Sung Cha-hyeon held a cigarette between his lips. Lighting the end of the slim, long stick and drawing a deep inhale that hollowed his cheeks—it all unfolded with fluid precision, like water flowing downstream.
The rooftop garden of the hospital, aglow with the last light of sunset. Wisps of gray smoke slipped through the gap in his lips as the cigarette rested between his index and middle fingers. After exhaling slowly, he bit down on the filter again and casually tossed the lighter back into his duffle bag.
Now that he thought about it, the city was still in chaos over the first-ever Special-Type Dungeon Gate, yet somehow his belongings had been delivered to the hospital without issue. Convenient, sure—but the absurdity of it made Cha-hyeon chuckle under his breath.
He exhaled once more, his gaze fixed somewhere in the sky. The silence that had finally settled over him was sweet. Even if it was just a stolen moment smoking in a hospital gown, it was peace nonetheless.
Not that the situation was pleasant. He’d opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed with people frantically claiming he’d lost his memory. The noise, the fuss—it was nothing but a headache.
But the quiet didn’t last long. He sensed hurried footsteps approaching. From the weight behind each step and the subtle presence they carried, his sharp senses immediately guessed who it was.
“…Hyung.”
As expected. A voice that should’ve felt familiar, yet now rang strangely distant, called out to him.
Cha-hyeon turned his head slowly, cigarette still in his mouth. The moment the newcomer stepped onto the rooftop garden, relief spread across his face like that of a lost child finally finding their guardian.
As the dim outline sharpened into view, so too did the clarity of memory. The red-rimmed eyes and flushed nose, the quiet, shaky breaths. His name was Ji Se-min—his fiancé and Pair Guide, apparently.
Even to Cha-hyeon, who found this whole situation tiresome, Ji Se-min was a curious figure. The fact that all his memories of this pretty, downy-cheeked boy had been completely wiped was one thing. But what Se-min had said when he first woke up—that was the real hook.
“I’m Ji Se-min, your Pair Guide and fiancé. Why… why are you acting like this?”
Wasn’t this every guy’s fantasy at least once? A total stranger—someone perfectly your type—suddenly appearing and claiming to be your fiancé. More accurately, the idea of having sex with someone who loved you desperately, someone you didn’t even remember, was the real thrill… but hey, the surprise gift feeling was the same either way.
Sure, it was a little surprising to learn he’d ended up in that kind of relationship with a kid he supposedly raised like a little brother. But then again, it wasn’t like he’d ever been especially ethical to begin with.
Even if he thought about it himself, he wouldn’t have hesitated just because he’d once seen the kid as family. At most, maybe he’d told himself he’d wait until the boy was older—out of some minimal sense of conscience.
He’d long since brushed off the part where Se-min had panicked and tried to claim it was all a joke. Taking another deep drag from his cigarette, Cha-hyeon watched as the relief on Se-min’s face twisted into a faint frown.
The disapproving gaze landed on his cigarette. But Cha-hyeon, deliberately ignoring the clear displeasure in those eyes, turned to his Pair Guide with a faint smile.
“Hey.”
“…You disappeared without saying anything. I was really worried.”
The words came out in a tone so naturally pouty, it was almost startling. Cha-hyeon raised an eyebrow as Se-min approached. Fascinating, really—how a boy that age could act like being doted on and fussed over was a given.
But Ji Se-min, completely unaware of how childish he was being, simply held out an oversized cardigan.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Cha-hyeon took the cardigan without protest. Ever since awakening as an S-Class Esper, he hadn’t felt cold in years. But there was no need to correct him and start a pointless argument.
Still biting the filter, he slipped the cardigan on. The unfamiliar design had made him think it was Se-min’s, but it fit him perfectly. Moving the cigarette to his fingers, Cha-hyeon asked casually,
“Is this a gift from you, Se-min?”
Judging by the fact that he couldn’t remember it.
Whatever Se-min thought he meant, his face lit up instantly.
“Y-You remember? That it was a gift! I got it for your birthday….”
Cha-hyeon just smiled in silence. The gray smoke drifted lazily from his lips. Se-min, who’d been chattering excitedly, gradually trailed off. He seemed to realize that there were other ways to guess the cardigan was a gift.
The hope that had filled his expression suddenly twisted into something close to a sob. He quickly tried to play it off, but Cha-hyeon had already caught the flicker of emotion.
“…….”
The cigarette slipped slightly from his lips, then was clamped back a bit too purposefully.
Blood rushed low in his body. Watching Se-min’s flushed eyes, Cha-hyeon exhaled another gray puff—then noticed it drifting toward him.
“Come here.”
He moved Se-min to the other side, away from the direction of the wind. The wounded look faded briefly, but Se-min’s eyes soon refocused on the cigarette, its tip slowly burning away.
“…I thought you quit smoking.”
His lips moved slowly, words mumbled. Cha-hyeon let out a quiet chuckle. Just two cigarettes left in the pack in his bag—had he at least tried to hide it from the kid?
“Did I?”
He responded with a vague, neither-here-nor-there kind of grunt. Se-min’s slightly parted, flushed lips moved a few more times before pressing together in visible frustration.
The rooftop garden, now occupied by just the two of them, was still and quiet. In that silence, Cha-hyeon smoked at his own pace while Se-min kept casting silent glances that all but said, “Please stop smoking…” It wasn’t exactly a confrontation, but it continued until Cha-hyeon finally snubbed out his half-finished cigarette.
The discontent on Se-min’s face smoothed away like mist. Cha-hyeon let out a short, amused breath. He couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of life must someone have lived to be so bad at hiding their emotions?
But the curiosity was the fleeting kind—not something worth chasing. And before he could give it another thought, a quiet, hesitant voice slipped in like a whisper, stealing his attention.
“How are you feeling?”
Cha-hyeon replied flatly, shaking off the smell of smoke from his hand like it was a nuisance.
“Like shit. What else?”
On a normal day, he wouldn’t have cared about derailing a conversation before it even began. But seeing the kid—his supposed lover—look so helpless and lost, he decided to reel it back. He put on a composed, almost mask-like smile.
“Kidding. Why? You’ve got something to say, Se-min?”
Maybe the clumsy question had hit the mark. Se-min’s expression was so easy to read it was almost funny as he spoke up.
“Um… so, the Secretary-General said there’s going to be an announcement tomorrow at 1. You’re doing the clear interview too, so she said you should be there.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And…”
Se-min trailed off, throwing him a cautious glance. What the hell kind of revelation was he about to drop with that kind of hesitation? Cha-hyeon turned a little more toward him and leaned his arm against the railing. The way the cold had left Se-min’s cheeks flushed pink caught his eye.
“And?”
Repeating the word while staring at those red-tinted cheeks seemed to nudge him along. After a few more lip flutters, Se-min finally got to the point.
“And… I was talking with the Secretary-General about what might define the scope of your memory loss. And honestly, I think her theory makes sense.”
Cha-hyeon raised a single brow, signaling that he was listening. Se-min swallowed and spoke a little more clearly now.
“It seems like the parts of your memory that disappeared depend on what you were focusing on at the time.”
He continued, explaining how Cha-hyeon still remembered the Secretary-General and Deputy Chief Jeong, and how that seemed tied to certain posts on parenting forums and online communities.
That alone was enough for Cha-hyeon to grasp the Secretary-General’s hypothesis.
The deletion of his memories was centered around Ji Se-min.
It was the most plausible explanation yet for the strange gaps in his mind. Still, even with that possible breakthrough, Cha-hyeon felt nothing in particular. The memories were gone. Knowing why didn’t change that.
“Maybe.”
Even that half-hearted reply didn’t deter Se-min. If anything, he seemed more determined. Clenching his fists, he spoke like someone who truly believed this conversation might bring Cha-hyeon’s memories back.
“Yeah. And if your memory loss is centered around me, then… maybe the clear reward you got from the Gate is related to me too.”
…That’s what the Secretary-General said. Though he’d tried to present it as his own idea at first, Se-min sheepishly gave her the credit in the end.
That part Cha-hyeon found mildly interesting. Only mildly. The reward hadn’t shown up in his status window, so there was no way to guess what it was. And even if it really was something related to Ji Se-min… well, maybe it had been worth the cost of his memories.
He wasn’t the kind to place faith in uncertainty. He just gave a small shrug. That indifferent reaction seemed to drain some of the enthusiasm from Se-min’s face.
“You don’t have any guesses? What kind of reward might be tied to me?”
Even so, Se-min didn’t give up. That desperate, hopeful look returned to his face, like he couldn’t help it.
Cha-hyeon stared at him like he was some strange creature. It wasn’t like guessing the reward would change anything now. Chasing after vague hope and wasting energy—it was pointless, really.
But still, there was something undeniably captivating in those eyes lit with blind optimism. His gaze drifted to Se-min’s flushed cheeks, to the fine fuzz standing on end, to the baby softness still lingering on his face.
Cha-hyeon didn’t resist the impulse. He poked one of the cheeks.
Just as he expected—it was soft. As he rubbed the cheek gently with his index finger, Se-min looked up, curious but unbothered. Like he was used to being touched, and didn’t mind it one bit.
“Hmm…”
The pale cheeks contrasted with the reddish tint still clinging to his eyes. Slowly, Cha-hyeon pulled his hand back, feeling the heaviness below his waist grow even more pronounced.
“Sex guiding with Se-min?”
He watched as the color spread from Se-min’s eyes to his cheeks, and his eyes and lips rounded with shock. The laugh that escaped Cha-hyeon came out without him meaning to.
He’d expected him to panic and bolt like he had when they’d almost tried mucosal guiding. But surprisingly, Se-min clamped his lips shut and looked up at him again. His eyes were sharp—almost brazen.
“…That’s not the kind of reward the Gate would grant.”
The response caught him off guard—not because it was loud or dramatic, but because it hit dead center. Cha-hyeon’s brows lifted in amusement. Se-min didn’t flinch or look away. He spoke with quiet conviction.
“That’s something I would give you.”
“…Fair point.”
Cha-hyeon let out a slow breath, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised both hands in mock surrender. But Se-min, still looking him dead in the eye, delivered something he never expected.
“But I can do it, you know? Sex guiding. With you.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Cha-hyeon’s lips parted slightly, momentarily caught off guard. And then, Se-min tilted his head with a cocky grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Wanna try?”
