Cha-hyeon fled Se-min’s room like a man being chased. He didn’t even try to muffle the frantic pounding of his footsteps. Only once he stepped into the study—his private refuge—did he finally gulp in the breath he’d been holding back.
His eyes were wide, pupils unnaturally pinched. Running a shaky hand through his messy hair, Cha-hyeon barely kept himself from swearing.
He’d screwed up. And not just any mistake—a rookie-level fuck-up. Caught up in the relief of seeing Se-min again, clinging to the false hope that he hadn’t been found out, he’d made a fatal misjudgment.
He’d always looked down on people who only believed what they wanted to believe. But cornered like this, he’d made the same pathetic mistake.
If he’d been thinking straight—if he’d been himself—he would’ve grilled Se-min about what had happened during the memory blackout. He would’ve assessed the situation and adjusted his approach with surgical precision.
But instead, blinded by the fact that Ji Se-min had missed Sung Cha-hyeon so desperately, and thrown off by the message left behind so obviously for him to find, he’d made a choice completely unlike him.
It was an unforgivable lapse for someone like him—someone who’d always watched from above, detached and calculating, manipulating situations like a puppeteer. But now, he couldn’t even pull himself back together.
What exactly had Se-min said? Cha-hyeon retraced every note of that voice laced with vivid disappointment. Was it resignation? Hopelessness? Betrayal?
White-hot static burst in his head. Se-min, who’d once poured unconditional love and trust into him even when his memory was fractured—had finally pushed him away. And Cha-hyeon couldn’t cope with that.
But he had a reason.
Because Ji Se-min—between me and Sung Cha-hyeon, you’d choose him.
I’m the one who dated you. I kissed you. I had sex with you. I guided you. I’m the one who promised we’d get married.
You told me you loved me. That whichever Cha-hyeon I was, it was still me. But in the end… you’re going to choose the original Sung Cha-hyeon.
As he raked a trembling hand through his hair again, his eyes caught on something—letters, scrawled in black ink.
He lowered his shaking hand, scowling. The handwriting was unmistakably familiar. On his palm, it read: Love and doubt cannot coexist.
“……”
He jerked his head to the side with a sharp twist and stormed over to the storage cabinet. His brain was too fried to think. Maybe if he smoked, he could pull himself back to sanity—just enough to get a grip.
With frantic hands, he tore through the drawers. Buried deep in a corner Se-min wouldn’t have thought to check, he found the cigarette box he’d stashed away.
But the moment he opened it, he froze.
Inside were nothing but broken cigarettes—each one snapped clean in half. He stared down at them, eyes wide, then threw the box away like it was contaminated. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.
“…What the hell.”
The words escaped him in a voice that didn’t sound like his own—tight and filled with dread. He knew who’d done this. He didn’t need to be told.
Was it a show of power? A warning? A message saying I’m coming back? Or worse—I know everything you know.
Narrowed vision made everything look like a threat. An inescapable contest against someone he could never beat. He stared at the broken cigarettes and the sharp white fragments littered on the floor, then suddenly looked up.
What else did he leave behind?
Compulsively, Cha-hyeon began tearing through the room. The desk, the drawers, the bookshelf, the safe—every inch of space. Anywhere Sung Cha-hyeon might’ve left a trace.
He wasn’t even sure why he was searching. Maybe to prove he wasn’t afraid. Or maybe… maybe to destroy everything before it consumed him.
The search turned manic. It spilled into the dressing room, then the bedroom. He didn’t care how he looked—like a lunatic wrecking his own space.
“Ha… Haa…”
His breathing was ragged, head pounding from the lack of oxygen. He forced himself to inhale, trying to calm the storm inside him, running his hand through his hair again.
“…Fuck.”
All of a sudden, he stormed toward the en suite bathroom, slamming the faucet on full blast. The freezing water hit the basin in torrents, but he didn’t flinch. He grabbed the hand wash and squeezed out a mountain of it, scrubbing at the letters on his palm like a man possessed.
Over and over again, viciously.
But no matter how hard he scraped—until the skin began to peel—the black ink, written in permanent marker, wouldn’t budge. If anything, it gleamed mockingly beneath the water.
Love and doubt cannot coexist.
“Shut the fuck up. What the hell do you know?”
He was yelling without even realizing it. The dizziness hit him like a wave, his breathing spiraling out of control.
Clutching the sink with bone-white knuckles, he squeezed his eyes shut. The sound of the rushing water echoed through the bathroom like a hollow scream.
“You don’t know anything… You have no idea how much I… how much I…!”
The words were ripped from his throat in a hoarse, broken voice. He bit down hard on his lip until blood welled up. His heart kept pounding like it wanted to break free from his chest.
Veins bulged along the back of his hand. He was gripping the sink so hard his joints stood out, pale against his skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
What he saw in the mirror was a ghost—his own reflection. Hair wild, skin deathly pale, lips raw and bleeding, chest rising and falling with ragged breath.
He stared into his own eyes for a long time… then suddenly looked left.
Right. There was still one more place where Sung Cha-hyeon might’ve left something: the Inventory.
As the thought crossed his mind, the familiar blue screen appeared—visible only to Awakened. He sifted through his chaotic inventory, irritation in every swipe.
Windows flashed by—thousands of them—until his gaze locked on something.
Something new.
Something that shouldn’t exist.
His face turned to stone.
The status window reacted to the Awakened’s will. The item materialized in his hand.
“……”
Water dripped from his fingers, soaking into the soft, fluffy mass that had suddenly appeared. His gaze rose to the floating text above it.
Golden Sheep’s Wool
Grade: C?
The wool of a violent golden sheep. Carefully gathered from thorny brambles.
“…The fuck is this?”
It looked like a trash-tier item. But maybe that absurdity was what jolted him back to reason.
Given how random it was, there was a high chance Sung Cha-hyeon had left it. But what kind of threat was this? What the hell kind of warning comes in the form of wool?
As he turned the fluff over in his hand, a memory surfaced.
He’d seen something like this before—an unknown item appearing out of nowhere.
It was after he received his first Unclaimed Reward. During the report to Deputy Chief Jeong, an item had dropped from the pile of junk.
“Huh? Bread?”
Jeong’s confused voice rang in his ears again—clutching a rock-hard piece of black bread.
It was laughable, but a theory started to form.
Could these strange items showing up after rewards be…?
“This is the reward?”
He scoffed, almost laughed. It was so ridiculous it cleared his head. Drawing in a long breath, he set the golden wool down on the sink.
~Unclaimed Rewards List~
♦ …Clear Reward… (2/3)
Still pale, but with a stubborn gleam in his eyes, Cha-hyeon opened the updated reward list. A bit of mental space opened up—enough to think clearly again.
Fine. What’s done is done. He admitted it—he’d panicked, lied, and Se-min had seen through him. But it wasn’t over yet.
He’d talk to Se-min. Explain everything. If Se-min still loved him—if that blind, stupid devotion was still there—he’d understand. He’d forgive him.
Maybe this was even a chance. A chance to tell him: I don’t want Sung Cha-hyeon to come back.
If he could just defuse this moment, he could find a way to stop the final reward from triggering.
After all, this wasn’t a dungeon. No gate. No clear. It was a hotel room. Why the hell did he receive an Unclaimed Reward here? But again—what’s done is done. His resolve was still firm.
He wouldn’t let Sung Cha-hyeon come back.
There was still one reward slot left. Whatever caused this one to appear—he’d avoid it. Just don’t go into dungeons. Easy.
Sure, it could’ve been something else. But it’s not like that bullshit he once said—“I went to bed and woke up with the rewards filled”—would actually come true.
The fog in his mind cleared completely. Cha-hyeon stared at his reflection, steady now.
Yeah. I’ll make this work. I’m not losing Se-min. Even if it’s obsession—as long as it’s love, it counts. And I love him.
That’s when it hit.
“…Ghk!”
A sudden, unbearable pain stabbed into his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Gripping his torso, Cha-hyeon stumbled, his spine curving involuntarily.
His eyes bulged, pupils dilating from the sheer force of the pain.
“…Ugh—!”
It wasn’t just his heart. Somewhere deeper—his solar plexus—seared like it was being pierced with a burning iron rod. Not even a proper scream came out.
Thud. Thud. Thud!
His heart pounded like it was exploding in his chest. With every beat, the pain spread further. His knees buckled.
“Kkh… Haa—!”
He collapsed, hitting something hard. The crash rang out. He could smell blood. Something in the bathroom had broken, embedded in his body.
“…Hyung! Cha… hyeon… hyung!”
But even that wasn’t as painful as what was tearing through his chest. He kept gasping for air, choking. Someone rushed in, kneeling down to meet his gaze.
Bloodshot eyes looked up—Se-min. Even after everything, despite the disappointment, he was still terrified. Still worried. And in that moment… a thought bloomed, strange and foreign.
What the hell have I done to Se-min…?
The emotion didn’t even feel like his own. Like a new voice had slipped into his mind, bringing clarity with it.
What did I do to Se-min? To my baby?
I don’t remember everything, but… I can feel it. The feelings from those missing memories—they’re starting to come back.
And for some reason, his lies flashed through his mind. The ones he’d told so easily—recycled from Se-min’s own Mindscape—just to be enough for him.
“……!”
A surge of crushing guilt, more painful than any physical blow, ripped through his chest. And then—he collapsed, pitifully.
He thought he heard Se-min scream.
His eyes, laced with burst vessels, drifted down to the floor—to the golden tuft of wool.
A Clear Reward.
