What the hell is he even saying?
Se-min recoiled like he’d just seen an old man on the subway waving a placard about finding God.
Cha-hyeon lowered the hand that had been covering his mouth, then smiled faintly—like he’d just whispered some profound secret. His face still looked tired, but his smiles were starting to feel a little more natural. The problem was, that very naturalness felt… unnatural.
What kind of batshit joke is this supposed to be now?
Se-min stared at his hyung in disbelief, but Cha-hyeon didn’t look like he was joking. Not even a little.
He didn’t even know where to start— Was it the fact that Cha-hyeon thought there were bugs planted in a five-star hotel suite? Or that wiretapping without consent was a felony? Or that he somehow believed he was being tapped in the first place? Or—worst-case scenario—that his S-rank Esper senses had actually picked up on something?
Wait… if there really is a bug in here, then that’s a massive fucking problem, isn’t it? Yesterday… we went at it so hard, Jesus Christ—no, I can’t…
Completely thrown by the idea, Se-min shook his head as if to clear it. As much as he trusted Cha-hyeon, this was the moment he realized he’d just been dragged into a full-blown delusion.
“Hyung, come on… say something that actually makes sense—”
“Shh.”
“Say something logical for once!”
Se-min snapped in a harsh whisper. Finally, Cha-hyeon’s eyes curved with a look of smug satisfaction.
Se-min just stared at him, completely lost for words.
What the hell is happening right now?
Just when he’d let his guard down because Cha-hyeon was finally speaking like a sane person again, he was hit with another out-of-nowhere line that made him want to scream. Memories intact or not, when Cha-hyeon’s eyes drifted to the side like that, it meant something outrageous was about to come out of his mouth.
What even is this? Like he’s got flowers blooming out of his head or something?
For a guy talking about his lover, Se-min was giving one hell of a scathing internal review, and his frown deepened accordingly.
“Just kidding.”
Cha-hyeon, who’d been carefully watching his every reaction, whispered softly. Se-min, still frowning, looked at him in silence as the man chuckled weakly to himself. It was the kind of joke that deserved a solid ranking in the Top 3 Least Funny Shit Cha-hyeon Has Ever Said.
For someone dealing with a hyung ten years older, Se-min wasn’t exactly doing a great job hiding his irritation. But he quickly changed the subject—this wasn’t the time to waste on pointless jokes.
“No… seriously, hyung. We don’t have time for this. Just like last time, you might disappear again at any moment.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
Cha-hyeon’s voice remained low. His eyes glittered strangely as he stared into the empty air, still speaking in a hushed tone.
“We’ve got… plenty of time.”
Se-min had no idea where that confidence came from. Was it some kind of instinct that only the one listed as the Unclaimed Reward could feel? Still frowning, Se-min tried to get a read on whether his hyung really meant it.
“Either way, let’s get out of here. Let’s go to my place. It’s safer to have this conversation at home, not somewhere public where we might actually be overheard.”
It was such a serious request, but the nonsense he was spouting made it hard to take him seriously. Se-min only grew more uneasy.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this guy?
***
There were two reasons Se-min ended up doing what Cha-hyeon wanted.
First, their time in the proposal suite was about to run out. Second, their time together was limited, and he didn’t want to waste it arguing. And honestly, he’d figured that if he didn’t indulge Cha-hyeon’s paranoia about “someplace safe,” they’d never have a proper conversation at all.
After exuding intense, almost threatening pressure earlier, Cha-hyeon had suddenly gone off the rails—so Se-min packed everything himself. He made sure all the gifts were accounted for, even double-checked the watch and the ring case.
Then he found himself staring at the marriage registration form, the one filled out with Cha-hyeon’s information. With a sigh so deep it might’ve cracked the floor, he gently tucked it into his bag, careful not to crease it.
The last thing he picked up was the bouquet—thick, full, and fragrant. The smell was lovely, but all Se-min could think was, How the hell did we end up like this…?
It had been such a touching proposal—he’d almost cried. If everything had gone according to plan, they would’ve been at city hall by now, registering their marriage. But then he found out Cha-hyeon might’ve lied to him. And the moment the “real” Cha-hyeon returned, something about him had clearly changed.
Everything unraveled.
Still… better to deal with this than live with that gut-wrenching feeling something’s off. Se-min was someone who believed that in both love and marriage, there should be no lies. And now that he knew for sure that Cha-hyeon was hiding something, he finally had the chance to confront it.
Cha-hyeon, face a mix of exhaustion and excitement, practically skipped into the passenger seat. Se-min loaded the trunk and got into the driver’s seat, still holding the bouquet. He figured putting flowers in the trunk would crush them, so he debated setting them in the back seat— Then decided it’d be safer if Cha-hyeon just held them.
He handed them over. Cha-hyeon took them with a serene, almost giddy smile, like he didn’t quite get why but was happy anyway. That too-good mood of his was starting to feel less like joy and more like full-blown mania.
“Hold these while we drive.”
“Flowers? When’d you buy these? Are they for me?”
He asked innocently, holding the bouquet he himself had prepared. Apparently, he’d decided that inside the car, they were finally safe from surveillance.
Playing along made Se-min feel like he was slowly losing it, but after a short pause, he answered honestly.
“Those are the flowers you gave me when you proposed.”
“Ah….”
That cheerful smile faded. His expression dulled for a moment… then slowly forced its way back, lips curling into a wide grin that pushed up his cheeks.
“That bastard?”
The sudden profanity made Se-min freeze mid-gesture, his finger just about to open the GPS app. That bastard? …Was he seriously referring to himself like that?
Of course. It was just like before—when the memory-less Cha-hyeon had acted all jealous anytime the “real” him was mentioned, treating him like a completely different person.
Se-min had really believed this version wouldn’t be like that. He was wrong. So he’s got that in common too, huh?
Se-min looked at him, a little stunned, then tried to lightly scold him.
“Hyung… ‘that bastard’? Come on.”
“Haha, sorry. My bad.”
The apology came with a laugh and zero sincerity. He lifted two fingers to his lips, then, catching himself, awkwardly shifted to just rubbing his bottom lip. His fingertips brushed over that soft red mouth, restless and jittery.
“Right. That bastard, or—uh… what was his name again….”
The name slipped from his lips in a low murmur. The strange gleam in his dark eyes dimmed, giving way to a familiar kind of lethargy.
“…Su-hyeon? Su-han?”
“Huh?”
The unfamiliar names made Se-min blink in confusion. He’d expected something like “the other me” or even “Sung Cha-hyeon.” But these weren’t even close.
“Who’s that supposed to be? I’m telling you, you, Cha-hyeon hyung, gave me those flowers when you proposed.”
Se-min pointed at him, still completely thrown. At that, Cha-hyeon’s fingers froze mid-motion.
His eyes, which had been fixed straight ahead, slowly turned to look at Se-min.
“……”
For a long moment, Cha-hyeon stared at him like he was trying to read something from his face. But no matter how he searched, Se-min had nothing—he didn’t recognize that name at all.
What kind of future did this guy go through?
While Se-min was still trying to wrap his head around it, Cha-hyeon suddenly burst out laughing.
“Haha!”
He collapsed into his seat like overcooked rice cake, laughing out loud.
Leaning back against the headrest, his expression turned hazy.
“Yeah… definitely lost it….”
His eyelids fluttered, and then he slowly lifted the bouquet. He stared at the fresh, blooming flowers—then used them to cover his entire face.
Watching him act like the least sane person in the room, Se-min asked awkwardly,
“Can we go home now?”
“Yeah.”
The answer came muffled from behind the flowers. Se-min figured he’d stop once they got moving, but even after starting the engine, Cha-hyeon kept holding the bouquet to his face.
Why is he doing that?
He’d seemed normal at first, but ever since the wiretap talk, he’d been acting like a beautiful-eyed lunatic.
Did something happen to his brain in the future? Should I get him a psych eval—like, now?
Se-min frowned and asked,
“You’re… seriously gonna keep doing that?”
“Yeah.”
“…Why?”
Cha-hyeon just shifted his gaze toward him, as if to say, Because you’re loud and paranoid, and it’s annoying.
“Cameras have crazy resolution now. They can read your lips. Better to be careful.”
“…What the f—”
“No, seriously. Don’t ‘what the f—’ me. You need to be cautious about this kind of thing. Remember that.”
Se-min’s lips twisted. The voice Cha-hyeon used was the exact same one he used to scold him as a kid, teaching him how to be a “proper adult.”
Eavesdropping, lip reading— What kind of top-tier conspiracy theory bullshit is this…?
“Hyung, what is this? Did you quit being an Esper and join the NIS or something? Or what—were you held captive and monitored 24/7?”
His voice was overflowing with sarcasm, but behind the bouquet, Cha-hyeon just laughed silently.
Se-min never got an answer. Just ended up more confused, more drained, as he pulled the car out onto the road.
Cha-hyeon stayed in the same position the whole time, flowers still covering his face, eyes alone watching the scenery pass by through the window.
Blue skies. Ordinary people, living out peaceful days. Neat buildings. Landscaped sidewalks. A picture of normalcy.
His hollow eyes followed it all. Then, softly—so faint it was almost inaudible—he murmured,
“…I didn’t join the NIS…”
And then he fell silent again.
