Ranker User Manual 23

Chapter 23

Han Jaemin was still looking down at me, that mocking grin plastered on his face. Even through my fear, I couldn’t help but think how perfectly he fit the role of the villain from the original story—just as filthy and detestable as Yu Chanhee himself. This world really was disgustingly faithful to its source material.

“How the hell are you so identical?”

“……I’ve been losing my memory in patches.”

Even to me, it sounded like a flimsy excuse. Han Jaemin and the middle-aged man seemed to agree. Han Jaemin sneered.

“Oh, did you get a terminal diagnosis? Or maybe you fell in love with some poor girl?”

“Not joking around.”

“Even if you were, it sounds like some cliché drama.”

Han Jaemin pressed his foot down harder, as if he’d decided I wasn’t worth listening to anymore. My windpipe constricted, cutting off my breath. I gasped, eyes wide. I had to turn this situation around somehow. Desperately, I scrambled through the tangled threads of the original story in my mind, but nothing came together the way I needed it to.

“……Yu Dohyun……”

I decided to gamble. The moment I mentioned Dohyun’s name, Han Jaemin’s pressure eased slightly.

“We agreed to summon him, didn’t we?”

Han Jaemin stared at me, his gaze sharp and probing. I met his eyes and finished my thought.

“That’s why you gave me that book.”

“……How do you know?”

“Because I’m Yu Chanhee.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“If I die… your organization won’t function properly.”

Han Jaemin let out a small, derisive laugh before bursting into full-blown laughter. His foot, which had been pressing down on me, finally retreated. I clutched my throat, where the sole of his shoe had scraped the skin raw, and gasped for air. Han Jaemin offered me his hand. Hesitantly, I took it and pulled myself up. Pain shot through my still-healing leg, and for a second, the world spun. But I couldn’t afford to show weakness—not when another attack could come at any moment.

“You’ve got the attitude and the dumb sparkle in your eyes. Guess you really are Chanhee. Right, Uncle?”

The middle-aged man and Han Jaemin seemed close, like uncle and nephew—or maybe they actually were. But in the original story, there was never any mention of Han Jaemin’s uncle or even his parents. I assumed the man was one of his trusted lieutenants. The “uncle” just kept eyeing me with suspicion, saying nothing.

“For now, let him go.”

At the uncle’s words, Han Jaemin hesitated before nodding. I slowly made my way toward the door. All I wanted was to get out of here.

“Not so fast.”

Han Jaemin’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“How about we call him to pick you up?”

I immediately knew who “him” referred to. Han Jaemin walked past me and leaned against the wall by the door, then jerked his chin toward my jacket pocket.

“Phone.”

I hesitated before reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. In my contacts, Yu Hyunjae’s name was saved in three cold, emotionless characters. So he had kept my number, at least. I stalled as long as I could, my finger hovering over the call button.

“Not calling?”

I couldn’t figure out Han Jaemin’s intentions. In the original story, Hyunjae only found out about Han Jaemin’s existence after Chanhee’s death. His vow of revenge came after learning that Han Jaemin was pulling the strings behind the scenes. Before that, Hyunjae had been so powerless that no one paid him much attention. Had something changed between Hyunjae and Han Jaemin without my knowledge? But the odds of Hyunjae—who was already at odds with me for some unknown reason—forming any kind of relationship with Han Jaemin were slim to none. I stalled further, asking a question to buy time.

“What’s the point of calling him?”

“What, you think I’m gonna do something? Just tell him to come pick you up. You’re scared to walk home alone at night, right?”

Han Jaemin’s absurd reasoning did nothing to ease my suspicion. His eyes stayed fixed on my hand, still clutching the phone. I weighed the memory of last night’s icy glare from Hyunjae against the cold calculation in Han Jaemin’s gaze. Which would hurt more? The physical violence that could kill me, or the soul-crushing agony of being abandoned? The answer was simple. I hurled the phone to the floor. It skidded across the room with a dull thud.

“I’m not calling.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

I met Han Jaemin’s gaze defiantly, as if daring him to do his worst. He exaggerated a sigh and rubbed his chin.

“Then how am I supposed to trust you’re really Chanhee?”

“……What changes if I call him?”

“Hmm.”

“He hates me so much he wouldn’t come even if I did.”

The words cut deep, even as I said them. I clenched my jaw to keep my face from crumpling. Han Jaemin could attack me at any moment, and I wouldn’t have blamed him. The silence stretched, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my fists.

Then, the phone in the corner of the room started ringing. Through the cracked screen, the word <Father> glared up at me. I glanced at Han Jaemin and the middle-aged man before slowly stepping toward the phone.

—Where are you?

I answered calmly.

“I’m just meeting up with Suhyun for a bit.”

My father was silent for a long moment before telling me to come home immediately and hanging up. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at Han Jaemin. He was wearing an oddly conflicted expression.

“You’re too convincing.”

I seized the opportunity to play it cool.

“Because it’s true.”

Han Jaemin ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“If I don’t go in, my father might find out about you guys…”

He lifted his head, his messy hair framing eyes that gleamed as he looked at me with something like annoyance. I’d thought it before, but his expression really was disgustingly sharp.

“You’re born to piss people off.”

Han Jaemin seemed to share the sentiment. He muttered in irritation before finally stepping aside.

“Uncle, give this kid a ride home.”

The man silently picked up the car keys from the table and walked over. I finally stepped out of the room and into the office. Only when I was in the car did the tension drain from my body.

“You know where my house is, right?”

“……”

“My dad’s been really worried since I got hurt. Please hurry.”

Ah, Yu Chanhee. I was so good at playing the spoiled brat. Or maybe I always had been.

***

The moment I got home, I showed my face to my father and collapsed onto my bed. Then, I slowly began to replay the day’s events in my mind. Even though I was safe now, my heart pounded as I recalled everything that had happened.

Hyunjae was wary of me. I was already in cahoots with Han Jaemin. And Cha Suhyun was somehow involved in all of this.

I tried to deny the conclusion my thoughts kept circling toward, but I forced myself to sit up, shaking off the creeping despair with exaggerated movements.

“Get a grip, Chanhee.”

No matter the situation, adapting and surviving was what I did best. I decided to take a shower and stood up, opening the bathroom door. A faint, familiar scent wafted from the small powder room between the bathroom and the door—fresh yet warm, just like him. The scent that had once been so comforting and dear. I stood there for a long time, breathing it in.

***

The next morning, I went straight downstairs and announced to my parents that I’d be returning to school starting today. They didn’t object, but they both looked worried—my mother, as usual, but my father’s concern was unusual. He rarely showed such expressions, and it made me uneasy. Normally, he would have just arranged for a separate driver to take me to school, but this time, he insisted on driving me himself. His tone and actions were the same as always, but there was something subtly different, something closer. All I could manage was an awkward “thank you.”

I went to school for Hyunjae.

The moment I stepped into the classroom, I saw exactly what I’d expected: Hyunjae’s desk, isolated in a way that screamed outcast. A group of kids chatting nearby greeted me brightly. Their naive cheerfulness felt cruelly out of place.

“Chanhee!”

I recognized the three rushing toward me. In my previous life, they’d been the ones leading the charge to torment Hyunjae.

“Your leg okay?”

“Yunjae said you fell down the stairs?”

Ah. So the story was that I’d fallen down the stairs. I nodded vaguely and scanned the classroom. Fortunately, the school’s setup didn’t seem too different from my last life. Whether that was good or bad, I wasn’t sure. I walked slowly to my seat, the trio following behind me. Casually, I asked,

“……Where’s Hyunjae?”

“Oh, him.”

Sujung glanced at Hyunjae’s desk.

“He’s been coming in right before class starts lately.”

“Probably working out or something. He’s been sweating like crazy.”

“You think he’s trying to get strong enough to fight back at us?”

“Even if he does, he’s still useless.”

Working out. Getting stronger. The words confirmed what I’d suspected: Hyunjae was already training in martial arts. Just as I’d feared yesterday, he was behaving differently from how he had in my past life. The conclusion I’d been avoiding kept slotting into place, and my head throbbed. I had to face it, to accept it.

Hyunjae. Cha Suhyun. Han Jaemin.

They were all moving in perfect alignment with the original story—too perfectly.