…Ah. Se-min stood there, dazed, stunned into silence.
“So that’s how it is… If Hyung had all his memories intact, we wouldn’t have even gotten together, would we? The whole idea of us breaking up wouldn’t have even been possible in the first place…”
A wave of shock surged through him, so overwhelming it defied words. The person he had promised to marry—if he hadn’t suffered memory loss—would’ve never ended up with him. That truth had just been laid bare.
Faced with such a painful realization, Se-min found himself at a loss for words. The thought that they might’ve never ended up together in any lifetime pierced his chest with a dull, lingering ache. He had no idea what kind of reaction he was supposed to have.
And now… he was starting to understand why Hyung had said, “It’s been a while.” After years of unrequited love, maybe even facing him had eventually become too painful. Maybe the Se-min who never got the chance to be with him had simply chosen to walk away on his own.
“Who the hell are you?”
Suddenly, Cha-hyeon—who had been silent this whole time—asked coldly. His eyes, still unnaturally sharp and glimmering, were now brimming with a chilling clarity. The sudden shift in his demeanor startled Se-min, who instinctively echoed back,
“…What?”
But Cha-hyeon acted as if he hadn’t heard him. His grip tightened on the knife handle. He took in a sharp breath, then spat out his words, each one laced with fury.
“You’re supposed to say only what I want to hear. So why do you keep asking all these unscripted questions?”
The veins in his hand bulged over his knuckles. But with one heavy exhale, Cha-hyeon reached out and moved the knife away from Se-min—setting it down beside the cutting board, blade turned away.
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. Turning his head, he dropped his gaze to where the knife now rested and opened his mouth, his voice rough and low.
“This is the Mindscape. I’m the hostage. You’re supposed to be the illusion. You’re supposed to stay with me until the Flood comes. But instead, you just keep muttering things I don’t want to hear…”
His voice trailed off into a whisper. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, so tightly that wrinkles formed at their corners. In that moment, he looked more defeated than ever.
“…You’re making me think this might actually be real.”
The words left him like a confession—worn and raw. With a sigh, he slowly opened his eyes. His empty, black gaze drifted across the chaotic kitchen.
~Unclaimed Rewards List~
♦ …Clear Reward… (2/3) – Receiving –
“Haa…”
A low groan escaped him. As if his body, too bright for too long, had finally reached its limit, exhaustion came crashing down. His head dropped, shoulders slumped like a man defeated in battle.
“…Please… just tell me I’m wrong.”
The voice was barely audible—no strength in it at all. But Se-min heard every word, heartbreakingly clear. His throat tightened, his pupils trembled, and he swallowed dry.
“Let’s just… stay happy like this…”
Cha-hyeon’s lips barely moved. And then—nothing. The words were cut off, leaving Se-min no clue what he had wanted to say.
Into the heavy silence, the gentle bubbling of a pot somewhere started to hum again—mundane, domestic sounds creeping back in. Searching for the right words, trying them out silently on his tongue, Se-min finally opened his mouth.
“I’m sorry, Hyung. I don’t think I can say what you want to hear. I don’t know why you think this is the Mindscape… but this is real. This is reality, Hyung.”
A soft, hollow laugh escaped Cha-hyeon, followed by silence. He absentmindedly rubbed the corner of the kitchen counter. Se-min, hesitant, asked quietly,
“…Are you okay?”
“It’s not like I’m not okay.”
The way he said it, he sounded just like the memory-erased version of himself. Realizing how coldly he’d spoken, Cha-hyeon tried to smooth it over with a weak smile.
“Sorry. I was too harsh with my baby.”
Se-min looked at him quietly. As Cha-hyeon turned toward him again, putting on that familiar gentle demeanor, Se-min finally said what was on his mind.
“Hyung, if it’s hard to smile, then don’t. It’s okay not to smile. I know this must be a lot. Of course you’re confused.”
As if the words caught him off guard, the smile painted on Cha-hyeon’s lips froze. He raised one hand and touched his mouth. Brushing his fingertips over his lips, he tried once again to force them upward.
“You’ve really grown up, Se-min.”
The way he said it was like a parent hearing their child talk about taking care of them for the first time. Flustered, Se-min tried to erase the look on Cha-hyeon’s face by blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“That bastard ruined our baby.”
“…Huh?”
“That fucking bastard… After all the care I put into raising you, now you’re walking on eggshells around people…”
The words were muttered coldly under his breath. Cha-hyeon’s face briefly went expressionless. Feeling the directed malice, Se-min’s brows furrowed softly.
But then Cha-hyeon suddenly winced, pressing a hand against his solar plexus. Like someone in pain, he clenched his eyes shut.
“Hyung, are you—”
“Hoo…”
He exhaled deeply and lowered his hand. Though his brow remained furrowed as if something still ached, all he did was gently bite the tip of his tongue and pick up the knife again.
“Go play somewhere.”
The knife met the cutting board once more. Thwack, thwack. The crisp sound of chopping echoed rhythmically. Watching Se-min hesitate, Cha-hyeon added,
“I just need time to sort out my thoughts. Whether this is real or not… I get what you’re saying.”
He still didn’t believe it—but at least he didn’t seem like he was spiraling. Se-min bit his lip, then cautiously asked,
“Okay. But, Hyung… once you’ve sorted your thoughts, will you talk to me properly?”
“Aren’t we talking right now?”
“No, I mean… a little more honestly, more cooperatively—”
His voice trailed off, cut short by another soft, bitter laugh from Cha-hyeon. As if it had slipped out unintentionally, regret briefly crossed his face.
“So, from your perspective… I’ve been uncooperative?”
Turning slightly, he looked at Se-min, the question gentle—almost too gentle, like he was trying hard to sound kind.
It used to be familiar. But after spending so much time with the version of Cha-hyeon who had lost his memory—who had no need for pretense—Se-min could now see it clearly. Beneath that smile was a quiet plea: Please don’t push me.
“Not uncooperative, exactly… It’s just that you never say things clearly. You always act like everything’s fine, but you never explain, not really…”
“Ah.”
Cha-hyeon let out a soft sound of acknowledgment. Staring at the crushed garlic, he suddenly asked,
“But… do you think questioning me will get you anything? Like, about the future? I don’t think I have any real answers for you. As you probably guessed… I wasn’t your boyfriend.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard again. His fingers curled slightly around the knife, and he started crushing the garlic even finer, more mechanically than before.
“…I don’t know all the little details. Even siblings get to have private lives, right?”
He said it with a teasing lilt, but Se-min barely managed to swallow back the breath that almost escaped him. He had known… but hearing it still hit hard. Even so, he focused more on Cha-hyeon than on his own emotions.
“Hyung. I’m worried about you.”
If he said he wasn’t curious about that alternate future, it would’ve been a lie. Of course he wondered what could have been—what might’ve happened between him and a memory-intact Cha-hyeon.
But more than anything, what Se-min really wanted to know was: Is Hyung really okay?
In this version of events, Cha-hyeon was someone Se-min had to protect. And not once had this Hyung ever been honest about how he was doing.
The future Cha-hyeon—anyone could see he wasn’t okay. If he was struggling, he should’ve said so. If he was tired, he should’ve said that, too. If he’d just let himself complain, let someone shoulder a little of that burden… maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad.
“Even if we weren’t lovers… I’m still your dongsaeng. We’re family, right?”
The sound of chopping abruptly stopped. At last, Cha-hyeon gently laid the knife down.
“Family.”
He repeated the word softly. His expression twisted, like the word stirred up memories he hadn’t touched in a long time. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His Adam’s apple moved once more.
“Yeah… We were family, weren’t we.”
He murmured the words and let out a long, weary sigh. Eyes closing, then opening slowly, he spoke again—this time to himself.
“You really… leave me with nothing to say.”
Grimacing as if a dull ache had returned to his chest, he placed a hand over his heart. Then, silently, he tidied up the cutting board, dropped the garlic into the pot, and rinsed the utensils. Once everything was done, he finally turned to face Se-min again.
“For now… I get it. I still don’t know what the right answer is, but I’ll keep thinking. I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”
Still vague, still roundabout—but by now, Se-min had grown used to how this Hyung talked. So he clung to the important part: he said okay.
“Go relax. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
“Okay… Oh, right.”
Just as he turned away, Se-min looked back again. He was willing to follow Cha-hyeon’s lead, but one thought still nagged at him.
“You’re not going to suddenly disappear, right? There’s still enough time…?”
“It’s fine. We’ve got plenty.”
Thankfully, Cha-hyeon answered with quiet certainty. He seemed back to himself now—and his answer hadn’t changed. That alone gave Se-min a sense of relief, and he nodded quietly.
At Cha-hyeon’s gentle wave, urging him to go rest, Se-min reluctantly shuffled out of the kitchen. Even as he left, he kept glancing back, clearly not wanting to go. It was obvious—he wanted to stay with Hyung just a little longer.
Once Se-min was completely out of sight, Cha-hyeon let out another long, complicated sigh.
“…I don’t know if any of this is real or not. But this part… this one part is definitely nice…”
It’s been so long… since I last talked to Se-min while he was still alive.
