The truth, spat out like something chewed up and spit out, was dark and sticky—like it had been burnt in place for years. The space between Se-min’s parted lips widened ever so slightly.
If he had to choose between the Cha-hyeon who remembered everything and the one who had lost his memories… he’d choose the Original Cha-hyeon?
“W-What are you even—”
Se-min flinched, instinctively rushing to deny it. That wasn’t him—not his answer. But before the words could leave his mouth—
“Ah… so the reason Se-min was so sad… was because I came back?”
“Poor thing.”
He had no idea why Cha-hyeon’s voice from some past conversation—quiet, almost regretful—suddenly echoed in his mind at that exact moment. In the end, Se-min shut his mouth.
It wasn’t because he wasn’t sure of his answer. It was because he realized that simple denial wouldn’t be enough—not for the Cha-hyeon sitting in front of him, not when his anxiety had been festering for so long. Words alone wouldn’t reach him.
But Cha-hyeon, once he’d begun to voice his doubts, couldn’t stop. His tone stayed calm, but every word was heavy with suspicion.
“You see me as a halfway point. A temporary phase. You keep projecting that version of Cha-hyeon you miss so much onto me. You think I’ll disappear someday.”
“Hyung…!”
The words hit harder than Se-min had expected. He shot to his feet, stunned.
A temporary phase? Someone destined to vanish?
He had never—not once—thought of the memoryless Cha-hyeon that way.
All he believed was that, once the Unclaimed Rewards were all retrieved, the missing memories would naturally return. The reason this Cha-hyeon seemed different from the warm, affectionate man he used to know was simply because—within those lost memories—he didn’t exist anymore. He’d become a stranger.
But to this Cha-hyeon, the Original had become someone entirely different.
Still seated, he looked up at Se-min—his wide eyes rimmed with white as if something were clawing its way out of him. For the first time, he laid bare the anxiety that had tormented him.
“I don’t think of that Sung Cha-hyeon as me. So then what? Once the memories come back, I’m just supposed to disappear? Am I just a placeholder? The thought of vanishing while your ‘real’ Cha-hyeon goes off to live happily ever after with you—it fucking burns me up. You really think I’d want those memories back?”
Se-min hadn’t even imagined this kind of fear existed inside him. His eyes widened further. The veins on the back of Cha-hyeon’s hand bulged as he gripped the blanket, knuckles taut.
The confession, once started, poured out like floodwater from a broken dam. Even though he knew Se-min would be hurt by it, Cha-hyeon couldn’t seem to stop. And maybe he wouldn’t have—if not for the unfamiliar voice inside him. A quiet, pleading emotion that didn’t quite feel like his own. Maybe a fragment of the Original Cha-hyeon still lingered, whispering:
Don’t scare Se-min any more than this. That’s enough.
His Adam’s apple bobbed violently. Then, trembling at the edges, he exhaled—and in a voice soaked in fear, he whispered:
“I don’t want to die.”
His breath shook at the end. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again—and muttered, in a voice so low it felt like a cry from deep inside:
“I don’t want to disappear.”
Silence fell.
Se-min’s pupils trembled in the stunned space between his parted lips.
Emotion after emotion crossed his face—shock, guilt, conflict. As he tried to piece together what Cha-hyeon must have been feeling all this time, a flicker of sympathy began to rise in his chest.
Cha-hyeon clenched his jaw. His voice dropped, biting and sharp—nearly sounding like a threat.
“So think carefully. If the memories come back, the guy who wakes up will have to live with the fact that he fucked his own brother. You think that bastard’s gonna stick around and keep this relationship going the way you want?”
But beneath the cutting tone, it was obvious—he was desperate. Terrified.
“You said you love me. You said you want to keep dating, to get married. You said I’m the same person as that other Cha-hyeon. If we’re the same, then… there’s no reason not to choose me.”
It was a plea, poured out like a last lifeline. Messy. Desperate. So sincere it hurt.
Se-min’s previously conflicted eyes now shimmered with something softer. Pity, perhaps. Cha-hyeon saw that look—and felt a mix of hope and something much worse.
“Choose me.”
Click. The grind of teeth gnashing together.
Se-min looked at him, a deep ache settling in his gaze. Cha-hyeon’s face, gaunt and shadowed beneath the eyes, carried a strange resemblance to the version of him that had briefly returned from the future—worn down and hopeless.
Looking up at Se-min with pleading eyes, Cha-hyeon suddenly hunched forward with a muffled groan. Despite the painkillers, the pain must’ve flared again—he clutched at his solar plexus, pressing down hard.
Watching all this, Se-min let out a long, heavy sigh. He saw Cha-hyeon’s shoulders flinch.
He sat down again, face weighed down by thought.
He didn’t even know where to start.
He’d known that Cha-hyeon saw the Original version as a stranger. But he hadn’t realized how deeply rooted that fear was—that he feared not jealousy, but obliteration.
That he truly believed recovering his memories would mean erasing himself.
He had thought the Unclaimed Rewards would simply restore his past—not kill who he was now.
“…I get it. I didn’t realize you felt that way. If I made you anxious… I’m sorry, hyung. I mean that.”
To Se-min, both Cha-hyeons were one and the same. But maybe, just a few hours ago—after meeting the version with full memories—something inside him had shifted.
Yes, they looked the same. But the man with his memories intact had felt distant, unfamiliar. There was a subtle, invisible line. It felt like he was with a twin—not his lover.
If even he could feel that much… how must Cha-hyeon have felt?
Se-min was beginning to understand. And he couldn’t shake the creeping thought that his own behavior might’ve fed into that fear.
Like when the first Unclaimed Reward briefly restored Cha-hyeon’s memory—only for it to fade. He’d fallen into such visible depression afterward. Hadn’t Cha-hyeon taken that as rejection?
Even though Se-min said they were the same, he kept hoping for the ‘real’ version to come back. And when he’d warned Cha-hyeon that dating him now would only lead to regret once the memories returned…
To someone who equated memory recovery with dying, how must that have sounded?
As the thoughts tangled inside him, Se-min let out a short breath—almost a laugh. He’d worried he was too soft on Cha-hyeon. Worried that even after learning he’d been lied to, he was too quick to understand, too eager to forgive.
But here he was—proving himself right.
His mouth tasted bitter.
He was still disappointed in Cha-hyeon. Deeply. But maybe… because he’d always seen him as a reliable older brother. Family. Someone to trust.
Or maybe… maybe the years they’d shared, the trust they’d built, the love—maybe that was what made it so easy to forgive. So easy to accept him again without a second thought.
He realized he was already prepared to do it. If Cha-hyeon just told the truth this time… then just this once, he could rebuild what was broken. Just once more, he’d offer his unconditional trust.
“…Hyung, or the Original Cha-hyeon—it’s always been the same to me. Because… you’re you.”
Cha-hyeon flinched, eyebrows twitching. But Se-min pressed on.
Just as Cha-hyeon had revealed his fears for the first time, Se-min now pulled out the truth he’d kept hidden deep inside.
“Losing your memories doesn’t change the fact that you’re my family. My protector. Honestly… at first, you felt like a stranger. Your personality, the way you talked, how you acted—it was all different from the Sung Cha-hyeon I knew.”
His voice dropped. His eyes wandered slowly across the room—the same hospital room where he’d first learned his long-time crush had forgotten everything.
A Rank-Changing Dungeon. A 7% survival rate. And complete memory loss.
“So in the beginning, I just wanted your memories to come back. …Because you felt so unfamiliar. You didn’t seem like my Cha-hyeon hyung.”
That was why, when they’d ended up doing close-contact guiding… and when Cha-hyeon had gone on live broadcast declaring they were dating… his first thought had been to clean up the mess.
Because one day, the memories would return—and Cha-hyeon would regret it all.
And watching that regret from up close… he couldn’t even imagine how painful that would be.
“But now… I think I’m scared too. I finally got to date the person I’ve loved for so long. We’re planning a future together, even talking about marriage. It all feels like a dream—and I’m terrified it’ll vanish the moment your memories come back.”
Maybe that’s why he so easily believed it—that Cha-hyeon had feelings for him even before losing his memories. That even when the memories returned, he would still love him.
Because Cha-hyeon himself had denied Se-min’s fears with such certainty.
Se-min slowly inhaled. Then, locking eyes with Cha-hyeon—who looked as if he might shatter any second—he spoke his final decision.
“If you don’t want to… you don’t have to get your memories back. Ever.”
“…What?”
The shock in Cha-hyeon’s voice was clear. Se-min let out a small, soft laugh.
Was it really that surprising? If he’d known Cha-hyeon was this scared… he would’ve said it much sooner.
If claiming all the Unclaimed Rewards felt like a death sentence—then it was okay. Even if he never got those memories back.
Yes, they wouldn’t be able to share the past. Only Se-min would remember. But the future—their future—was what mattered now.
“…Hyung, do you remember what I said when I proposed?”
The trembling moment when he’d offered his carefully prepared confession.
At the question, Cha-hyeon—still pale—nodded quietly.
“Loving Sung Cha-hyeon will always be my number one priority.”
Thinking back on that now, Se-min finally understood what had been hidden in Cha-hyeon’s reply:
“I’ll make it my top priority to ensure you never regret choosing me.”
“Hyung. Just answer me one thing. Be honest.”
Just one thing. Just one answer, spoken sincerely and truthfully.
If he could hear that, then Se-min felt he could let go of the disappointment. He could silence the doubts. Forget the betrayal. And believe in them—one more time.
“Did you love me?”
