“If… what if I never go back?”
A quiet voice slipped into his ear, low and soft.
It was such an unexpected question that Se-min had to repeat it over in his mind several times before he could even grasp what had been said.
“…Huh?”
Eyes wide in shock, Se-min started to respond—only to realize his mouth was full. He quickly swallowed. But even with his mouth empty, no answer came right away. He didn’t know what to say.
He opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to find the words, before finally managing to speak—hesitantly, uncertainly.
“…You could stay like this forever?”
“Maybe. I’m not completely sure, but… probably.”
Cha-hyeon murmured slowly, his gaze lowering as if he were mulling something over. He stared at his nearly untouched plates, as though seeing something beyond them.
While Cha-hyeon calmly sorted through his thoughts, Se-min sat there like someone who’d just been handed a live grenade. His mind was a swirling mess of confusion.
You mean he could stay like this—with all his memories from the future—and never revert? So he wouldn’t go back to the amnesiac version of himself? How could he be so sure?
“Wait. Hang on—just a sec…”
Se-min set his chopsticks down and rubbed his temples, where a throbbing ache had started to form. His head was pounding from the sheer number of questions rushing at him all at once. He could feel Cha-hyeon watching him, as if observing some kind of strange reaction.
“So then what about last time?” Se-min asked, frowning. “When you suddenly reverted… I thought it was because your time was up or something. Like, there was a time limit. But that wasn’t it?”
Cha-hyeon didn’t answer immediately. His perfectly trimmed nails began tapping against the table with no real rhythm or meaning. He watched his own hands for a moment before speaking.
“…No. That time…”
His words faded, and he gave a small shrug. Then, with his chopsticks, he picked up a neatly grilled piece of ham and set it gently on top of Se-min’s rice. He gave a subtle nod, as if to say, Go on, eat.
Almost on instinct, Se-min did as he was told. His cheeks puffed out from the bite. The salty flavor filled his mouth, but he hardly tasted it—his thoughts were spinning too fast.
It was so damn confusing. So if a specific condition was met and an Unclaimed Reward was triggered, Cha-hyeon would return to his full, future self. But choosing to revert back—or not—was entirely up to that version?
Se-min had always assumed that once the Unclaimed Rewards hit a certain count, Cha-hyeon would eventually regain all his memories. The fact that he’d kept reverting, even if only briefly, seemed to prove it.
But if this version could choose to stay, if he had the option to remain in his fully remembered state… was that the same as recovering memories?
But then again, the body and mind were at different points in time. Could he really call it “getting his memories back”? Could the blanks be left untouched… forever?
Then what happened to the memory-lost Cha-hyeon? The one who’d been his boyfriend? His fiancé?
Would that Cha-hyeon just… disappear?
…Disappear.
Se-min had always tried to see every version of Cha-hyeon as the same person. But to be separated like this, so abruptly, without even a goodbye…
It hurt.
The thought of never seeing that Cha-hyeon again—the one who’d promised to marry him—stabbed sharp and sudden in his chest. It was a pain he couldn’t quite explain, but it hit hard. Like his heart had dropped out of his chest and shattered on the floor.
Even if that Cha-hyeon had lied… they weren’t supposed to say goodbye like this.
But to see him again… this Cha-hyeon would have to go back.
Back to being the lover he’d fallen in love with. Back to being the only family he had left.
How was he supposed to choose between the two?
……
And for the first time, a question occurred to him.
Why did Cha-hyeon return with his memories intact every time a reward was given?
Was it just a way to show he was becoming closer to his original self?
Why had the Dungeon Gate taken only the memories of Se-min, and why did it give out something like “Unclaimed Rewards” in the first place?
What was the purpose of those rewards?
“Why? Do you not want to be with me?”
Cha-hyeon’s soft question snapped Se-min out of his thoughts.
He said it so casually, as if it meant nothing—but it was not the kind of question you could brush off. It struck deep.
Startled, Se-min shot up straight.
“No! It’s not that! It’s just… kind of overwhelming, that’s all.”
He waved his hands in denial, then rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the heat crawling up his nape. It was burning.
Of course he didn’t dislike this Cha-hyeon. But his feelings were anything but simple. Somewhere deep inside, something kept whispering, Is this really okay?
“Overwhelming?”
Cha-hyeon echoed his words gently, as if just repeating them to understand.
But the repetition was enough to make Se-min panic again, waving his arms and blurting out a rushed explanation.
“Yeah, I mean—of course you’re probably even more overwhelmed than me. But I’m overwhelmed too! I mean, I was literally talking about marriage with you. I mean—not you, but the other you. We were gonna go to the district office and submit our marriage license, and then he lied—wait, no, forget that part. And then suddenly you came back, saying you’re from the future and—god, hearing it all out loud just makes it sound even more surreal…”
He trailed off, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of it all.
He’d just been getting tossed around by one unbelievable thing after another. But now that he’d actually laid it out, the whole situation felt even more insane.
Muttering to himself, he said, “Unclaimed Rewards… what the hell are they even for?”
“…Maybe… so we don’t have regrets?”
Cha-hyeon’s voice was soft, thoughtful.
Se-min turned his gaze to him.
It didn’t sound like something he’d meant to say out loud. Cha-hyeon was just absentmindedly rubbing the edge of the table, not even looking at him.
To avoid regret. Huh.
But whose regret?
The amnesiac Cha-hyeon’s? Or this version from the future?
Noticing Se-min’s curious stare, Cha-hyeon slowly looked up. He stopped fiddling with the table. Only then did he seem to realize what he’d said.
“Eat. Come on.”
Trying to change the subject, Cha-hyeon gently nudged him back toward his food.
Se-min picked up his spoon again, but even as he resumed eating, he kept chewing on those words.
So we don’t have regrets…?
***
Se-min finished his meal cleanly.
Though Cha-hyeon had encouraged him to eat, he barely touched his own food. And the moment Se-min set down his spoon, Cha-hyeon dumped his plate straight into the sink without hesitation.
“I can handle the dishes—”
“Go relax. I’ll take care of it.”
Cha-hyeon kept trying to shoo him away, like a kid being told to go play. Se-min wasn’t sure if he really saw him as a child or what.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing dishes, you know. You should rest.”
With that, Se-min stepped a little closer. Close enough that if either of them turned slightly, their bodies might touch.
It was far too close for just family.
While Se-min didn’t think twice about closing that kind of distance—accustomed to it after being lovers—Cha-hyeon flinched and took a step back.
It was subtle, but obvious. So obvious that even Se-min picked up on it immediately.
An awkward silence hung between them.
……
Cha-hyeon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Then, slowly, he stepped forward again, carefully closing the gap he had created.
But the tension remained, lingering in the air between them. Neither of them missed it.
Right.
This Cha-hyeon… had never been his lover. No wonder he was startled by how suddenly Se-min had closed the space between them.
Even so… Se-min felt bitterness rise in his mouth.
Wasn’t this the very thing he’d been afraid of?
That when Cha-hyeon’s memories returned, he’d regret ever dating him? That he might try to erase it all, pretend it never happened?
Maybe he’d stay out of obligation. Maybe he’d try to do the right thing and stay in the relationship. Even if it was hollow.
But that would’ve been the case if the Cha-hyeon who had loved him got his memories back.
This one… this version had never loved him. Never even started to.
“…Ah.”
Se-min murmured and took a couple steps back.
Cha-hyeon, stiff with tension, licked his lips uncomfortably.
Come to think of it… maybe that was why he’d moved to the opposite end of the couch the other day.
He’d been uncomfortable. Because the kid who was like a little brother had started acting like a lover.
…And yet, he was the one who’d proposed to that Cha-hyeon.
The one who had promised him marriage. Who he had loved.
But now he knew. These two Cha-hyeons were different.
That’s why he hadn’t asked this one why he lied. That’s why he’d simply asked how he was doing.
He understood now.
And yet— Something inside him wavered.
He’d tried so hard to believe that they were all the same Cha-hyeon, but now, that belief was starting to crack.
He didn’t know whether to resent him… or pity him. And part of him just wanted to break down and cry.
“…Hey, Hyung. Then… what if…”
He hesitated, voice trembling slightly.
If you never go back… what happens to us?
That question stopped at his throat, refusing to come out. Se-min’s lips moved silently, unable to speak.
Cha-hyeon, watching him carefully, stepped in again—closing the same distance Se-min had just widened.
Gulp.
Se-min heard him swallow hard.
He looked up, eyes clouded with hesitation and just a hint of fear.
“…I’ll try.”
