Chapter 34: The Return of the Beast

The worried glances Yunhwan sent his way were no longer a comfort to Seonghye. What Min Seonghye needed was affection, not sympathy. Yet it seemed the only person capable of giving him that affection was constantly preparing to send him away the moment he returned to “normal.”

Come to think of it, he had never received an answer.

“…….”

His gaze deepened as he imagined Yunhwan on the other side of the door.

Even when this treatment is over, can you really not stay by my side?

Seonghye was aware that Yunhwan had been confused by his “new” identity in the early days of their living arrangement. Anyone would have been bewildered by the discrepancy in his speech and behavior. But regardless, the person existing here was him: the Min Seonghye who had lost his memory.

The one breathing in front of Yunhwan, the one constantly able to touch him, was undeniably the self that existed in this reality. Every time he reminded himself of that fact, his fractured psyche felt a surge of exhilaration.

Slowly lowering his head, Seonghye reached for the doorknob. His fingers curled like talons, looking as if they might fling the door open at any second, but they only grazed the smooth surface before returning to his side.

Instead, Seonghye turned back to his own bed.

He still had work to do. He opened his laptop, the USB drive from Kim Hyeon-su gripped in his left hand. The moment he saw the drive, he knew instinctively: this wasn’t just a record of a person’s life trajectory.

He narrowed his eyes at the glowing screen.

“…Because I’m going to stay with you forever.”

The cold voice slipping through his lips held not a shred of doubt. In the small space of his room, pheromones had accumulated to such a dense degree that it wouldn’t have been strange if they ignited.

As the USB was plugged in, Seonghye’s pupils turned even darker. Countless files brushed past his fingertips with every movement, but he was looking for one thing in particular.

Finally, his hand stopped.

[2019. Kwon Yunhwan.]

He took a sharp breath as he finally found the file he wanted. His fingertips trembled slightly.

“…….”

It had all started with the phone found at the bottom of his carrier. The device—undoubtedly his—had no password, making it easy to access. The traces left inside were a mess. Even just browsing through it, the crude language and scattered, vast amounts of information grated on his already sensitive nerves.

Then, his gaze had stopped on a message exchange between the “past” Min Seonghye and someone else. That someone was Kim Hyeon-su, and the two had been in contact for three years. Among the mostly short-lived messages, Hyeon-su was the only one with a long-term connection. Seonghye had slowly immersed himself in their history from the very beginning.

And when he realized the recent topic of their conversation was Yunhwan, his brain began to piece together the information from the last three years. The fine mesh of his mind filtered out the noise and left one crucial fact.

For three years, he had been desperately searching for someone. And just before he found them, he had been forced into hiding here in Sanghee-ri…

“…….”

As the sharp cursor clicked the file, a chaotic mix of documents and photos flooded the screen. His pupils, hidden under heavy shadows, began to devour the data like a predator discovering its prey.

Night fell, bringing a heavy silence back to the village. The diligent folk who had to prepare for tomorrow had long since gone to sleep. Most houses were dark, but one remained lit deep into the night: Yunhwan’s house.

Inside his room, the light was as bright as day, but Yunhwan’s eyelids were stubbornly shut. Tomorrow was the day of Seonghye’s treatment. Junseong had mentioned it would be a longer session than usual, suggesting that important discussions were on the horizon.

“…….”

I need to fall asleep.

“…!”

Just then, a mysterious noise drifted from outside his room. Yunhwan threw off the covers and sat up. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

For tens of minutes, he had stayed awake, listening to faint sounds he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t on edge. As the noise grew louder, his anxiety swelled in proportion. If the sound had come from outside, he could have blamed it on a water deer or a cat, but it was clearly coming from inside the house—specifically, from Seonghye’s room across the hall.

“Did something happen…?”

He debated just checking on him. He laughed hollowly as his hand touched the doorknob. He was acting exactly as he did when he first took Seonghye in—constantly fretting. The only difference now was the relief of knowing Seonghye wouldn’t run away on his own.

Crossing the dark living room, Yunhwan stopped in front of Seonghye’s door and cleared his throat.

“Seonghye-ya.”

No answer. Panic began to set in.

“Seonghye-ya, Min Seonghye. Is something wrong? Can’t you sleep?”

Yunhwan’s eyebrows twitched. He paced in front of the door, grabbing and releasing the handle, but no voice came from the other side.

If he’s sick again like last time…

His face went pale at the thought.

“I’m coming in.”

Bolstering his courage, Yunhwan took a deep breath. He opened the door and looked inside. The room was as dark as the living room, without even a lamp turned on.

It was deathly quiet, as if the previous noise had been a lie. Yunhwan exhaled in relief and stepped inside. As he moved further in, he saw a faint presence on the floor by the bed. It was a laptop. He leaned down to pick it up and noticed the USB drive lying next to it. He tilted his head in confusion.

Then, a low voice spoke from behind him.

“That’s mine.”

Yunhwan spun around. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Seonghye leaning against the headboard, watching him with a heavy, serious expression.

Their eyes met—one pair a heavy obsidian, the other a vivid, startled light brown. Seonghye’s face contorted.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“…….”

The tone was sharp—not the Seonghye he knew. It was a blunt, husky voice devoid of any gentleness. The laptop slipped in Yunhwan’s grip, making a metallic scraping sound.

“…Ah, that…”

Yunhwan was too stunned to speak. In the darkness, Seonghye stared intensely at him before letting out a low snort. He unlaced his fingers from behind his head and swung his legs out of bed.

“Kwon Yunhwan. Long time no see.”

The laptop slipped from Yunhwan’s hands again. Seonghye deftly caught it before it hit the floor and clicked his tongue.

“Yunhwan-ah, I know you’re shocked, but you should at least answer a greeting. Did you already forget that I almost died saving you?”

“…Y-you.”

Yunhwan’s voice came out in intermittent gasps. Seonghye gave a hollow laugh and tossed the laptop onto the bed. The glow from the screen vanished, plunging them back into darkness.

“I’m the one who saved you, but you’ve gone and set up house with another guy.”

There was palpable anger in the rasp of Seonghye’s voice. He reached out with a rough hand and yanked Yunhwan toward him by the waist. Yunhwan instinctively tried to plant his feet, but his efforts were useless against that crushing grip.

Something was terribly wrong. The heat of the breath against his skin made Yunhwan’s skin crawl. Even without seeing his face clearly, he knew.

“Why? Have you already grown fond of him? Sad to part ways with that version of me?”

“…….”

“This isn’t some f***ing cheap third-rate drama.”

The original Seonghye was back. The one who had regained his memories had finally opened his eyes to the world again.

“M-Min Seonghye…”

“Yeah, I’m Min Seonghye. But I guess I’m not the Min Seonghye you’re looking for?”

Seonghye read Yunhwan’s thoughts instantly. Yunhwan’s pupils, shaking like a buoy on a wave, couldn’t deny it. He was utterly bewildered—facing the man who had regained his memories, he had unconsciously been searching for the version of him that was now gone.