Chapter 27
Kim Guhyeon suddenly turned to me, his gaze oddly probing, before placing a hand on my shoulder. I jerked away as if burned, recoiling from his touch. His expression hardened for a split second. Desperately, I looked at Yu Hyunjae, hoping—just once—that he might remember even a fragment of our past life. But Hyunjae’s face remained cold, indifferent, as if he were deliberately shutting me out. I wanted to grab his shoulders and scream, You tried to kill us both—twice—and you succeeded! But the words died in my throat.
“Chanhee, are you alright?”
I didn’t answer. I just stared blankly at Kim Guhyeon.
“…I’m sorry.”
The apology scraped past my stiff lips. “I… I must have confused you with someone else.”
Kim Guhyeon tilted his head, puzzled, but soon resumed his introduction of the second floor. He mostly addressed me, but after my reaction, he occasionally directed his words toward Hyunjae instead. I hung back, watching them both intently.
Kim Guhyeon and Yu Hyunjae. My father and Kim Guhyeon. Where had this twisted connection even begun?
In the lounge next to the memorial space, a few employees were gathered for tea. They wore semi-formal suits and badges, looking like any other civil servants. As Kim Guhyeon entered, they stood and greeted him lightly. “Hello, Chief.” He acknowledged them with easy familiarity.
“The two behind me are—”
“Ah. The Director’s children. Say hello.”
The forced politeness from people old enough to be my parents made my skin crawl. Hyunjae seemed just as uncomfortable.
“You both look so tall and handsome, just like the Director.”
One of the men, clearly the chatty type, grinned. The woman beside him elbowed him sharply. “Ow.” Hyunjae, unfazed, replied quietly to the man’s oblivious remark.
“I’m not… the Director’s son…”
The man finally caught on and paled. No one in this building could be unaware of the “guest” living off the Yu family’s charity.
“Well, anyway, you both are so handsome.”
His attempt to recover fell flat. I forced a stiff smile and bowed my head. The employees slowly drifted away, coffee in hand. We lingered in the lounge for a moment before moving toward the elevator.
“Floors 4 to 6 are the Combat Bureau, and floors 7 to 8 are the Security Bureau.”
Kim Guhyeon pointed to the layout inside the elevator. I studied it carefully. The 9th floor was labeled “Management Department.” Noticing my interest, he smiled.
“I suppose the 9th floor is what interests you the most?”
“What’s there?”
“The Management Department oversees the condition of all Rankers nationwide.”
Hyunjae’s gaze flicked toward the 9th-floor label.
“They handle annual events like the Selection Test.”
Just then, the elevator doors slid open on the 9th floor. Beyond them stretched a gray, sterile space—indistinguishable from any other corporate floor.
“The Management Department is closed one month before the Selection Test.”
One month before the Selection Test. That was tomorrow.
“Perfect timing.”
“Indeed.”
Kim Guhyeon’s tone was light, almost amused by my sarcasm. No matter how close he was to my father, my father would never discuss family matters with outsiders. In his eyes, I was probably just a spoiled brat—privileged, warped, and ungrateful.
We walked deeper into the Management Department. From the opposite direction, two figures approached side by side. The backlight blurred their features, and I only recognized them when they were almost upon us.
My father and Cha Hyerin. The Directors of the Combat Bureau and Security Bureau, standing together in the Management Department.
“Oh my, Chanhee!”
Cha Hyerin’s surprised voice cut through the silence. I gave her a stiff bow—this woman who was both a stranger and something more. She smiled warmly and patted my head.
“How did you end up here?”
“Father told me—”
“I asked him to come for a moment because of some business.”
My father cut me off. I clenched my jaw and stared at the floor. After a beat of silence, we fell into step with them, heading back to the elevator. Our destination: the Director’s office on the 10th floor. The floor was split—Cha Hyerin’s office to the left of the elevator, my father’s to the right. As the secretaries stood to greet us, Cha Hyerin returned their smiles with cheerful ease.
We entered my father’s office. It was about the same size as the meeting room in Crush—the one I’d visited with Han Jaemin.
“Is this your first time visiting Director Yu’s workplace, Chanhee?”
“Yes.”
“Your father is so strict about separating work and personal life.”
Cha Hyerin settled onto the sofa, her smile never wavering. The secretaries brought in tea, and my father and Kim Guhyeon launched into trivial work discussions. My eyes wandered the room, landing on a framed photo and a vase of flowers in the corner. The photo, as expected, was of Yu Dohyun. Cha Hyerin noticed my gaze and lowered her voice, soft and gentle.
“Director Yu still sometimes stands in front of that photo for a long time.”
I gave her an awkward nod. I wasn’t interested in the slightest. My attention was fixed on Yu Hyunjae, sitting to my left. He stared blankly at his untouched tea, completely detached from the conversation.
“Do you want to go see it for a moment?”
I wanted to refuse. This was a scene I never wanted to witness. But—
“I—”
“Chanhee.”
Cha Hyerin’s voice was faint, as if she already knew everything.
“I know it’s still hard for you.”
I bit back a bitter laugh and dropped my gaze. She stood and moved closer, deliberately turning her back to Hyunjae. As I looked past her, I realized that ever since we’d arrived on the 9th floor, Hyunjae had been treated as if he were invisible.
“It must be so painful, losing your brother so unjustly.”
To them, the cause of Dohyun’s death was Hyunjae. The root of all evil—the one who led to the hero’s downfall—wasn’t me. It was him.
In the end, Cha Hyerin led me by the hand to stand before Dohyun’s photo. Looking at his face made my stomach twist. His features were always blurry, slipping from my memory the moment I looked away. I tore my eyes from the photo and focused on the flowers instead. I didn’t return to the table. In this suffocating moment, I couldn’t bear to look at Hyunjae’s face.
That’s when it hit.
A searing pain lanced through my skull, as if an invisible force were crushing my bones, threatening to split my head open. I hadn’t felt anything like this since I first entered “Yu Chanhee’s” body. Nausea surged, and I dropped to my knees, both hands clamped over my mouth. I heard the rush of footsteps, the gasps of surprise. Through half-lidded eyes, I looked up at the faces staring down at me—my father, Cha Hyerin, Kim Guhyeon. And, standing furthest back, Yu Hyunjae.
I locked eyes with him and whispered, “Save me.”
Then, my vision flickered. I didn’t lose consciousness—not yet. Foreign memories flooded my mind, but they weren’t memories. They were fragments: Hyunjae smiling at me, reaching for me, pulling me close, kissing me—scenes I’d only ever glimpsed in dreams. I stretched out my fingers, as if I could grasp the illusion. For a fleeting second, my fingertips seemed to brush against someone’s hair.
Then, the system’s mechanical noise roared in my ears, and everything went black.
