Chapter 12
<Character ‘Yu Hyunjae’ intervention complete! The story will proceed.>
I pretended not to notice the text appearing next to Hyunjae’s face, keeping my expression indifferent. Even if Hyunjae remembered the past, he wouldn’t be able to understand all these phenomena. Even now, I sometimes wonder if I’m losing my mind.
“Okay.”
“……”
“…I’ll wait.”
Hyunjae smiled more brightly than he had in this entire lifetime. It felt unfamiliar—it had been so long since I’d seen that expression. When Hyunjae smiled, the corners of his eyes drooped slightly, giving him a gentle look. I used to think he looked like a puppy and would often pat his head.
But now I couldn’t pat Hyunjae’s head. The mere fact that Hyunjae was remembering something couldn’t bridge the gap between us yet. No matter how much I tried to deny it, we were the only weights sitting on opposite ends of a scale. When one side goes up, the other must come down. For one side to be happy, the other must be unhappy. And the world was trying to make me bear that unhappiness. For us to understand each other would ultimately be a deception, a kind of unwanted interference.
“Tell me right away if you remember anything.”
But, for the last time.
Really, just this once—for the very last time.
I decided to grasp at the thread of hope I’d been ignoring for years.
I found myself staring blankly at the blackboard more often. The lessons wouldn’t sink in at all. All day, all I could think about was when Hyunjae’s memories would return. I even stopped going through the motions of bullying Hyunjae. After this damned game updated, my freedom was guaranteed without having to act like the ‘original’ Yu Chanhee.
A few days had passed since that conversation with Hyunjae. I was moving to a specialized class, half-listening to the chatter of the kids next to me. Hyunjae was in a different class—he was learning potion-making, a field that anyone could participate in without particularly strong powers. As soon as class started, the teacher turned off the lights and played a presentation. The kids who had expected hands-on training voiced their disappointment loudly, but the video continued playing regardless. A familiar face appeared on the screen.
“That’s your father, right, Chanhee?”
A kid excitedly poked my side. I don’t understand why he’s so proud when it’s not even his own father. On the screen, my father was briefly explaining the definition and characteristics of Shielders. “If the role of Hunters is to directly enter Gates and engage in combat, the role of Shielders is to isolate Gates from ordinary citizens and further defend the nation itself.” Perhaps because it was recorded quite some time ago, my father looked younger. Following a few more explanations, the security department of the Combat Division appeared on screen.
“The area within a 1km radius of where a Gate is generated becomes a special isolation zone for the time being. Shielders are deployed in these special isolation zones to ensure the safety of citizens.”
My father in the video was giving instructions here and there with an awkward expression, like a rehearsed performance. As the video progressed toward the end, the kids’ attention noticeably dropped. The kid who had poked my side earlier whispered to me again.
“Your father is really cool.”
“…Hmm. You think so?”
“Of course. Honestly, I was really torn between becoming a Hunter or a Shielder.”
The kid suddenly started saying something weird.
“It would be really amazing if I could do both like your father.”
“Both?”
“Yeah. He was originally a Hunter.”
I briefly rolled my eyes before mumbling a response. I could feel the kid giving me a strange look, but I didn’t care. Something else was bothering me. The fact that my father had done both jobs simultaneously. Of course, it was entirely possible, but if such a ‘special setting’ existed, I—someone who knew the original work—wouldn’t have missed it. Was it because he wasn’t an important character?
Changing one’s attributes or holding dual positions was incredibly difficult. Each power grew according to its own aptitude. The biggest example was Yu Chanhee, who suffered greatly after switching from Shielder to Hunter due to incompatible attributes. In the end, he couldn’t overcome it and died after going berserk. This was also why it became such a huge issue in the latter half when Hyunjae learned to master Hunter, Shielder, and production skills all by himself.
Above all, what seemed strangest was that I hadn’t known this fact for nearly fifteen years. I decided to confirm it directly with my father when I got home and refocused on the video.
As soon as I returned home, I went to my father’s room. Though it was well past the time he usually got back from work, my father wasn’t there. After a moment’s hesitation, I walked toward his desk. I was suspicious that there might be something there. On my father’s desk were several neatly arranged documents, books, and a few fountain pens. All the books were works authored by my father himself. Introduction to Defense Studies. The Individual Principles of Moving Spaces. They looked boring just from their titles.
“Who taught you the habit of searching your father’s desk without permission?”
Startled by the sharp voice, I whirled around to find my father standing in the doorway, still in his coat. I hastily backed away and bowed my head.
“I’m sorry. I came because I had something to ask and…”
Instead of answering, my father took off his coat and hung it on the chair. A cold air—either brought in from outside or emanating from my father himself—wrapped around my feet. I curled my toes.
“I heard at school today that you were a Hunter before.”
My father paused in the middle of removing his watch.
“And?”
“I didn’t know about it, so I just…”
“What is it you want to know?”
I hesitated before answering.
“I want to do both too.”
My father’s eyes flashed. Without another word, he set his watch down on the desk, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up a book.
“Why do you want to?”
Swallowing my real answer—that having both attributes might prevent me from going berserk and dying later—I made up an excuse.
“Because I want to become an outstanding talent.”
My father stared at me for a long time. It wasn’t easy to withstand his cold gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. After a long silence, my father answered simply.
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
The retort slipped out before I could stop it.
“Were you even paying attention in class? Humans cannot possess more than one attribute.”
“But you did, so I thought I could too…”
“I did?”
I closed my mouth. My father’s voice had clearly turned irritated.
“Get this straight. I am a Shielder.”
“……”
“Not a Hunter or anything of the sort.”
Unable to continue the conversation, I was kicked out. I trudged up to my room. Hyunjae was sitting on the sofa in the second-floor living room, dressed casually. Perhaps puberty had skipped him entirely, because even without nice clothes, Hyunjae’s face was radiant.
“Chanhee.”
I silently looked at Hyunjae. A strange excitement was evident in his expression. How many different expressions would I see from this guy over the next few days?
“I remembered.”
“What?”
Hyunjae couldn’t hide the joy in his voice. Seeing how excited he was, it seemed like he’d recalled something significant, but no matter how much I thought about it, there weren’t any episodes in our past worth getting that excited over. At least not in the last seven or so lifetimes.
“This!”
Hyunjae held out a small, neatly folded piece of paper. I took it with a dubious expression.
“You liked letters, right? I wrote it myself.”
I looked at Hyunjae with disbelief.
“No.”
“Huh…?”
Hyunjae’s mouth fell open slightly, as if that couldn’t be right.
“I clearly remember giving you a letter…”
You did give me one. But it’s probably better not to mention that I never read it and just stuffed it away somewhere.
“You did give me one.”
“Ah, I knew it!”
“But I didn’t like it.”
With just one sentence from me, his excitement rose and fell like a rollercoaster. I thought for the first time in a long while that Hyunjae seemed to have invisible animal ears on top of his head.
“Still, please read it…”
“What, this? Does it actually have anything written in it?”
“Yes. I spent all day at school writing it.”
When I tried to unfold it right there, Hyunjae hurriedly stopped me with both hands.
“No, read it alone in your room.”
“…Fine, I will.”
After our conversation ended, we stood facing each other somewhat awkwardly. Realizing this was the first time we’d spoken so amicably since our first life, the situation felt even more embarrassing.
“Um, Chanhee.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Hyunjae spoke first. I answered as if I’d been waiting for it.
“Were we close during the time I’d forgotten?”
This time I couldn’t answer. It felt strange to say we were close, and equally strange to say we weren’t.
“What do you think it was like?”
“Um…”
Hyunjae pondered briefly. Unlike me, his deliberation didn’t take long.
“I think I liked you quite a bit.”
“……”
“Not just quite a bit—a lot.”
I keep remembering emotions rather than actual situations. All I can think is that everything was good.
As Hyunjae continued speaking, I tried slowly to process the situation. Heat gradually rose from my toes. By the time it reached my chest, my heart was beating so fast it was affecting my breathing. I struggled so hard to make you hate me, and yet you…
