Chapter 284

Chapter 284

Cold sweat was dripping down my neck. Or perhaps it was just sweat from hiking, and the situation just made it feel cold. I was f*cked.

A plane crash? This was my first time hearing this.

Organize… First, I need to organize. There had been no way for me to find out exactly how Park Moondae’s parents had died, since by the time I ended up in his body, he’d gotten rid of all his belongings except for what was in that single-room apartment. All I’d known was his parents’ names and ages, and I’d looked up the region they’d lived in as well as articles that included their names just in case. I’d come up with nothing about any accident.

That meant whatever happened had to be common enough that it wasn’t reported in the news… It seemed natural to assume that it had been a car accident. I’d let everyone think the same thing—including Chungwoo.

“I guess mentioning my parent’s car accident… made me sound full of sh*t.”

Probability-wise, a car accident was likely, and even if it wasn’t true, there was no one who could prove otherwise. The likelihood of this had just been negated by an entirely new cause. And as for me… I’d been perfectly okay riding planes. Hell, I’d even gone skydiving.

Sh*t. Realizing I still had water in my mouth, I swallowed. My bottle was nearly empty, and I almost felt like I could hear the digital watch on my wrist—counting down the seconds that I was delaying before responding.

I… don’t have any reasonable excuse. I was in a very difficult position. The car accident, the fire, my strange reaction to Gunwoo’s accident—all of it fit right in with Gunwoo’s story. And whatever it may be, trying to deny what he’d already confirmed as true would not work.

He’s almost sure right now. He’d figured out that my words and actions, as well as Moondae’s past, did not seem to fit together at all. Then he’d thought about it over and over before bringing it up with me. I slowly screwed the lid back on my bottle and tried to think quickly.

Ryu Gunwoo and Park Moondae.

My watch seemed to tick down again.

Fine. The most realistic hypothesis I could think of was probably my only way out of this.

All I need to do is add a psychological condition to my memory loss. My explanation would be that Moondae had mistaken Gunwoo’s situation as his own. Gunwoo being his benefactor, there had been a lot of emotional connection, and he’d grown confused in the process of recovering his memory.

But the moment I use this excuse… I’ll be sent off to see a psychiatrist. I’d probably have to go on a long hiatus. In fact, it would probably be better to just tell him about the status window outright.

No, explaining that there is such a thing as a status window and that only I can see it? That’s bullsh*t. I would be lucky if he thought I was a megalomaniac, and that was the end of it.

In any case, I’ll still end up in a psychiatric hospital. None of these excuses would work.

Time continued to pass. Chungwoo was obviously still watching me—I didn’t have to check to be sure. His eyes on me felt like some kind of countdown.

This bastard brought me to the peak on purpose. He’d made sure I was drained, there were no other members to back me up, and nothing I could use to defuse the situation. There was only so long that I could stall, but I was having trouble thinking of an amazing solution to this situation.

Well, f*ck, of course I’m having trouble. I have no options left. Time was still ticking. This wouldn’t do. I decided to just go for it. I opened my mouth, ready to give him an absurd explanation about not remembering an airplane crash, but that the explosion, the fire, and the fact that I was going somewhere made me think I’d been in a car crash.

He cut me off, however. “If you don’t feel like you can tell me the truth, that can’t be helped.”

“…!”

“Tell me when you feel ready,” he said casually, putting his bottle back into his backpack. Then he turned away. “Let’s head down, shall we?”

And that was that. He slowly began to walk, and I kept my mouth shut, following him to the base of the mountain. The tension still lingered between us, however, since I knew that I’d been given time, nothing more. And now I would also have to explain to him why I hadn’t been able to respond right away.

This is going to drive me nuts. And so a goddamned uncomfortable phase began between me and my roommate.

***

A few days later, Bae Sejin came out for some water at two in the morning.

“What… what are you doing?”

He nearly fell over when he spotted me sitting on the living room sofa.

“I can’t sleep,” I told him.

“Then you should… go and lie down, at least.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

He stared at me, his mouth agape, and I avoided his gaze. It was almost as if I’d touched batons with Chungwoo. I knew it had to seem hilarious. But I doubted anyone would be complacent enough to go into that room and sleep in this situation.

My roommate had pointed out the contradiction in my lie, and then he’d given me time to think before I had to give him an answer. And then he’d refused to bring the matter up for the last few days—it was peaceful, but that peace wasn’t promising in nature.

What is this, the eye of the storm? I would have preferred it if he’d thrown a fit and accused me of lying at every breath. What the hell was going on in his mind?

Damn it. I leaned back against the sofa, trying not to sigh. I couldn’t fall asleep in the living room outright—that would make our situation too obvious—so I would go back inside once I felt a little better.

It usually works for me to sit out here until I’m so tired I can’t stand to not lie down.

Bae Sejin seemed to have a different idea. He gave me an odd look, then seemed to reach some kind of realization. He asked me with something of an expectant look, “Moondae, would you like to, uh… switch rooms?”

Hey!

“I-I’m not saying I don’t like my room. You just don’t look well!”

I can read you like a book. After some thought, I withheld a sigh and shook my head at him.

“No. I don’t want to do that.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“No. I’ll probably feel better soon enough.”

I needed to. If this continued, and we had our comeback, which would involve filming more content, disaster would strike again. The summer package nightmare would return.

I need to find a solution to this somehow. There was no solution, however—no explanation that Chungwoo would accept. I leaned my head back against the sofa, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Bae Sejin drank his cup of water, as he’d intended, then quietly came over to me. “Ahem… Chungwoo… He’s a great guy.”

“Yes… I know that.”

“Yeah! You too! You’re a great guy, too.”

You’re going to wake someone at this rate.

He lowered his voice, his ears red. Only after clearing his throat a few times did he say in a smaller voice, “There are some people who just aren’t meant to be around each other… but it doesn’t seem to be the case with you two.”

I said nothing.

“If there’s something about him that makes you uncomfortable, just be honest and tell him. Don’t just sit out here like this.”

I took a moment, then grinned at him.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Yeah,” Bae Sejin said with a nod, which was surprising. I’d expected him to jerk back, surprised. “I prefer the living room. I find it comfortable. But it doesn’t seem to be the case with you.”

I remained silent.

“You want to get along with Chungwoo, right? He’s… not too sensitive. If you tell him something, he’ll listen.”

Sorry, but the opposite was true. He was the one who would be uncomfortable around me. I shook my head. Explaining this would just be giving him information he would be unable to process. I would just tell him what he wanted to hear and get him to leave.

“I’ll give it a shot. Thanks for your help.”

“Ahem. Well, if it helped, that’s great to hear. Good night.”

“All right. You, too.”

He went back to his room, probably thinking he’d helped solve my problem.

So he was trying out being older and wiser, huh? Seeing him act like this made me feel strangely light-hearted, for some reason. I laughed, then recalled what he’d told me.

He’ll just listen… huh? I lay in the living room, sifting through my thoughts. This time, I didn’t focus on searching for an explanation that wouldn’t sound strange. Instead, I tried to think about what he probably wanted to hear from me. I sorted through everything he must have thought before asking me that question at the peak and tried to see the bigger picture.

A few hours later, I sighed. I’d reached my conclusion. It was a bit silly, but Bae Sejin’s attempt to act his age had actually worked.

After we’d finished our recording session that day, I made a suggestion to Chungwoo in the van on our way back.

***

The suggestion was a simple one.

“Do you want to get some exercise on Thursday morning?”

“Morning?”

“Yes. I think that’s the only free time we have.”

We were now focusing on preparing for our next comeback, which involved a strict diet and quick, intense calorie-burning workout routines. As expected, we didn’t have the time to relax and get some exercise. My suggestion was that we spend the little bit of time we had eating and resting—not much of which existed in a week—and use it up to exercise.

Chungwoo seemed a little puzzled by the suggestion, but he eventually nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

The agreed-upon time arrived, and we left to do our exercise. He seemed a little surprised.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

It was the same hiking trail that we’d frequented many times over the past few weeks.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We didn’t have enough time on our hands to talk anymore at the moment, so I broke into a light jog. It was approaching early summer now, and the temperatures on the mountain had gotten hotter. There were bound to be people hiking in the morning, but the weather kept the place as secluded as it had been before. I liked that.

Nobody will overhear us. I stopped midway up, where there were almost no people around. That wasn’t the only reason I’d stopped, of course.

“Huh?”

“As you said, I don’t think we need to go all the way to the top. I like the view from here better.”

“Yeah?” Chungwoo looked somewhat taken aback, but he nodded and turned to look at the scenery. “It’s gotten greener.”

“Yeah.”

I stood beside him for a moment, staring at the view, then inhaled, counting down.

He’s probably guessed by now. I’d followed the same route he’d taken before he questioned me, giving me time to prepare. In fact, he’d probably guessed the moment I suggested to him that we exercise together.

He’ll be expecting an answer regarding the contradiction he pointed out.

As expected, he asked cautiously, “So… Do you have something to say?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t decided to speak to him because I had some perfect excuse that would turn the situation around. Something else had occurred to me last night after what Bae Sejin had said.

“Nothing I want to say… but there is something I have to say.”

It was imperative that I tell him, since he had the right to an answer.

Back then, he believed that I freaked out because he reminded me of my parents’ accident. He’d cooperated without complaint when I’d suddenly started looking for Ryu Gunwoo, telling him vaguely that I’d remembered something, even though the reason I’d asked for his help was simply that he might know this Ryu Gunwoo because they were related. But now it turns out the reasons that I’d done what I did so far didn’t make sense.

I’m surprised he’s not angry at me. He hadn’t been fishing for clues. He’d simply been sucked into this and saw a contradiction that didn’t quite fit.

Frankly, even if I did have a good excuse to give him, the moment another contradiction came up, I’d be done for… And by then, he would be justified in cutting ties with me altogether in a fit of rage, our group activities be damned. Worse still, he’d waited for quite a while without saying anything even after he’d figured out the situation, biding his time for the right opportunity. It was probably so I could recover my stamina and mental energy after the accident.

He probably brought it up at the peak so I could speak with a fresh mind after some exercise, and because we’d have some privacy… There was no malice or intent to meddle here. I’d reached the conclusion, therefore, that the least I could do was tell him the truth—minus the unrealistic aspects like resets and status windows.

Not that I expect him to accept what he hears. There was no ideal explanation, anyway. If I had any semblance of a conscience, this was the least I could and should do for him.

With a sigh, I began slowly, “Chungwoo.”

“Yeah.”

“I realize… that something about my story might not seem to fit.”

I reached automatically into my pocket, then realized that I no longer smoked. Pulling my hand back out, I said slowly, “But I’ve never lied to you.”

He said nothing.

“I… could try to explain, but it’s not something I’m having much success in understanding… Oh, and it’s nothing psychological, by the way. It’s not that I think I’m somebody I’m not, or anything.”

This guy could easily send me to psyche ward out of the goodness of his heart. I held back a sigh and rubbed the back of my neck.

“I was just… doing what I could.”

He didn’t argue.

I continued, “It’s true that I find car accidents and fires uncomfortable because of my parents’ accident. You might think I freaked out on you during the summer package and lied about the reason, but—”

“Wait,” he said, cutting me off. He looked a little taken aback. He smiled wryly. “Moondae, I think you’re misunderstanding something… I’m not saying I distrust you, or trying to accuse you of lying.”

What?

“The summer package? Nobody would have looked at you then and said that pain was made up. I don’t think you lied to me.”

I stared at him blankly.

“And you saved my life… at the risk of dying yourself. That is a fact that will never change, isn’t it?”

Well…

“How could I get angry at my savior just because something you said doesn’t fit? Don’t worry about that.” He then added slowly, “Here’s what I want to ask you, Moondae.”

I listened.

“Do you need help right now?”