His mind was spiraling.
Cha-hyeon’s vacant gaze, which had been locked on Se-min’s lips as they moved silently in confusion, slowly shifted to the left.
“…But what’s this?”
His voice, drained of energy, sounded strangely unfamiliar—unsettling, almost foreign.
Startled, Se-min instinctively followed Cha-hyeon’s gaze into empty space. He knew what that meant. Cha-hyeon was staring at the semi-transparent blue-tinted status window only visible to Awakened individuals.
Then came the soft murmur.
“Clear Reward, two out of three?”
Se-min froze. He questioned his own ears.
The flat, emotionless voice had clearly read something that contradicted what he knew.
Se-min played the words over in his head, again and again, before murmuring in disbelief,
“…What?”
“In the middle of being received.”
And that was all.
Cha-hyeon added the remaining line with the same detached tone, as if it were a mere footnote. Still staring blankly at empty space, he tilted his head slightly.
~Unclaimed Rewards List~
♦ …Clear Reward… (2/3) – Receiving –
A pale blue shimmer flickered over the black in his eyes.
Cha-hyeon looked like he was about to comment further on the unfamiliar reward, lips parting as if to speak. But the thought seemed to exhaust him. He simply shook his head lightly and let the words die before they left his mouth.
But Se-min couldn’t just let it go.
His thoughts tangled and surged, choking each other out as they scrambled to surface first. His throat burned. Bitter saliva pooled beneath his tongue.
“…Hyung. What did you just say?”
“That? Oh. ‘Clear Reward, two out of three. Receiving.’ You meant that?”
Cha-hyeon’s brow lifted slightly as he repeated the line, still gazing at something only he could see.
Swallowing tightly, Se-min asked again, voice strained.
“You sure you didn’t read it wrong?”
“……”
Cha-hyeon fell silent.
He turned his eyes back to the space where the status window would be and said, almost uncertainly—something not like him at all,
“Maybe. But it hasn’t changed.”
It was a strange answer, but at the very least, it confirmed one thing: Cha-hyeon had just received one of the previously unclaimed rewards.
But… “two out of three”?
That couldn’t be right. If what Cha-hyeon had told him before was true, then the count should already have reached “three out of three”—complete.
Unbelievable.
It was a personal status window, visible only to the individual. So maybe, just maybe, Cha-hyeon had read it wrong.
Or… maybe he had lied.
The thought hit Se-min like a slap. He was just about to instinctively deny it, to protect Cha-hyeon the way he always did—when something made him stop.
If the status window was only visible to the individual…
Then the only one who could lie about it—was Cha-hyeon himself.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
“Another reward got filled in. Happened sometime overnight, I think. I don’t really remember coming back or anything—it must’ve been while I was asleep. But when I checked, it had changed.”
“And… I don’t know how to explain it. I felt something. Like a faint emotion tied to you, Se-min, buried in the missing memory.”
“Dating someone like you, who’s always felt like my real little brother, threw me off at first. But honestly… I’ve been seeing you differently for a while now. Maybe if things had lined up differently, we could’ve been something else way sooner.”
Se-min’s pupils trembled as the memory washed over him, soft and dizzying.
But Cha-hyeon had told him—said it was only after clearing the dungeon where he’d been held hostage that the reward came through.
That it had filled in during the night.
Family. Guardian. His dependable hyung. His lover. Cha-hyeon had said all of that.
And then—
“So, will you marry me?”
He had proposed.
As the tunnel vision cleared, the full view of the suite’s living room came back into focus.
The hotel room was still draped in the remnants of last night’s proposal—sweet, glittering, perfect.
“…Ha.”
A shaky breath escaped Se-min’s lips, and he clenched his eyes shut. A dull ache bloomed in his chest, just under his sternum. His thoughts were spinning.
So… did Cha-hyeon lie?
Pretended he’d received the reward when he hadn’t? Lied like it was the truth? Why?
Why would he do something like that?
Was there some reason he had to lie?
Se-min couldn’t even begin to guess.
A sharp sting twisted through his heart—something dangerously close to betrayal.
But…
His shoulders trembled with each uneven breath. He bit down on his lower lip and forced his eyes open.
Even now, despite everything, Cha-hyeon was still looking at him—with tired, worried eyes.
“Hoo…”
Se-min let out a shaky sigh and swallowed the tight heat clawing at his throat.
His eyes glistened, but he held onto reason.
He thought back to the first time Cha-hyeon’s memories had returned in full.
The two versions of him—before and after—hadn’t remembered each other.
The time when the reward had been granted was swallowed by a blackout.
Which meant…
The Cha-hyeon standing in front of him wasn’t the one who’d whispered I love you, promised marriage, or pretended to receive that final reward.
Even if he asked this man why—why he’d done all of that—he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Identical twins.”
That old thought surfaced again—one he’d buried deep long ago.
Still, Se-min pushed aside his personal resentment.
If this was the real Cha-hyeon, the one he knew… he’d be gone soon.
Just like last time.
One unguarded moment, and this version of him would vanish, replaced again by the other one—the one who’d lied, who remembered nothing, who had betrayed him with a smile.
“Hyung.”
Cha-hyeon’s gaze didn’t waver, not even for a second. His eyebrows lifted slightly in acknowledgment.
Se-min took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and met the exhausted eyes before him.
He still had no clue why the reward was being given now.
They hadn’t entered any special-condition dungeon. Hadn’t cleared anything unique.
Maybe it was that delayed reward—the one Cha-hyeon had lied about. Or maybe the cause was something he couldn’t even begin to imagine. But this wasn’t the time to chase answers to unprovable questions.
Because the real Cha-hyeon was here, right now. And Se-min still had things he needed to ask before he disappeared again.
He wanted to ask about that first time—the first time he’d come back after a reward.
Did he remember what happened after that?
Had the time between then and now gone dark in his memory?
…Had he been scared? Had he felt confused?
Why did he look so completely hollow and exhausted now, when last time he’d seemed more stable?
Se-min didn’t know how to start. His lips parted, then closed again.
In the end, the words came out simply.
“…Have you been well?”
As soon as he said it, he realized how long it had been since he’d spoken to this version of Cha-hyeon.
Cha-hyeon blinked slowly, then gave a small nod.
“Hey. …Yeah. It’s been a while.”
His voice barely carried any weight, as if even speaking cost him.
He let out a soundless sigh, then looked back at Se-min, eyes quietly tracing every part of his face—like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
And Se-min, feeling the weight of that gaze, asked cautiously,
“You must’ve been surprised last time. Do you remember anything? We met in the mountains, remember? Or… is it all blank?”
“The mountain… yeah, I think so. No, I’m pretty sure we did. Yeah. And there too…”
Cha-hyeon trailed off, muttering as though trying to put the pieces together. A faint smile flickered across his lips—short-lived and fleeting.
“Right. That happened. The rocks, the clearing… we applied for seven Gate raids. Right. That’s right. I forgot all of it. Like it had been cut out with scissors…”
His thoughts jumped around, parts of it barely connecting. But he clearly remembered the first time he’d come back after receiving the reward.
And now that Se-min thought about it, he hadn’t freaked out this time like he did before. He’d looked a little startled—but not panicked.
Still…
Did he just say “until now”?
That made it sound like a lot of time had passed since their last meeting.
Could it be…?
Was the personality now in control the same one who had existed since then?
Was this no longer 33-year-old Cha-hyeon with restored memories—but a future version of him?
Se-min’s thoughts raced. He opened his mouth again, eager to ask—
But then, Cha-hyeon, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him once, suddenly mumbled like he’d just realized something.
“Ah… this must be the Mindscape.”
“…Huh?”
It was so out of nowhere that Se-min could only blink in confusion.
Even as Se-min stared at him blankly, Cha-hyeon nodded slowly to himself—like it all made sense now.
A light, almost carefree smile spread across his face.
“I’m the hostage, aren’t I?”
“…What are you talking about? What do you mean, Mindscape?”
Still reeling, Se-min cautiously echoed the word—
And finally remembered where he’d heard Mindscape before.
