Chapter 40: The Resident Inside the Mirror

Feeling much more composed than before, Yunhwan spoke carefully.

“I… think I should head back inside. I’m worried about Seonghye being left alone.”

Ever the responsible man, he wished to return to where he felt he belonged. Junseong nodded. As Yunhwan turned and hurried away, he stopped mid-stride and looked back at Junseong once more.

“Um, Junseong-ssi.” He hesitated. “There’s something I’m curious about…”

Junseong’s eyes followed him. After a moment of deliberation, Yunhwan asked with a look of resolve.

“When his memories return… what happens to the memories Seonghye has right now?”

A peculiar expression flickered across Junseong’s face—a momentary flash of bewilderment.

“Ah…”

Junseong’s lips parted slowly. It was an unexpected question. Yet, rather than being unfamiliar, a subtle sense of déjà vu pricked at his ears. It was the echo of Seonghye’s voice he had briefly forgotten.

‘If I find my memories, what happens to the ones I have now?’ ‘If they don’t merge…’ ‘They might not merge.’

What a coincidence that both men would ask nearly the same thing. A shadow of unease crossed Junseong’s eyes before returning to normal a few seconds later.

He looked at Yunhwan. Standing against the backdrop of the old house and the gentle rural landscape, the man seemed to be waiting intently for an answer.

Junseong cleared his throat and replied in a casual tone.

“The… current memories will likely remain without much issue.”

“…….”

“Though there are rare exceptions…”

He glanced at Yunhwan. The serious expression on the man’s face as he focused on the answer was telling. Had they grown fond of each other during their time together? Junseong scanned Yunhwan’s face. He still believed there was a deeper history between them, but in this moment, Yunhwan’s expression was anchored in the present. To Junseong, the person Yunhwan cared about was the Min Seonghye living today.

To reassure the man who was trying so hard to hide his tension, Junseong pointed to his own head. He chuckled and tapped his temple.

“You know, right? His ‘equipment’ up here is exceptionally sturdy.”

“…Pardon?”

Yunhwan looked confused, but Junseong continued to ramble regardless.

“Think about it. He tumbled down a mountain and went through an accidental imprint overnight, yet he survived like that. This brain of his… it’s not the brain of an ordinary person.”

“That, that’s…”

“You said when his memory came back earlier, he even knew about the imprint.”

“Ah…”

Finally, a bit of relief spread across Yunhwan’s anxious face. After a brief pause, he gave Junseong a polite bow and headed back.

Junseong watched him go, and once he was alone in the yard, he collapsed onto the ground. Not just sitting—his body flopped backward like a paper doll.

“The current memories will disappear?”

Even with the sky full of stars pouring into his eyes, he didn’t look happy.

“Disappear, my ass… I’m going crazy because I’ve got one extra person to deal with now.”

While Yunhwan had looked relieved by the answer, Junseong stared up at the sky with a face sharper and grimmer than before.

Seonghye’s memories would not disappear. No—it wasn’t even a matter of memories vanishing or returning.

Min Seonghye hadn’t simply lost his memory. After the accident in the mountains, a “new personality” had simply been born.

Eleven years ago, at the summons of Chairman Min, Seonghye’s father, a professor renowned as the top authority in domestic psychiatry, visited the house in Seongbuk-dong. After staying confined there for a full week, he issued a diagnosis for the Chairman’s youngest son before leaving.

“Multiple Personalities.”

Otherwise known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).

The existence of two or more distinct identities within one person, each influencing their behavior. It is usually triggered by childhood trauma or severe psychological shock during development. However, the Chairman and Seonghye’s inner circle hadn’t noticed his condition early on.

Well, the brat was exceptionally cunning, after all. A look of exhaustion washed over Junseong as he thought of the “other” personality that had coexisted with Seonghye for a long time.

Seonghye’s personality had split so gradually from one into two that it was nearly impossible to find a single clue or anomaly. They had even established their own rules and methods of coexistence.

The “Original Self,” the master of the house—and the “Other Self,” a completely different character who appeared only at night.

Two personalities split from one body. Until Seonghye came down to Sanghee-ri, Junseong had never forgotten this fact whenever he dealt with him.

Furthermore, with his pheromones being unstable to the point of needing stabilizers every month, Seonghye was a walking time bomb in Junseong’s eyes. A man who wouldn’t be surprising if he exploded at any moment. He had surpassed his limits long ago; he was the type of man where a single drop of water on his surface could trigger the worst possible scenario.

The team of doctors assembled by Chairman Min had attempted to treat him over a long period, but they were met with failure every time.

Thus, the current consensus was to simply “maintain” him—keeping him functioning as a human being as much as possible through therapy and medication.

At least, that was the plan for the man who inflicted fatal wounds upon himself just by existing—until a new anomaly was discovered.

Six Months Ago, Seoul.

The snow that had poured all night stopped, replaced by a bitter cold. As if by plan, a gloomy and somber atmosphere settled over the streets.

Looking down from between the blinds, Junseong’s eyes were unusually sunken. Weather, being a fickle phenomenon closely tied to human mood, was something he monitored carefully on consultation days. On days like today, where temperature, humidity, and wind changed drastically, he became even busier.

“Ugh, it’s freezing.”

Junseong turned away from the window and nudged the heater higher. Unlike the freezing winds outside, the room was already stiflingly warm, but he said nothing as he took off his cardigan. Just as he reached for the teapot he had prepared…

“That’s your third cup already.”

The man sitting across from him spoke. “And you’re being distracting. Sit down.”

The man’s habit of short, clear speech remained consistent regardless of time or place. His hands, which had been interlaced on his lap, reached out and flipped over a teacup. As the inverted cup sat like a small mound, Junseong sheepishly took his seat.

The man stared forward with a bored, uninspired expression. Years ago, he had started using his facial muscles as little as possible. While this forced others to submit to his sharp, cold gaze, in reality, it was a defense mechanism chosen to hide his boiling interior.

He was killing his own senses. He had discarded his emotions long ago.

The reason? To prevent anything “new” from being born.

“The medicine I asked for before.”

For the man who chose spiritual death for the sake of physical survival, the target he wanted to “kill” had recently become very clear.

Before handing over the pill bottle he had prepared, Junseong asked, “Min Seonghye, I told you last time—don’t you have any intention of organizing your personalities through treatment?”

In that moment, the man’s previously indifferent eyes began to bubble and boil. His bloodshot eyes poured out emotions he had kept tightly locked away.

It was pure rage.

“Treatment?”

Seonghye’s eyebrows angled upward fiercely. His tightly shut lips parted to let a chilling voice escape. His face, as he suppressed the urge to scream about ‘that goddamn bastard,’ was the most terrifying it had been in years.

“I beat the shit out of Min Dong-wook.”

“…….”

“With a golf club.”

The hand Junseong used to write the consultation notes froze in place. Belated horror flickered in his eyes.

“Why? Why?”

Seonghye instantly wiped the emotion from his face, whispering coldly.

“It’s easy to guess. Min Dong-wook’s repertoire is predictable. He probably brought up my dead mother in front of ‘Min Seonghye.’ He looks fine on the outside, but he’s an insecure man who’s been divorced three times—his bloodline is the only thing he has to brag about.”

Seonghye closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead. He was used to his half-brother’s hostility. The love Min Dong-wook never received from their father had manifested into a twisted desire for validation, which had soured into hatred, resentment, and threats toward his younger brother.

Furthermore, with the next successor to Seoil Group still undecided, his impatience grew with each passing year.

“It seems Chief Choi managed to cover it up, but the rumors have already spread. It’s a massive headache.”

People cheer and go wild for scandalous rumors. When the destructive nature of Min Seonghye—who had been perfectly shielded under the shadow of the great tree that was Chairman Min for decades—was revealed, the vultures swarmed. Since it happened at a golf course, it was impossible to keep every mouth shut.