Se-min—the same gentle, familiar Hyung Se-min had always known.
“Se-min, are you okay? You’re not crying, are you?”
Se-min’s gaze, torn between the unsettling familiarity of Cha-hyeon and the comfort of Hyung, flickered toward him. But even Hyung’s tender smile now carried the same strange, disorienting duality.
“I’m fine,” Hyung murmured, smoothing Se-min’s hair. “It’s okay. This isn’t a dream. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your body’s just… sensitive. You’re beautiful like this.”
He adjusted his disheveled clothes, his movements slow and deliberate. Cha-hyeon watched, one eyebrow arched, as if waiting to see how far this charade would go.
“Don’t worry.”
Hyung cupped Se-min’s cheek, but the touch felt wrong—like a hand that belonged to someone else. Se-min flinched slightly, but Hyung only whispered, as if he understood.
“Want to try with me instead? I’ll be gentle. Just the way you like. No shame, no embarrassment…”
Cha-hyeon wasn’t having it. In an instant, his form darkened, his hand snapping out to seize Hyung by the throat before he could reach for Se-min.
“Gah—!”
Hyung’s face flushed as Cha-hyeon’s fingers dug in, veins bulging along his neck. Se-min’s eyes widened in horror. Before he could think, he lunged forward, grabbing Cha-hyeon’s wrist.
“H-Hyung!”
Cha-hyeon, Hyung—both felt achingly familiar and yet utterly alien. But no matter what, Sung Cha-hyeon had to be okay.
As if responding to Se-min’s silent plea, Hyung slipped free from Cha-hyeon’s grip in the blink of an eye, reappearing at Se-min’s side. Like a hero shielding a lover from a villain, he stepped between them, glaring at Cha-hyeon with something raw and dangerous in his eyes.
“Pathetic.”
Cha-hyeon’s laugh was sharp, bitter. He raked a hand through his already messy hair, his gaze fixing on nothing. The air between them crackled with tension.
3 days, 19 hours, 55 minutes until the Flood…
“Se-min. Se-min.” Cha-hyeon’s voice dropped, low and urgent. “Wake up. We need to wake up. It’s time to clear this.”
His tri-colored eyes—now eerily hollow—locked onto Se-min. “Wake up.” “Clear.” The words made no sense at first, but Cha-hyeon was the person Se-min trusted most. If he was insisting, there had to be a reason. The trembling of the room grew stronger, as if reinforcing his words.
“Since when have you been—”
“Spouting nonsense? Telling you this is a dream? Or that there can’t be two of me?”
[Dungeon Type – Illusion-Type 〈Mindscape〉: Defense mechanism applied to hostage.]
A sharp pain lanced through Se-min’s temples. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them as if he could erase the ache.
“Ignore him, baby.”
Hyung’s voice was warm, soothing. Se-min looked up, frowning. The concern on Hyung’s face no longer felt as unsettling. His lips parted.
“He’s lying. Everything he says is a lie.”
“You believe him over me, Se-min?”
“Baby, trust the Hyung who loves you.”
The two Cha-hyeons stood in opposition, each demanding Se-min’s faith—one insisting this wasn’t real, the other calling the first a liar.
Se-min didn’t disbelieve Cha-hyeon, but accepting his words felt like accepting madness. It was like being told the sky was green or that machines had taken over the world.
Then—
[Dungeon Type – Illusion-Type 〈Mindscape〉: Defense mechanism applied to hostage.]
“You’ll be happy here. And they lived happily ever after.”
Se-min’s own voice echoed in his mind, calm and certain. His expression went blank as the words continued, unbidden.
“Hyung actually likes me.”
“He said that at some point, he started seeing me differently—that I wasn’t just his little brother anymore.”
“But then… he forgot. For a while, at least.”
“But it doesn’t matter. Cha-hyeon Hyung is Cha-hyeon Hyung, no matter what.”
“I was relieved. Even after his memories returned, he didn’t pretend it never happened. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t stay with me out of guilt.”
“At first, it was confusing, but I accepted that his feelings were real. That even before he lost his memories, he saw me differently. That if things had been just a little different, we would have ended up here anyway.”
“That we’d be happy forever.”
A pained groan from Hyung snapped Se-min out of his daze. Cha-hyeon had grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back.
“What the hell did you do?”
Hyung only laughed, his eyes bright with something unhinged. Cha-hyeon’s grip tightened, his knuckles white.
“Ji Se-min.”
When Hyung didn’t answer, Cha-hyeon turned to Se-min, his voice razor-sharp.
“What did he do to you?”
Se-min blinked, still dazed. The words barely registered.
“Hyung didn’t do anything. But Cha-hyeon Hyung… have you had a checkup lately? Maybe you should—”
“What?”
“Not that you’re crazy,” Se-min hurried to add, “but maybe talking to someone would help…”
Cha-hyeon let out a disbelieving pfft. Se-min’s concern was genuine—stress, some unknown condition, a tumor, mental illness—but Cha-hyeon clearly didn’t see it that way.
“So you don’t believe me.”
Se-min’s lips pressed into a thin line. He avoided Cha-hyeon’s gaze, but the silence was answer enough.
Hyung, still gripped by the hair, let out a triumphant chuckle. Cha-hyeon’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his own face. Then, abruptly, he muttered something under his breath.
“Mindscape. A dream world where everything bends to Ji Se-min’s will. His little fantasy.” His voice was flat, almost clinical. “To clear it, he has to wake up.”
[Dungeon Type – Illusion-Type 〈Mindscape〉: Defense mechanism applied to hostage.]
Another pulse of pain made Se-min wince. Cha-hyeon continued as if he hadn’t noticed.
“In this perfect little world where Ji Se-min and Sung Cha-hyeon live happily ever after… I can’t kill this fake. I can’t break this place. Se-min won’t believe me. And no matter what I do, I can’t wake him up.” His voice dropped to a growl. “So what’s left?”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Cha-hyeon exhaled sharply, his deadened eyes fixing on the doppelgänger wearing his face.
His fingers twisted in Hyung’s hair, yanking harder.
“Ugh—!”
Hyung gasped, but Cha-hyeon didn’t care. He leaned in, his expression twisted with disgust—and then, without warning, he crushed their lips together.
Se-min’s mouth fell open as the two Cha-hyeons kissed right in front of him.
