5) On Guard
Most people—no, nearly every Korean—found Se-min and Cha-hyeon’s relationship strangely fascinating.
That Sung Cha-hyeon, cherishing someone like a little brother?
That Sung Cha-hyeon, wanting to protect someone?
That Sung Cha-hyeon, actually having a pair guide who could tolerate his personality?
So what, exactly, was Ji Se-min to Sung Cha-hyeon?
If asked, Cha-hyeon would probably mull it over for a long time before arriving at one conclusion:
Ji Se-min was Sung Cha-hyeon’s guilt.
***
About twenty minutes had passed when Cha-hyeon finally called Se-min out for dinner. Se-min, who had obediently gone into Cha-hyeon’s room per his instructions and had been quietly eavesdropping ever since, perked up immediately.
It was less nerve-wracking seeing things with his own eyes. Listening alone had him worrying that Cha-hyeon might suddenly snap again—or worse, leave without saying goodbye, despite promising not to.
Fortunately, when Cha-hyeon came back, he seemed calm. Tired, sure, but steadier than usual. As he placed a steaming bowl of soup down on the table, he jerked his chin toward it.
“Think that’s not enough? Want me to get you more?”
“No, it’s fine. If I need more, I’ll just get some… Oh.”
Se-min let out a soft gasp without meaning to. His eyes had landed on the side dishes: a generous pile of fried eggs and pan-seared canned ham. Maybe it was because the Cha-hyeon in front of him still remembered things—but the sight stirred something inside him. He let out a small laugh and murmured.
“This takes me back. Remember? You used to make stuff like this whenever Grandma went to church on weekends.”
Back when their devoutly Catholic grandmother was out at mass, little Se-min had loved those quiet mornings spent alone with Cha-hyeon.
That fuzzy not-quite-morning hour. The low murmur of the TV drifting into his half-awake brain.
Waking up was always a struggle for Se-min, but he’d bolt upright if it meant catching weekend morning cartoons. On those days, he’d toss off the blanket he usually refused to part with and shuffle into the living room. Cha-hyeon, watching variety shows, would switch the channel to cartoons without complaint.
“You’re up?”
“Mmh…”
Se-min would plop his butt down right on Cha-hyeon’s crossed legs, rubbing his eyes. And then, like clockwork, Cha-hyeon would smack his chin down onto the top of Se-min’s head. It didn’t exactly hurt—but it stung enough to jolt him fully awake.
“Oww!”
They’d watch cartoons together until their stomachs started growling, and then Cha-hyeon would get up and cook for both of them.
His signature dishes? Fried eggs and sausage, black bean ramen, meat-sauce spaghetti. Unlike now, when he could cook anything, back then teenage Cha-hyeon had the culinary skillset of your average high schooler. Not that it mattered—those simple meals didn’t require a gourmet touch.
Sometimes, they’d even sneak in delivery—pork cutlets or Chinese food. Since their grandma rarely let them have processed foods, those “secret” meals felt extra special. When she returned and asked if they’d eaten, they’d claim they just used the side dishes at home. Se-min even took care to shove the delivery trash deep into the bin, just in case.
Though honestly, Grandma probably saw right through them anyway—especially when Se-min’s lips were stained red and black, and he kept giggling and shooting guilty glances at his hyung.
After Cha-hyeon awakened as an S-Rank Esper, they moved into a nicer place. As time passed, Se-min stopped waiting for him on weekends and started hanging out at the playground with friends instead. The mornings they’d once shared gradually disappeared.
Thinking about it now, it had been ages since he’d had Cha-hyeon’s fried eggs and ham. These days, he could eat instant food whenever. He wasn’t a little kid who needed someone to cook for him anymore.
And anyway… with Cha-hyeon rarely home, they barely shared meals anymore, apart from the occasional breakfast.
That was all before he lost his memories, of course. Afterward, Cha-hyeon had shown zero interest in his Esper duties. Honestly, it seemed like stripping down and tumbling around during guiding sessions with Se-min had become his new top priority…
The memory made Se-min sigh and blush all over again. It was a weird comparison—but definitely not one he should be making in front of his hyung.
“Didn’t expect Baby to still remember that.”
But Cha-hyeon just nodded, pretending not to notice the redness spreading across Se-min’s face. Flustered, Se-min nodded back a little too eagerly.
“It was a really happy memory. I even remember how good the black bean ramen tasted the first time you made it for me.”
The memory was still vivid: that one bite, the sheer shock that something could taste that good. His eyes had gone wide, frozen in place by the revelation.
Cha-hyeon chuckled softly, eyes narrowing as he tried to recall.
“Was I the one who made you try ramen for the first time? I don’t really remember. That must’ve been… what, thirty years ago?”
“What!?”
That nostalgic moment shattered instantly with Se-min’s shriek. He froze with the same dumbfounded expression he’d had as a kid eating ramen for the first time. His voice cracked higher.
“Why are you so old all of a sudden!? I mean—not that—uh…”
He’d spoken before thinking, and now he fumbled for a recovery. But nothing came to mind. The number thirty just kept bouncing around in his head.
That first ramen memory was from before elementary school—so maybe sixteen, seventeen years ago? That meant even by his own calculations, it had been nearly twenty years. Still, his hyung had thrown out a number that exceeded even that.
Was Cha-hyeon’s inability to recall his age… just regular aging? Was that why he always looked so tired?
“…I didn’t mean it literally. Just roughly. People age. That’s how time works.”
For once, Cha-hyeon seemed at a loss. He sat down and pushed the chair in behind him.
“To be exact, I guess it was… twenty-seven years ago?”
“……”
“…Twenty-five?”
Was this some kind of negotiation?
Se-min just stared at him blankly as Cha-hyeon kept knocking years off his estimate. With no words of his own, he watched as Cha-hyeon cleared his throat awkwardly—his earlobes tinged pink—and muttered with exaggerated seriousness:
“Let’s eat.”
Maybe it was because he’d finally gotten a rough estimate of his hyung’s true age, but that line sounded like something a gruff, emotionally constipated single dad would say in an old drama.
Still a little dazed, Se-min sat down. Cha-hyeon reached over and flicked the tip of his nose before nudging the bowl toward him.
“Eat up. It’s getting cold.”
Seeing how shy Cha-hyeon looked, Se-min suddenly felt mischievous for the first time in a while. Maybe he hadn’t done it intentionally, but he could already guess how the old Cha-hyeon would respond.
“Hyung, say it just once—‘Can you start eating before the adults, yes or no?’”
“Se-min, quit messing around.”
Right on cue. Se-min’s cheeks puffed up as he fought back a grin, lips tucked inward. It really had been a while since things felt like this—not flirting with his hyung like a lover, but teasing him like a kid brother clinging to his much older sibling.
Still smiling, Se-min finally started eating. Lunchtime had already passed, and after everything that had happened since morning, his hunger had finally caught up to him.
Cha-hyeon quietly watched him chew, squirrel-like. Watching him sip the soup, cut into the eggs and ham, eating quietly but with real enjoyment—it filled something in him. Even without taking a bite, it made him feel full. It had been a long time since he’d eaten with someone—especially with Se-min.
And then…
…That time… it was good. Sneaking eggs and ham while Grandma was at church…
…Was it beef radish soup? The first thing I ever cooked for him…
…We promised, didn’t we? After I got discharged…
His head tilted slightly. The Esper, now expressionless, caught Se-min’s gaze. As if on reflex, he smiled.
“You’re not eating, hyung?”
“I am.”
Finally, he took a spoonful of the soup he’d only been holding this whole time. The warm broth slid down his throat, slightly cooled now.
And then—
“……”
All at once, his senses sharpened like blades. Sight, sound, touch—everything came alive, vivid and visceral. And in the middle of that clarity, a single thought surged to the surface.
A question.
One that didn’t even sound like it came from his own mouth.
“Hey, Baby.”
Mmh? Se-min mumbled back, cheeks full. Cha-hyeon stared at him—so much younger, so full of life—and murmured in a quiet, level voice:
“What if… hyung doesn’t go back?”
***
~Unclaimed Rewards List~
♦ …Clear Reward… (2/3) – In progress –
If this is truly real… then why the hell should I go back to that godawful future?
Se-min is alive. And Cha-hyeon knows—he knows exactly what he did wrong.
This body, this moment—it’s practically a reset. A return to a time before everything went to hell.
The answer’s right here in his hand.
Maybe… maybe this is a second chance.
This time, couldn’t he do better?
Make it right?
Avoid the mistakes?
Honestly… he had a feeling he’d do better than the version of himself who lost his memories. That bastard managed it, so why couldn’t he?
It’s not like he wanted that much.
He just wanted to be happy again—with Se-min. Sweet, soft, happy.
I mean…
He was Sung Cha-hyeon, after all.
