He could feel Se-min’s uneasy gaze flickering up at him from within his arms. Cha-hyeon took a deep breath—and as he exhaled, he suddenly realized that Se-min smelled of the same shampoo he used.
“Phew…”
So, this was what living together meant—sharing even something as simple as a scent. It had been so long since those days that, if he’d never come back, he probably would’ve forgotten that small truth forever.
He slowly loosened the arms holding Se-min and took a few steps back. Se-min looked up at him, eyes full of concern, silently asking if he was all right. Cha-hyeon’s tongue swept over his inner cheek.
The fog that had filled his mind began to clear, leaving him with an oddly calm sense of clarity. His instincts whispered to him: You made the right choice.
If this world was real, then it meant there was a chance to greet a new future. If it was fake, then spending his last moments here with Se-min before being consumed by the flood wouldn’t be such a bad ending either.
Even so, the words wouldn’t come easily. After a moment of hesitation, he wetted his dry lips and forced a faint smile.
“…Sorry. I must’ve scared you. Sometimes I just… have these weird fits.”
The lie slipped out far more easily than he expected. Seeing Se-min’s startled expression, he realized it wasn’t exactly a convincing excuse—but with part of his mind half-broken these days, it was the best he could do.
It was the only explanation that made sense for suddenly gagging mid-sentence while saying he wanted to stay, then acting fine moments later. Still, maybe this lie was better than the truth. After all, sometimes lies are truer than facts themselves.
But Se-min, unaware of any of this, gaped at him in alarm.
“What? Fits? You mean like, seizures? That’s serious! Did you go to a hospital? A big one? Shouldn’t you be admitted?”
“I’m fine. It’s just… mental. It goes away if I rest a bit.”
Cha-hyeon tapped lightly at his temple. Se-min’s mouth fell open even wider; he seemed at a total loss for words. After a few stunned seconds, he suddenly came to life, flustered and bustling about.
“…Then—come on, just lie down! On the sofa, or the bed—anything! Hurry!”
The urgency in his voice was firm, almost commanding, and it made Cha-hyeon chuckle softly. He nodded, playing along with a smile.
Se-min hurried to help him, treating him as if he might collapse at any second. Cha-hyeon’s gaze dropped to the younger man’s arm looped around his own.
He could almost see the image of a much younger Se-min overlaid on him—the little boy who used to tug at his hand with tiny fists, struggling to pull him along. And he’d let himself be dragged, pretending he didn’t have a choice.
But the other Cha-hyeon—the one who lived in this world—wouldn’t remember any of that. For him, that kind of memory loss must be both a blessing and a curse.
~ Unclaimed Rewards List ~
♦ …Clear Reward… (2/3) – In Collection –
“Ah, not the bed. The sofa’s fine.”
Se-min had started steering him toward the bedroom, probably thinking the bed would be more comfortable. But Cha-hyeon, who knew all too well what the two of them had done in that bed since they began sharing it, gently declined.
For a fleeting second, fragments of those heated memories flickered in his mind, but they faded quickly, dissolving into a dull blur. Maybe because he knew they’d soon be forgotten, the nausea didn’t rise again.
Still… that bastard. He couldn’t help but feel an irrational fury burn inside him—enough that, if the other man stood before him right now, he’d beat him half to death.
That son of a bitch. How could he do something like that to the baby I raised with my own hands…
“Wouldn’t the bed still be more comfortable…?”
Se-min looked back toward the bedroom, reluctant, but still guided him gently toward the sofa. Once seated, Cha-hyeon smiled brightly—so warm and easy that no one could’ve guessed the violent thoughts behind it.
“It’s comfortable here too.”
He stretched out deliberately, almost showing off. Because of his height, his ankles stuck out over the armrest, but he didn’t care. How long had it been? A few years? Over a decade? Whatever the number, it had been far too long since he’d felt this relaxed—body and mind both.
He liked the way Se-min looked at him, worried and tender. He liked simply being in the same space as him. It had been so long since he’d felt this kind of warmth—fine, he’d admit it—the warmth of being with the only family he had left in this world.
When he lay down, Se-min, looking flustered but determined to help somehow, fetched a large blanket from the opposite sofa and spread it gently over him. A quiet laugh slipped out of Cha-hyeon before he could stop it.
“Good boy. That’s my Se-min.”
At the blatant praise, Se-min’s eyes narrowed slightly in irritation. But maybe because of the situation, he just sighed softly and asked, worry still thick in his voice,
“Hyung… you really are okay, right?”
He’d lost count of how many times he’d heard that question in such a short time. Out of habit, Cha-hyeon almost said he was fine—but the truth pressed against his throat instead.
Post-traumatic stress disorder. Bipolar disorder. Suicidal impulses. Delusional disorder. Paranoid personality disorder. Once, Sung Cha-hyeon had been South Korea’s strongest S-rank Esper. But because of those labels, he’d retired—or, more accurately, been forced into retirement.
There were countless other diagnoses attached to his name, but none of them really captured what it felt like. He was just… hollow. Sometimes he wanted to die. Sometimes he heard voices. Sometimes he saw hallucinations. And sometimes, he was consumed by destructive urges he couldn’t control.
Sometimes the weight of it all was unbearable. But other times, he managed—just barely. What would it mean to confess that contradiction now, to admit the chaotic instability he’d lived with since Se-min’s death?
But no. He’d be gone soon. None of this would stay in his memory anyway. There was no point in burdening Se-min—who knew nothing—with something like that.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
He swallowed the truth down and waved his hand lightly. If he kept his eyes open, Se-min would only keep hovering, so he pretended to be tired and closed them. As expected, after a long moment of hesitation, Se-min’s quiet footsteps retreated.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the sound came—the soft, steady shhhh of running water from the sink.
The faint clatter of dishes. The familiar rhythm of someone moving gently through the kitchen.
Cautiously, Cha-hyeon opened his eyes. The kitchen island blocked most of his view, but even from the partial glimpse, he could tell what Se-min was doing.
The quiet, careful way he moved—trying not to make noise—carried a weight of emotion. He must’ve been lost in thought. He’d said he was confused earlier, and now, in this silence, his mind was surely spinning with countless thoughts.
And at the center of them all would be Sung Cha-hyeon. He’d probably think about both of them—about him, and about the other Cha-hyeon—hundreds of times over. Maybe he’d even dwell on what it meant when the other him said he wouldn’t go back.
He might not realize it now, but eventually he would understand. Their relationship couldn’t stay the same once the memories returned. And Cha-hyeon… he didn’t think he could bear seeing Se-min’s face fall again, weighed down by the same exhaustion he’d already endured once before.
So if he’d already decided to leave, it was better to do it soon—before Se-min sank too deep into his thoughts. Even if it left him uneasy for a while, in the end, the other Sung Cha-hyeon would take priority.
Once the decision was made, the retired S-rank Esper in him said it was best to act quickly, before regret could catch up.
And yet…
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen him…”
The quiet murmur was swallowed by the sound of running water. Cha-hyeon blinked dazedly, his dark eyes lifting upward, the whites beneath them stark and bright.
Maybe… it wouldn’t hurt to stay just a little longer. Yeah. He’d forget soon enough anyway. There was no harm in lingering—to let go of a little of this lingering attachment. The other him would keep seeing Se-min, after all.
His thoughts drifted toward that man—his lifelong rival, that bastard, his brother’s lover… and himself.
Another version of him, blessed and cursed with amnesia, who had somehow ended up dating Se-min.
What would happen when that bastard’s memories came back? Would he drown in guilt the way Cha-hyeon had—asking himself how he could do that to his own brother? No, goddamn it. If that bastard caused it, he should take responsibility for it. Because of him, that ten-years-younger kid was sitting there, second-guessing every little thing, overthinking, hesitating…
He didn’t even know what the other him would do once he remembered, but for now, the anger was easier. He cursed him out under his breath. No matter how he thought about it, it pissed him off. Maybe because that other version didn’t feel like him at all. Maybe because, deep down, he wasn’t. Though, from the looks of it, that bastard probably felt the same.
His blinking slowed, thoughts sinking heavier. Tsk. Cha-hyeon clicked his tongue softly.
If there were any way for him to stay here—even in some form—he’d love to smack that other Cha-hyeon upside the head every time he made Se-min suffer. Tell him to treat him right. And if he ever hurt him—force him, threaten him, whatever it took—
“…Ahaha.”
The absurd thought snapped apart. A dry, hollow laugh slipped out.
He rubbed his forehead with his calloused hand.
There he goes again—thinking about someone else.
