Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kim Junkyu never thought what it would be like to die.

Perhaps no one had truly stopped to contemplate their own demise unless there was a pretty natural reason for doing so, as pondering such an event wasn't considered ‘normal’.

At least that's how he thought before everything.

He didn't think how he would die, maybe because most people preferred to avoid thinking about their own death. Moreover, the older ones already had a vague idea of their brief existence in the universe since they turned fifteen, and perhaps that was the reason behind the lack of interest in death — the future was too clear for those who had glimpsed their existence.

But still, he never thought it would be something quick.

Cold.

Kim Junkyu never thought his body would grow as cold as an ice block, numbed by a slight tingling that filled his mouth and took over every inch of his skin because he believed, even in the worst way possible, that he would live much longer than those few years.

That's why he hadn't imagined what it would be like to be pierced by a sword as if he were a sheet of paper being cut by a sharp blade, but — after all those years of running — he thought it was a quick death.

Much quicker than he could have wished for.

And even though he didn't know how to articulate the words amid his stupor, he thought that was a good way to savour all the years he had managed to escape from his demons and couldn't leave behind anything fairer than his smile as he staggered.

So Junkyu smiled.

He smiled with a sword through his stomach, tasting blood at the back of his throat as his feet moved until they slipped on the wet ground, and suddenly, he fell backwards into the cold waters of the river that covered his body like an icy blanket.

Kim Junkyu could never, under any circumstances, have imagined that his death would be so swift and gentle despite being cold.

He never imagined that, in his last minutes, he would smile at those sad eyes looking his way as his final whisper left his body:

“I'm sorry... and thank you”.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: this chapter have: scenes of character depreciation, mention of leaking personal and intimate content, fight and blood. Mention of attempted sexual abuse (but nothing happens). Be careful!

Junkyu was happy.

As much as it was a day like any other, he was extremely excited as in a few hours he would be completely 15 years old — 15 years old. He couldn't even believe that he had finally come to the high age* to get what the elders already had; a glimpse of what would be his future, from that day until the day he died.

If anyone asked past generations if they imagined that, in a few decades, there would be a way to watch the life ahead of them in just a few moments, with just one injection and a white flash, they would probably say it was crazy because most revolutionaries they talked about a future with flying cars that had never been built.

Yes. They would have laughed because who would be crazy — or extremely smart — enough to invent something as magical as a machine that could predict the future? Nobody. That would be the answer because it was impossible to see what hadn't happened yet, but unlike flying cars, someone had built a machine like that.

Do Han-se.

Do Han-se was one of the most brilliant men who ever lived in a decade. He created the Glimpse machine in the year 2011 with the promise that, in a few years, all human beings would receive the gift of a glimpse of their future upon completing fifteen years of life.

Some called them crazy. Others, like Junkyu, are of genius.

Glimpse 2011 had been the landmark of the revolution, a technology that transcended any other machine ever invented by human beings, that could give anyone over the age of fifteen what the ancient prophets tried to guess through guesswork — the MOME companies had become a pioneer, established the new generation.

“... for God's sake, stop wasting time on these videos!” Doyoung, Junkyu's younger brother, shouted tiredly as he opened the door with his rosy cheeks. The boy turned in his chair, frowning before turning off the camera. “Jisoo hyung is waiting for you downstairs”.

Junkyu looked at his watch.

Shit.

Junkyu turned off the computer and got up, grabbing his backpack because, until his birth hour and his father picked him up from the camp to take him to a MOME company in Seoul, he was still a low age* who had plans for the night with his childhood best friend Shin Jisoo.

Junkyu walked past Doyoung, ruffling his brother's hair.

“Are you taking everything you need?” he heard his mother, Dahee, scream before she made it down the steps. Junkyu threw his backpack on the couch, sitting next to Jisoo to tie his blue shoe. They wore the same pair. Junkyu smiled when he saw that Jisoo was wearing the old sneakers too. “Junkyu?! Toothbrush? Snack?”

“Yes mum!” Junkyu replied with a sigh, feeling his cheeks burn at the way Jisoo laughed. He watched his friend hand the plate to Dahee and, wasting no time, he got up already putting his backpack on his back as the woman leaned over. Junkyu rolled his eyes but stood on his tiptoes to kiss her mother's cheek. “You always embarrass me…” he teased, feeling the woman's damp fingers under his chin before his lips pressed a lingering kiss to the boy's cheek. Jisoo giggles. “Okay, okay, I have to go now”.

“Brush your teeth if you're going to kiss someone hyung…”

“Doyoung!” Dahee scolded her youngest son, laughing when she saw the boy wink at Jisoo. “Be careful” she said to Junkyu. “Don't do anything silly, remember that you're still a low age. Your dad will pick you up in the morning and then we'll celebrate, okay?”

Doyoung sat on the step of the stairs.

“At 9 am!” Jun-Ho, Junkyu and Doyoung’s father opened the office door to remind his son. “Don't make me wait. Sleep early and wake up early, I don't want to face morning traffic”.

“The way he's anxious, he won't even sleep” Jisoo teased Junkyu, poking him in the stomach. The youngest chuckled, rolling his eyes at his friend. “I promise I'll make him wake up early uncle”.

Jun-Ho gave Jisoo a thumbs up, who saluted dramatically, “Geez, you guys suck. Let's go before I regret agreeing to this nonsense”.

“Have a good time!” Jun-Ho shouted before his son left. “I love you”.

“Me too!!” Junkyu shouted back. “Bye mama”.

“Don't forget, don't do anything crazy…” Dahee sighed, taking the towel off her shoulder. Junkyu rolled his eyes because he was the no-nonsense son. Doyoung, who was only 12 years old, was the one causing trouble. “I'll see you in a few hours’ bunny. Love you”.

☽ ❍ ☾

Ruel, a foreign boy who had moved to Korea with his father and younger sister 4 years ago — they weren't friends, they hung out together because they do some classes together and Jisoo thought he was cool — threw more fuel on the fire and passed a bag of marshmallows for Jisoo.

Junkyu and Jisoo have been friends since they were 6 years old.

Shin Jisoo was the son of Mayor Shin and District Attorney Williams.

He had been popular in kindergarten for being a child actor, then in middle school for becoming part of the swim team as a freshman — they were friends and dreamed of doing the same things their parents had done in their life: graduate high school, get into a good college, meet a girl or a guy in Junkyu’s case, laugh about the past, get married. Maybe have kids.

They would be famous architects.

At least that's what they planned to do before Keum Sang-yi was transferred to the building where they studied and infiltrated their lives like a parasite because, according to the Glimpse test, Jisoo would have a bright future as a lawyer. He would start a company and spend many of his days with rich people — Sang-yi would partner with him a few years after his graduation and they would become brothers-in-law.

Glimpse was never wrong.

Even though he wanted things to go on as they had planned, Junkyu knew that this was Jisoo's life and that he would probably be the person they had seen in their glimpse. He would have a daughter, get divorced and live a busy life because he was Shin Jisoo and no other reality would be banal and peaceful with him.

“... this doesn’t make any sense!” the boy tried not to sound mad, despite being fed up with Sangyi's teasing. “Just because you've kissed someone doesn't mean you're better than other people and I, for your information, am not afraid of girls just because I've never kissed them”.

“I never said I was better than anyone else, it's just that you're falling behind. I'm pointing out the facts, Junkyu-ssi. We see how anxious you get around a girl, it's ridiculous...” the older boy put his feet on the chair, making Jisoo and Ruel laugh. They were bragging about how many girls they'd already kissed, and not that it was a problem, the future birthday boy had no idea what 'kissing someone on the lips' was because he was too young to think about it. It had nothing to do with fear. “You're going to be 15 bro”.

Junkyu looked at Sangyi with the corners of his eyes narrowed.

He didn't know why, maybe it was jealousy that Jisoo was attached to that idiot, but he thought that Keum Sangyi was annoying and he always felt like punching him in the nose when Junkyu heard his voice because he hated him.

“Fuck it dude” Jisoo knew exactly why Junkyu hadn't kissed any of the girls who had already confessed to him. “He doesn't have to do everything the same as everyone else. Stop being a fucking pain in the ass”.

To put it bluntly, Junkyu likes boys.

His parents knew. Doyoung knew.

Jisoo knew too.

“I still think he's a pussy for running away from girls” Ruel pressed the cig, tossing Sangyi another bottle of beer. “Some of them are really hot, like Lee Mina from 2B4. Dude, she gave you her fucking name tag!”

Junkyu rolled his eyes.

Sometimes, even though he felt he didn't owe satisfaction, he wanted to scream for everyone to hear that HE DIDN'T LIKE GIRLS AND DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THE ROMANTIC CONFESSIONS OF ANY OF THEM UNLESS THEY ALL SUDDENLY BECOME BOYS because it was frustrating having to raise a different subject to escape provocations.

“If you like her, ask for her tag name in my place” Junkyu snorted.

  He didn't overhear the conversation because, after getting his temper under control, he got up and went into his tent to read something less stupid than Ruel Kimberly or Keum Sangyi.

Junkyu only realized that he had wasted a lot of time after waking up to the sound of his alarm clock. He blinked in fright, rubbing his eyes before sitting weakly in the tent — it was quiet outside. He left wearing his slippers, looking around for the others with eyes aching from the nap he had taken against his will.

His brain, numb, processed the snap of a branch breaking before his muscles understood the presence of another body when he turned abruptly, using the palm to defend himself against a blow that hit Jisoo's friend Wohyuk's neck, who coughed with difficulty as laughter echoed in his ears.

Junkyu opened and closed his mouth, gesturing apologetically with his hands, “Damn it, you fucking sociopath!”, he heard Wohyuk cough, squinting his tear-filled eyes. “What the fuck is your problem you fucking psycho?! Fuck, I'll fucking kill you…”

“I-I-It was accidental!” Junkyu looked at Jisoo in the middle of the others, who were laughing breathlessly at the situation. “You disappeared, I heard a noise and I got scared. If you hadn't said-”

“So you mean it's my fault your crazy bitch?!”

“Wohyuk hyung!” Jisoo licked his lips, squeezing his friend's shoulder. They looked at each other humorously. “He didn't mean it, bro. You know Junkyu is a bit...” the boy looked at his childhood friend. “Silly”.

Han Sungjae, who had already made his hatred for Junkyu explicit, passed between them with a sarcastic smile, while Ruel leaned over to whisper something in Wohyuk's ear, who looked at Junkyu — the youngest looked at Jisoo as the others did calm down.

Junkyu pulled Jisoo aside, “Where did you guys go? And why are these two idiots here... ”, he whispered looking to the sides. Han Sungjae and Han Wohyuk were much older than them, were in college, and were friends with Sangyi. “If my father finds out I'm with them, I'm dead!”

Jisoo pulled away from Junkyu's touch.

“Come on…” he rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. Junkyu frowned, following his friend's gaze. “I had promised that I would go out with them and I forgot” Jisoo defended himself, shrugging. “And you know they're cool. Okay, Wohyuk hyung is a hothead sometimes, but he's fucking nice almost all the time. He brought beer and cigs. It stops being annoying”.

Junkyu widened his eyes.

Jisoo's father was a mayor, his mother was a prosecutor.

In other words, they couldn't be caught with beer and cigarettes because they were low age even though Jisoo had already turned fifteen a few hours ago — besides, his father would really kill him if he found out that Junkyu was going out with the chief's children Han.

“Yeah, whatever” Junkyu complained, shrugging. “It's not like it's an important day, is it?!” He smiled bitterly, looking at his best friend before rolling his eyes. “Let’s go back there. I'm hungry”.

☽ ❍ ☾

Hours later, perhaps because he was freezing to death, Junkyu woke up in the middle of the night and realized that only Ruel was next to him in the tent — he licked his lips and checked the time on his cell phone. He grunted, tossing and turning a few times for an extra blanket before actually getting up and leaving the tent behind Jisoo or whoever was responsible for his unbearably cold.

He rubbed his hands together.

He was ready to head back to the tent against the cold when he heard high-pitched laughter echoing through the trees until it was impossible to ignore. He followed the sounds, stepping over tall roots as he went — his feet stopped moving as the voices became clearer.

Junkyu held his breath.

They were talking about Lee Mi-ran

“... she's a fucking cock slut” Wohyuk chuckled, passing a bottle of beer to Sungjae. “Damn, that disgusting slut fucks like a rabbit with anyone who gives her the slightest bit of attention, that video should be the least of her worries right now”.

Jisoo laughed, “Damn, that was cruel”.

“Oh, fuck you!” Sungjae kicked Jisoo. “Did you know it was this son of a bitch who sent me the video?” he teased. “You fucking perverted! She is a fucking slut who deserves all the shit going on now that everyone knows she spreads her legs for anyone with a dick!”

Jisoo laughed, showing his middle finger.

Junkyu, like everyone else in the school, had heard the rumours that Lee Mi-ran had been warned by the council after some videos were leaked on the internet. It was a scandal. She and her parents tried to sue the school saying that it wasn't consensual, that the videos were made and posted without her knowing — but in the end, no one paid any attention to her.

Mi-ran was physically and verbally humiliated by every boy who had appeared in the videos, by the school, and by her friends even though she was the victim and Jisoo had told Junkyu that he was sorry for the girl, that he hoped someone could get the videos out the internet before her life got even worse. He had said he was sorry.

Now he was laughing with Han brothers at a girl who hadn't chosen to have her private life exposed as if some kind of sick joke.

Junkyu felt sick to his stomach with the fact that Jisoo was involved in that disgusting situation, “... she's stupid for trying to sue the school, everyone knows that bitch needs the collaborator's charity...”, Jisoo snapped with them. “My father was furious with the situation, he said that ungrateful bitch should be ashamed and stop recording porn videos if she wanted to have a better life and-”

  Junkyu felt nauseous.

They couldn't be talking about Miran like that like it was a joke they could share while the right people were trying to make the situation more comfortable for the girl, not when they knew she was facing hell because of someone else.

It wasn't a joke.

What had happened to Lee Miran wasn't funny.

But Jisoo was laughing.

Even after they saw her cry, escorted by school security, even after they saw her being scolded by all the people who were supposed to be by her side, Jisoo was laughing like it was funny.

It wasn't fair that they were laughing.

“Ya!” Sangyi's voice echoed causing Junkyu to widen his eyes, startled by the sudden approach. He hadn't realized he'd made a noise. “Were you eavesdropping on us your fucking weirdo?!”

His eyes searched Jisoo's face, which, if Junkyu could be honest, had a relieved look on it. Partly, probably, because he'd been found out, and partly because he could stop pretending to be anything other than the disgusting person he was. Junkyu clenched his fists.

“I asked if you were eavesdropping, fag?!”

“You were talking about Mi-ran...”

Wohyuk looked at Sangyi with a cold smile.

“So?” he asked Junkyu. “What's wrong with talking about that little bitch, your fag?” the eldest kicked a rock that bounced. Sangyi pushed Junkyu against a tree and smiled. “Are you one of those assholes who keep defending that disgusting little whore?!”

“They leaked her privacy!” Junkyu shouted as if he couldn't understand their problem. Were they dumb or something? Hadn't their parents talked enough when they were kids to know that what had happened to Mi-ran was a fucking crime? “You were talking about her like she was to blame for what happened and-”

“And she didn't?” Jisoo interrupted his friend. “Oh come ‘on! You know she was always chasing after guys on the team” he shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his dark coat, shrugging at his childhood best friend's startled expression. “That whore got what she deserved”.

That's when Junkyu was sure that something had really changed in Jisoo after the trip because the Jisoo he had known in childhood was kind, understanding, and friendly. He would never have spoken about someone so coldly and cruelly, would never have acted like someone being exposed by a bunch of assholes was normal because it wasn't right.

That's when he realized that his friend's future had changed because he wasn't the same person. That was why they were going their separate ways because Shin Jisoo had chosen the worst of himself as a human being.

Junkyu used his elbow to break Sangyi's grip on his collar and, with an open and firm hand, he slashed against the boy's throat, making him gasp for air and cough as he felt the pain spread through his neck.

The older one took a few steps back and drop on his butt.

Wohyuk shouted furiously and went towards him.

But Junkyu was more active in moving, running away from Wohyuk with firm and hurried steps was easy. As he ran through the woods, feeling some branches hurt his skin and his feet tangled, he thought about how many years he had wasted imagining Shin Jisoo as ‘perfection’.

He looked up to Jisoo, made their friendship his priority, and never thought things could change — before he could finish his confused thoughts, he felt the entire weight of his body being thrown back.

Ruel had, somehow, shown up in front of him and pushed him.

Junkyu landed hard on the ground, groaning in pain from the impact.

Everything happened too fast.

In an instant only Ruel was in front of him, staring at Junkyu as if he could read through his pained expression and next, he was being dragged by his hair by Wohyuk, “I'll show you how to respect your elders you little fag”, and Jisoo was right there with them, laughing with his arms crossed as Junkyu had his head pressed against a tree. “I will fucking kill you!”

“What the fuck happened? “Junkyu heard Ruel ask. “Why the fuck were you chasing after Jisoo's boyfriend?!”

“He's not my fucking boyfriend” Jisoo snapped. “But I’m sure he wanted to be...” he said laughing hoarsely, leaning against a tree to observe the scene. Wohyuk had Junkyu pressed, his body was holding him and his hand around the boy’s throat took his breath away. “Am I right?!”

“Just like every fag” Sungjae giggled, approaching Junkyu and Wohyuk. He followed their movements with teary eyes until the boy was close enough to his face to make him shiver. The Han brothers were troublesome. They had gotten rid of a lot of shit because the father was a deputy. Junkyu was afraid of them. “And what does dad usually tell us to do with fags?”

Wohyuk smiled, “He says we have to fuck them open”, he said too close to Junkyu's face, making Junkyu's eyes widen. “What about that fag?!”

There was an awkward moment of silence as if no one had really processed Wohyuk's words until he had actually let go of Junkyu, letting his body fall off balance before being punched in the stomach — Junkyu coughed, air catching in his aching throat. He didn't have enough time to process the pain before he was grabbed by the hair again by Han Wohyuk.

He felt his knees ache as he was dragged across the floor.

“You have to take it fucking easy…!” Ruel muttered as Wohyuk pushed Junkyu's body to the ground and sat on top of him, letting all of his weight crush him. “Like it or not, his father is ex-military”.

Wohyuk looked up at Ruel, “And since when is this important? Lee Miran's fucking dad is a cop and that didn't stop you from recording yourself fucking her and then putting the video online, did it?!”

“Fuck you” Ruel demanded through gritted teeth.

Jisoo laughed through his nose, getting up towards where Wohyuk was sitting on Junkyu's body, “Despite wanting to see it, Ruel is right, his father is a problem...”, he said rolling his eyes. “And my father needs mr. Kim for a job, so take it easy. Maybe a few videos of him crying will do the job”, he took his phone out of his pocket, turning the device over as he opened the camera app. “Maybe he ends up helping Lee Miran. Huh? What do you think?”

They had changed.

Jisoo had changed.

Or maybe Junkyu had never really met him because he looked at him, heard his voice, and could recognize his smile, but he looked like a different person. Someone cruel, who was clearly revelling in the idea of making him less insignificant than a grain of sand on the beach.

Junkyu grunted as Jisoo grabbed his chin, bringing the camera closer to his face and laughing along with the others. He squinted his eyes and, after what seemed like an eternity, he used Wohyuk's weight to turn them over the damp earth and branches — his knuckles hurt as he punched Han Wohyuk in the nose, who screamed in pain and took hands to face.

“You'll kill me?!” Junkyu shouted, punching the older again. Three times in a row. He took a ragged breath, feeling the cold wind rattle his bones even through the thick layers of fabric. He punched Wohyuk more, pinning him to the ground. “Okay you bitch. Try on, try to fucking kill me…!” he growled, tightening his fingers around the collar of Wohyuk's shirt but felt a kick hit his shoulder and he muttered a curse. “Ya, Shin Jisoo!”

Before Junkyu could say anything else, he was hit in the head with something heavy from behind. He squinted, pressing the spot with his hand before turning his head and seeing Sungjae, Wohyuk's brother, drop the rock he had used to knock him out in a likely attempt to help his brother.

Junkyu grunted in pain, being kicked in the neck by Jisoo.

He dragged himself along, his palms ached and there was a thin layer of blood on his fingerprints, “You've always been a pain in the ass, Junkyu, an ungrateful son of a bitch!” Jisoo licked his lips, running a hand through his dark hair. He sniffled from the cold. “Do you know how hard it was for me to have to put up with you all those years fag?!”

Wohyuk got up, spitting on the ground.

Junkyu moved his eyes between them, watching their expressions and the way they moved before trying to get up. Ruel yanked him by the foot, causing him to hit his head on the floor and grunt in pain — he kicked at Ruel's hands, dragging himself backwards, away from attempts to make him a punching bag, “Hold this asshole. I guess I deserve something in return after all these shitty years of putting up with him...”

Kim Junkyu had grown up idealizing the perfect life.

He would become a responsible adult, work hard and be the pride of his parents. He knew someone interesting that he would fall in love with and have kids with. His future would be bright.

He would have Jisoo by his side, his best and almost only childhood friend who would have plans similar to his.

Junkyu believed that things would be perfect.

But none of those things were real.

Shin Jisoo wasn't real.

His fantasies weren't real.

Junkyu grabbed Jisoo's fist after the second punch, turning Jisoo's wrist until his arm was stretched out behind his back, crackling in everyone's ears before pain shot through his muscles and had him screaming in the middle of the woods — he tried to turn around weakly, “I'm the one who deserves something in return for being forced to be with an arrogant and pathetic little shit like you, your trash...”

On impulse, Junkyu grabbed Jisoo's arm, twisting until he couldn't let go. Sungjae punched Junkyu in the ribs, who screamed and tried to block the blows. His grip on Jisoo slipped and he was hit from both sides by punches and kicks.

Junkyu took clumsy steps backwards, curling his body forward and extending his arms in front of his face to avoid being hit. Ruel threw a piece of wood at Wohyuk, but Junkyu dodged and punched him in the stomach once, before moving until he was far enough out of range.

He clenched his teeth, glaring at them.

Silence flooded his ears as, in a spurt of rage and pain, he rushed towards Jisoo, grabbing him by the lower part of his body, lifting him into the air before using all his weight to hurl him to the ground like a sack of potatoes like when they were younger and Junkyu always ended up letting Jisoo convince him to show some of his self-defence moves.

Everything was fast.

The way Junkyu lifted Jisoo into the air and, with fury, threw him to the damp ground, causing the noise of their bodies to echo through the treetops and startle some birds hiding in the branches — he coughed, rolling to the side and took the hand to his belly, breathing hard because of how the impact had made him feel.

Keum Sangyi's voice made him blink, “What have you done…”, Junkyu felt his ears hurt after the deep silence of all the voices. He sat up, his hips and ribs aching from the punches and kicks, his head heaving, but he forced his body up. “What the fuck did you do you psycho!”

That's when Junkyu looked at Jisoo.

His breath echoed in his ears.

“He's not breathing!” Sangyi repeated, brushing some dry leaves from Jisoo's pale face. His eyes were open, staring at the dark, starry sky between the treetops, a rough tear slowly slipped from the corners of his eyes. “Shit, this can't be fucking happening, shit. This is bad. This is fucking bad!”

Wohyuk knelt beside Jisoo's body, his trembling hands going towards his nose to check that Sangyi wasn’t only mistaken, but the blood flowed long before he could verify, painting the damp earth, and causing terrifying thoughts in their heads.

Junkyu parted his lips, letting out a ragged breath.

“No, no, no this can't be fucking happening” Ruel yelled, grabbing his hair. He stared at Junkyu with wide, frightened eyes. “You fucking killed him…” he said shaking his head, his face going pale. Ruel crouched down, putting his head between his legs as he swore. "Shit, what are we going to fucking do? What do we do now!”

Junkyu blinked in a daze, eyes filling with tears.

He took a step towards Jisoo, then another.

His entire body ached as, with teary eyes, he knelt beside Jisoo's body.

“Ya, Shin Jisoo…”, he stammered, shaking his head frantically. Junkyu shook the boy. One. Two. 3 times. Jisoo was motionless. His complexion was becoming a blur as if it were fading into his pale skin. “This isn't fucking funny, Jisoo-ya. Come on, stop playing around”, he swallowed. Tears flowed from his eyes and fell on the light fabric of Jisoo's clothes. “Hyung…”

Junkyu sobbed, firmly shaking his head.

He had been so angry.

He had been so angry listening to Jisoo talk about Miran, the way he had looked in his direction when saying those words. He had been so furious that he wanted him dead.

Junkyu wanted to kill him.

And now Shin Jisoo was dead.

“Jisoo!”

high age* is basically what normal adulthood would be in the real universe, like 18/21 depending on the country of origin

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: seizure scenes.

Kim Doyoung was a heavy sleeper.

It was nearly impossible to wake him once he entered a deep slumber. Still, for some reason, on that night, his senses were more alert, as if they knew something wrong was about to happen before he stepped onto the cold floor and as if being pulled, walked towards the end of the corridor.

It was like a tug.

He had felt that sensation before, something inexplicable that made him feel a frightening need to check on his brother as if it were his responsibility to keep an eye on Junkyu ever since the beginning.

“Mom!” Doyoung shouted. He placed the pillow behind Junkyu's head, turning his body to the side. “Mum!”

Dahee entered the room abruptly, her eyes wide.

“I don't know how long he's been like this...” Doyoung said with a shaky voice, tearing the collar of the shirt Junkyu was wearing. “Fuck, fuck!”

Dahee pulled back her hair, her anxious breath not matching her calm expression as she joined Doyoung to assist Junkyu during his seizure — she helped him fold Junkyu's left arm over the bed, carefully forcing the right leg up and supporting the foot, the palm on the back of the left side of the face to prevent choking due to excessive salivation.

“Get the Hwang family IDs”, Dahee instructed.

“Mom…”

“I can't do this alone!” Dahee insisted, looking at Doyoung with her brown eyes. He clenched his teeth. “Come on pumpkin, we don't have much choice in this situation. Get the IDs and get the car”.

Doyoung blinked dazed, staring at his brother.

Junkyu looked pale as if there had never been any warmth in his body, as if the soul were slowly leaving him while electrical charges ran through his entire brain, “Doyoung!” Dahee grunted. “Go. Now!”

☽ ❍ ☾

On September 9, 2024, there was an unexpected lunar eclipse.

Kim Doyoung was twelve.

His brother, Kim Junkyu, had turned fifteen while running home.

Doyoung remembered that night perfectly.

How he and his father had set up the telescope in his room and watched the sun cover the moon and darken for what seemed like an eternity. He remembered sleeping in his father's lap, the lullaby, how the room smelled of flowers, and how he had woken up startled by his brother's terrified screams — he remembered the blood.

Junkyu was covered in blood.

He was scared, and dirty and kept repeating ‘I killed him’ over and over again.

Those words never left his thoughts.

The way Junkyu's body collapsed before his father could hold him, how the crying never stopped echoing, and those words, ‘I killed him, mum. Jisoo hyung... he wasn't breathing. I think I killed him’.

Those words never left his thoughts.

“Mrs. Hwang?”

Doyoung raised his head.

He thought he could never forget that eclipse, his brother's words, the fear and the torturous years that followed.

“We managed to stabilize him”, the doctor, a kind woman who had done her best to help them in the last three months, smiled at Dahee. “Would you like to see him now?”

Dahee — Hwang Martha — nodded, wiping the corners of her eyes.

“He's really stable for now” the doctor explained when Dahee inquired about her son's condition. Junkyu had some bruises on his face, probably from involuntary movements during the seizure, and was much paler than usual. “But I need to be honest, mrs. Hwang. Your son is dying”.

Dahee sniffed, stroking her son's cheek.

“I wish I could help you more, I wish there were other palliative measures, but what we're doing isn't enough”, she admitted, looking at Junkyu on the hospital bed. “Maybe it would be easier if you let me examine the stem cells-”

“That's out of the question”, Doyoung remembered all those years. How Junkyu turned into something different than he knew, how his parents had to give up a whole life to keep them safe. How he had to struggle to understand. “My father already said no. No blood collection, no residual or capillary collection, saliva, anything with a genetic marker, none of that will be analyzed and you will do your work with what you have now”.

The woman took a deep breath, clenching her teeth.

“I understand but I have nothing more to do with the genetic material available right now”, the doctor replied. “We don't know what's causing the seizures but it could be easy to solve if we had at least one of his genetic markers. It's crucial for his condition that you understand no palliative treatment will keep him alive for longer that way…”

Dahee squeezed Junkyu's cold fingers.

They had run away from home.

There was no simpler way to put the situation than they were fleeing from an entire life, from the bodies of people who should be their families, from the memories they had built growing up in their parent's country house. They were running because of Jisoo, because of what Junkyu had done to Jisoo. They were running because of mr. Shin.

Dahee sniffed, “I appreciate all your efforts in taking care of my son, dr. Williams, part of me feels it would have been worse if we hadn't known you this way”, Dahee smiled, wiping her face as she stood up, leaving her son's hand by his side. She bowed subtly to the woman. “But our paths must stop crossing here”.

She couldn't decide for everyone.

They were running because, during a lunar eclipse, Kim Junkyu came home covered in blood. His eyes were red and swollen, his feet were muddy. They had been running ever since. Even after begging for forgiveness, even when they tried to go to the police.

Junkyu had turned 15 while running home.

Jisoo had been in a coma since then.

The news released to the regional newspaper was that Jisoo had suffered a domestic accident. They claimed that Jisoo had fallen down the stairs due to a defect in the step, hit his head, and because of that, was in a coma from which doctors did not know if he would wake up.

The police had ignored Junkyu's testimony.

And a police officer had taken them to mr. Shin.

Doyoung remembered the macabre smile on mr. Shin's face when he told them they had 24 hours, a gift to Junkyu for completing his 15 years, to flee before he pursued them in his sick game for what had happened to Jisoo even though Junkyu had surrendered to the police and accepted the consequences of the law.

They had been running ever since.

While running, Junkyu fell ill.

But they had made a pact.

They wouldn't return unless everyone agreed and, while her husband was away, she couldn't simply make that decision. Besides, Junkyu was unconscious, he needed to agree before putting the whole family in danger for something that might be inevitable — it was unfair and cruel to think and do things that way, but it was how they stayed alive and safe. It was how they could survive.

“We'll take him away when he wakes up”.

“Mrs. Hwang...”

“I appreciate all your effort in taking care of my son, dr. Williams. Part of me feels it would have been worse if we hadn't known you this way”, Dahee smiled, wiping her face as she stood up, leaving her son's hand by his side. She bowed subtly to the woman. “But our paths must stop crossing here”.

She couldn't decide for everyone.

They were fleeing because, during a lunar eclipse, Kim Junkyu came home covered in blood. His eyes were red and swollen, his feet were muddy. They had been running ever since. Even after begging for forgiveness, even when trying to go to the police.

Junkyu had turned 15 while running home.

Jisoo had been in a coma since then.

The news released to the regional newspaper was that Jisoo had suffered a domestic accident. They claimed that Jisoo had fallen down the stairs due to a defect in the step, hit his head, and because of that, was in a coma from which doctors did not know if he would wake up.

The police had ignored Junkyu's testimony.

And a police officer had taken them to Mr. Shin.

Doyoung remembered the macabre smile on mr. Shin's face when he told them they had 24 hours, a gift to Junkyu for completing his 15 years, to flee before he pursued them in his sick game for what had happened to Jisoo even though Junkyu had surrendered to the police and accepted the consequences of the law.

They had been fleeing ever since.

There was no answer to the reason behind the illness; maybe something had gone wrong during one of the procedures they had made him undergo to leave the country without getting caught — his eyes had been replaced with different pairs, genetic markers erased from databases, facial implants received.

Any of those procedures could have made him sick.

But regardless of which one had caused the seizures, they couldn't do anything. They couldn't take him to a hospital or a specialist, they couldn't help him even if they wanted to do something.

“He can go home tomorrow if everything goes well overnight”.

Dahee looked at the doctor.

The children lived miserably.

They had to use facial implants, and for years, they hadn't seen themselves in the mirror; their eyes had been mutilated and replaced more times than a normal person. They never used their names outside the house, and they couldn't maintain lasting relationships with other people.

It was a miserable life.

But they were alive despite everything.

They were together.

“Thank you, doctor. We'll stay with him in the room”.

The doctor nodded, sighing deeply before leaving them.

Dahee sat down, pressing the palms of her hands to her face.

“When was the last time you heard from your father?”

“About five days ago”.

The woman sighed deeply.

She looked up, staring at Junkyu.

“He's dying...” Dahee shook her head. She thought they could make it. Even if they had to live that way, hidden like frightened rats, she thought they could make it. “What should I do now? The doctor says he needs a specialist, your father says we need to stay hidden until the last day of our lives”.

Doyoung sat next to his mother, “He's stable for now”.

“He's been having seizures more frequently”, Dahee complained, pressing her temples. “This was the fifth in less than two weeks”.

“We'll figure something out”.

“For how long?” Dahee retorted. “What if you get sick too?!”

“I won't!” Doyoung said firmly, although he wasn't sure. They couldn't know for sure. “Look at me, mom...” he said, holding the woman's hand between his. “I’ll not get sick”.

“But what if you do?!” she touched his cheeks. No one would ever know what had caused Junkyu's illness unless they returned to Korea. “You have no idea how scared I am now, Doyoungie”, the woman sniffed. “My pretty boys...” she squeezed her eyes shut. “I had other plans for you and look where we ended up?!”

There wasn't even a moment when Doyoung didn't think about how things had turned into a nightmare. Junkyu's words, mr. Shin's cold eyes and depraved smile, how they learned to run, hide, lie, and live miserably the little they could.

He remembered the life he had before.

And the life he had been having since then.

“We'll be okay”, Doyoung remembered the promise he had made to himself, that he would never become a burden. That his parents wouldn't have to worry about anything other than continuing to hide, living their lives the best they could. He had sworn to give his all to comfort them, even if he had to lie. “We'll find another way to help him through this, and we'll be okay”.

☽ 15, dezembro, 2029 ☾

Jun-Ho stubbed out the cigarette.

He had returned three hours ago and already needed to leave.

“I need you to help your mother while I'm away”, he said, running a hand through his hair. “I'll be gone for a few more days this time; it'll be quicker. So, take care of her for me”.

Doyoung always took care of his mother and brother.

Despite it being unfair for someone his age to deal with the responsibility of taking care of others, he always looked after his mother and Junkyu when his father was away. He always tried to make them feel less suffocated by the existence they lived in and was always willing to give up anything as long as they stayed safe.

Perhaps that's why he was always so cautious.

“Are you sure we should do this?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the book's pages. “He's the governor now...”, Doyoung whispered worriedly. He didn't want to worry so much, but it was inevitable. “Returning after all these years? Don't you think it would be too foolish? Hyung wouldn't agree with this decision if he were in a condition to think straight. He knows it's dangerous”.

Maybe because he had heard his father ask so many times to help his mother, and keep an eye on his older brother, that Doyoung had grown up with so much on his shoulders. He needed to be impartial all the time.

No matter how much he wanted to cry or plead to the gods, he needed to be firm when his whole family started falling apart because he had been raised that way, to be a firm and solid rock.

“Returning is too risky for us!”

Jun-Ho looked at him for a brief moment.

He had grown to be different from other teenagers.

He had learned to hide, to lie, to steal.

Doyoung could defend himself, and part of Jun-Ho felt relieved knowing that his son could protect himself. The other part felt sorry for having forced him to live that way, thinking it would have been fairer to let them be killed by Governor Shin instead of forcing them to live in fear of their own shadows.

“Your brother needs the medicine”.

“Then let's find another way!” Doyoung insisted. “Let's ask mr. Lee to give us some men, okay? We can set up a safe operation for this. We invade a genetic facility and get what we need without having to return to that war zone...” Korea had become a dangerous country for everyone. “We shouldn't go back to that place”.

Jun-Ho sighed, approaching his son.

“I know you're scared, I am too, but it doesn't work that way, and you know it. Our genetic markers don't function here; they would have to replace everything that makes your brother him, and even then, there's no guarantee it would work...” and there was a small part of him that wished things were simple. That Junkyu hadn't gotten sick. “There's no other way. I swear I tried to find another way, but I'm helpless. It's the only chance we have now”.

He knew it but Doyoung couldn't help but try.

He couldn't help but imagine other ways, anyway but returning to Korea and maybe, on a lucky day, being found by Governor Shin and suffering even more.

“And what about the koakh they say has the power to heal others?”

Anything would be safer.

Jun-Ho released his son's hand.

“These people are dangerous!”

“Please! They can't be more dangerous than Governor Shin!” Doyoung retorted. “If there really is someone with the power to heal, he might be the chance he needs”, he repeated what he had said to his mother. Dahee also wanted to return to Korea. “Maybe he'll help us with hyung”.

Jun-Ho released a heavy breath.

Koakhs.

In the summer of 2027, a man was arrested after destroying a car in Paris with his bare hands. The news of his arrest was broadcast on all the world's newspapers, and at that time, no one had an explanation for what they had seen — some said he was under the influence of drugs.

Others that the videos were fake.

However, it was worse than that.

Weeks after the first case, a sixteen-year-old girl flew out of her backyard in Stockholm — the governments of all countries went into emergency mode after the second case.

Armies were deployed, and people whose abilities were becoming known worldwide began to be pulled from their homes. Some had been executed in the middle of the street, others had been classified as government property, and those who had managed to escape had become fugitives from the law.

Doyoung remembered sitting on the floor, between his father's legs, as the emergency news anchor entered the open program to reveal that, during the creation of the Glimpse machines in 2011, scientist Do Hanse and some MOME's company experts had started unofficial research on genetic traits that created mutations.

People with the markers were named Koakhs.

Koakhs were people with a damaged genome, a genetic trait modified over years by exposure to toxic gases released into the atmosphere by scientists over 50 years in a failed attempt to turn the earth into an experimental sphere of what would become one of the greatest scientific milestones in history — the Koakhs had been created.

All human beings were experiments exposed for decades.

The machines that showed them their futures on their 15th birthdays were powered by the brains of the first guinea pigs of Do Hanse's experiment, Park Jinyoung, and Lee Jaeyeon — people with special abilities, children who had been bred in captivity and used for the pleasure of cruel and insane men seeking the immortality of fame.

Because of this, the beginning of an endless war that had destroyed civilizations and wiped countries off the map became the story told in the few educational facilities still standing. The Koakhs were guinea pigs, the scum of the underworld, the forgotten children of God.

They were powerful.

But they were also hiding for their lives.

“We can't keep chasing a man who doesn't want to be found while Junkyu dies in front of us”, JunHo was exhausted. He had done everything he could with the limited resources they had. He had lied to keep his family safe for longer than he believed possible, but now he needed to put them in danger because he was a father. He was too selfish to let his son leave like that, with no chance to fight. “We need to go back. That's the only way now”.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: mention of suicidal thoughts at the end.

Doyoung crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

He was far enough to stay safe and close enough to hear all the answers coming out of that white-haired woman without being seen, “Can someone tell me why people with special abilities were called koakh's?!”

He nibbled his cheek, watching her movements on stage, how her hands moved, how her eyes followed the muscles of her face when she smiled and gestured for the person in the audience to stand up and respond — even with the chance of being wrong — to one of her many curiosities about the koakh's.

“... in the Hebrew system of numerology, the number 28 corresponds to the word koakh. A normal person has 23 reproductive chromosomes, when a couple copulates, they have a somatic junction of 46 chromosomes but people with abilities, or koakh, have 28 instead of 23”.

It was a name chosen by chance.

As they conducted their experiments, MOME scientists discovered that individuals with a higher likelihood of genetic anomaly had 28 reproductive chromosomes. Therefore, for a child to grow up predisposed to some power, both parents need to possess a chromosomal deficiency.

The word was nothing more than a foolish choice based on a false need for meaning since all people with powers were, in fact, just defective reproductions.

“... MOME scientists wanted to find out who among us would have the predisposition of the 28 chromosomes. Scientist Do Hanse and his team created the first Glimpse machines based on a pre-existing, albeit semi-defective, genome from a batch of experiments that would become the focus of human history, people with special abilities...”

The koakh's were defective people who were being hunted, murdered, imprisoned, cut open, and used as weapons by corrupt and greedy governments. They were ordinary people, with lives, children and histories, who were forced to fight with their siblings in a war that seemed incapable of ending.

“Glimpse machines were used for what we call ‘genetic awakening’, which brought the new race into the world after half a century of attempts, so Do Hanse was not the first nor the last scientist to attempt this experiment, as we know, Dr. Park Jinyoung was responsible for the final studies that yielded results and enabled the construction of the glimpse machines that are operated by koakh's”.

Glimpse machines were operated by prisoners.

They were actually a set of five 90-year-old ladies, the sole survivors of the last studies conducted by MOME teams without any civilian suspecting. The machines were their brains, ripped from their heads and frozen in liquids that would preserve them forever.

Their brains were what ensured that everyone would have a glimpse of their futures, but they had never lived long enough to know what would happen to their lives like the rest of them and they didn't even suspect that, in the future, people like them would be massacred.

It was pure cruelty that had become history.

“Hey, you!” Doyoung moved his head, eyes widened when a boy, a few years older than him, approached him with a curious expression. “Do you have institutional authorization to be in this lecture by any chance? If you don't, you have to leave, this is a private event”.

Doyoung stepped away from the wall, taking his hands out of his pockets.

The man held him by the arm, furrowing his eyebrows, when Doyoung tried to leave without saying anything else, “But I need to check your identification, this is an educational building”, he said, taking out an ocular reader. His eyes were new. It had been less than 48 hours since he had undergone a transfer and had sneaked out to test them, but he had been drawn by the woman's voice and forgotten the risk he was taking by being out of the house. “Here, it will take less than a minute”.

He blinked dazedly as the beam of light scanned his pupils.

Doyoung furrowed his expression, pain spreading across his face.

“Sakaguchi Kento...” the man read the name on his device in a curious tone. He looked at Doyoung, then at the ocular mapping registered under that name. The pain made him grunt. “It says here that you've been disconnected from any interface for six months, mr. Sakaguchi”.

They were new eyes.

Doyoung's body had rejected the old ocular receptors he had used for over nine years due to a donor's genetic defect, so he had needed to alter them at the first opportunity and was far from home out of sheer stubbornness — Dahee had managed to secure a closer and safer contact in Busan but he chose to go to Seoul because he didn't want to bring trouble.

“I'll have to ask you to come with me to the central report”.

He parted his lips, about to think of an excuse when they were interrupted by an intruding figure, someone with shoulder-length hair and a smile too wide to be menacing despite his dark eyes.

“Found you!” some stranger man exclaimed, slinging his arm around Doyoung's shoulders. He laughed, pulling him into an uncomfortable hug before staggering to face the security guard. “I leave you alone for a few minutes and you've already gotten into trouble?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes before reaching into his pocket and pulling out, along with his wallet, an ID card. “I don't know what he did but I can assure you that mr. Sakaguchi has level 2 authorization”.

The security guard looked at Doyoung with widened eyes.

“He'll show up as unavailable in the system”, the man caught the attention of both with his smile. “but there's no need to worry”.

The security guard nodded.

He looked at Doyoung with a concerned expression.

“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disrupt your work, please forget my slip-up, sir…” he murmured, stowing the ocular reader away. Doyoung felt his headache as if needles were being shoved into his brain. “I'll inform the others to let you do your work in peace. Have a good afternoon”.

As the man left them, Doyoung stepped away from the stranger and stared at him despite feeling a lot of pain in his eyes — he subtly nodded his head and moved out of his personal space, “Kim Doyoung”.

Doyoung blinked, gritting his teeth.

He swallowed saliva and put on a forced smile.

“Excuse me?!”

“Your name…” the man said with a certain expression, putting his arms behind his back. He took a deep breath and looked around, everyone was talking about the koakh's as if they were special people, as if the government had done everything it could to rescue them when in fact they were being turned into slaves. Weapons. “Kim Doyoung. Born on December 4th in Seoul. Son of Choi Dahee and Kim Jun-Ho”.

He dug his nails into the palms of his hands.

His father always reminded him to be careful, never let his guard down, and never forget how cunning people were. How powerful mr. Shin was and how many people had to be gotten rid of along the way to protect themselves — he put on a confused expression.

“I think you're mistaking me for someone else”.

“I never make mistakes”, the man laughed. Doyoung controlled his breathing, watching how he moved around him, as if he were encircling him. Mr. Shin was a powerful man, he always made sure they could barely breathe just to tighten the noose around their necks. “You are e Kim Doyoung but your eyes belong to Sakaguchi Kento, a college student who disappeared in Tokyo”.

He didn't know where the eyes they used came from.

Jun-Ho never talked about the things he needed to do to keep them alive, he just said what was necessary. Doyoung always wondered whether he wanted to know more, and understand why their donors were always so compatible, but after a few years of seeing Junkyu needing more donors than any of them, he decided to pretend he didn't care enough to lose sleep at night.

“He was a bad person…” the man said as if he could read the doubts in his expression. Doyoung stared at him. “Sakaguchi Kento. He was a bad man if you want to know. Your father was kind to have made him suffer so little”.

He tried not to think about the people, the owners of the eyes and faces.

He swallowed saliva, “I appreciate what you did with the security earlier, I confess I entered an educational building without proper permission to be there, but I don't think I understand what you're talking about”.

The man chuckled softly, through his nose, and approached.

He bent down to Doyoung's height.

“I'm not one of mr. Shin's men, Doyoung-ssi”, he said in a velvety, confident tone. Doyoung tried to avoid the involuntary reflex in his eyes when they widened. “And you are not Sakaguchi Kento”, he smiled broadly, extending his hand to him. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Hamada Asahi”.

Kim Doyoung.

No one else besides his parents and brother knew that name.

He was Sakaguchi Kento.

The eyes, the facial reader, the voice.

Everything was Sakaguchi Kento.

Not Kim Doyoung.

Doyoung felt threatened as if he were being cornered against the wall without being able to escape without getting hurt. He didn't know how that man could know his name, but he wasn't willing to find out — he stepped back, pushing the doors before passing through them without even looking back.

☽ ❍ ☾

Doyoung had watched, with gritted teeth and clenched fists, as the peacekeepers entered the store across from the café where he was spending some time and dragged a boy — young enough to need his mother's permission to be taken by them — by force.

He watched in silence as the boy tried to run and one of the peacekeepers shot him to death, shouting for everyone to clear the streets if they didn't want to be shot for loitering and aiding the passage of koakh's.

He watched as they threw the boy's body into the car.

“... look at this shit, it's going to blow up on my profile”, he heard someone say at the table in front of him and his eyes, irritated and wide, glanced at them for a brief moment. “The peacekeepers could have exposed his body in the square like they did with that electric girl last week”.

“Did you see the video too?!” the other asked. “Woah. I was surprised at how long she lasted. They shot her several times, but the bitch fought like a lioness...” he said, laughing, his eyes meeting Doyoung's as the words came out of his mouth. “What? Do you have any problem?!”

He released a heavy breath.

Dahee had begged her son to be careful while he was out of hiding, to avoid looking people in the eyes and hide from the peacekeepers' scans if he wanted to continue with his privilege of being out — but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes he heard things he couldn't digest and wanted the chance to do something about it.

No matter how much the world had become a technological and advanced place, people remained ignorant, intolerant, and cruel to each other simply because they enjoyed watching the death of a child in front of their eyes because they found it amusing.

Doyoung thought living among people was horrible.

People were cruel and ungrateful.

The whole world had become a battlefield.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, getting up from the table.

He left the restaurant, hands in his pockets, the cold wind touching his cheeks before his body really reacted to the low temperature of that time of year — he could smell blood even though the cleaners were scrubbing the dirty floors as if it really mattered to get rid of the trail left by the boy's body.

Doyoung felt his headache a nanosecond before Junkyu's voice echoed in his receptors, causing him to grit his teeth and furrow his brow, “... they shot someone in front of the community hall”, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “It was just a child”.

Doyoung rubbed his neck.

“Yeah. It happened here too...” he said looking around, feeling dizzy from the sound in his ears. “Did you manage to get what you needed?”

There was static noise in his head.

It was a side effect of not having a national registry.

Doyoung crossed the street, “Junkyu?”

“Umm. They gave me the injections”, his brother's voice sounded like a low-frequency radio. They were in the centre of Seoul, amidst a peacekeeper movement only because they needed Junkyu's medicine and they were supposed to meet at the extraction point. “… I'll meet you at home”.

He frowned, “Mom said we should go back together!”

Doyoung stopped when the noise disappeared from his head.

“Hyung?” he licked his lips anxiously. Dahee had sent him to Seoul with his brother to keep an eye on him, and help if necessary, and the agreement was that they would leave together. “Junkyu hyung?!”

Junkyu had cut the connection between his receptors.

Doyoung clicked his tongue impatiently.

The world remained the same, cruel and indifferent.

Only Junkyu had changed, distanced himself from everyone, and created a wall around himself so that no one else would cross the boundaries he had set to ensure that, when he died, no one else would be affected by his brief existence in their world.

Everyone else remained as cruel as ever.

Just like Junkyu.

He was cruel because he kept distancing himself.

☽ ❍ ☾

Junkyu gasped deeply as he collided with Doyoung in the woods.

He blinked his long dark lashes, surprised to see his brother.

“I told you we should come back together!” he grunted, grabbing his brother's arm. “What if something had happened?” Doyoung retorted impatiently, reaching his hand to Junkyu's pale face. The elder took a step back. He sighed impatiently. “... did you administer the injection?!”

He ran a hand through his long hair.

“I’ll do it at home”.

“You disappeared for hours and didn't administer the injection?!”

Junkyu clenched his teeth.

People remained the same to Junkyu.

They were pathetic and unbearable, doing stupid things and trying to justify every little detail with ideas they didn't truly believe in, and he had long grown tired of pretending otherwise.

“I only got one dose...” he said, rolling his eyes. That small action, rolling his eyes, was impossible for Junkyu to execute without feeling a piercing pain in his brain. Until some time ago it was even hard to see him standing and it was all thanks to the injections Jun-Ho managed to get. “They want more money for it and I couldn't afford it”.

Doyoung parted his lips.

“But one dose...” Doyoung shook his head.

Junkyu hated people.

He found them pathetic and tedious, feeling as if they were all just poorly made works tormenting those who truly wanted to be something beyond what they had been programmed to be in that pathetic world.

Governor Shin was one of those pathetic people who enjoyed watching any small living being suffer. The woman from whom Jun-Ho had obtained Junkyu's medication was exactly the same.

“Mom must have some money saved from dad's last job”, Doyoung drew Junkyu’s attention. “So let's go get it and then we can go back there to talk to the doctor. You need all five”.

And he was pathetic too.

He kept causing the family to suffer.

A smile stretched at the corners of his mouth.

“And what if I don't want to?”

He was as cruel and pathetic as anyone else in that universe, spending his time enjoying the pain of the small creatures because there was a part of him that was fed up with pretending to care about anything beyond the walls of his own prison, or the ‘after’ that Dahee tried to make them live with the identity of people dead by Jun-Ho.

He was tired of pretending like everyone else.

“I know you and mum want to live as much as you can”, he said in an acidic tone. “but that's stupid. I should be trying to figure out a way to get us out of this situation instead of having to hide to get these damn injections”.

Doyoung released his breath sharply, unable to understand.

He couldn't understand what Junkyu thought, how he felt pathetic about having to pretend to care about anything else other than the mess they had gotten into — he had pushed Jisoo.

No matter how much Jun-Ho tried to remind him that he had done it to protect himself, he had made an irreversible mistake and now they lived like rats trying to escape from a giant mousetrap.

Life had become hell because of him.

And no matter how much Doyoung or Dahee tried to rid themselves of the burden of existing that way, it was pathetic that they needed to keep doing all the things that everyone else in the world did when they should just give up once and for all.

And it was pathetic that he needed to think of anything else other than a way to get rid of Governor Shin, “I should surrender to Governor”, he said, clutching the injection package. Being killed would at least put an end to that hell. “It would be more fun if my death happened sooner”.

“Ya!”

Junkyu raised his head, looking at his brother.

A sarcastic smile stretched across his face.

Doyoung would have an easier life if he died soon.

☽ 12, April 2030 ☾

Blood trickled from his nose.

Junkyu sniffled, tasting it in his throat.

He gazed at the reflection in the mirror and blinked his long lashes, watching the liquid paint his skin — it was happening more frequently now. The doctors, friends of Jun-Ho's friends who were returning favours, said that it was because of the injections, and side effects. That they shouldn't worry.

It was a small result of his current state.

He no longer had seizures and was as healthy as possible but those little consequences keep happen even though he tried to take responsibility for his condition — Junkyu had been administering fewer injections in recent weeks, partly because of money. They didn't have enough money to get the necessary amount and the other part was because he was anxious to die.

Maybe he would feel more relieved if he died.

“... here, you can use this”, a hoarse voice echoed in his ears, causing him to shift his eyes towards the other reflection in the mirror, split in half, which hung in the dimly lit room. Junkyu blinked. “Go on. Take it”.

He took a deep breath, wiping the back of his hand on his nose.

Junkyu stepped away from the man, avoiding eye contact and sat in the last row, close enough to the exit door and far enough away to be ignored by the other people who didn't need to care about his presence there — Dahee had forced him to follow Doyoung to Daegu for an event.

They were supposed to meet a carrier sent by Jun-Ho with the money they needed to survive for a few more days.

“... you have to sign”, the same voice from a few minutes ago said, causing him to turn his head towards it. Junkyu parted his lips, staring at the device in front of him. “It's a record. They ask everyone to sign before leaving, and I noticed that you've been coming sometimes but you never stay long enough to sign it so I need you to do that right now”.

Junkyu glanced at the device again.

He had no idea they had noticed his presence because he went to that room at least once every three months, but he always avoided people and never left his face exposed enough to be remembered.

At least that's how he thought he did things.

He thought he was smart enough to be quickly forgotten if he didn't look people in the eye, “I really need you to sign...”

“No”.

A smile crept onto the man's lips.

“So you do speak...” he taunted, tilting his head slightly to the left as he looked Junkyu up and down. He looked ahead, avoiding the feeling of nakedness that ran through his body with the idea of having a conversation with someone. “Your facial reader says you're David Harp, a foreigner in Korean. Honestly, I think it's foolish to register people from outside, but that's how things are here, they ask me to make everyone sign”.

Junkyu got up.

He gave the man a blank look and left the room, ignoring his calls or the security guard who asked him to stop where he was if he didn't want to be arrested — Junkyu slinked through the corridors and among the people.

He knew the building well enough to escape.

He used his shoulder to open the old door of an old emergency exit that he had memorized for use when necessary, pulling the hood of his coat to cover his face before pressing a tiny button behind his left ear — when the security guard crossed the door, a minute after him, his face was completely different.

He felt his heart tighten at the security guard's touch.

It was always risky to do that in public, activating the facial faker could trigger an alert to the surveillance cameras and have a pacifier unit sent to the location for illegality.

Jun-Ho had made him and Doyoung promise never to do that in public, to be careful and never let anyone know they had such an implant, “Oh. Can I help you in any way?” he asked falsely surprised by the approach. His clothes remained the same, but if he were lucky, he would go unnoticed anyway. The man frowned, confused. “Yes?!”

The security guard watched him for a moment.

Sometimes, small details could ruin everything.

☽ ❍ ☾

Junkyu toyed with the vegetables on his plate.

“... still not hungry?” Dahee's voice echoed loudly in his ears. Junkyu had decided to ignore anything coming out of his mother's mouth after they argued. Partly because he didn't want to talk about that subject again and partly because it was exhausting. “How long are you going to keep ignoring me like that?! Umm? You were the one who messed up”.

He sighed deeply.

“No. I didn't do anything wrong”, he retorted sharply. Doyoung glanced at them, furrowing his thick, brown eyebrows. “You're the one who went through my personal stuff without my permission”.

The woman clicked her tongue, dropping her fork onto the plate.

She had found something she shouldn't have.

Letters.

Junkyu had written a letter to each of them.

Dahee. Doyoung. And Jun-Ho.

They were goodbye letters.

Letters he had written a long time ago.

Dahee had no right to go through his things.

“A security guard approached me today in the building...” he said over his anger, wanting to keep ignoring the exact moment he had entered his room and seen the look on Dahee's face and the letters open in her trembling hands. “I had to activate my facial faker, so now it's having connection issues because of it. It keeps oscillating when I use it”.

Dahee's irritated expression turned into concern.

He preferred to talk about other things, anything but those letters.

They were his private thoughts.

Thoughts he wasn't sure he wanted to get rid of even after three years had passed since he wrote them, “But I'll figure out how do resolve it out later”.

“Did he suspect anything?”

Junkyu looked at Doyoung, shaking his head.

Dahee nodded in relief, “Thank God”, she said.

He nodded back, fiddling his mouth with the vegetables.

He could feel Doyoung's curious eyes on him.

He would talk about anything.

Anything at that moment.

Except for the letters.

“Alright, we can talk to your father. He must have some contacts who can help us with this, and until then, you avoid using the faker and only go out with a mask...” Dahee said seriously. “Doyoungie, you can do that, right? Call your father and see what he can do”.

Junkyu gritted his teeth.

“I just said I could handle it myself”.

“And how are you going to handle it yourself?!” his mother questioned impatiently, tossing the napkin onto the table. She wants to live. She would send her children to get an education even if they had to use other people's faces and identities, even if they had to kill bad people for their sake. She wanted to live as much as possible, but Junkyu didn't want that. “You can't do it alone. In fact, you can't do anything except write letters!”

He pushed the chair back and stood up.

“I've lost my appetite”, he said, glaring at his mother with a cruel look. She had no right to talk about that. It was his decision, and they kept forbidding him to accept how he felt. “I'll be in my room”.

They couldn't keep forcing him to live like that.

They couldn't think they had control over it because, even if Governor Shin never found them, the disease would. Eventually, the injections would stop working, and Junkyu would have a seizure so severe that it might be his last, and they couldn't control that.

No one could.

But Junkyu had to pretend he wanted to live as much as possible.

Two knocks on the door made him shift his eyes.

Doyoung leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?!”

He had also read the letters.

He also disagreed with Junkyu.

“She's our mother...” Doyoung queried in a frustrated sigh, tired. He was very young, but he lived taking care of the family as if he were the oldest soul among them. “And as our mother, it's her programming to take care of us and be afraid because of our monsters, so don't be cruel. She didn't mean to invade your space”.

Junkyu clicked his tongue, “That's what you always say”.

“Because that’s true. We're just trying to survive”.

“It would be so much easier if I weren't here!”

Doyoung bit his cheeks, “But it doesn't have to be like this”.

“Maybe it does”, Junkyu retorted. “After all, it's what's going to happen one way or another, Doyoungie. If not at the hands of that man, it will be because of this disease. There's no other way out for me. It's simple”.

Doyoung stared at his brother in complete silence.

Junkyu hoped that one day, Doyoung could live in peace.

He hoped his brother could live as himself.

That he could build a family and be happy.

That he could be the age he should really be and act accordingly.

“It might be, but I'm not ready to live without my brother”.

Junkyu bit his cheeks and closed the book he was reading.

“But you need to…”

Doyoung nodded, “But not now, hyung. Not like this!”

Junkyu intended to kill himself.

It was as simple as that.

He was tired and wanted it all to end.

He wanted to meet mr. Shin and make a deal.

His life for his family's life.

Or maybe he just needed to kill himself so they could be free.

They could be happy if he wasn't in their lives anymore.

“Just try a little longer...” Doyoung whispered anxiously. Junkyu looked at him with his blue eyes that had been ripped from someone's face to allow him to walk the filthy streets without being caught in his great existential lie. They should give up. “Just a little longer, please. We still need you”.

Junkyu pressed his lips together.

“Doyoungie...”

“I need you, hyung!” Doyoung said firmly. “So, for me, just try a little longer for me. If you don't give up on this idea, then I'll help you convince dad and mum about this shit but try a bit longer, I'm begging you…”

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა NOTE: use of bamboo swords, physical fighting, injuries, training

“Grab your sword,” he said, kicking off his shoes.

Jun-Ho was a man of many skills.

He had served in the army for many years before being discharged due to an arm injury, had worked with Mr. Shin before all the trouble with Jisoo, and had taught his children to defend themselves.

There was a part of Junkyu that blamed his father.

If he hadn't taught his children self-defence if he hadn't encouraged them, maybe they wouldn't have fought with Jisoo like that, and maybe they wouldn't be living in this hell. Maybe he would have taken a beating and lost some teeth, but at least the rest of his family would be alive and happy.

They were living in the same house they had lived in all this time and would have achieved what they wanted in life but the other part knew it was foolishness and that they had to defend themselves, that Jun-Ho had done the right thing by instructing them with what they needed to protect themselves from any threat that might hurt them.

“Two sessions?”

“I was thinking of five...” Junkyu twirled the sword in his hand.

Junkyu had been a taekwondo athlete in childhood, and Doyoung was a fencer and did swimming, in their spare time they both learned self-defence, persuasion, basic survival skills and first aid too.

“When I asked you to try, I didn't mean you would try that hard”.

Junkyu rolled his eyes, "Just hurry up, for God's sake."

The bamboo sword struck Doyoung's right shoulder as the boy attempted to attack, and Junkyu positioned his feet as his father always corrected them during training.

They needed to protect themselves.

That's what Jun-Ho said at the beginning when Dahee insisted that the man let the boys sleep more than four hours a day. There will come a day when the basics won't save their lives. We can't let that happen.

He insisted, despite knowing that the children were hurt.

He struck Doyoung once more.

“You're letting your anger get in the way...” Junkyu said, observing his brother's movements before tapping him on the face with the bamboo. The red streak across Doyoung's left cheek shouldn't shake Junkyu's determination, but it always bothered him because it was his fault that things had turned out that way. He had pushed Jisoo, but it was his brother who had lost everything. “You'll end up hurting yourself if you keep letting your thoughts poison you. Focus”.

Doyoung gritted his teeth, “You complain so much about it but you sound just like dad...", he advanced towards him, but was struck before he could even think of his next move. “What a nightmare!”

Junkyu punched Doyoung in the stomach.

They exchanged furious glances.

Doyoung had asked Junkyu to try a little, and he was trying a little, but there was still that invisible ghost hovering over Junkyu wanting to end it all, and whenever they were together, it seemed to become more palpable and it was hard to ignore his motivations.

Even in training, that was visible.

“... just two more sessions and we'll stop”.

“You don't even care about it”.

“But mum cares, and I want her to leave me the fuck alone”.

“Why? Because of your suicide letters?!”

They were the last of their family.

Everyone else had been murdered.

Governor Shin had killed them all.

Everyone.

Junkyu, Doyoung, Dahee and JunHo were the last ones.

There was no one else from their family.

After they died, there would be nothing left of them in the world.

“... I met someone”.

Junkyu widened his eyes, “Doyoung!”

“I know!” Doyoung complained, getting up, positioning his feet and raising the sword in front of his face. “I shouldn't have but it happened and it's been stressful. I just wanted to be able to say it. That I met someone”.

Junkyu parted his lips.

They would be the end of the Kim lineage.

They had no more living relatives and never would.

But Doyoung was too young and Junkyu wanted him to have hope. To have a future that wasn't stained with blood and darkness, “So you're in love?”

Doyoung clenched his teeth.

“It's not like that!”

Junkyu moved, hitting him on the back.

Doyoung cursed impatiently, “He's just a friend”.

The elder nodded, stepping back.

“Okay. But you do like him?”

Doyoung moistened his lips, “… maybe”.

Junkyu felt sorry for Doyoung.

He felt sorry for Dahee.

He felt sorry for JunHo.

“Don't let dad find out...” he said. “He'll make you back off”.

Doyoung looked at his brother intently.

They were the last ones.

But maybe they didn't have to be.

Junkyu could be the last to leave that world.

And they could live their lives.

☽ may 3 2030 ☾

Junkyu spat blood.

He ran his tongue over his teeth before leaning the bamboo tip on the ground and rising before being hit again — Doyoung yelled as he hit a tree trunk, and JunHo laughed spreading his feet in an attacking stance, seeing his eldest son a few meters away from where he had brought down the other.

He dodged a few times.

Sweat dripped from his long strands, making his corneas burn more than usual, and JunHo took advantage of the moment to sweep his son off his feet, who grunted and kicked the man's knee.

They both looked at each other.

He had made it clear that — despite Junkyu's insistence — they wouldn't give up. Perhaps that was why they were so furious with each other because one of the sons wanted to continue, the other wanted to go kill himself, the mother didn't accept the opinion of any of the three, and the man needed to keep the promise he had made to protect the family from Governor Shin.

“... you lost. So, you'll go back to getting treatment and injections in Daegu”, Jun-Ho hid the sword behind his back. Doyoung leaned against the tree and watched the situation from afar. “I know you have your interests, but you won't make this decision on your own this time. This family needs you and you need the treatment. Our family needs the enzymes”.

Junkyu clenched his teeth.

It was always his fault.

If they had to run away, it was because Junkyu had pushed Jisoo.

If they had to fight, it was because Junkyu wanted to die.

It was always about him.

Everything and all things.

It was so exhausting and pathetic.

They had come back to Korea because Junkyu had fallen ill and needed treatment from his home country since no other country had the same genetic markers.

When would they stop having to do things because of him?

When would they die because of him?

He screamed as the bamboo struck the side of his body.

“Now stop being deadweight, get up and show me what you've learned in the last few months I've been away before I rip one of your fingers off for insubordination, kiddo...”, Jun-Ho demanded.

☽ may 26 2030 ☾

“Gezz…” a frightened voice startled him. “Are you okay?!”

It was the same man as last time.

The one who insisted that Junkyu sign the register.

He was only there to get his injections.

Doyoung was waiting for the receiver while he made sure the money was secure so they wouldn't be cheated or robbed by some kid on the street just like the other day — that place was like a meeting point.

“Your face...!” the man insisted. “You're hurt”.

Junkyu stood up to leave.

The man held his arm firmly.

“I'm sorry but I can't let you go like this!” he said seriously, apprehensive. Junkyu clenched his jaw. “... look, my name is Park Jihoon, I'm a volunteer in this sector and I need to help anyone in danger and your face...” he shook his head. “Is the person who hurt you around? Should I call security?!”

Junkyu tried to pull his arm.

He was strong.

Stronger than Jun-Ho.

“It looks really bad...” the man frowned as he saw him resist and ignore his attempt to help. Junkyu gritted his teeth and pulled his arm again but with little result. “It's okay if you don't want to tell me who did this but let me help, please. I have a first aid spray, it'll take less time than it'll take for you to run away like last time”.

Junkyu looked at him attentively.

It had been a long time since someone had looked at him with that kind of genuine concern. Partly because Junkyu avoided the eyes of any stranger who might stab him at the slightest slip, and partly because his ocular receptors were flawed, someone could end up seeing the flaws and trigger the pacifiers for ocular fraud.

But those eyes that stared at him were concerned.

“Please...” the voice caught his attention, making him move his eyes around to check if anyone else was paying attention to them. “I promise I'll let you go after you let me help you with your face”.

The two fell silent for what seemed like an eternity.

They were beautiful eyes.

Beautiful and concerned.

Junkyu felt comforted by someone caring about him.

It was different from the concern his parents and brother had.

It was a much more... gentle kind of concern.

The door to the auditorium opened a few meters from where they stood, just staring at each other, and in a fleeting moment of opportunity, Junkyu wriggled out of the man's grip on his arm.

The yellow bead bracelet around his arm snapped due to the force he used to break free before Junkyu managed to pass by the person who had opened an opportunity for him to escape from the man with worried eyes.

Junkyu's eyes stung.

His heart raced and his whole face went cold.

It was dark.

His eyelashes trembled, the confusion of his thoughts left him breathless and he coughed as his lungs burned because it was dark when he passed through the last door — Junkyu ran his hands through his hair, turning around without moving to read any sign, anything that could explain where he had ended up and why it was so dark.

There were no more solar eclipses.

Since the experiments, the atmosphere was different and there were no more eclipses, the day did not turn into night in the blink of an eye and there was no way he had travelled for so long because he remembered the last time he had checked the auditorium clock — but now it was dark and there was no one on the street because it was already past curfew.

He coughed, feeling his stomach churn.

A sign caught his eye.

Zone 20, Hongdae.

He was supposed to be in Itaewon.

Junkyu turned, his feet stumbling and his breathing grew louder in his ears to the point of making him feel uncomfortable moments before the static made him grit his teeth in pain and almost shrink:

“... please, you need to pick up…”

It was Doyoung's voice.

Junkyu pressed the device behind his ear.

“Doyoungie?!”

There was only static.

It was loud and different from all the other times they communicated through the faulty devices implanted in their brains so they wouldn't have to be near each other to communicate — Junkyu licked his lips and searched for a signal tower even though he knew they were all shut down after dark.

He should be in Itaewon waiting for Doyoung with the money.

They were supposed to meet and go home afterwards.

When had he left the building?

How had he managed to get to Hongdae?

Where was Doyoung?

How many authentication readers had scanned his biometrics and searched for his unauthorized identification in Seoul's database?

He didn't know.

He didn't know how he had ended up there without being caught.

Junkyu couldn't remember.

“Hyung…” Doyoung's voice echoed again with a lot of static in his ears, making him stop running. “... please, hyung. Just answer, umm? I need to know you're still there. Junkyu?”

He had lost hours.

Doyoung had been left behind.

Junkyu pressed the device again, “I'm here!”

There was a crackle, then a long, relieved sigh.

“... you're alive”, Doyoung murmured. Junkyu had left without Doyoung. He had left his brother alone. “... are-hyung...” he was crying. Junkyu gritted his teeth. “Where the fuck are you right now?!”

Junkyu had simply left Doyoung.

After the letters.

After making him understand he felt like a burden and wanted to die.

He had left him alone with all those truths.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone…”

Doyoung sniffed, “You're okay. That's all that matters”, he said, moving. Junkyu could hear how heavily he breathed as he walked. “Just tell me where you are, and we'll figure it out”.

Junkyu opened and closed his mouth.

Doyoung was far away.

Usually, they could sense each other through their locators, just by swiping their fingerprints over their right forearms, and they would feel each other's presence as if it were their own — it was a gift from a friend of Jun-Ho's so they would never feel alone while fleeing.

It was a technology designed for the pacifiers.

And it was the closest thing they had to a family symbiosis.

“Junkyu?!”

“Zone 20...” Junkyu replied, stopping walking. “... From Hongdae”.

Doyoung was far, far away from Junkyu.

And Junkyu had no idea how that had happened.

“Shit”, Doyoung stopped walking.

Junkyu and Doyoung had gone to Itaewon to pick up their injections. He had gone to the building to wait for the signal to take the money, had been approached by that man with worried eyes, and found a way to escape his curious questions, but after that, everything was black.

There was no more memory.

There wasn't even a clue as to how he had ended up there.

But he was in Hongdae.

“... you need to find a safe place”, Doyoung repeated Jun-Ho's words for this kind of situation. Junkyu couldn't go to him, couldn't go back home right now. “If an AI interface or pacifier catches you, you'll be executed for breaking martial law before you can think of an excuse, hyung. You need to find a safe place and stay there until dawn”.

Chapter Text

When Junkyu was little, he liked lying on the fresh grass in the backyard of his house, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin and the gentle sound of the wind blowing the clothes on the clotheslines, turning his restlessness into pure music.

He liked carrying Doyoung on his back and explaining in detail each stage of the life of plants as if a 3-year-old boy would actually care or understand what his brother was talking about incessantly.

He liked so many things.

Running barefoot around their house, helping his mother wash the dirty laundry the old-fashioned way — with their feet —, watching the small animals living their secret lives among the leaves, ice cream, the sun, the rain, scribbling on the walls and talking non-stop with Doyoung, laughing with his father.

And Shin Jisoo.

Junkyu really liked Jisoo.

They were the same age and wanted to do the same thing when they grew up — build bridges. They were friends until that night when they discovered it was all a lie and that everything they enjoyed doing together was pure pretence.

They were good friends until the shouts and the coma.

Now — at almost twenty-one — Junkyu didn't like anything.

He didn't like the smell of grass, the sun touching his body, the sound of the wind that irritated his ears, the little animals and their stupid lives, running, talking non-stop, living the rest of his life.

He didn't like living because being alive was a constant reminder that Jisoo existed and he was in a coma since that day, confined to his own mind until his cruel father decided to end his suffering once and for all.

Junkyu didn't like anything anymore, including himself.

Not even how his mind was dying.

“... what day is it today?”

Doyoung shifted his eyes towards his brother.

Junkyu stared back, “Date, please”.

“It's the day after yesterday. 7th June 2030”, Doyoung whispered, pulling his legs up onto the chair. He leaned the bowl on his knees and frowned at his brother. “What's the matter with the dates, umm?”

He was forgetting them.

The dates.

The hours.

Almost all of his days.

It could have been like that with Jisoo after the accident.

Maybe Jisoo's consciousness hadn't returned because he didn't remember anything and everything was an eternal void with nowhere to go. Maybe that was the mystery behind the coma and it was ironic because they had found out cancer cure ten years ago, but still didn't know how to wake up a patient in a vegetative state like Jisoo.

“Maybe they should get him a new brain...”, Junkyu whispered, looking away. Doyoung knew his brother was acting strange but didn't want to ask. He had promised not to ask and to let him decide when it was the right time to share whatever was happening. “I'm going to train. Want to join?!”

Doyoung tilted his head.

“But you just said...” he moistened his lips, trying to talk about it without really sounding strange. “You just said you didn't want to train with me anymore. Like, you said that yesterday. You said that after getting hurt because of me and said it was easier to train alone from now on…”

Junkyu gritted his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows.

He didn't know what Doyoung was talking about.

They hadn't trained yesterday... had they?

7th June 2030.

The day after ‘yesterday’.

He didn't remember 6th June.

He only remembered asking Doyoung what day it was.

“... oh, of course”, he nodded, confused. “I must have said that…”

He got up from the table and Dahee appeared in the hallway.

“What? Are you going out again?!” she asked seriously. “This is the third time in less than two hours. What are you up to?! Why are you so focused on training lately?!” the woman huffed. “Is your father demanding that you do more extra training hours?!”

Doyoung toyed with his food, “Nope”.

Junkyu looked at his brother.

Then he looked at his mother.

He was leaving for the third time?

“... I think I have too much energy inside. I need to train”, Junkyu put the bowl in the sink. “Dad comes back in two weeks, he'll want to know how much I've trained and I don't think I'm doing enough for now”.

Doyoung groaned, “Hyung...”, he shook his head. “You literally just got back from the forest. We trained all morning, Junkyu hyung”.

The problem was that Junkyu didn't remember that.

And his body didn't seem to remember either.

There was no tiredness or signs of injuries.

In fact — apart from the emptiness in his memory — he felt fine.

He felt extremely fine.

Like he had never felt before.

“I just need a few more hours...” Junkyu licked his lips.

“Junkyu!” Dahee scolded him too late after her son had already left them alone in the kitchen. She sighed deeply and turned to Doyoung with a worried look. “Has something happened that I'm not aware of yet?!”

Doyoung shook his head silently, “He's just being... himself”.

Dahee pressed her lips together.

She wished it wasn't true.

That ‘that’ wasn't her little boy.

“Go with your brother”.

Doyoung pushed the bowl away from himself, “Why?!”

“Please, he needs company Dobby”, Dahee rubbed her forehead apprehensively. She didn't need Doyoung to have more responsibilities than he already had but there wasn't much to do about it. “Just go with him”.

Doyoung gritted his teeth and got up.

It was frustrating but he always obeyed his mother.

However, contrary to what he and Dahee were expecting, he didn't find Junkyu where they usually trained hidden from everything and everyone outside that mountain, but rather at the highest peak where their father prohibited them from going because it was abandoned and strictly dangerous as pacifiers usually patrolled that area making rounds.

Any drone could detect their movements and discover they were hiding inside the trees without anyone suspecting it.

Doyoung ran without thinking twice when he saw his brother take a large step towards the edge of the hill, where the land ended and only a drop of over twelve meters high remained — he had no idea what could happen if a scout drone found them but he knew that, if Junkyu fell from that height, no doctor would be able to save him.

He shouted, “What's your fucking problem?!”

They both fell backwards, the impact of Junkyu's body hurt Doyoung's back but at least they were safe — he pulled him up, so they could leave the hill before it was too late to hide if they were seen and felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Doyoung ran his hands through his hair.

Junkyu was about to jump.

He was one step away from jumping from that height.

“You were about to...” he stared at his brother angrily. “Why?! You promised you would try longer, just a few more months before making any decisions and the first thing you do after we fight is trying to break that?!”

Junkyu parted his lips and furrowed his eyebrows.

They had never talked about what had happened in Hongdae.

About how Junkyu seemed disoriented when he met Doyoung that morning, saying he got lost in the middle of a pacifier movement, about the uncertainty in his words and the gap in his memory that didn't let him know how he ended up 43 minutes away from where he was supposed to meet his brother that day.

They hadn't talked about the 7 hours Junkyu disappeared.

“... I'm forgetting things”, he finally said. Doyoung rolled his eyes and scolded him frustratedly. “Events, thoughts...” Junkyu insisted, gesturing firmly to his brother. “Hours. Days! I'm forgetting things I've been doing, Doyoung. I don't remember how I ended up here or yesterday!”

Doyoung gasped, shaking his head.

Junkyu could be many things but he wasn't a liar.

He couldn't lie well.

“That day I didn't get confused with the paths because of a pacifier action…”, he inquired in a whisper. “I just ended up there. I don't know how or why, I just remember going out a door and realizing it was dark and seeing a sign saying the area I was in, but the rest...” he shook his head. “It's a big fucking black hole in my mind, Doyoungie”.

Doyoung's eyebrows tensed.

Junkyu really couldn't lie.

He was always pretty honest about what he thought.

Even about wanting to give up and die.

There was no reason for him not to tell the truth, “What?!”

“It happened again”, he said pointing to where they were at that exact moment. “I remember asking you what day it was and then you yelling at me a few minutes ago, but I don't remember how I got here or why I decided to come here. And it's been happening more often now”.

Doyoung pursed his lips, “You-”, blinked. “Are you sure you're not just too tired hyung? The medications might have side effects-”

“I lost days of memories, Doyoung!” Junkyu interrupted, vehemently denying. He knew something was wrong. He just couldn't name what it was. It had never happened before. Even with all the genetic defects, seizures and symbiotic deficiencies he should have had at that age, there was no logic because that's not how it should be. “I don't think it's because of the medication. But I think, somehow, I'm having blackouts for days”.

☽ 27th June 2030 ☾

The room was in deep silence.

No one could hear the sounds of their breaths.

No one wanted to be the first to speak because maybe there wasn't really anything to say yet — but Park Jihoon's, who could now be considered the leader of that select group of people, brown eyes moved attentively and anxiously as the boy took a deep breath and, after a long sigh, removed the black gloves, leaving them on the table.

Before he touched anything, he looked at Jihoon again:

“... are you sure?”

Jihoon pursed his lips and shook his head.

The boy — So Junghwan, a seer — exhaled.

He always got pretty nervous when he had to do that, using his powers to get somewhere but he never refused to help his friends even though it was always painful for him, “Alright. Let's do this”.

“Wait!” Kanemoto Yoshinori, who was in charge of medical care and had dedicated himself to helping them even though he had no powers in his hands, grunted in an apprehensive whisper. He looked at their friends around the table. “... maybe, since you're not sure, we shouldn't make him go through this again, Jihoonah”.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows.

“The person in this hologram doesn't match any of the characteristics the clairvoyant gave us...” Yoshinori pointed to the yellow projection on the table. “I know you think you have some kind of sixth sense but it doesn't match anything and Junghwan is exhausted because of the last time, maybe we should give him some more time to rest”.

“I'm fine!” Junghwan retorted, but he wasn't fine.

Yoshinori knew that better than all the others because he was in charge of monitoring the group, he was the only doctor they had, and Junghwan's recent results were pretty low compared to what they should have been because when he used his powers, it was draining.

“Tell him it's stupid!” Yoshinori demanded, looking at Hyunsuk.

Choi Hyunsuk, the eldest.

If Jihoon was the leader at that moment, it was because Hyunsuk had taken him out of the house before government agents took all the Park family members when the MOME corporations were dissolved because of their human experiments that had created the new era they lived in.

He was the reason why Jihoon was blinded by purpose.

Hyunsuk smiled bitterly, “Ah-I...”, he shook his head and ran his hands over his face. “Junghwan, do it if you want to. The information doesn't match, touching it might be like shooting in the dark and you've already been through many of these situations, but Jihoon has insisted a lot on this guy”.

Yoshinori banged on the table and stood up.

Jihoon bit his lip.

He knew and agreed with Yoshinori's reasons.

It was cruel to keep asking Junghwan to take so much responsibility in that way and be so drained by all those failed attempts, but there was no other way. They couldn't pretend there was another way out except that one because they had lived long enough to know how it ended.

They would get sick.

Just like Jeongwoo had gotten sick.

“... Yoshi's right”, Jihoon whispered. “He doesn't match the information the clairvoyant gave us, but we've been going to that same place for a long time and I know I've made you go through a lot, but it doesn't make sense for him to always be the only one to come back there exactly as Kato said”.

Junghwan nodded, squeezing his lips.

He trusted Jihoon.

Not just because they had all grown up together and managed to survive together, he trusted Jihoon because Jihoon wanted the same thing as all of them — a cure for the disease that was killing the Koakh's.

Kato, the clairvoyant, had prophesied that a koakh with an unseen ability would be the answer to the genetic flaw that all those with powers had in their DNA, the flame — as they had named the disease that took over their brains through the use of powers — was an evil that the government didn't intend to fight and that no one knew how to cure.

There was no reason to cure them.

And because of that, they were dying.

More and more Koakh's were dying all over the world, their brains contaminated by the defective disease of their genes that burned them gradually until there was nothing left of what they had been.

But there was a prophecy, a rumour circulating among the clandestine who had not been catalogued by the government and turned into weapons of war that one of them would save everyone from that disease.

Someone had the power to save Jeongwoo.

To save them all.

“I'll do it...” Junghwan broke the tense silence.

Yoshinori stared at him with extreme concern because, like Jeongwoo, everyone with powers could end up sick. All they needed to do was keep using their powers, “And if something happens, if you notice I'm getting on bad terms, you pull me out of the flow hyung”.

Yoshinori denied, “No. I can't”.

“You can, and you will!” Junghwan replied seriously, looking at Yoshi with confidence. He was the only one of them who wouldn't die like that. He didn't have the mutant genes and didn't have abilities. He was a person who, if lucky, would die of some human disease when he was older than any of them would be able to if they couldn't find a cure. “I trust you. I’ll be okay”.

There was no time to argue.

Yoshinori gasped loudly and shakily.

Hyunsuk pressed his palms over his eyes.

And Jihoon stood up as the light hit him.

Junghwan's eyes were white and he was no longer there.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: scene of blood, emotional overload and fainting. It also depicts a violent attack leading to the death of the character.

It's important to note that this chapter is told from various perspectives, alternating between Junkyu and Jihoon, but they occur at the same time and space despite being in completely different environments.

Pay attention to the dates.

Jihoon approached Junghwan and Yoshinori.

He exchanged a worried look with Hyunsuk.

“... should we pull him out?!”

Yoshinori looked at him, “Only if he asks to”.

Junghwan's nose was bleeding.

His forehead was sweaty and furrowed.

Junghwan's body slumped forward, “What...?”

Yoshinori licked his lips and raised an eyebrow.

“Should I pull you out?!” he was prepared to hold Junghwan's hand in case he needed an anchor to return from the astral plane. “... Hwanie?”

Junghwan's head turned towards the sound of Yoshi's voice, but his consciousness was between that plane and the other, “Not yet...” he whispered with urgency in his voice. He murmured something inaudible for them and said again: “No. Not yet”.

So Junghwan was seer.

Seer.

Noun, the quality or character of being seer, a person with mediumship who, without using the senses, becomes aware of the external world through touch. In other words, he could use the sensory fields of a person or object to see what couldn't be seen.

A loud gasp echoed from the depths of Junghwan's throat.

“I found you!”

Jihoon knelt beside Junghwan.

“Did you find him?!”

Yoshinori scolded Jihoon, “Stop asking questions before it's time, he's more agitated than usual”, pointing to the painful emotions on Junghwan's face. “I've never seen him like this. Maybe it's an old vision, the past is usually confusing but he seems too scared...”

“So you should pull him out”.

“Not yet!” Jihoon almost shouted at Hyunsuk.

Yoshinori scolded him.

“Even if I wanted to, he must give me permission…”

Hyunsuk looked worried now that Junghwan was emitting painful sounds, “But what if he gets stuck?” he asked. “I've also never seen him so agitated either. What if he ends up lost in the flow?!”

Jihoon looked at Hyunsuk.

It wouldn't happen.

Yoshinori was Junghwan's anchor, he could bring him back.

So they had to let him keep following the flow.

“He might-”

Junghwan's voice echoed distortedly in the room, “Why aren't you running from me?!” he often relived traumatic moments. Flows from the past were always full of energy but Junghwan never sounded like that because the past was distant and grey. A sharp laugh echoed from his mouth. “Not afraid of me anymore, little bird?”

“What...” Hyunsuk looked at Yoshi. “What does this mean?”

Yoshinori shook his head, “I don't know. A memory?!” he speculated. It was always characteristic. Memories from the past were grey and Junghwan usually reacted cautiously and curiously. His voice was always cloudy. Current flows were noisy. “I have no idea, he's never sounded like this before...” he looked at Junghwan with fear. “It's different from anything I've ever seen him do when he enters a flow”.

Junghwan's head moved to the left as if he were looking at Jihoon even though he wasn't really present on that plane to know that the person beside him was one of his best friends, the person who had promised his parents to protect him from everything and everyone.

His breathing became heavy.

His whole body lurched forward.

And he shook his head nervously.

His face darkened.

Junghwan moved his hand as if pulling something and smiled widely as he had never smiled before, “It's okay if you're not afraid of me right now, I can make you remember what I'm capable of” he tilted his head, cracking his neck. “I've been waiting for this day. I watched you and your family run like rats and now I'm going to make you remember what it's like to be afraid and make you pay for what you did to my son, murderer”.

Hyunsuk's eyes widened.

“He said... murderer?!”

Yoshinori looked at Jihoon, “Who the hell is this guy?!!

“I don't—he—I don't know!” Jihoon defended himself. “He's not registered but he's always in the lecture as the seer said would happen with the person we're looking for. I just thought that even if he doesn't look anything like the characteristics we have, it could be possible because of how frequently he seems...”

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No!” Junghwan screamed in terror, startling them. Jihoon fell backwards with wide eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. “Don’t, please. Don’t. Please... don’t!”

“Yoshi!” Hyunsuk cried in tears. “Pull him out. Pull him out now!”

Yoshinori took the bead in Junghwan's trembling hands and intertwined his fingers with his, giving a tug to make his mind understand that it was time to wake up, that he should leave the flow and come back to them, but unlike all the other times, Junghwan wasn't awake.

Yoshi was his anchor.

It always worked.

Always.

But Junghwan was still in a trance.

“Yoshi!” Hyunsuk shouted.

“I don't know what's happening!” Yoshi shouted back, feeling his throat tighten. He gave another tug on Junghwan. “He's never been resistant to me before. Hwanie, you need to let go”, he said hurriedly, seeing blood running from the younger one's nose. “You have to let go of the flow and come back!”

“Oh my God, oh my fucking God!” Hyunsuk grabbed his hair.

Jihoon widened his eyes.

He didn't know what he had gotten his friends into.

He had gotten excited about the possibility of having found the right person and demanded too much of Junghwan without being able to make sure it was safe to touch that bead and enter an unknown flow.

Suddenly, Junghwan sighed sadly and, as it should have happened the first time Yoshi touched him, his eyes returned to normal gently, tears rolling down his face as if they were really his own.

But before his whole body shut down from exhaustion, he murmured with a sad smile on his face, “... thank you, Jihoonie”.

☽ June 30, 2030 ☾

Jun-Ho glanced at his eldest son.

He reached out his hand across the table, “Are you alright?”

Junkyu blinked in confusion, looking at his father.

He had overheard a conversation between his parents.

Dahee had talked about the suicide letters.

She thought Junkyu would never be her little boy again.

That he would never be the cheerful and adorable boy she had seen growing up to his late teens, that she would never see him smile and act like the person she imagined he would be. It was hard for Dahee to accept that Junkyu had become a cold young man, distant from all the people who remained to love him and had given up so easily on his existence.

“Huh. I'm fine”, he lied. “Just not hungry”.

He could feel Doyoung's gaze.

He had pleaded with his brother not to talk about the blackouts.

Dahee was already under a lot of pressure because of the letters, and JunHo needed to worry about other things, like staying alive when he went out to keep them hidden from the governor, so he didn't want his parents to know about it because he didn't know how to solve it.

“... you should at least try to eat some more”.

Junkyu gritted his teeth, “I'll eat when I'm hungry”.

He pushed his father's hand away and dropped the fork.

“You don't have to be a jerk”, Doyoung sighed impatiently.

Junkyu licked his lips and rolled his eyes.

“Why don't you go fuck yourself?!”

“Ya!” Dahee scolded. “Watch your mouth, boy”.

Junkyu laughed bitterly, rubbing his hands on his face, “Did I say something wrong now?! I'm just not hungry, why do you need to make such a big deal out of it all the time?” he retorted. “You don't want to hear me talk like this? Then stop meddling in my damn life”.

A loud slap echoed through the room and Dahee put her hands over her mouth in disbelief that her husband had actually slapped their son in the face because they had never been that kind of family — Junkyu wasn't that arrogant, Doyoung used to support his brother, Dahee was kind and cheerful, and JunHo worshipped everything they had built together.

Junkyu's facial muscles twitched.

He had never been slapped before.

Not on purpose, all the bruises inflicted by JunHo were because of the military training he insisted on giving to the children so they would know how to protect themselves, other than that he had never hit the children no matter how stubborn they were, and Junkyu felt furious about it.

It didn't matter if there was a part of him that told him to forget, to accept that he had deserved that slap, he felt angry because he didn't believe his father had punished him like that for doing what they always told him to do, to be the person he was and speak openly about how he felt regardless of what it was.

He smiled bitterly, looking at JunHo.

“Are you happier now that you hit me?!” he raised an eyebrow. He was clenching his fists. “Can you leave me alone now?!”

JunHo leaned back in his chair, “What's going on with you?” he asked worriedly, shaking his head. “I thought things had calmed down after our last conversation, but it seems to be getting worse. Since when we do things this way, huh?”

Junkyu laughed.

There was a boiling rage in his stomach that he couldn't control.

“Junkyu-”

“Who cares about any shit you have to say?!” Junkyu retorted with a cold expression on his face. “You should stop trying so hard to pretend that anyone cares, dad. Do you think a father-son conversation is going to change things just like that? We're miserable people living hidden like rats, and you keep pretending you are other than that”.

Dahee didn't know what had happened to her son.

Where had they gone wrong with him?

Why had only he become cold and distant?

“... what if it's because of the medication?” Doyoung asked.

Junkyu looked at him with even more anger.

“Shut the fuck up!!”

Doyoung looked at his brother, but only ignored him.

“I don't know what's wrong with the last batch we got from your contacts, but he's been having some episodes of-”

It happened so fast.

The way Doyoung's words hit Junkyu, how Dahee screamed seeing him move faster than anything else in the room, how Jun-Ho tried to hold their eldest son and how the blood sprayed, painting his clothes bright red.

Junkyu blinked dazedly, letting go of the broken piece of crockery.

“No!” Dahee screamed, knocking over the chair. “No, no, no, no!”

He felt pressure in his head, and then everything became confusing.

The screams, the sounds of crockery spreading across the floor, JunHo's loud footsteps and how his body was pushed away, Dahee's loud crying.

Everything became a big suffocating mess.

Junkyu looked at his hands.

There was blood on his fingers.

A lot of blood.

“What have you done?!” Dahee cried in tears. “What have you done!”

He widened his eyes in fear, his hands trembling.

There was so much blood.

Dahee cried desperately, clinging to her younger son's body with her husband. Doyoung's weight caused them both to fall into all that blood.

“My sweet boy...!” she cried, pressing her hands on the wound on the boy's neck. “Do something. Please, do something Jun-Ho!”

“Hospital”, JunHo said coldly, on autopilot. He tore a piece of cloth and placed it on the wound, pressing it over Dahee's hands. He was a soldier. He knew what to do. “It's going to be okay, keep pressing...” there was no way to describe what he was feeling and thinking. “Just keep pressing until I come back with the car”.

“Da-”

“Shh!” JunHo removed his hands, gesturing for Doyoung to try to stay quiet. “Don't speak, don't speak baby...” he pleaded. “It's going to be okay, bunny. Stay calm. Remember what we trained for? We can do this, just try to stay calm and wait just a little longer, umm? We have time to get to the hospital”, Jun-Ho blinked back tears, smiling nervously at his son. “You will be going to be okay, bunny”.

There was so much blood.

Doyoung coughed tears in his eyes, a look of terror on his face.

JunHo shook his head furiously when Doyoung held his hand, preventing him from getting up — Junkyu watched everything as if it were a horror movie he didn't remember starting.

He was sure he hadn't done that.

It couldn't be possible that he had done that.

Everything was going to be okay.

It was a nightmare.

“No, no, no, no!” JunHo shouted. “Doyoungie, open your eyes, come on bunny don't do this to us. Come on, open your eyes”, he repeated with a choked voice, moving to start CPR when Doyoung's grip loosened and his arms fell to his bloody side. “... please, no. No, God, please no!”

☽ ❍ ☾

Yoshinori was less apprehensive.

Junghwan's heartbeat was still irregular but at least he was present in the real instead of lost and drifting in the world of dreams — he could keep him stable as long as he continued to cling to what kept him in his own body.

Junghwan sniffled, wiping his nose again.

“... doesn't look anything like the person I saw in the building”.

Hyunsuk opened and closed his mouth.

“It's the glimpse we extract from the trail of memories in his brain after the flux end...” he explained, refining the places that Junghwan was sure had not been reproduced as they should have by the hologram. “It has to be the right face Jihoonah”.

Jihoon shook his head, “But there must have been a mistake because I can guarantee that this is not the person. The guy who always goes to the auditorium is a foreigner...”, he pointed out. “Blue eyes, pointed nose, small and dark eyebrows!” he said frustrated. “Only the hair looks the same, otherwise it looks like a totally different person”.

Junghwan never made mistakes.

No matter how difficult it was to read a flux when he contacted someone's object or the person, he knew exactly the characteristics he should remember and that was the face behind the flux in the beads Jihoon had obtained for him.

So he never made mistakes.

“... are you sure you wore gloves and that you were the only one to touch the beads you brought me?!” Junghwan asked patiently, sitting next to Yoshi so the doctor could check his heartbeat again. His head was hurting, and he still felt unwell. “If someone else touched them, I ended up in the last energy charge that came into contact with the object”.

Jihoon gritted his teeth.

It wasn't the same person.

He hadn't let anyone touch the beads.

He had worn gloves and carefully stored them for Junghwan.

“... but, Jihoonah, there's something I didn't tell you”.

Hyunsuk stopped typing and turned in his chair.

Yoshinori furrowed.

Junghwan tossed another blood-soaked tissue into the bin and sniffled, rubbing his hands on his jeans before pressing the device to his left temple to show them — it was a private memory record, Junghwan tried to store all the things he still wanted to understand better about his visions and the fluxes he had recounted.

“This is Baikal...” Junghwan mentioned, showing the hologram of his astral image. Jihoon blinked dazedly. He moved his finger over the reader and spun the image, causing Hyunsuk to gasp. “It was confusing at first, I had never seen someone's future so closely but now, thinking better about how it all happened, you were there Jihoon hyung”,

Yoshi widened his eyes, “That's why you thanked Jihoon…”

Junghwan nodded to Yoshinori.

Jihoon stared at the hologram.

It was his face.

And there was a distorted glimpse of his soul sword, Baikal.

It was Baikal piercing the body to which that flux belonged.

“And, even if you want to find an answer, I don't know how I can explain why or how it's possible but this person is important to you, Jihoon. At least to your future you...” Junghwan cautiously queried for them to understand. A flux always followed its course. The past, present, and future. Nothing could change them. “And when your future self loses him, a part of you will die with him Jihoonah. You will suffer because of this person”.

☽ ❍ ☾

When Doyoung was born, Kim Jun-Ho told his parents he had never seen such a brave boy as that little creature in his arms, even though he didn't yet know how brave he would be.

He had said he would do everything to make his son happy.

And he had tried.

Even with all the deaths and escapes, JunHo had tried to make Doyoung at least a little happy, and he knew he was as cheerful and bright as the sun, never giving up and never regretting any of his choices, even though it was hard work to take care of his mother and older brother — Doyoung had come into the world to be strong.

In the past, Junkyu used to cry every time the grandparents teased him, saying his younger brother would leave him behind if he didn't start maturing, that he would conquer the world and experience things Junkyu would never experience, despite having a brave soul just like Doyoung's.

But Doyoung always comforted him.

They were cute.

Inseparable.

Even with all the evil Governor Shin had inflicted on their souls, Doyoung remained the same brave and lively boy JunHo had held in his arms for so many years before letting him decide where to walk on his own two feet. He remained responsible, mature, happy, and smiling like when they were kids.

Doyoung had been a child teenager.

He would have been an even happier adult.

JunHo sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut.

“... we can't leave his body here for too long”, he whispers, remembering the first time Doyoung had called him dad. “We need to clean him up and bury him…”

He had been a naughty child too.

Always running, falling, hurting himself, shouting at his older brother, and making a scene whenever possible because, despite his maturity, he was just a child discovering how life worked.

And he loved his brother.

Doyoung idolized Junkyu from the very beginning.

“... come on darling, we need to get him out of here...” JunHo loved his son, and now he was dead. The man cried, pressing his dirty hands to his eyes as he remembered all the things he had promised to say and hadn't. “We have to clean up this mess. Staying here won't...”

Dahee sobbed, embracing Doyoung's body.

They loved their children. Junkyu and Doyoung were everything to Dahee and JunHo. They were the beginning, the middle, and the end of their existence. Nothing else mattered as long as they were together and safe.

Dahee whimpered, wiping Doyoung's dirty face with the hem of her dress — she loved every little detail of her son. The rabbit teeth, the round eyes, the comforting smile. She loved that he was the one who kept the spirit of joy when things were too difficult.

“When a woman loses her husband people call her a widow, the same goes for a man who loses his wife...” Dahee murmured, brushing a dirty lock of hair off Doyoung's pale face. “And when a child loses their parents, they're called an orphan, but do you know what they call a mother when she loses a child?”

“Darling...”

Dahee chuckled bitterly, “There's no word for a mother who loses her child!” she sobbed. “There isn't because having a child torn away by death is so cruel that no one can explain the feeling!” she squeezed the lifeless body to her. That was her kind son's body, the bunny's, her Kim Doyoung. It was her son. “There's no word for this loss, JunHo…”

Jun-Ho pressed his hands to his eyes, sobbing, unable to contain his voice as it tangled in the crying and became a dark omen. They shouldn't be going through that.

He had promised to take care of the children, to see them experience life as it should be, to fall in love, to marry, to have their children and family to be proud of. He had made a promise that soon they would be free from that existence and he couldn't keep it.

He couldn't keep his most valuable promise.

“... my smiling little boy”, Dahee ran her fingers over his face, smiling through teary eyes. She felt emptier than she had ever felt before. “What are we going to do now without you” she said, memorizing every tiny detail of her youngest son's blood-stained face. “... what am I going to do without my little bunny?!”

“Dahee-”

Empty.

Dahee was empty.

Even though there was fear in her heart and all that existing threat from Governor Shin, she never imagined she would live long enough to see her children leave the world of the living, even though they had been fleeing and trying to stay away from death for so long.

She hoped they would be happy and survive longer than Governor Shin intended to let them live, hoped Doyoung would meet someone and fall madly in love with a boy or a girl who made his heart race and his blood boil. Dahee always wanted the whole universe for her children.

And she never imagined she could really lose them.

“... I'm so sorry my bunny”, Dahee whispered removing the piece of crockery from Doyoung's neck.

She gasped tearfully, squeezing what had ended her son's life until her palm hurt less than that cut on Doyoung's neck.

Jun-Ho gasped in fright and Dahee, who was too close, hurt her elbow as she fell onto the pieces of crockery scattered around Doyoung's body.

The expression on her face paled.

Doyoung sat up, coughing painfully, curling his body.

Junkyu's eyes widened.

He felt as if a wave of terror ran through his body and his heart raced to the point of making him breathe irregularly, which made his head dizzy and his senses confused in the face of that horrifying situation — Doyoung hunched over, coughed again, spitting blood and small pieces of crockery stained with blood.

When he finally stopped coughing, everyone was staring at him.

He licked his dirty lips and sniffled, feeling the blood trickle inside and outside his throat, freshly healed from the deep wound that had taken his life in front of his family.

Doyoung tried to say something but his throat was still healing and he had just come back — he usually got too sore and usually needed a few hours to recover — from the dead.

He looked at his brother crouched in the corner with his hands over his ears, his face terrified and his breathing irregular, and crawled across the floor because his legs were weak and Dahee backed away in fear.

“No... no, no, no, no!” Junkyu repeated breathlessly, shaking his head in a futile attempt to agree with the nightmare where the brother he had just killed came back to life without any explanation. Doyoung knelt in front of him. “I didn't do this, I didn't do this...!”

Doyoung tried to ease his brother's anxious crisis by smiling affectionately, waving for Junkyu to breathe the way their mother had taught in the past — he moistened his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, taking his brother's hand to make him touch the wound that was now barely visible.

“I-ah...” he squeezed his lips, feeling tired from the mere attempt to speak. “I’m-good!” he said, looking at his parents to do something before Junkyu freaked out. He usually had seizures when he was like that, and he didn't want it to happen just when he couldn't help him. “Hyung...”

Dahee ran her hand over the pale face, “How... Oh my-how is this even possible...!” the woman got close to Doyoung and took his face. He tried to gesture for them to worry about Junkyu but she couldn't think straight. The world had lost its meaning. “How could you...”, she frowned, watching the wound finally close completely. She looked at Jun-Ho in horror. “What's going on? How is this possible?!”

“Mum…” Doyoung held the woman's hands. “Help…”, he felt his muscles ache. He was going to pass out. It was normal when death was somewhat traumatic, his body became overwhelmed and couldn't handle the sensations. He was going to black out for a few hours. “Help him first!”

Chapter Text

☆ ૮ ꒰ • ༝ • 。 ꒱ ა NOTE:

Kim Dahee was a peculiar woman.

She had graduated in humanities when the world was still transforming, had been a university professor in her hometown, helped design the house they had lived in for years and would pass on to their children when she died.

She had become Kim Junkyu and Kim Doyoung’s mother even before having them in her belly — not because of a machine that told people's futures since it belonged to the generation before Glimpse, not because someone with powers had foreseen it, but because she had always dreamed of her boys and knew she would meet them soon.

Thus — when she became pregnant for the first time — she had this strange feeling that something was out of place. Her first baby died before even turning two months old but she wasn't sad, her heart was filled with a sense of waiting and she was patient.

Her second pregnancy occurred a year later but unfortunately, her baby died during childbirth. And once again she didn't feel sad or lost. Her heart raced in her third pregnancy. She couldn't explain why, it was just a feeling she had since she was young — that her boys were waiting — but she was sure she had finally found the reason behind her wait.

Rainbow baby. That's what people called Junkyu, her curious boy who came into the world without crying, and who grew up clinging to her skirt.

Who brightened her darkest and loneliest days.

In her fourth pregnancy, the doctor said they would have twins.

It was strange because Dahee was sure they wouldn't be parents to a girl and in the fourth month, the doctor told them that one of the fetuses had absorbed the other, which usually happened when the baby would be born sick — vanishing twin syndrome. It occurred due to a female's defence mechanism to ensure the survival of the remaining healthy fetuses during pregnancy.

That's how her mischievous little boy was born, Kim Doyoung.

“I always knew we'd have two boys in this life…” she whispered, wiping the dried blood from the boy's neck. She still didn't understand what was happening but finally felt like herself. She was calm because her son was alive. “Even when our other babies died, I knew they were waiting for me”.

Jun-Ho leaned against the door, observing his wife.

He knew she had been through a lot but she was a strong woman when it came to her children, and she refused to give up on them. He knew Dahee would never forgive herself if anything happened to the boys, and that's why she couldn't accept the universe taking them away in any way.

“Women say they change when they become mothers but for me, it has always been this way. I always knew we would be a family, so when Junkyu was born my life began to make sense…” she smiled, tucking some stray hairs from her son's tousled hair. “And even he felt that when Doyoung was born, everything finally fell into place”.

The man nodded, his heart filled with relief that the boys were really fine and alive — when Junkyu grabbed that plate and broke it on the table, Jun-Ho thought he would have to stop him from hurting himself. But when blood trickled down Doyoung's neck and his eyes widened, he thought he would have to dig a deep grave among the old trees of that abandoned mountain.

But he never imagined he would see his son come back to life.

“I never thought I'd say this but I'm glad he has powers...” Dahee looked at her husband with a certain gratitude. He was responsible for their son's life, and she was grateful for that. “Thank you, yeobo”.

“It wasn't because of me…” JunHo sighed deeply, also relieved that his son was alive. “It was the MOME scientists and their machine”.

Jun-Ho ran his hands over his face and got close to them.

When he found out he could heal from minor injuries, the man considered the possibility that his children had inherited his genes, but whenever he analyzed the situation, he found it impossible because the children seemed normal like Dahee but Doyoung had come back from the dead.

“It's all thanks to them. If they hadn't conducted experiments in the atmosphere...” he filled his lungs with air, shaking his head. “Thank God they did that and for Doyoung having this kind of ability”.

☽ 4th June 2030 ☾

“Doyoung...”, the man caught his son's attention.

When he found out he could heal from minor injuries, Jun-Ho asked Dahee to help him keep it a secret because he didn't want to worry their children. The government was strict and he feared the koakhs, so he needed to keep pretending to be just a man fleeing from a lunatic with his family.

He never thought one of his children would need to face more than they were already going through, “When was the first time you came back?!”

The boy blinked his long lashes.

He had hoped to have more time to exacerbate the fear in his family but Junkyu had rushed things too much, and now there was no way to evade or pretend it hadn't happened.

“A few months after we moved to Savannah”, Doyoung said running his hand through his too-long dark hair. He put his feet on the chair and rested his chin on his knees. “I was coming back from a training session and ended up crossing the street without looking at the signal”.

“Sweetie...” Dahee stroked her son's back. “Were you scared?!”

Doyoung hesitated.

He didn't like to think about what his mother would face if she understood how painful it was to die, how cold and lonely it was. She didn't deserve that kind of thought because she already endured too much for everyone. “No. It happened pretty quickly”, so he lied. “I never have time to process what was happening at that moment”, he shrugged, looking at his brother. Junkyu seemed nervous. “Did you take your pills?!”

Dahee looked at her older son.

“Don't worry about your brother. He's fine, I took care of him while you were asleep...” she smiled despite knowing it was a lie. There was something wrong with Junkyu; he wasn't the same anymore, and now she was sure they were living with a stranger. “Just focus on recovering right now”.

Although Doyoung knew it was a lie from the way his brother bit his nails, he knew it was unnecessary to argue with his mother. Instead, he nodded and decided to talk to Junkyu another time.

“... it depends a lot. I always take the same time to come back, about 8 minutes if the cause of death isn't obstructed”, he said, picking up the sharp shards of porcelain that Dahee had taken from his wound. He always kept track of the reasons for his death. “but if something like that gets stuck in the death wound, it takes someone the time to find me”.

“Have you ever been...” Jun-Ho didn't know how to refer to what happened to their son. “Have you ever been like this for a long time?!”

“Dead? Umm. There was one time I died for two days”.

“When you said you were looking for a new hiding spot?!”

“I know, I know!” Doyoung huffed. “I lied to you but it was for a good reason, right?!” he said. Dahee stood up. “... Look, I’m so sorry! I went out because I wanted to do something fun for a change so I decided to climb without ropes...” he squeezed his lips. “Then I slipped”.

“That's how you got stuck?”

Doyoung nodded cautiously, “Exactly. I ended up getting stuck in a tree during the fall until a hawk knocked me down from there...”

“You mean...”

“That I was impaled by a branch”, he nodded, pressing his fingers. If it hadn't been for the bird's weight along with the weight of his dying body, he would have been stuck for a long time without anyone finding him. Without his parents being able to look for him. “But at least Mother Nature gave me a boost, you know? If that bird hadn't landed on me and knocked me down from there, I wouldn't have woken up”.

“Sweetheart...”

Doyoung smiled at his mother, “I'm fine. It's not like I was stuck there forever...”, he tried to sound as calm as possible.

Jun-Ho pressed his hand over his mouth.

He never thought something like that could happen to his son, even though they were fleeing from a murderous sociopath who was playing with their lives as if they were laboratory mice.

They were just children.

“I'm sorry…”

“Dad!” Doyoung giggles shaking his head. “It's not your fault. Actually, it's nobody's fault but hey if we're going to blame anyone, let's blame the fucking MOME scientists who did this, they're the ones truly responsible for the koakhs! But honestly, I'm grateful they made that machine and all those experiments...” he rambled with a wide smile.

Dahee opened and closed her mouth.

Part of her wanted to be grateful too because, after all, they had their son in their arms thanks to MOME experiments but there was a part of her that felt sorry for him for suffering silently so many times — and there was also the fact that Doyoung and JunHo were the only ones.

“... we're going to send you back to Transylvania”, the woman said, staring at her son. Doyoung's smiling expression vanished from his face until there was nothing left but pure irritability. “Your father's boss has a base that gathers koakhs; it's safe for everyone there”.

“No...!” Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows.

“It'll be safer for you there!” Dahee said what she had said to her husband when they had decided what to do with Doyoung now that he had revealed his powers. “... they have a fortified and united command to protect people like you, bunny. It's safe and outside the laws”.

Doyoung smiled bitterly, “We can't really be talking about such nonsense, can we?”, he shook his head frustrated. “There it's safer for me?”, he scoffed. “And what about dad's safety? Or yours?!”

“Your father knows how to protect himself-”

“So do I!” Doyoung pounded the table. He looked at Junkyu with fear in his face and pleaded for his brother to help. “Tell them they're wrong and that I can handle it, that I can deal with any shit like I have been all this time without anyone even knowing about my fucking powers…”

Junkyu squeezed his lips.

He couldn't get involved.

He couldn't say anything because they had seen what he had done.

“You're not going to say anything?!”

JunHo sighed, “Your brother is very ill, and we can't risk even more. These blackouts...”, he said shaking his head. “He should stay with us and you should go to Transylvania, Doyoungie”.

Doyoung ran his hands over his face.

He couldn't leave.

They had insisted on coming back to Korea and they had managed to stay in place long enough for Doyoung to feel less apprehensive all the time, besides, they had access to Junkyu's medication, and he was the family's support when his father was away trying to make them gain more time.

He couldn't just leave.

This was his life, and he wouldn't leave.

“... I said no!” Doyoung said firmly, looking at his parents. He had let them make all the decisions from the beginning without ever questioning them, but he was fed up. “I'll stay here, where I belong with my family and I'll stay here until my last fucking breath. So no, mum, I won't abandon this family even if you thinks it's the right thing to do”.

☽ 10th July 2030 ☾

“There you are!” the man chuckled, opening his arms to hug his favourite nephew before he could ask him a favour as he usually did when he visited uninvited. “Jesus, look at my Jihoonie, he's grown so much that he's bigger than uncle now. How did that happen?”

“Let me think. I eat four times a day, exercise, run in my free time, swim, archery...” Jihoon mocked, receiving a cheek pinch. “It's good to see you awake Uncle Jisung. I thought I'd have to throw water on you as usual, but what a surprise”.

“Just as funny as your mother!”

Jihoon laughed despite feeling slightly uncomfortable. His uncle, Park Jisung — a former police officer in the legacy division and currently a fugitive for illegal and criminal behaviour — had been in love with Lee Jae-yeong, his sister-in-law and mother of his two nephews.

He suffered more than his brother when cancer killed her before MOME scientists discovered the cure, and it was strange to hear him talk about her with that melancholic smile when his father had forgotten his wife the moment her body was taken away.

“Don't overthink it...” Jisung smiled at his nephew. “Your strength lies in using your fists, not your brain. That you inherited from your foolish father”.

“Thanks for the insult, uncle!” the boy rolled his eyes. Jisung might be considered a criminal by the state, but sometimes Jihoon found himself wondering what his life would have been like if his mother had married the police officer Park instead of the scientist Park. Would he have siblings? Would he be called Jihoon, or would they have given him another name? Would his mother have died? “Do you think so?”

“Is there anything in this world I can't find? Please, have a little more respect for your uncle, Jihoonie. I was the captain of my division for three years...” ‘they were forced to give you the position because you wouldn't stop bothering your boss, uncle,’ the boy laughed as the man pretended not to hear. “Now I'm famous for my skills”.

“Being wanted in five states for forgery and theft is a skill now? Do they have a college for that? I want to apply with a CV”.

“Ya! You brat...”, Jisung clenched his fists pretending to punch his nephew and huffed impatiently. As much as he hated the idea, he had to admit that his older nephew made him remember his scoundrel younger brother. “I should kick you out of my house”, he grumbled sitting down. The man narrowed his eyes and shoved the boy aside before touching the glass and activating the fingerprints on the system. He moved his fingers swiftly and pulled up the only file he found. “Here's your boy”.

Jihoon frowned.

He looked at his uncle:

“Is this some kind of joke?!” he smiled confusedly at the image on the projection. “This isn't...” Jisung spun his fists and a new photo appeared before his nephew's eyes. “I don't understand. He...?”

“Yes. I was surprised too when I found the record”, the man moved with his hands and forwarded everything he had found to a secure device. He didn't know what his nephew was getting himself into, but he hoped he would be careful and protect Jeongwoo from his crazy decisions. “There you go. Do what you want with the information”.

Jihoon looked at the device.

What would he tell the others now?

How was that even possible?

“Fuck…”

Chapter Text

☆ ૮ ꒰ • ༝ • 。 ꒱ ა NOTE:

It was like his Uncle Lee always said — one step forward, two steps back.

That was how Doyoung saw their life.

Like one step forward and two steps back.

Junkyu’s body shuddered one last time before finally going still on the old carpet in the living room — it was a seizure. The last time this happened, they had to rush him to the clinic, and the following week, they were back in Korea, forced to undergo painful tests and invasive medications.

That time Junkyu nearly died from an aneurysm, and Doyoung had spent months blaming himself until he accepted that, no matter what he had done that night, nothing would have changed.

Junkyu would keep getting sicker until he couldn’t resist anymore — and it was cruel. Partly because Doyoung was lucky. He could heal, and come back from the brink of death as easily as crossing the street without worrying because the traffic light was red.

Junkyu couldn’t.

He couldn’t come back from the dead.

“I’m sorry…” Junkyu was conscious this time. He had warned them that he could feel the electric surges running through his body, and he had chosen to lie down on the carpet himself. Doyoung ran his hands over the boy’s sweaty, flushed face. “It’s over now”.

“What’s your name?” Dahee asked, voice shaken. Holding Junkyu’s thrashing body had taken a toll on them both. He kicked and twisted so hard his bones cracked — it was terrifying. “Say your name”.

Junkyu closed his eyes for a moment.

“Ya, ya!” Doyoung patted his brother’s cheeks and Junkyu blinked groggily, trying to lift his head. “You can’t sleep but you also can’t get up until you’ve had your next dose of the enzyme”.

“It wasn’t that bad...” Junkyu croaked. It was a lie. His body was wracked with stress from the past few days and things with their parents had only worsened since his breakdown, during which he’d literally slashed his brother’s throat. He was so scared that he couldn’t sleep at night. “I just need to sit for a bit. Sorry”.

Jun-Ho sat beside his son on the floor, opening the applicator to administer the injection that would leave Junkyu unsteady for the next few weeks. “You realized it was happening...” he said as he pressed the needles into Junkyu’s arm, which was already battered from too many injections. Junkyu groaned in pain, gritting his teeth. “That’s a sign the symptoms are slowing this time”, Jun-Ho added, removing the applicator and pressing a healing patch over the puncture wound. He wetted his lips and checked Junkyu’s pupils. “Now, say your name...”

Jun-Ho and Dahee knew everything they needed to know.

Doyoung had forced Junkyu to tell them everything — the silent seizures he had hidden, the blackouts and how detached from himself he felt. They knew Junkyu had become dangerous. He lost track of time and did things he shouldn’t, like cutting his brother’s throat.

They knew everything — they were scared.

They were scared because the seizures, along with the way his brain was deteriorating without any doctor able to help them unless they turned him over to the Governor, weren’t frightening enough. Now, they had to be constantly on edge, wondering if he was still their son.

“Come on, you can’t sleep!” Jun-Ho muttered.

Junkyu frowned and groaned.

His arm hurt and his head throbbed.

“Kim...” he pressed his temples. It was always difficult to fully come back to himself after a seizure. “Kim Junkyu”, he exhaled, struggling for breath. “I was born on the 9th of September 2009 — the second generation of the Techno Centre children from Chungju-si, Korea”, he added, squeezing his father’s wrist. Sometimes he missed being held until the fear went away. “Son of Kim Jun-Ho and Choi Dahee. Kim Doyoung’s brother”.

Finally, everyone could breathe again.

Doyoung believed that the blackouts and memory gaps were some kind of degrading side effect from the enzymes they had obtained illegally. A biological system was supposed to be maintained by host-compatible cells after Glimpse — it was a kind of activator. A familial tracking system that linked individuals to create a single, intelligent network of communication. But their entire family was dead.

Governor Shin had killed them all, and without their relatives, there were no records to keep them connected through the necessary familial symbiosis that would keep them healthy.

There was nothing they could do about it.

They would need to synthetically reproduce the necessary bodies for an intelligent symbiosis to maintain their health. But doing so would register them in the great neural network governing all lives, and any smart interface would detect them — leading the Governor straight to them.

They were invisible because every option led to death.

A part of Doyoung wondered if he would ever die — or if he’d be left alone once his parents were gone.

Once Junkyu was gone.

Doyoung looked at his brother.

“... He needs more effective treatment”, he said which everyone already knew. Junkyu needed real cells — needed to connect to the familial symbiosis so his body could do the rest. They couldn’t keep him through this just like that. “This isn’t working anymore and the blackouts, the constant memory loss — it’s not sustainable. He needs a specialist geneticist, dad”.

Jun-Ho looked at his son.

A geneticist could extract stem cells from each of them to create a body with intelligent cells, establish a proper symbiosis, and link them as they should have been when both boys turned fifteen. Dahee and Jun-Ho used to feel each other’s presence before they had to flee. Back then, they had a familial symbiosis that connected them on the deepest level. But after Governor Shin’s interference, they had been forced to sever that connection.

What they were using now to communicate were faulty implants, modified to mimic what should have been a unified system. And although they had stretched its usefulness as much as possible, it was no longer enough.

“How long since the last injection?”

Doyoung crossed his arms, “Four days.”

Junkyu studied his father’s expression.

He didn’t want another headache, but it was happening again.

His system was rejecting the suppressor enzymes.

“At this rate, he’ll be dead soon...” Doyoung murmured.

☽ 23 July, 2030 ☾

Raindrops pattered on Park Jihoon’s face as his body floated in the cold water of the pool. He could hear his breath, the wind blowing the rooftops, people who were no longer alive, his pulse... the echo of his thoughts.

Jihoon could hear the universe and, at the same time, nothing at all.

He needed to decide.

His brother was getting worse.

He closed his eyes and sank beneath the water, letting the air leave his lungs and the sounds drift from his ears until it was just him and the cold water — until only the glowing blue light surrounded his body.

He could take Jeongwoo home and let him live a few more years there without pain — watch him age without realizing that time wasn’t passing, that his appearance wasn’t changing in the slightest.

“Jihoon!” a muffled shout jolted him back to the surface as a large ripple surged around him, pulling him upward. “Do you know there’s copper in this water?! You’ll make yourself ill if you keep going in, for God’s sake!”

Yoshinori clenched his teeth.

“Get out, we need to talk”.

Jihoon glanced towards Hyunsuk, trying to gauge why Yoshinori was angry but something in his expression made Jihoon sigh uncomfortably and swim to the edge.

Kanemoto Yoshinori.

He was the son of one of the geneticists at MOME who had worked with Jihoon’s parents. He was normal.

He had no powers.

He wouldn’t burn out like the rest of them.

But he carried the heavy burden of keeping them as healthy as possible, as long as possible — out of the government’s reach and hidden from any smart interfaces that might expose them as fugitives for what their parents had done. Yoshinori was the one who took care of them — of Jeongwoo.

“When were you going to tell us the truth?” Yoshinori asked, crossing his arms with an irritated expression. “That you were planning to take Jeongwoo to the limbo behind our backs and act like you never did it”.

Haruto’s eyes widened at the revelation. “What?!”

Watanabe Haruto.

His mother was a scientist at MOME who had worked with Jihoon’s father. One day, Haruto would also fall ill because — like Hyunsuk, Junghwan, Jeongwoo and Jihoon — he was a koakh with the power of manipulation.

Perhaps the limbo would be the chance he could use in the future if the disease could be tricked by the time-space distortion.

Haruto was young and kind. Jihoon had already planned everything. He only needed to make the final decision.

Jihoon ran his hands through his wet hair and sighed.

“You were going to take him?” Haruto asked, frowning.

Jihoon looked at his brother, lying in bed, connected to all those machines, dreaming of a life that had already passed — something that would never happen again. It was only a product of nanobots designed to keep him comfortable during the coma that protected his brain.

Jeongwoo seemed sicker every day.

It was cruel to watch him die.

Jihoon opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words — it felt too unfair, too hopeless. It was as if everything they had done up to that moment had been for nothing as if he had deceived his friends, even though he hadn’t suspected himself that their only chance was not a real option.

“Jihoon?!” Yoshinori demanded an answer.

Jihoon exhaled deeply, “I can’t control time here...” he gestured towards the familiar faces around the room. They had grown up together, fled together, and survived together. They were supposed to live out their lives together too — but they would all die before Yoshinori. Jeongwoo would die before his own brother. “But I can control time-space in limbo... and I can make him live a few more years there!”

Yoshinori’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“No!” Haruto protested. “You can’t do that!”

“He's so bloody stupid it gives me a headache!” Hyunsuk snapped, panting as he sat down for a moment. “Did you even think about what that place will do to your sanity? And… what?! How long are you planning to keep him there until time isn’t the issue anymore?”

“As long as it takes for him to age the way he should!”

Yoshinori scowled, “You’re nuts!”

“Jihoonie...” Hyunsuk shook his head, gesturing towards where Jeongwoo's body had been lying for months. “Do you see that projection over there?” his smile turned bitter. “That’s your brother’s consciousness making it clear none of this is real. It’s a dream. That’s what the nano-transmitters are for — to make him know he’s just sleeping and that we’re right here in the real world. So... you think he wouldn’t notice?”

Jihoon looked at the hologram.

They can watch everything Jeongwoo experienced in his sleep — all the things he felt, even the sound of his laughter. But it was all part of a program, an intelligent system designed to keep him in a coma until they found a way to cure them of the flame because most of his brain had already been consumed by the disease and keeping him unconscious was the only way to stop him from using his powers until nothing of him remained.

It was fake.

A projected dream.

And Jeongwoo had been trapped in it for months.

“I would make him understand...” Jihoon admitted, gesturing nervously as his emotions collided. He had to make a decision. “At some point, he’d have to accept it, and everything would be fine. My brother wouldn’t be touched by time and the disease wouldn’t progress. So, I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you, but this is our best shot”.

“And what about the rest of us?!”

Jihoon glanced at Haruto, “I could do the same for everyone”.

“You don’t have enough power to keep us all there!”

He licked his lips and smiled bitterly.

“I could try!” he snapped as if there was no other way forward. They had to understand — Jihoon was doing his best. “Look at that red blotch in his brain and tell me honestly — wouldn’t you try to take him far away if you knew the end was near for him in this plane?”

The flame was like fire.

It burned through koakhs’s brains and there was nothing they could do about it. The bigger the blotch, the greater the pain — and the closer Jeongwoo was to death. “No. You’d take every one of your friends and move them somewhere even time couldn’t reach because at least there’d be no pain or death”.

Haruto shook his head, “Jihoon-”

“The blotch is spreading!” Jihoon shouted, voice cracking. They were all going to die unless he acted. Every one of them would vanish in agony, leaving Yoshinori alone in the human world. “We’ve wasted too much of our and his time...” he ran his tongue across his lips. “But there? There he can live for a few more years. And when the next gets sick, I’ll make another breach and start over. The disease will never be catching up to us. I can do this”.

Hyunsuk opened his mouth, then closed it again.

It sounded like some twisted cult logic.

There was no way he’d consider being dragged into limbo.

“…that place”, Yoshinori muttered, eyes dark with fear as he looked at Jihoon. “You created that place when you were a kid, Jihoonie. You were stuck there for three years and when you came back...” he shook his head, unable to grasp why Jihoon wasn’t thinking rationally. “You weren’t the same anymore. The amount of energy you used to create it split your soul in fucking two and now you’re thinking about doing it again?!”

Jihoon folded his arms.

“I was only eight...” he muttered, glancing away. He still struggled to think about that time — how everything had fallen apart, how he had missed the last years of his mother’s life. “I didn’t have control over my powers back then. It was all new. But now it’s different, and-”

“You missed your mother’s funeral!” Hyunsuk snapped, his voice full of anger. He hated how things had played out, but he needed Jihoon to see through the darkness clouding his mind.

Jihoon clenched his teeth, tears welling in his eyes.

“Your brother was only four and he needed you. But I was there the whole time for him. We were all there while you were lost for three years in that abyss, Jihoon. You tore your soul in two just to make it back!”

Jihoon’s chest tightened, and before he could stop them, tears streamed down his face as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Each word Hyunsuk spoke hit him like a curse, a reminder of everything he had lost.

He had missed his mother’s funeral.

She had spent her final years waiting for him.

His soul had been split in two and the Jihoon standing before everyone now was merely a version of himself — a programmed to function the way he was supposed to, the way he would have if his powers hadn’t manifested at such a young age and if he hadn’t been lost in a spacetime world where nothing was real.

A massive wormhole of energy.

He wasn’t there when their mother died, nor when Jeongwoo needed a friend to cope with the absence of the only person who truly saw and loved them as her sons. He only returned three years later — by then, Jeongwoo was the same age Jihoon had been when he first opened limbo and was sucked into a force he couldn’t resist.

He came back three years too late.

After their mother had died.

And after Jeongwoo had forgotten his face.

“... that’s why I can’t lose him”, Jihoon whispered bitterly, shaking his head. “I can’t let him die, not after everything. He can’t just leave, not after all I’ve done to at least try and be the brother he was supposed to have. I can’t lose any of you, not after missing the worst moments of your lives”.

Jihoon had been trapped in limbo when the government agents arrived.

His mind had taken him to the safest place it could find as a defence mechanism. He wasn’t there when the parents of each of his friends were murdered, nor when Hyunsuk pulled them out of their beds, giving them the smallest chance to survive.

He wasn’t there when Yoshinori’s brother died.

Or when Junghwan was taken by the agents.

He wasn’t there when they rescued Junghwan.

Nor when Jeongwoo fell ill.

Jihoon had been in limbo, asleep, only realizing far too late that time had passed and something was wrong. He had stayed distant, shielded from everything and everyone, while his friends fought just to stay alive.

Now, he had to act.

He had to act quickly.

“I can’t lose any of you...” he murmured, looking at his sleeping brother as if he really believed he was safe. The red blotch in Jeongwoo’s brain was growing larger, and soon the others would fall ill too. “We’ve already lost too much time”.

“Jihoon-”

He turned to Hyunsuk, “He’s dead!” Jihoon exclaimed lips pressed tightly together. “I took the hologram to Jisung and asked him to search that face for me. It was the only way since he didn’t show up in any databases from Government”, Jihoon shook his head and pressed the device embedded beneath the nail of his thumb. “He died hours after turning fifteen, Hyunsuk. His whole family perished in an accident caused by a digital command malfunction. He’s dead”.

Junghwan — who had just arrived — blinked, stunned by the impossible words. He had made a few mistakes when he first learned to control his powers but now he knew exactly how to manage it. He knew where to look, when to hide, when to whisper into someone’s energy flow, when to let go and watch death approach — even if it hurt.

And he never got it wrong.

Yet here was a hologram with the same face he had seen in the flow, and Jihoon was claiming it wasn’t the person they had encountered in the building where the supposed prophecy was meant to lead them.

Jihoon said the boy had been dead for nine years.

It couldn’t be a mistake.

It just couldn’t be true.

Junghwan was certain he had seen Baikal pass through that boy’s energy flow — certain that the boy had been alive moments before. But this hologram said the opposite, and it felt like a bullet to the chest because there was no way he had seen a dead soul.

Jihoon turned to Junghwan, “I’m sorry...”, he knew how much it hurt every time Junghwan used his powers, how frustrated he became when something went wrong. But it had been years since Junghwan had last made a mistake and this felt like a gut punch. He never got it wrong. “But our chance with this person is gone. He’s dead”.

Junghwan shook his head, a tearful laugh escaping his lips.

He couldn’t be wrong.

He knew the sensation in his body, the bright, smiling eyes of the boy just before he fell off the cliff. He knew what he had seen, and Jihoon was completely mistaken, clutching that idiotic hologram as proof.

“I’ll show you!”

Junghwan stormed towards the table, ripping off his gloves.

Even though it was dangerous, and he didn’t know how to access the future within a flow, he would prove them wrong. There had to be a reason he’d seen Jihoon’s energy within the flow of the beads.

He grabbed Jihoon’s arm.

Junghwan’s mind always fractured when he made direct contact with another person’s flow. It felt like an impenetrable barrier between two polar forces as if the person’s subconscious tried to repel him.

Objects were easier to touch, but primary contact with someone else’s energy was raw and intimate.

But they couldn’t die like this.

They had fought too hard to just give up and die.

Junghwan gasped, lungs burning, body buzzing with electricity from the touch. Jihoon’s energy flow was complex and chaotic, riddled with dark currents and unsettling spaces that led to shadowy places.

The boy screamed, digging his nails into Jihoon’s skin.

Jihoon gritted his teeth, eyes brimming with tears and looked desperately at Yoshinori. But before he could instruct Yoshinori — Junghwan’s anchor — on what to do, his attention was snatched by a sudden burst of light that blinded him.

A sharp pain shot through his head like a needle stabbing into his brain.

“Hyung...!” Haruto pointed at his friend. “He’s bleeding”.

Jihoon let out a louder scream, clutching his head with his other hand.

“Fuck, fuck! He’s trying to find the future he thinks he saw in Jihoon’s flow”, Yoshinori muttered, gesturing towards Hyunsuk. “I need you to grab low-heat blankets, the coldest ones you can find. Haruto, get ready to use your power”.

“What?” Haruto shouted. “No! No way. I can’t-”

“He’s in direct contact with Jihoon!” Yoshinori positioned himself beside Junghwan. “This could kill him or trap him forever. If you don’t act, his brain will overload the moment I pull him out and he’ll start seizing. We can’t let that happen!”

Jihoon flinched from the pain.

Hyunsuk yanked open the coolers, searching for the blankets.

Junghwan’s eyes rolled back, turning completely white as he pulled Jihoon closer, “Let me dig your future…”

“Junghwan, I’m pulling you out!” Yoshinori yelled, stripping off his jacket with a gulp. He could do this. He had to. “Hyunsuk! Are the blankets ready?!” he asked urgently. Then turned to Haruto. “When I pull him, you put him to sleep”.

Haruto’s eyes widened.

“W-what if I end up altering his reality?”

Yoshinori knew the risks.

Haruto was scared and fear always made his power spiral out of control, endangering everyone nearby. But they had no choice — Junghwan’s brain wouldn’t last much longer under this strain.

“I need-”

Before he could plead further, a brilliant blue light sliced through the room, blowing a hole in the wall. Yoshinori’s eyes widened as he stared at Jihoon, who had his arm stretched towards them, the blast seemingly a warning shot.

Haruto clamped his hands over his ears.

Jihoon had magic.

It might’ve sounded ridiculous but his entire being was built of pure magic — magic that allowed him to traverse space and time. At just eight it was this power that enabled him to create limbo, a prison dimension beyond the real world, where time moved differently, and his powers were amplified.

To escape Limbo, Jihoon had split his soul in two, corrupting himself with shadows and forging Baikal, a sword of pure light capable of tearing the veil between dimensions.

Junghwan’s fingers pressed into Jihoon’s temple.

The light in Jihoon’s arms flared like fire.

“I can’t control it!” Jihoon growled in agony.

His eyes glowed fiercely, a sign that Junghwan had gone too deep — far into a dangerous place where Jihoon’s body could soon collapse, unleashing his full power and burning them all to ashes.

Junghwan’s breath hitched as a sinister smile curled his lips.

His expression darkened.

He pressed harder against Jihoon’s forehead.

“This... this is you!”

Suddenly, the pain dissolved, as if blown away by a gust of wind.

Jihoon’s arm dropped lifelessly by his side, and the eerie glow in his eyes flickered out, as though someone had flipped a switch. He tilted his head towards Junghwan, now able to see what Junghwan was seeing.

Junghwan leaned in, their faces dangerously close.

Haruto’s breath hitched.

“What’s happening...?”

“I can see everything...” Jihoon whispered, bewildered, gasping as he felt a droplet of water touch his cheek. It was as if he stood beside Junghwan on a rainy day that had yet to come. His heart raced as he watched the boy run through the rain, and Jihoon exhaled sharply. “And I can feel it too”.

Junghwan’s grip on Jihoon’s temple tightened.

They moved in perfect sync, heads following some invisible rhythm that no one else in the room could perceive. Yoshinori glanced at Hyunsuk, hoping for some guidance — anything to help him decide whether to intervene or let Junghwan continue whatever he was doing.

Hyunsuk looked just as lost, blinking in confusion.

They could try pulling Junghwan out, but the damage could be catastrophic. Or they could let him finish... whatever this was.

Yoshinori clenched his fists, his gaze shifting back to Junghwan.

Jihoon’s eyes, glowing white, snapped open.

He reached out as if grasping for something invisible in the air.

Junghwan mirrored the action, his face mirroring Jihoon’s terror, brows furrowed, their expressions clouded with fear.

Junghwan whimpered.

“Don’t go...” he whispered in unison with Jihoon.

Haruto clutched Hyunsuk’s hand tightly.

This was unlike anything they’d ever seen Junghwan do before, something terrifyingly new. It felt as though he were merging with something that didn’t yet exist, ripping through the fabric of time in ways no one could predict.

Jihoon took a step forward.

Junghwan stepped back.

“You can’t-!”

Junghwan tilted his head to the side, “Jihoonie...”

Yoshinori stepped closer, carefully observing Junghwan.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of Junghwan’s lips.

“No, no, no, no, no, no...” Jihoon muttered anxiously, taking several steps forward, matching Junghwan’s backward movements. He was trying to reach for something. Someone. Both seemed drawn towards the same thing, leaning to the right, stretching their hands out desperately. Their fingers grasped at nothing — just empty air. “Hours. Hours. Hours”.

Junghwan slowly shifted his head, as if looking directly at Jihoon now.

“You can’t hold onto him this time...” he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself. Yoshinori licked his lips nervously and signalled to Hyunsuk as Junghwan’s eyes softened, their eerie glow fading back into a deep, familiar brown. “When the clock strikes the right hour, you’ll have to let him go, Jihoonie — before it’s too late”, Junghwan said, withdrawing his hand instinctively as though struck by a jolt of electricity.

Jihoon’s gaze flickered back to the present, carrying the weight of fear.

Fear of something he had lost in the future.

“He’s sorry. And he’s grateful…”

Hyunsuk snatched the blanket and rushed to catch Junghwan.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: Contains a chase scene at the beginning.

We’ll also encounter: (1) a sword wound, (2) blood, (3) despair, (death), (4) resurrection.

If you’re uncomfortable with any of these scenarios, please do not read.

The birds scattered from the treetops as a sharp sound escaped from deep within Junkyu’s throat when he crashed onto the damp grass, crawling breathlessly with sheer terror coursing through his veins.

His heart pounded.

His vision was hazier than it should have been.

And there was the taste of blood at the back of his throat.

He had to keep running.

He had to.

It didn’t matter how tired he was, how much his lungs burned, or how badly his feet were battered; he just had to keep going.

A mocking voice echoed through the forest, reminding him, “You can run as much as you like…” Junkyu coughed, pushing himself up, gripping dry roots with scraped fingers. He couldn’t remember where he’d lost his sword or when the trees had started looking all the same, but he needed to figure out where the voice was coming from — and then go the opposite way. He watched the birds fly overhead. “But you can’t hide forever!”

He had to keep running.

He had to escape, find a safe spot, and hide until dawn if he even wanted a chance to make it home in time. ‘If we stick together, we’ll make it,’ he recalled what Doyoung had said before he’d been caught and dragged away from Junkyu as they ran.

An old leaf landed on his shoulder.

He ran without thinking, stumbling over his feet as he fled, desperate to survive. He only needed a safe place. Any place.

He had to make it somewhere, anywhere.

“Got you!”, a hand grabbed him.

His body was slammed backwards with such force that he screamed, eyes squeezing shut as the air was violently knocked from his lungs, the moonlight leaving him completely disoriented. There was no time, he just flipped over the leaves, trying to crawl, using his knee to get himself up.

But his hair was grabbed, and his body was jerked back.

He clutched at the hand tangled in his hair and groaned, “Bloody hell!”

Junkyu felt his knee buckle, the sharp pain radiating down to his foot as he was pulled back, and forced in the opposite direction of the slope. Every muscle throbbed painfully, and he yelled, hand moving instinctively to his injured knee.

The man heard laughter close to his ear.

“I told you, you couldn’t keep running…” the man tilted Junkyu’s head one way and then the other, showing him that there was nowhere to run, no matter the number of trees or how dark it was.

There was no escape.

“You can’t get away from me”.

☽ ❍ ☾

When martial law was enforced, Busan took time to fall.

It took seven years for the pacifiers to destroy and kill every radical, dragging Busan into the shadow era, and wiping out a huge portion of the population with biohacker attacks.

Jihoon was born in Busan.

He had family there. He’d watched them burn on the news.

Since the pacifiers took control — soldiers with implants crafted by pure AI — Busan had become a restricted area, a place where only the degenerates and fugitives ventured, hoping to evade Korean martial law that branded them as traitors.

It was a place for lost souls.

A refuge hidden behind ashes that concealed forested mountains, beyond the reach of trackers and search drones, where pacifiers wouldn’t enter, despite strict restrictions against any attempt to rebuild human life in Busan.

Something strange haunted Busan.

A foreboding that dug into the hearts of any brave soul trying to climb Jangsan Mountain, hiding behind the remains of a city destroyed, like eyes following every step and whispering to other eyes to keep watch.

Hyunsuk could hear his breath, deafening in his ears.

He pressed the bracelet around his wrist — a gift from Jisung, meant to avoid leaving a symbiotic trail — and wetted his lips, hoping someone, Jihoon or Haruto, would hear him, wherever they were.

He turned his head at the sound of a twig snapping.

“Can anyone hear me?!”

There was no open channel.

Only silence.

Whatever happened on that mountain, signals and transmissions were untraceable, he lost it the moment Jihoon teleported them to the top of Jangsan. They’d gathered a fair amount of intel from Jihoon’s visions of the future through Junghwan’s receptors, and far in the distance, they could make out the ruins of a building visible from some elevated spot.

They’d spent hours with Jisung narrowing down three possible locations.

Hyunsuk froze when a loud voice echoed through the trees, tension building up like a punch to his mind. For a moment, he considered turning back and fleeing.

“Well, how interesting”, the voice growled. “You managed to last longer than I expected…” Hyunsuk’s eyes widened as the man hurled someone toward him, the body rolling a few times before coming to a halt. It crashed into a tree, and Hyunsuk lifted his head, finding himself face-to-face with the person. “Who the hell is-”

Since MOME companies were raided and his parents killed before his eyes, Hyunsuk had learned to act first and ask questions later, even if it was hard to know when to attack and when to pass unnoticed.

He rubbed his palms together and summoned a ball of light, firing an energy blast at the man.

Hyunsuk had awakened weeks after Haruto.

He was furious, unsure how to help his friends stay hidden, and frustrated that bomb robots had destroyed their last hideout due to his parents’ involvement with MOME. He was cornered, trapped in a dilemma.

He’d destroyed the entire hotel room, setting it alight with his hands.

Yoshinori, after some research, named his ability LUMEN, the power to produce light and heat from his hands, enough to cause burns and ignite combustibles with his energy reserves.

Hyunsuk’s eyes widened as the man’s face healed.

He stepped back, frightened, lighting up the area enough to force the man to shield his eyes — someone threw a rock that hit his shoulder, causing him to groan in pain, and the light dimmed.

As he glanced past the man, he could see Jihoon and Haruto behind him, running and shouting for him to get down.

Haruto, sprinting beside him, yelled, “Open a rift!”

The man Hyunsuk had attacked moved quickly, hurling the sword he held towards them. Haruto fell just before Jihoon managed to teleport him to a close enough rift to use his powers. They exchanged frightened glances as the stranger drew two knives, hurling them at Hyunsuk, who used a barrier of light to confuse him but was still struck in the leg.

Hyunsuk screamed.

Jihoon gasped, creating a rift.

He moved through it, drawing Baikal from his back, spinning it in his wrist before stabbing the man in the back, leaving him no chance to survive and harm them — Jihoon felt the blade sink in fully.

The glow from the limbo faded.

Someone screamed, and all of them turned mechanically, watching a red-haired boy emerge breathlessly from the shadows of the trees, dropping the arrows he held as he knelt just after the body fell — Jihoon felt every muscle in his face tighten painfully.

He blinked, dazed, letting go of Baikal’s hilt.

“No, no, no!” the red-haired boy cried. “Dad!”

Jihoon’s gaze shifted between them, horrified.

There was so much blood.

So much blood.

“Does he have a pulse?!” the man, who had been attacking them before Jihoon and his friends intervened demanded firmly, reaching out to touch Baikal. He screamed as his hand burned. “You! Remove it. Remove it now!”

Jihoon shook his head.

It wouldn’t matter whether they removed the sword or not, Baikal was an extension of his soul, forged from pure energy and its blade alone could put someone into the worst possible state of agony.

If it had been a superficial cut, they could have injected him with nanobots designed to close the wound, but he’d appeared out of nowhere, and Jihoon had struck him through completely, it was a deep wound.

There was no saving him from that.

But Jihoon didn’t say a word.

He simply pulled Baikal back to where it belonged, closing the rift behind him. His gaze finally settled on the face of the body sprawled on the ground — it was him. The man from the auditorium, the one Jihoon thought would lead them to the person from the flux that Junghwan sensed in the yellow beads, weaving their futures together.

It was him.

Jihoon had killed the very person they’d been searching for.

He was dead.

Jihoon had pierced him with Baikal.

Haruto touched Jihoon’s shoulder, “Hyung…”

Jihoon looked at his friend, tears welling in his eyes.

Junghwan had struggled so much to prove he was right about the flux, that Jihoon and that person he saw through the yellow beads existed in the same future, that maybe the prophecy was wrong, and there was a reason why that face Junghwan saw was so distant from the one Jihoon had known in the auditorium.

They had been so close to proving all the theories.

To find a chance to discover the cure.

“I-I…” he stammered. It was the first time Jihoon had ever killed someone. Before that night, he’d never used Baikal or his powers to harm anyone. He’d only ever used them to protect himself and his friends, never to cross any line, and now… “I was just trying-I didn’t mean to-”

Haruto looked at Jihoon, then at the body.

Haruto could fix this.

He could make them forget, and he could get them off this mountain.

Jihoon didn’t have to feel like this.

These people didn’t need to remember what had happened.

They could find another way if they just kept moving forward.

He turned, determined to bury that moment in the deepest abyss of his memory, when the red-haired boy sighed in relief, and the body that had been lifeless just moments ago shot upright — Haruto’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on Jihoon’s shoulder.

The man who had been pursuing them, the one who had sparked all this chaos, let his shoulders fall and buried his face in his hands, muttering words Jihoon wouldn’t have understood even if he’d been thinking rationally, as the once-lifeless body stood fully alert, the wound inflicted by Baikal nearly healed by a familiar blue glow.

Jihoon took a step back, confused.

The man lifted his head, glaring at Jihoon as if waiting for the slightest wrong move to hurl the knife he clutched in his blood-stained hands.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

☽ July 28, 2030 ☾

Junkyu looked at himself in the mirror.

A persistent thought was gnawing at him.

About that night in the forest.

It was a recurring doubt that made him question everything he knew, about when he’d begun to feel like this.

“Dad thinks the blackouts are tied to your powers, that it’s some kind of overload”, Doyoung said crossing his arms as he watched Junkyu staring at his reflection. “But we can’t prove it. Not now. You’d have to go through a Glimpse, and we know that’s impossible”.

It happened just after Doyoung came back to life.

He’d felt a stabbing pain in his head and then everything went dark.

When he woke up, there was blood on the collar of his shirt, though he had no injury, despite his mother saying that when he fell, Junkyu hit his head so hard she swore she saw a wound open — but he had no idea what was going on.

Unlike Doyoung, Junkyu had never thought he’d have powers.

It didn’t matter that his dad and brother had it, he assumed he’d be like his mom and wouldn’t develop any abilities. But, just like Doyoung and JunHo, he could come back to life too.

So it was strange.

They hadn’t found any information to explain how three people from the same family could have the same type of power. When the news and reports spread, scientists spoke about genetic variations, about how each power was attributed to traits beyond just mutation — yet here they were: Doyoung, JunHo and now Junkyu, all with them with the same powers.

“No matter what’s causing it, you’ll get better”.

Junkyu looked at his brother. “How can you be sure of that?”

Doyoung grinned, “Because you’re my brother, silly”, his voice was hopeful. “You’re like me and dad, you can heal, hyung. That means we have a shot at making the disease regress. We just need to find the right person to make it happen…”

Doyoung was talking about power manipulation.

According to rumours, there was someone who could control or even replace powers, though they’d never considered it before because Junkyu didn’t have powers, and this person could only work with koakh’s.

And a huge part of Junkyu wanted to believe in it.

He wanted to wake up one day and realize he was exactly as he’d been before — before Jisoo, before he’d torn Doyoung’s throat open and watched him bleed out on the cold kitchen floor.

He desperately wanted things to return to normal.

Because dying and coming back hurt too much.

Doyoung was saying that but he knew exactly the kind of pain that came with dying and returning, and he still didn’t know how many times they could go through it. They’d heard stories of regenerative koakh’s who died for good after too many experiences with death.

“… what if it’s the disease?” Junkyu asked glancing at his brother briefly before looking back at his reflection. “What if that guy was right and all of us are sick?” he whispered. “It would make sense, the symptoms and how I got sick so fast. If he’s right, then I’m dying and it doesn’t matter if I have powers or not because one day the disease will-”

“We don’t know yet”, Doyoung interrupted, refusing to consider that option. “A degenerative disease? The scientists would’ve informed the public about that. The normals want is for the koakh’s to disappear, so why wouldn’t anyone be talking about this?!”

“Our atmosphere was being altered years ago so people like us could exist, Doyoungie”, Junkyu muttered. “They’ve been experimenting on us since before we were born and you think they’d have told us if something like that had gone wrong? If you hear what they say, they’ll claim it’s natural selection and brainwash everyone into believing nature chose them as the dominant species. We’ll just be stories in books about how the normals were the victors”.

Doyoung didn’t want to believe it because if he did, it meant their powers were useless — that he, his dad, Junkyu, all of them would die. Dahee would be left alone until she grew too old to endure the pain of losing them.

He couldn’t accept it.

He couldn’t accept that his life was already fated.

Not again.

They’d contaminated the atmosphere, experimented on them, and lied to everyone until it was too late, and people started levitating and shooting lasers from their eyes. They couldn’t screw them over again, adding yet another obstacle preventing them from living.

They couldn’t die like that.

“All right, let’s say it’s true”, he said. “So what? We still come back to life no matter what, Junkyu. Always. No matter how or when we die, we’ll always come back. Me, you, and dad. Always”.

But JunHo couldn’t come back to life.

He didn’t heal as fast as Junkyu or Doyoung.

He could die.

Dahee was normal, she could die.

And Junkyu… his brain was too damaged.

So it wasn’t an absolute truth, because they could die.

They could die at any time.

“We’ll survive this”, Doyoung repeated. “Just like we always do. We’ll survive anything and one day, we’ll finally live the lives we deserve without fear of anything or anyone”.

☽ July 31, 2030 ☾

Looking at Junkyu and Doyoung felt cruel.

No matter how much he thought about it, Jihoon found it cruel.

They could come back to life — even from a Baikal wound.

JunHo, a man old enough to be Jihoon's father, could heal from any wound, though he couldn’t return from death. It hurt because it made Jihoon wonder what might have happened to his mother if Jinyoung had experimented on her instead of their fetuses — would she have survived the cancer? Or would she have died anyway from it?

He wondered if his brother would be okay if he had that kind of power.

“… so you’re having blackouts?” Jihoon heard Yoshinori ask with concern. He looked away from the three people who left him so stunned about everything. “How long has this been happening?”

They hadn’t wanted to admit their curiosity but when Hyunsuk approached them, offering help with Junkyu’s treatment, it was impossible to refuse — they needed any help they could get outside the government’s reach, something that might explain why someone who could come back to life was still sick.

They had a medical base, supplies, stock, and technology.

Doyoung was amazed by a world he’d never seen up close, as everything they’d gotten until now was second-hand, always too damaged to work as intended.

“A few years…” Junkyu replied seriously. “One day, I woke up and had a seizure and it’s been happening since. The few doctors we managed to get help said it’s a defect in my genetic markers because they’re-” he looked at his father, “well… they’re not mine”.

Haruto looked up, his attention caught.

He was supposed to stay quiet, checking Jeongwoo and Junghwan’s levels on the projection interface while they mapped Junkyu, hoping to find something usable for a potential cure for the FLAME.

But the idea of someone using falsified markers caught his interest.

Only those working underground used fake markers.

And they were usually wanted for heinous crimes.

Yoshinori drew another syringe of blood.

“The blackouts may be caused by…” he looked at Junkyu. “By the fake markers. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Each country has its markers, and if I understood correctly, yours are supported by a different database, so our IA interface doesn’t work with you. It causes a neural system failure, leading to blackouts, seizures… Even death”.

Junkyu nodded, feeling a dull ache in his arm.

It was only him.

Doyoung, Dahee and JunHo were fine.

They’d undergone the same procedures and received completely different enzymes than they should have, yet only Junkyu was sick, always feeling on edge.

“… the thing is, you may be family but you’re different people. Maybe the procedures didn’t affect them for reasons only God knows”, Yoshinori said honestly, “but unfortunately, it didn’t work out for you. You’ve undergone too many replacements… Eyes, voice, face, markers. Those are dangerous procedures, and your body falls ill faster. But it doesn’t mean this won’t happen to your father or even your mother. Your brother could fall ill too”.

“I feel great, thank you”, Doyoung protested.

“I’d have to test you to be sure”, Yoshinori replied just as seriously. He only wanted to help them. He wanted to find a cure, save friends, and fight for a better, safer life for people with abilities, as he wanted to live in a better world. “But for now, let’s focus on you, Junkyu.”

Doyoung could come back to life, but they were interested in Junkyu.

Because someone had prophesied that he would be the cure.

“You promised you’d take care of my family”.

“And I will!” Yoshinori affirmed. “I’ve dedicated my studies to the mutant genome, I’m the best doctor and genetic engineering specialist you’ll find outside MOME facilities. I swore an oath to serve and care for anyone who needs my help, so trust me when I say I’ll take care of your family as soon as I’m done with you”.

Jihoon blinked, stunned.

He wanted to be a bit more like Yoshinori.

Yoshinori seemed so calm with the whole situation as if he didn’t dwell on what those powers might have changed if they had developed in other people — in people they loved and wanted to keep alive at all costs.

Junkyu nodded, looking at Yoshinori.

“It’ll take a few minutes, but I promise we’ll have some answers soon, and we’ll understand your condition better. From there, we can explore ways to model your genome and recreate it”.

Junkyu didn’t want to believe… in the disease.

He didn’t want to believe they would all die.

“So…” he began, watching his father engage in an intense conversation with Hyunsuk about something he couldn’t hear. His mother sat nearby, looking at her children with hope. “What happens if you find nothing and I’m just sick as fuck? If this FLAME thing is real, what happens to people like me?”

Jihoon could answer that question.

He’d seen firsthand what happened.

“They die…” he said before Yoshinori could answer with a doctor’s coldness. Junkyu turned to him. “People like you and me, they die. The disease consumes their brains until there’s nothing left of who they once were, and then it all ends”.

Junkyu didn’t want anyone to die.

If only he could die, it would be enough.

His family needed to be okay.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’ve seen it happen”, Jihoon whispered. “To my brother and our friend…” he swallowed, feeling a sting in his eyes. He wished Jeongwoo had Junkyu’s powers. It would be simpler, easier. Jihoon would die in peace, knowing his brother would always exist in this world. “The disease is real, Junkyu-ssi. It devours everything you once remembered, loved and felt before it kills you.”

Junkyu looked back at his family.

Doyoung put a hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t want anyone to die.

“Then you need to find a cure”, he said without taking his eyes off his parents. They were genuinely happy with the thought of their children receiving treatment. They couldn’t be sad, not after everything. Junkyu turned back to Yoshinori. “You need to find a cure, Yoshinori-ssi. Please”.

Chapter Text

☆ ૮ ꒰ • ༝ • 。 ꒱ ა NOTE: 

“The result was...” Yoshi sighed. “Inconclusive”.

Jihoon gritted his teeth.

“Inconclusive?”

Yoshinori nodded towards JunHo.

“He has too many modifications”, he said hesitantly. “His entire genome is functioning under a... well, a sort of veil. Everything that makes you, you, is trapped beneath this thin layer, which makes it impossible for us to reorganize or map out your DNA properly”, he tried to explain it as simply as possible, although it was far more complex than that. “This layer... it’s like a filter, an invisible shield. It’s not just a simple distortion, it prevents the true genetic code from being seen”.

“Are you saying... because his genome isn’t pure, there’s nothing you can do about it?” JunHo asked. “All of this... was for nothing?”

Yoshinori looked at Jihoon before answering:

“It wasn’t... for nothing”, he was always so polite, so kind to everyone, that it was almost impossible not to roll your eyes when he tried to soften the blow. He would’ve made a cracking doctor. “I was able to isolate some pathways, so maybe all we need to do is dig deeper than we initially thought.

There are other ways.

Junkyu stared at him with those wide eyes.

“What other ways...?”

“What keeps your eyes, sense of smell, hearing, touch... everything that makes up your body… it doesn’t belong to you. They’re modifications, systems hacked or stolen from people who are already dead”, Yoshinori would’ve been an excellent doctor because, if Jihoon had said that, he would’ve been far harsher. “Because of that, it’s as if your body is a mosaic made up of parts from others. Your symbiosis with those other lives isn’t stable”.

Jihoon folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching them.

He had heard his parents sigh and mutter worried, frustrated words about not being able to get any definitive answers about what could be done — after all, everyone was going to die eventually, so it was natural for parents to want the opposite for their children.

They wanted Junkyu and Doyoung to survive.

Jihoon envied him.

He had a power that made him safer than all of them and his parents who loved him more than anything. He was blessed in every way, and Jihoon envied him more and more, feeling increasingly stressed about having him walk through their lives with that naive face of his.

“So, no matter what we try, we can’t pinpoint where your original DNA starts...” Yoshinori continued. “Because this layer stops the elements from revealing themselves. You’re, in a way, blocked by these modifications. And that prevents us from accurately mapping out what’s yours... and what isn’t”.

Junkyu clutched the fabric of his jeans, clear discomfort etched across his face, as though something had suddenly clicked, and he completely understood everything Yoshinori was trying to say.

“And you want... to remove... this layer? You want to remove it?!”

Yoshinori smiled gently.

“It would be the most suitable option. Yeah”.

Jihoon glanced at Hyunsuk.

They’d known each other long enough to recognise the doubt in Yoshinori’s voice. And this was one of those moments.

Dahee looked at her husband, frowning.

“But...” she hesitated. “This layer is the only thing keeping the familial symbiosis functioning. If you remove it, what will happen to our family system? We’ve had to make so many modifications to get this far, and now you want to risk all that?”

Familial symbiosis was what connected them.

It was a complex functionality that went beyond traditional biology.

It was a genetic and psychological modification that occurred when family members were so deeply interconnected that their bodies and minds operated as a single unit.

This symbiosis wasn’t just emotional or relational but also physical.
It was a unit based on a genetic concept, a biological factor that allowed constant interaction between members, not through conventional communication but via a shared system of consciousness, as if they were always in tune with one another.

And the Kim family had lived many years without familial symbiosis.

They had lived in the dark, in complete isolation, unable to feel one another, until they’d managed to connect through a false interface, allowing at least some semblance of unity within the family — voices, thoughts, and even emotions were shared semi-consciously, without the need for verbal communication. They had done so much to have the echo in their minds. This way, when one person thought, the others in the family could sense that thought or pick up fragments of it in a way that couldn’t be controlled or avoided.

And now, they wanted... to disconnect them.

To leave them in the dark again.

“... I’m so sorry” Yoshinori touched Junkyu’s hand again, his eyes seeming genuinely empathetic. “But I can’t get past the layer with these markers and this symbiosis. I can’t map it because... none of it is real. I can’t do this any other way”.

“What are the risks?” Doyoung demanded, his tone sharp.
Yoshinori turned his attention to the young man. “Because, of course, there are risks, aren’t there?” Doyoung retorted, crossing his arms. “So stop beating about the bush and tell us... what are the risks of this?”

Jihoon bit the inside of his cheek.

Nothing could be worse than dying.

“Familial symbiosis depends on constant harmony but it can be fragile and susceptible to mutations. When a family member is in danger or becomes dissonant, the symbiosis can become corrupted. Because of that, every family has its...” Yoshinori shifted his gaze to Junkyu. “Yours is complicated. It’s made up of many people, many families, many broken and corrupted emotions. So, if we think about it that way, you’re connected to multiple systems that aren’t yours but have recorded your life for years...”

He would’ve been a brilliant doctor.

Jihoon knew that. Yoshinori would’ve done his best and probably won many awards for helping people. He was diligent, kind, polite, and empathetic — it had been strange to realize he didn’t have powers because he was the only one capable of saving someone.

So Jihoon knew he was just worried about Junkyu:

“Ah… removing it could cause permanent damage to your memories…”

There was a lot of commotion as everyone fully understood his words.

Junkyu’s mother wanted to take him home to discuss it privately because it was cruel to tell a mother her son would lose his memories, that he wouldn’t remember them, and that he wouldn’t be part of their familial symbiosis anymore.

It was cruel.

It was like telling her that her son was dead, even though he was alive.

This applied to everyone else.

After MOME had taken their parents and families, they detached themselves from the unity of their loved ones because it was the right thing to do. And because they would already be dead if they had held on to all the emotional memories tying them to their families.

It had been painful, but not in the way it would be for Junkyu.

His body was accustomed to the false idea of belonging to something.

When all the pieces were disconnected, and his original genome was restructured, it would be like enduring a shock so severe that it would be difficult to think, breathe, or even scream – he would never feel pain as intense as that.

And, unlike the others, he was so damaged that he might lose his memories. Who he was, who his parents were, his brother. Everything he had experienced in the past years, being made up of various parts of other people, would be erased as if it had never happened. As if he were a blank page.

“What are the chances I’ll forget everything?” he asked.

“I couldn’t say,” came the response. “It’s unpredictable. It might happen, or it might not.”

Junkyu didn’t seem surprised; he simply accepted the words as if they were inevitable. He already knew his life no longer held any value, no matter who lived or died, and there was certainly no room left for regret.

He looked at Dahee with a blank expression and then said in a cold, emotionless voice, “Then do it. It doesn’t matter. They’re more important than me, so do it. There’s no reason for anyone else to suffer because of me”.

JunHo tried to intervene, his eyes filled with pain, but it was Yoshinori who replied with calm firmness.

“It’s not about being more or less important. It’s about doing what needs to be done so everyone survives. You’re the only one who can be disconnected; your modifications were designed for this.”

Junkyu said nothing more.

He no longer felt anything — no anger, no fear.

Indifference consumed everything he was.

He no longer hoped for any kind of happiness, not even a peaceful end.

He had grown used to the idea of being disposable.

“Do what you need to do,” he repeated, serious.

Yoshinori hesitated for a moment but knew there was no other option.

Disconnecting Junkyu was the only chance to save the others.

Junkyu didn’t have fond memories.

He didn’t know what it was like for Doyoung, but his memories were sad.

They were cruel, making him despise himself.

He had pushed Jisoo; he had ruined the lives of his family.

There were no good memories, and he wanted to die because of that.

But there was also a part of him that felt remorse.

A part that wanted to live, even if it meant dying first.

A part that didn’t want to keep running from the Governor or slowly dying inside. A part that was terrified but could now feel that terror because someone was telling him there was a way to make it work, a way to give a little dignity back to his parents and brother, who deserved the universe.

A part he thought had died long ago.

Yoshinori nodded, “Then let’s get you ready…”

☽ 10 august 2030 ☾

Junkyu stared at the images projected by the holograms.

It was a beautiful dream.

He hadn’t asked many questions, but he knew those were Jihoon’s brother and one of his closest friends — one of them had found Junkyu using his power, an astral ability to invade the energy flow of others through touch.

That’s why they had come to the mountain because he had proven the seer’s vision correct.

Junkyu had appeared in a prophecy.

According to Hyunsuk, he was part of the cure, and they had searched for him for a long time — though he didn’t understand why it had to be him. Doyoung could heal as well and had far more control over his power, but it was Junkyu’s face that had appeared in the prophetic vision.

They didn’t yet know how, but his genome held the key to saving them all.

He could simply save everyone.

Absolutely everyone.

“...we were the first,” Jihoon’s voice startled Junkyu, echoing from right beside him. Jihoon stepped away from the stasis chamber, shoving his hands into his pockets. He placed one hand against the glass. “Me and Jeongwoo, we were the first experiments, before the MOME. We didn’t know we had powers — not until we did. That was 16 years ago”.

Junkyu raised his eyebrows, “But...”

Jihoon gave a bitter smile, nodding.

“Yeah. Abilities only began to surface recently, less than a decade ago”.

But Jihoon had said his powers emerged 16 years ago.

That was far longer than the first recorded case.

“Because you lot were the first…” Junkyu whispered, gazing at the boy on the other side of the glass. “How’s that even possible? No one knew about our species until that girl went flying into the air, but… how?”

Jihoon crossed his arms. “My father is Park Jinyoung”.

It was impossible not to widen his eyes at that.

“Park Jinyoung?” Junkyu asked cautiously. “As in the Park Jinyoung who’s on the run from the government for illegal experiments on the atmosphere… the ones that sparked the KOAKH era? That Park Jinyoung?”

Jihoon nodded, pressing his lips together.

“I don’t think he meant to create this chaos…” Jihoon muttered, staring at Junkyu. “And if he did, he never had time to come up with any kind of solution for the disease.”

It was the first time Jihoon had had a proper conversation with Junkyu. At least one that didn’t involve shouting or threats. Yoshinori had sent him here because he knew exactly how it felt to lose someone’s memories.

“He was trying to change the world, and he succeeded. He created an entirely new species.”

“A species that’s on the brink of extinction”.

They fell into a long silence.

Junkyu’s eyes remained on Jeongwoo and Junghwan, asleep on the other side of the glass, while Jihoon’s gaze stayed fixed on him, as though his envy was consuming him, taking root deep in his chest.

Jihoon wanted it all to end. For Junkyu to just leave.

“What was it like… discovering you had powers?”

Jihoon tilted his head. “I don’t think this is-”

“Yeah, I know. But I want to hear it,” Junkyu stopped him with a smile, turning to face him. “Your friends mentioned your dad is responsible for all this. For our species…” he let out a bitter laugh, turning back to the dreams projected in the holograms. “So tell me again, please…”

Jihoon wet his lips.

Most people reacted differently when they found out his father was Park Jinyoung. They’d ask where he was, try to torture Jihoon for any information that could help them eliminate those with abilities, or develop some kind of power blocker.

Some spat on him.

Others doused him in petrol and tried to set him alight. And there were those who no longer remembered what his father looked like because he’d been hiding for years, severed from their familial connection so no one could track him.

But no one had ever asked Jihoon to tell a story.

No one had ever reacted as though it was… normal.

His father was Park Jinyoung, the man who had royally fucked everything up. The one who had contributed to a centuries-old study passed down through generations, achieving something both extraordinary and cruel. He was a man both hated and revered. But never… boring. Never.

And yet Junkyu seemed bored of Jinyoung.

He seemed far more interested in watching Jeongwoo and Junghwan’s dreams in the holograms. As though that was more significant than anything else. And in hearing stories. He really seemed like he wanted to hear a story.

“My parents were from Busan…” Jihoon began, his tone serious, curious to see what Junkyu would make of it. How he’d react. “My father is… was a geneticist, and the government recruited him for his thesis. The parents of everyone you’ve met in this complex were part of the team. They spent 20 years studying the human genome, conducting experiments…”

“And 16 years ago, you triggered your powers”.

Jihoon nodded.

“Yeah. Sixteen years ago, I was the first. Turns out he’d been experimenting on my mum…” he rarely spoke about it. When he’d found out the truth after returning home, it had destroyed him. So he avoided talking about it. “While releasing those substances into the atmosphere and putting people through the Glimpse machines, he was administering doses of the compound to her. And then I was born”.

Junkyu looked at Jihoon in silence.

“And then, my brother. I was eight years old…” Jihoon murmured, his voice turning rough and uneasy. “She was very ill. Cancer. And I was upset, I wanted to do something to help. One day, I just disappeared…” the corners of his mouth trembled. He kept his eyes on Junkyu. “I didn’t know at the time what I could do. I don’t think anyone, not even my dad, knew. But I was so heartbroken over my mum that I teleported myself into a wormhole, a place in space-time that shouldn’t even exist. A place I created”.

Junkyu turned fully to face Jihoon.

His expression remained the same as always.

There was no life in it. No hope.

It was like staring into a void.

“It’s called LIMBO. It’s a place where time doesn’t flow the same way it does on Earth. You don’t age. You have no sense of anything. I was trapped there for three years… I was so young and didn’t know how to control it. I was scared the entire time, and I had to leave a part of myself there” Jihoon whispered, his throat burning. “When I finally came back, she was dead”.

“I’m sorry”.

Jihoon found himself smiling.

“Everyone says that. But I’m not sure I’m sorry…” he paused. “I think that’s why Yoshinori asked me to speak with you. Because I know what it’s like to have all your memories destroyed, your body senses that something is there, but it doesn’t know what it is, and it feels impossible to breathe because of it. That’s what happened when I came back.”

“You didn’t have your memories?”

“It was more complicated than that…” Jihoon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning against the glass. “A part of me does. All the happy and sad memories, the part I… had to leave behind to get back home” he paused. “Turns out my power demands a lot of… soul”, he raised his hand, showing the blue flame. The same one he had used to hit Junkyu. “And when you split your soul, you abandon things. Important things… like memories”.

“You don’t have a soul?”

Jihoon laughed loudly, surprised.

So young.

Junkyu thought he looked young — he should smile more.

“I’ve got... half”, the blue light grew, transforming into a sword. Junkyu remembered the feeling of the blade cutting through his body, how much it had hurt, and how he thought he’d caught a glimpse of something like hell when he died. “Here. Give me your hand...” he asked, gesturing. Junkyu stared at him, hesitant. “I promise it won’t hurt, I can control it. Just give me your hand”.

It took Junkyu a moment, but he decided to comply.

He gasped sharply when Jihoon made him place his hand over the blade, feeling how it moved between his fingers, as though trying to escape, yet still there — cold and soft at the same time. It was like a cat’s fur, ticklish and irresistible, as though it wanted to be stroked despite clearly trying to evade his touch.

Jihoon bit his lip, “No... don’t press down, please…” he pleaded.

Junkyu was startled by the request and quickly withdrew his hand.

He looked again at the sword.

“You said that... you left your soul there”.

“Half of it”, Jihoon corrected again, making the light sword vanish. Junkyu’s chest felt heavy. “What you’ve just seen is half of my soul, the anchor tying me to that place and to here. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to be… right here. I’d be stuck in LIMBO for the rest of my life. And it’s the part that holds the memories of my mum, from when I was a child and... happy. It’s the most important part of me”.

When Jihoon managed to escape LIMBO, after tearing his own soul in two, he didn’t exactly remember who he was. His father’s face, his mother’s smile, his younger brother’s name — all of it had been lost.

There was only a lingering sense that something was missing.

It took him years to move on, to accept that nothing could be done. But he was young, just 11 years old — though his soul had aged 20 years in all the time he had spent in LIMBO — and he could rebuild, create new memories, even if he still longed for a face he couldn’t imagine without a photo.

And whenever he needed, he could return to LIMBO and reunite with the part he was missing, if only for a short while, to relive everything he had ever loved most in the world — his mum. Her face, her voice. Everything.

Junkyu didn’t have that.

He would have to live with the absence forever.

“Did it hurt a lot?” he asked. “Splitting your soul?”

Jihoon nodded, “I thought I was dying. I’ll never be able to forget it; it was the worst thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. It still hurts, every single day, whether I’m breathing or just standing still... it hurts”.

“Will it hurt...” Junkyu hesitated. “When they disconnect me?”

Jihoon didn’t know.

He knew what it was like to forget everything, to live in complete agony and learn to cope, but he hadn’t felt any pain when he was disconnected from his familial symbiosis.

It had all been extremely safe and comfortable; his father had done everything before fleeing from MOME and the government — freeing them from being his children. So he didn’t truly know, but he thought it might.

Yoshinori had made it seem like it would.

“I think that... you’ll feel empty. Like you never belonged anywhere. You’ll look at your parents and wonder if they’re really the people you love most in the world. You’ll doubt every single thought you have about them, and as for your brother, you’ll feel like complete strangers...” he was honest, just as Yoshi had told him.

There was nowhere else to go.

They couldn’t lie, so it was better to be truthful.

Junkyu needed to know it was the end.

He wouldn’t belong anywhere after this.

“Then... I won’t feel sorry for myself anymore”.

Jihoon furrowed his brow, “What?”

Junkyu smiled at him, “If I don’t remember, I won’t pity myself and I won’t blame myself, even if it’s my fault, for us having lived so miserably...” he said in a whisper. “I’ve messed everything up right to the very end, and now my parents will have to deal with it, with yet another one of my problems but at least I won’t… remember”.

Jihoon blinked, once, twice, three times.

He didn’t understand.

But he wasn’t sure if he should ask.

Not yet.

Junkyu filled his lungs with air and turned back to the glass.

“Why does the flame exist?”

Jihoon cleared his throat, “Yoshinori already to-”

“I know. But a part of me is scared and sad, to have to lose the only people I’ve ever loved...” Junkyu interrupted, whispering as though he had finally let go of some sadness from all his cold behaviour. “I need to occupy my mind”, he let out a bitter laugh, his gaze returning to the dreams in the holograms. “So please, tell me again. About the FLAME”.

Jihoon licked his lips.

He didn’t understand him.

It was odd because, suddenly, he wanted to understand.

He wanted to ask what had happened to them, why they had been subjected to so many modifications, why his face didn’t resemble what it should, why there was an obituary in his life record, and why he seemed so desperate to cease to exist.

Jihoon wanted to know why Junkyu hated himself.

“It’s a reaction. There are many theories, but the truth is that the illness is linked to our powers...” he remarked without taking his eyes off Junkyu’s profile. “When the powers are activated, there’s an internal reaction that triggers the disease. The FLAME attacks brain cells, impairing their vital functions and killing us, since our powers further disrupt genetic balance”.

The FLAME directly affected the brains of the Koakh because they had a genetic anomaly. They had 28 reproductive chromosomes instead of the normal 23, causing a mismatch in cellular processes when the abilities were activated.

Jihoon scratched his forehead:

“So, it’s a sort of autoimmune reaction, where the body can’t handle the overexposure to these extraordinary abilities. We weren’t meant to exist, our species should have lived like everyone else, we should have been normal...,” he crossed his arms, thoughtful. “The stronger the powers, the more the body collapses. I think the disease reflects our incompatibility because we were forced to be this way”.

“But you’ve been alive for 16 years with powers”.

“The effects are progressive. The disease doesn’t affect us all the same way. Jeongwoo got ill and took almost a year to worsen, Junghwan just went to sleep...” Jihoon muttered the last part. At least he had some time with his brother. But Junghwan had simply fallen ill and was only in stage 1. “...he used everything he had to find you and got sick faster. That can happen to anyone”.

Junkyu tapped his nail on the glass.

“It feels like a maze with no way out”.

Every path ended the same way, with them dead.

The moment passed when Haruto appeared at the door:

“Yoshinori’s ready to begin...” he said, as if he’d overheard something. As if he wanted to cry. Jihoon looked his way and smiled. “You should stay, hyung. It’s better”.

Junkyu turned to Jihoon before leaving with Haruto, “See you later”.

Chapter Text

☆ ૮ ꒰ • ༝ • 。 ꒱ ა WARNING: 

The environment was sterile, almost oppressive in its impersonality.

The bright lights from the ceiling reflected off the metallic surfaces, accentuating the cold emptiness surrounding Junkyu. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the glaring brightness, feeling an unfamiliar weight within his body.

Or it was the absence of something much deeper.

“You’re awake…” Yoshinori’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of exhaustion. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling now?”

Junkyu blinked again, struggling to find the words.

There was an emptiness, which was difficult to put into words.

It wasn’t just physical.

It was as if something inside him had been ripped away.

“Junkyu?”

“Different... empty” he replied, his voice hoarse from the time he’d spent unconscious. He looked down at his hands, curling his fingers, trying to feel something familiar. There was nothing. “What... what have you done to me?”

Yoshinori exhaled deeply before responding, adjusting his glasses.

“What I said I would do. I’ve disconnected you from your familial symbiosis. It wasn’t a simple process. I had to… restructure your neural network. What once connected you to the other members of your family has been removed”.

Junkyu groaned, a wave of pain coursing through him.

He glanced around, realising they were alone.

It felt like someone was missing.

“Why do I still feel… like something’s missing inside me?” he asked, his voice low. “I can’t... remember something. Not in the same way”.

Yoshinori leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he probed.

Junkyu shook his head.

“There was a possibility of memory loss. When you were disconnected, some of your memories became compromised. The ones sustained by the symbiosis… disappeared. Not because they were erased, but because they no longer have anything to anchor to. You’re an individual now”.

Junkyu pressed his temples, trying to process this.

There were flashes, distant images of faces he knew he should recognise, but nothing came into focus.

Nothing felt warm.

“So, I’ve lost… I lost everything?” he asked, voice devoid of emotion. Junkyu looked at Yoshinori. “There’s nothing left… of all the things I’ve lived through…, but…” he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head softly. “It feels like there’s still something here”.

Yoshinori hesitated before responding.

He got up and walked to a nearby workstation, picking up a small device that looked like a tablet. Returning to his chair, he switched it on.

“You’ll feel disoriented for a few days…” he said. “I still need to reactivate the interface for your face. It’s a long process. But you’ll start to look like yourself again, we just need to let you recover first” Yoshinori explained patiently. “There’s a chance this could bring back some of your memories. At least a few of them.”

Junkyu scratched his forehead, his movements slower than he would’ve liked.

“Until that’s possible, I’ll ask you a few questions. It’s a standard test for this sort of procedure,” Yoshinori said, his eyes scrutinising every detail of Junkyu. “I want to know what’s left — not just of your memories, but of who you were before. So, answer honestly”.

Junkyu gave a slight nod, not particularly bothered either way.

“What’s your mum’s name?” Yoshinori asked, voice firm.

Junkyu frowned.

He knew he should answer immediately, but the name was stuck somewhere deep, unreachable.

After a moment, he shook his head, frustrated, “I... I don’t know”.

Yoshinori didn’t react, simply jotting something down.

“And your dad’s name?” he continued.

“I don’t know”, Junkyu replied flatly, almost indifferently.

“Do you siblings?” Yoshinori asked.

This time, Junkyu remained silent.

He looked down at the floor, his eyes vacant.

“I know I had… three. I don’t remember their names right now. Not even their faces” Junkyu’s voice cracked for a moment, but he quickly regained his neutral tone. He let out a deep sigh, looking at Yoshinori. “It doesn’t matter”.

Yoshinori sighed as well, leaning back in his chair.

“All right…” he adjusted his glasses again. “I think I’ve got enough for now. I don’t want to stress you out, and you need to go back to sleep — for at least a few more hours before being moved to your room”.

Junkyu nodded faintly, sinking back into the bed.

He felt drowsy the moment Yoshinori mentioned rest and naturally agreed, closing his eyes before the doctor left him alone in the room — with his mind utterly empty.

Yoshinori’s eyes met Junkyu’s parents first.

He pressed his lips together before saying:

“It’s still too early to say, but his answer is muddled. He doesn’t remember your names…” he said cautiously. “And he thinks he has three siblings”.

“That’s not untrue!” Dahee answered promptly. “He does. Three siblings…” She seemed eager to prove her son hadn’t forgotten them, even if he didn’t know their names. “I had two babies before him, so, technically speaking, he has three siblings”.

Yoshinori nodded, jotting something else into his notes.

“That’s good. He remembers that, even if he doesn’t recall the names or faces, he knows he was... three siblings”, Yoshinori said with a gentle smile aimed at them. JunHo pulled Doyoung into a firm embrace, nodding back to him. “But from what I can gather, most of the memories tied to the symbiosis are gone now. He doesn’t belong to your family anymore”.

“How long will it take...” Doyoung asked softly. “Until we know for sure if the memories are truly lost? Can we see him?”

Yoshinori removed his glasses, rubbing his temples wearily."

“It’s still too soon. We need to give him a bit more time. Besides, he’s still going to undergo some facial modifications to recover his real face beneath the interface, so the full recovery process takes time”, he explained, clearly worn out. “And no, you can’t see him yet. It’s better if he remains isolated for a few more hours”.

“Why not? If he’s already awake, why do we have to stay away?”

“Maybe he’ll remember something if he sees us”, JunHo chimed in, gesturing at Yoshinori. “Wouldn’t it help him reconnect with what little he’s got left of himself?”

“I understand how this looks and I know you’re desperate to see him, but the shock of seeing faces he doesn’t recognise but knows he should... it’s too much for him right now. It could have the opposite effect, and that’s not what we want. He needs time”.

“Right, but-”

“You’d do well to listen to Yoshinori”, Jihoon interjected, cutting them off for everyone's safety. “He’s been looking after us for years. My brother and Jungwon are safe because of him, so...” he shrugged. “I know it’s hard but I think he knows what’s best right now. Give him some time”.

Even though Jihoon wasn’t entirely sure of his own authority in this matter, Junkyu’s family reluctantly accepted his fragile words, mostly because they had no other choice. They weren’t doctors; they couldn’t help him. Waiting truly was the only option.

Jihoon stepped closer to Yoshinori, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“He really doesn’t remember anything?”

Yoshi glanced around the room before looking Jihoon square in the eye.

“It’s hard to say. I was being honest earlier...” he repeated, his tone both firm and weary. Jihoon nodded slightly. “From the tests I’ve run and the few responses he’s managed to give me, Junkyu feels empty. His mind and body are still adjusting. That symbiotic mix was part of his system for years” he shook his head. “It’ll take time for his body to readjust. Right now, his brain feels like it’s lost a limb, there’s a void where something used to be, and he doesn’t know how to name it”.

Jihoon knew very little about biohacking, but he trusted Yoshi.

If he was saying this — despite his obvious exhaustion — with even a sliver of hope in his voice, then perhaps it meant Junkyu didn’t have to end up like Jihoon: a blank slate, as though his life was a book that had been erased.

Or one that had never been written in the first place.

“I’ve got to prepare Doyoung now”, Yoshinori murmured, visibly drained.

He’d been working non-stop for days.

They’d decided to wait until Junkyu woke up before taking the next step, so the rest had been out of the question. Reprogramming an entire family into what they were meant to be, without connecting them to the government network, was an all-consuming task.

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

Yoshinori placed a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, offering a faint smile.

“Just make sure no one enters that room if he wakes up. A face that should be familiar could harm. And as cruel as it sounds...” he sighed heavily. “We don’t have time for setbacks. We need him to recover without obstacles. So, be my eyes and ears while I’m in the lab. Don’t let anyone or anything into that room without notifying me first”.

Jihoon pressed his lips together tightly.

It would be difficult to keep a father and mother away from their son.

But he’d do whatever it took to avoid wasting time.

Jeongwoo and Junghwan didn’t have time to waste.

“Alright, I can do that. I’ll make sure no one goes in to see him”.

☽ august 17 2030 ☾

When Junkyu woke up again, it felt like a bloody nightmare.

Jihoon was in the room next door, sleeping beside his brother and Junghwan when the first scream echoed through the complex. The piercing sound set off an alarm so loud it made his ears ring, sending everyone rushing to the room.

It was... terrifying.

Jihoon had never seen anything like it.

It was as if Junkyu was burning alive, screaming as though something invisible was truly hurting him. The fear was etched into his eyes, and his entire body reacted far too quickly — he tumbled off the bed, pulling down the equipment connected to him, causing the interface to blare with a critical emergency alert. Haruto had no choice but to use his ability on him.

But everything happened too fast — there wasn’t another option.

When Haruto began speaking, the air in the room grew stifling, and heavy, as though something unseen was pressing against their chests. His voice no longer sounded human.

Deep, resonant, each word thundered like a storm, reverberating through their very bones. At times, it was impossible to tell if there was an echo or if a dozen voices whispered alongside his, but it was unmistakable — he was pushing himself, pouring everything he had into it as if it was agony.

Yet Junkyu stopped.

He looked at Haruto, his expression peaceful.

Dahee — who was being held back by Doyoung — let out a shaky breath.

Haruto pressed his lips, “'Go back to sleep'”.

Junkyu’s body gave in, shutting down completely as though someone had flipped a switch.

For a moment, everyone stood still, breathless, terrified by what had just unfolded, utterly baffled. Dahee was frustrated, visibly upset that they’d forced her son to collapse like that, but the terror in her eyes mirrored everyone else’s — they hadn’t expected anything like this.

Jihoon scanned the room. Junkyu’s parents and Yoshinori were tending to him, but even amidst the chaos, Jihoon’s gaze kept drifting back to Haruto.

Haruto was leaning against the wall, head bowed, struggling to catch his breath.

Jihoon knew Junkyu was in capable hands, so without saying a word, he left the room and walked over to his friend.

Haruto seemed smaller than usual, his shoulders hunched under the weight of something invisible. When Jihoon got closer, Haruto lifted his gaze, his eyes duller than they normally were.

“Haruto…” Jihoon began, hesitating as he took in his friend’s exhausted expression. “Are you alright?”

“No…” Haruto murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “I’ve never felt like this before”.

Jihoon frowned, crouching down to place a hand on Haruto’s shoulder.

It wasn’t just exhaustion — it was something else, something Jihoon couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you not always feel like this?” Jihoon asked cautiously.

“It’s different. It’s not just tiredness…” Haruto swallowed hard, running a hand down his face. “I’ve always been told my power affects others more than me. But now… it feels like something’s been taken”.

He paused, searching for the right words.

Jihoon gently squeezed his shoulder.

“What do you mean? What’s been taken?”

Haruto blinked, looking up at Jihoon in surprise.

“I don’t know. But it was bad. Not just using my power… but the way he reacted afterwards like he was collapsing. It was too fast. And it was horrible like it hurt. I’ve never felt this way before…” Haruto swallowed again, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s not supposed to hurt me. Not like this”.

Jihoon nodded, but his concern had now doubled — first for Haruto, and then for the strange way Junkyu had passed out.

“Haruto, maybe… maybe it’s to do with his modifications,” Jihoon suggested. “You know they did a lot to him — his entire system was this confusing mishmash of other people’s. Maybe that created some kind of difficulty, which is why you felt this way when you used your power on him”.

“Then what happened to me?” Haruto snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He straightened up a bit but immediately stumbled. Jihoon quickly grabbed him, guiding him to a nearby chair.

“Even if that’s the case, it shouldn’t hurt… like this!”

Haruto held up a trembling hand.

His body looked like it was on the verge of falling apart.

Jihoon stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about what he’d just witnessed.

Haruto closed his eyes, taking deep, laboured breaths.

Jihoon squeezed his shoulder again. “Get some rest. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, you’ll feel better. We can talk about this later, so try not to overthink it…” he said, attempting to comfort him as best he could.

Haruto nodded slowly.

“I’ll help Yoshi, but I’ll ask Hyunsuk to come keep you company. Try to calm down and get some sleep”.

As Haruto nodded again, Jihoon glanced back at the door to the room where Junkyu was being cared for.

Something was deeply wrong, and he had the sinking feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time they felt like they were fighting an impossible tide.

☽ august 18 2030 ☾

Junkyu opened his eyes, and this time, there wasn’t the overwhelming weight pressing down on his chest. The light streaming through the window felt less intrusive, and his muscles didn’t protest when he moved.

There was an odd sense of clarity in his mind, though an emptiness still lingered in some deep corner. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light and his surroundings. Gradually, scattered memories began to surface — small fragments, nothing coherent, but one figure emerged vividly in his mind: Doyoung.

The memory of him was like a beacon, fixed amidst the fog.

“Ah, you’re awake again” Yoshinori’s voice broke the silence, pulling Junkyu out of his thoughts. The man was seated in a nearby chair, a tablet in his hands, though his eyes were fixed on the younger man.

“I remember my brother”.

Yoshinori raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued by the revelation.

 “Interesting. What do you remember about your brother?”

Junkyu took a moment before replying:

 “His name. His face…” he smiled, a little confused. “I was supposed to take him to the park but I lost track of time. Jisoo wanted to play, and we stayed out late, laughing. Doyoung’s probably still cross with me”.

There was a slight hesitation from Yoshinori.

The room was monitored — which meant everyone outside those walls was aware of what was happening. Yoshinori was the only one who could come and go from the room freely, as his face wasn’t familiar, but he’d ensured that Junkyu’s family could follow along in some capacity.

 “Is that so? You should speak with him. How old is your brother Doyoung now? Is he younger or older than you? I can’t recall”.

Junkyu thought for a moment, “He’s four years old. I’m the oldest”.

Yoshinori nodded patiently, offering a small smile.

He touched Junkyu’s hand gently.

“Junkyu-ssi... he’s twenty-two now. No? I think your brother, Doyoung, is twenty-two at this moment. It’s 2030, remember?”

An odd expression flickered across Junkyu’s face.

He fell completely silent, staring at Yoshinori.

It wasn’t confusion — just a peculiar moment.

Suddenly, he let his shoulders drop and sighed deeply.

“Right...” he nodded. “He’s twenty-two now. I was dreaming about it when we were kids. He was cute…” he smiled faintly. “He’d always chase after me, and I was always with Jisoo hyung. I should’ve taken him to the park that day. We’d have had a great time”.

Yoshinori moved his fingers over the screen on his forearm.

He made countless notes and ran numerous performance tests on Junkyu throughout the day. It was almost impossible for him not to be in that room, so he had a broad understanding of how the recovery was progressing and believed they could tackle the after-effects bit by bit.

 “I’m sure he understands”, Yoshinori said with a smile. “But, Junkyu-ssi, can you tell me if you remember anything else apart from your youngest brother? Something about your parents... or your past. Before we met”.

Junkyu furrowed his brow.

 “We were running...” he said seriously, averting his gaze. “I did something I wasn’t supposed to, and we got into trouble. We’ve been running ever since… from that man... what’s his name...” he murmured, almost as though speaking to himself. Yoshinori glanced briefly at the camera, typing something on his communication interface.

It took a moment for Junkyu to respond to his own question.

 “Shin Hee-Jun...?”

Junkyu’s eyes widened.

“Yes! That’s him. We’re running from Shin Hee-Jun ‘cause…” his expression shifted, growing distant. Junkyu touched his head. “I did something I shouldn’t have done, but I... I can’t remember what it was”.

“That’s alright. No need to worry about that now”.

He nodded without looking at Yoshinori, deep in thought.

Yoshinori waited patiently.

He preferred for the answers to come from Junkyu without any pressure, so he simply sat in quiet expectation, ready to note anything that might help him understand where to start with aiding Junkyu.

He remembered Doyoung.

There’d been some confusion initially, but he eventually seemed to recall that the Doyoung he remembered, the four-year-old child, had since grown up and many years had passed. But he remembered his brother.

He also remembered that they were running from someone.

It was a good start.

“Dahee!” Junkyu straightened up in bed. He looked at Yoshinori with a gentle smile, the first Yoshinori had ever seen him. “That’s my mum’s name, Lee... no. Dahee. Something. What’s my surname again?”

 “Kim”.

Junkyu nodded, “Kim Dahee?”

 “Choi Dahee,” Yoshinori corrected subtly.

Junkyu blinked once, twice, three times.

He tilted his head to the side.

“Choi Dahee?” he repeated, trusting the information more quickly than Yoshinori had expected. “Huh. Guess that’s it. Choi Dahee. She hates me”.

Yoshinori’s eyes lifted.

 “Why do you say that?”

“Because I killed him...” the answer was blunt. Junkyu’s expression was cold, almost lifeless. He smiled again, this time with amusement. Cruelly. He looked happy. “My brother. I killed him, didn’t I? If I think hard enough about it...” he looked at his own hands with that same cruel smile. “I slit his throat.”

Yoshinori felt uneasy.

It was as though he’d suddenly been cornered.

He wetted his lips.

“I don’t know anything about that. But your brother’s in the next room, Junkyu-ssi. He looks very much alive to me if you’re wondering”.

His expression shifted again, as though he’d snapped back to reality.

The cruel, cold smile was gone.

There was only... relief.

 “How about we talk a bit about how you’re feeling physically?”

Junkyu sank back into the bed, resting his hands on his stomach.

“I feel strange... but better. My body doesn’t hurt anymore”.

Yoshinori nodded slowly, as though expecting that response.

 “That’s a good sign. There’s no way to predict exactly how your mind will reintegrate with your body, but the lack of pain means it’s happening,” Yoshinori said with a smile. “As I mentioned before, the procedure was invasive. But you’re you again. At least on the inside”.

Junkyu took a deep breath, searching for words to describe how he felt about the idea of being ‘himself again,’ but Yoshinori didn’t press him. Instead, he shifted the focus of the conversation, crossing his legs with a kind smile:

 “While you were unconscious, we carried out the procedures on your parents,” he began, his tone becoming more technical. “The entire altered symbiotic system has been restructured. We had some assistance but created an interface core — a system that operates independently, without needing to connect to the country’s neural network. Now, they can move about without being tracked. No cameras will recognise them, and they’ve been granted level 2 clearance...” he paused, observing Junkyu closely. “This level is equivalent to the off-the-record elite government investigation clearance. No one’s going to arrest them for being illegal”.

Junkyu processed the information slowly, each word sinking into his mind as though searching for a place to settle. “So...” he began, his voice rough with uncertainty. “My parents... they’re okay? Safe?”

 “Yes. They’re okay and safe,” Yoshinori confirmed. “Additionally, I’ve reconfigured their interface so their faces appear normal again. We still need to reprogram their eyes, but that’ll require more specific attention, and for now, I need to stay with you during your recovery and the tests we’ll be running next”.

Junkyu nodded slowly, though he still seemed lost in thought.

Yoshinori seized the moment of silence to ask the question he knew was unavoidable.

“Junkyu… and what about you? Your brother mentioned you might not agree, but do you think you’re ready to go through with the removal of the facial interface you’ve been using?” Yoshinori asked. “I can take it off for you if you want. It’ll restore your face to what it should be”.

Junkyu’s eyes shot up, meeting Yoshinori’s with intensity — he understood. Somehow, he knew what it meant, even though, for now, he couldn’t quite remember how he used to look or what he’d said to Doyoung about his own face.

“You mean… to go back to being myself”.

“Exactly. So you can move around freely, without fear, without being chased. So that when you look in the mirror, you’ll see who you are” Yosh explained, his voice calm but steady.

Junkyu remained silent for a long while, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the wall. He didn’t respond straight away, but something in his posture shifted — the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly, as though he was considering the possibility for the first time.

“I… I don’t know why I feel this way…” his voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as though searching for something he hadn’t yet found. “But… I don’t want to. I don’t know why I don’t want to, I just… I just want to go back to sleep, Yoshinori”, his voice grew steadier as he said Yoshinori’s name, as if now he truly remembered who the man standing before him was. As if he held power over that name. “I want to sleep.”

Yoshinori studied Junkyu for a moment, his gaze assessing the tension on the young man’s face. It was clear he wasn’t ready to deal with the depth of the situation, and Yoshinori wasn’t one to force decisions.

He rose to his feet slowly, his expression calm.

“Of course,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’ve still got a few tests to run and some markers to decode, but we can take things at your pace, Junkyu…” but they couldn’t. Time wasn’t on their side. Soon, Jeongwoo would enter stage three of the disease, and then it would be inevitable. Yoshinori stepped back from the bed. “I’ll be back later”.

After leaving Junkyu alone, Yoshinori exited the room and went to where Junkyu’s parents were waiting next door. They stood, tense, their faces heavy with expectation. When he entered, their eyes immediately locked onto him, the atmosphere thickening as though they knew the news wouldn’t be easy to hear.

Yoshinori paused before speaking.

“Junkyu… he seems fine. You’ve probably overheard our conversation, so you know his memories are still muddled but he remembers Doyoung…” he said, folding his arms. “He remembers a bit about you. And… about being on the run from someone. About killing someone”.

Yoshinori looked at Doyoung.

There was something in Doyoung’s expression — as if he knew something. As if it wasn’t a lie. As if Junkyu wasn’t just muddling things up.

Doyoung rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s… it doesn’t matter now”.

Jihoon stared at him, stunned.

“It wasn’t his fault!” Doyoung blurted out as if trying to justify. “He was having loads of seizures and blackouts, something was off with his mind, and then… it just happened. But it’s not that bad, I’m still here. I can’t die, so it’s all right”.

The doctor mulled over the information, nodding slowly.

Something about the entire story troubled him.

It hadn’t made sense before, and it made even less sense now.

The Kim family had mentioned more than once that Junkyu sometimes didn’t seem like himself. He’d have sudden blackouts, seizures, and mood swings. But the rest of them had undergone the same modifications — not as extensive as Junkyu’s, but still.

They all had fake modifications.

Faces, voices, eyes — none of it was truly theirs.

Yet only Junkyu had fallen ill.

Only he had had to repeat the same procedures over and over again.

The others were fine.

Removing the modifications and reconnecting them to their original interfaces had been easier than Yoshinori had anticipated, but Junkyu continued to exhibit aftereffects and symptoms that didn’t align with his family’s overall condition, as though something beyond the modifications was making him ill.

It was all very, very odd.

“Let’s wait a few more hours. Based on his responses, I think it’s safe to say you can see him…” Yoshinori shifted the subject to mask how much the situation with the family unsettled him, especially the fact that only one of them was ill. “I suggest you get some rest in the meantime”.

After bidding them goodbye, he gestured for Jihoon and Hyunsuk to follow him. He wanted to discuss his doubts with someone else before he started thinking too much — thoughts he couldn’t escape once they were spoken aloud.

“Maybe he’s adopted…” were the first words out of his mouth once Hyunsuk shut the door behind them. Yoshinori folded his arms, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not relevant to what we’re doing, but if that’s the case, it explains why he’s the only one who’s ill.”

Jihoon opened and closed his mouth, glancing at Hyunsuk.

“And why do you think that?”

Yoshinori sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Because I’m a doctor — I know when something’s not right. Apart from him, none of them have symptoms of illness or failure. Honestly, removing the modifications and reconnecting them to their original interface was straightforward, but Junkyu… his body was breaking down. He’s having seizures and blackouts. It makes no sense that only he’s this ill…”

The confusion on Jihoon’s face was clear.

Despite Yoshinori’s words, he couldn’t understand the real reason, but something seemed to have been altered on a much deeper level, far beyond what they’d imagined. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t grasp what might have happened to Junkyu to make his modification so… damaging.

“Does it interfere… with what we need?”

Yoshinori looked at Jihoon.

He was a doctor — his first instinct was to overthink, then reorganise his thoughts and focus on what truly mattered. But he was still a doctor; he wanted to understand why Junkyu had those symptoms, why his parents and brother hadn’t fallen ill, and why it seemed as though his entire system was being manipulated far beyond the modifications.

“No” he admitted. Unfortunately, they really were running out of time, and Junkyu was spending more time asleep than in the examination rooms. They needed him to recover to move forward. He couldn’t just be a doctor — he had to remember he was also a friend and a son. People were relying on that discovery. “It doesn’t matter what caused the symptoms. The programmes are running and analysing his genome, and when Junkyu’s ready to remove the facial interface… we’ll have what we need”.

☽ ❍ ☾

Jihoon trudged up the stairs with slow, deliberate steps, the weight of his worries piling on his shoulders. The night breeze was crisp on the rooftop, and he thought that perhaps, just perhaps, the silence and the stars might help him sort through his tangled thoughts.

He pulled a small joint from his pocket and lit it carefully, inhaling the smoke with a heavy sigh.

The world had been moving too bloody slow these past days, and he needed something — anything — to quieten his racing mind. Something to pull him away from all this mess. Two years ago, when Jeongwoo had fallen ill, they'd gone looking for a seer.

Spent months searching until Kato found them instead. His pitch-black eyes told them they'd find their answers when they found the boy with the scar on his stomach.

Even though Jihoon had heard the tales of Kato’s prophecies, he doubted him.

He couldn’t fathom how one person could help them.

Or how they’d even find someone with a scar on their stomach.

Then, one day, Kato found them again and gave them another bit of information. That when the second of them fell ill, they’d discover the person who’d cure everyone of their kind. Jihoon would know when he saw him—except he didn’t.

When Jihoon laid eyes on Junkyu, just as in the memory the seer had shared with Junghwan, he felt nothing. He stared at him and saw a complete void. All he felt was envy. Envy for Junkyu’s family, for his powers, for the fact that he wasn’t dying like Jeongwoo was.

Aside from that… nothing.

As Jihoon glanced around, he realised he wasn’t alone.

The silhouette of someone sitting on the parapet, legs dangling over the edge, caught his attention. Jihoon’s heart clenched for a moment as he recognised who it was.

“Junkyu-ssi?” he called, approaching cautiously, his eyes fixed on the lad. The faint moonlight illuminated Junkyu’s serene expression as he gazed at the sky, lost in some faraway thought. “What’re you doing up here?”

Junkyu turned his head slowly, as though being yanked out of another world. His eyes narrowed briefly, confused before recognition finally settled.

“Ah... you’re... hm, you’re Jihoon, right?” Junkyu’s voice was lighter. He blinked a few times as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. “Hi”.

Jihoon watched him, exhaling smoke to the side before replying.

“Yeah, that’s me... Thought you’d be asleep or resting… at least” his eyes flickered to the parapet, uneasy with how close Junkyu sat to the edge. “It’s not the safest place to be”.

Junkyu shrugged, turning his face back to the sky.

“The stars...” he murmured, almost to himself. “They’re different here, aren’t they? They’re lovely... it’s been ages since he’s seen stars”.

Jihoon frowned, trying to make sense of Junkyu’s words.

He stepped a bit closer, standing next to the parapet but not daring to sit there, “He... uh, who’s ‘he’? And how exactly are they different?”

Junkyu tilted his head, pensive.

“I suppose it’s because I was trapped for so long... I can’t remember seeing the sky like this before. It feels... more real now” he glanced sideways at Jihoon, a peculiar glint in his eyes. “Do you like the stars, Jihoon?”

Junkyu still hadn’t answered the main question.

Jihoon hesitated, taking another drag from the joint before answering:

“I suppose I do. They make me feel small… in a good way. It’s like, for a moment, everything going on down here... doesn’t matter...” he exhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl away. “But why were you trapped?”

Junkyu shook his head.

“I don’t remember…” Junkyu offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Even so, he seemed far more cheerful now than when they’d first met. It was odd. Almost like he wasn’t the same person. “I don’t remember much of anything”.

Jihoon felt the weight of those words and fell silent for a moment, letting the rustling leaves and soft breeze fill the space. Finally, he turned to Junkyu, concern clear in his voice, “Maybe your memories will come back”.

Junkyu seemed to mull over the thought.

“... it’s easier when he’s like this, when he doesn't remember himself” he murmured to himself. There it was again — that tone.

As if he were talking about someone else entirely.

Jihoon didn’t know what to say.

The silence between them was almost stifling, filled with Jihoon’s thoughts about how Junkyu spoke of himself as though he were someone else. But Jihoon let the quiet be.

He glanced sideways at Junkyu, trying to decipher what was going on in his head. Outwardly, Junkyu seemed calm, but there was something in his eyes — something restless, almost urgent.

When Jihoon stepped away, ready to leave him to his thoughts, Junkyu broke the silence.

“Jihoon...?” Junkyu’s voice sounded hesitant, almost fragile, but determined enough to make Jihoon pause. “Before you go... I know we don’t know each other... I mean, I don’t know you. Do I?”

Jihoon shook his head, “No. We’ve only just met”.

Junkyu nodded, patient, smiling faintly at him.

“Then... could I ask you a favour?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Turning fully to face him, he still held the joint between his fingers. It was bloody freezing outside, and with the strange atmosphere, he wanted to get this over with quickly and head back inside.

“A favour?” he hesitated. “Uh, sure. Go on, then. What do you need?”

Junkyu slid off the parapet with quiet grace, though his posture tensed as if ready to spring. He took two steps towards Jihoon, close enough for Jihoon to hear his short, uneven breaths — Jihoon almost stepped back.

“So... I…” Junkyu hesitated, biting his lip before finally lifting his gaze to meet Jihoon’s. “Can I... can I kiss you… Jihoon?”

Jihoon froze.

He blinked, trying to process what he’d just heard.

It wasn’t a question he’d expected — not in the slightest.

“What?” he blurted, his voice barely above a whisper, surprise evident in his tone. Before he could say another word, Junkyu closed their gap.

His breathing was erratic, but there was a resolve behind his movements. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Junkyu’s lips were warm, hesitant at first, as if testing the waters.

For a moment, Jihoon was still shocked rooting him to the spot. But as the sensation settled in — the soft intensity, the quiet urgency — he found himself giving in. Without thinking, Jihoon closed his eyes and kissed back.

It was... confusing.

He didn’t know why — perhaps it was Junkyu’s vulnerability, or maybe it was the shock swirling within him — but it felt strange. All he knew was that, at that moment, the world seemed too quiet for his mind, and only the gentle press of Junkyu’s lips existed.

When the kiss ended, Junkyu pulled back slightly, but still close enough for Jihoon to feel Junkyu's breath on his face.

Junkyu’s eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and nerves etched into his expression.

“Sorry...” Junkyu murmured, barely audible. “I just... wanted to know what it’d be like... I shouldn’t have... I don’t know what came over me”.

Jihoon was still confused, but his voice came out calmer than he’d expected.

“And... how was it?” he asked. “The kiss”.

Junkyu stared at him, startled.

“I... don’t remember if I’ve kissed anyone before. I don’t think so” he admitted. “I don’t think I ever had the chance or enough time. But... it was much better than I thought it’d be” he took a step back, finally creating some distance between them. “I’m sorry... and thank you”.

With that, he turned and began descending the stairs, leaving Jihoon alone on the rooftop, with the taste of the kiss still lingering on his lips and his mind spinning with more questions than answers.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING:  This chapter contains explicit sex scenes at the end. Be careful when reading. If you don't feel comfortable, skip the end and skip to the next one, it won't change your reading.

Two days had passed since that night on the terrace, and Junkyu now wandered the corridors of the complex, still adjusting to the new routine and the odd sensation of being disconnected — isolated from the family who looked at him as though they’d lost something.

He didn’t know what.

Dahee — his mum — felt familiar.

But not entirely.

Junho made Junkyu feel at ease and loved even more.

Doyoung… well, he was the typical younger brother. Junkyu constantly wanted to pinch his cheeks whenever he saw him, no matter how much the lad complained and told him he was acting odd. Junkyu found it fascinating, to have a brother like him, someone who silently looked out for him.

But it was strange. Too strange.

He knew he belonged to this family but couldn’t feel them. Every time he tried to recall something, he wasn’t even sure what memories he had anymore. Yoshinori had told him it was normal—that he’d spent too long connected to an interface that belonged to many people, and it would take some time.

Or maybe… maybe he’d never remember what it had been like before.
Before the interface was disconnected. Before her.

As he passed Yoshinori’s lab, he noticed the faint light seeping through the slightly ajar door. Quietly, he stepped in, curious to see the hologram flickering at the centre of the table.

The image appeared to be an intricate three-dimensional representation — interlinked genetic patterns, and complex molecular structures slowly rotating in the air. Junkyu froze in his tracks.

“How do I know what this is…?” he muttered, blinking in confusion.

That’s when he noticed Yoshinori, slumped over the table, head resting on one arm, breathing slowly and heavily. Asleep. Exhausted, with papers scattered around him.

Before Junkyu could slip away unnoticed, Yoshinori jolted awake, lifting his head abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise, “Junkyu? What’re you doing?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Junkyu took a step back, raising his hands like a servant caught sneaking about. “I just… saw the light and wanted to have a look. What is this?” he asked, pointing to the hologram.

Yoshinori rubbed his eyes, still half-dazed, before letting out a tired sigh.

“It’s fine. No harm done. I shouldn’t have nodded off, anyway…” he yawned. “That’s you,” he gestured towards the hologram. “I’m trying to map and isolate your genetic patterns now that the modifications are gone, to figure out how we can create a cure from your genes… but I’m getting nowhere. It’s as if everything’s scrambled, like something’s… blocking access.”

Junkyu furrowed his brows, leaning in for a closer look.

“Blocking? What d’you mean?”

Yoshinori leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumping with frustration.

“I’ve got two theories. The first is that your body’s somehow sabotaging the analysis itself, maybe as a defence mechanism to protect itself. The second…” he hesitated, biting his lower lip. “The second is that there’s something deeper — something I haven’t identified yet — possibly linked to your genetic code.”

Junkyu processed his words for a moment.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Yoshinori let out a bitter laugh.

“It’s awful. I’m completely stuck. And the worst part is… we don’t have time,” he muttered, his exhaustion evident in his voice. Junkyu had overheard him talking to Hyunsuk about Jeongwoo.

Jeongwoo was getting sicker by the day. They didn’t know how much longer he’d last. And Junghwan… he’d begun showing the early signs of the disease’s progression, already entering stage two. It wouldn’t be long before he ended up like Jeongwoo.

“Junkyu…” Yoshinori turned his gaze back to him. “I know you’re hesitant about removing the facial receptors, but…” he hesitated, clicking his fingers anxiously. He took a deep breath. “You know that, even in small amounts, those receptors are interacting with your body, don’t you? If you let me remove them, maybe-”

“I don’t know” Junkyu interrupted, his tone impatient.

“Junkyu! I hate to pressure you like this, but the receptors are releasing nano data into your system. They’re active all the time, and that could be interfering with the mapping”.

Doyoung had told Junkyu… he didn’t have to help them.

If it were up to his brother, they’d have left by now. But Dahee had insisted, saying Junkyu seemed much better under their treatment, and they should keep trying to help as long as he was receiving the necessary care — it had been days since his last seizure.

But Doyoung didn’t think he should help.

And even though he couldn’t explain why, his body was utterly against the idea of removing the facial receptors, to look more like himself again instead of David Harp. He didn’t want to let them down. A part of him was scared… for his dad. For his brother.

“I always wanted a younger brother, you know…” Junkyu said suddenly, cautiously. “My dad was always against it. I felt lonely for a long time until I met him…” he shook his head. “And then I hated him. Every single day until the last. I hated him because he had everything I wanted the most — caring parents… a cute little brother. But I have that now”.

Yoshinori’s expression was utterly baffled.

He had no idea who Junkyu was talking about, but perhaps he was still dealing with the lingering traces of life from the symbioses he’d used to stay connected to his ‘family’. Perhaps it was a confusion of memories.

“What would happen… if he saw his own face in the mirror?”

“Junkyu… who are we talking about?”

Junkyu smiled, “Me, of course.”

Yoshinori stood up.

“Perhaps we should save this conversation for another time… Why don’t you lie down on the examination table and let me take a look?” he suggested, patient and cautious. Maybe it was a viral crisis — one of those situations where the genetic code short-circuited due to losing too much support material. The interfaces and symbiosis had kept Junkyu’s body running for years, and their removal could have side effects.

Junkyu shook his head, calm and curious.

“I want to see…” he said. “What happens when, after all these years, I look in the mirror. I want to see if it’ll hurt as much as I think it will,” his brows knitted together. “I want to know if it’ll hurt him”.

In the stillness of the early hours, while the complex was utterly quiet, Junkyu got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. Curiosity and restlessness gnawed at him, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. The mirror’s light flicked on, and he hesitated before meeting his own gaze.

When he finally raised his head to look at his reflection, he froze.

There he was — a face so unfamiliar, so distant.

His blue eyes, bright and artificial, stared back at him as if they didn’t belong to the rest of his features. With careful fingers, he touched his face, feeling the texture of skin that was now his again, but the emotion that swept over him was bitter.

He didn’t know what he had expected to feel upon seeing himself again.

Perhaps relief, perhaps joy.

But what he found instead was disconnection. It was as though the reflection in the mirror belonged to a stranger — someone he was supposed to know yet couldn’t quite recognise.

With a heavy sigh, Junkyu switched off the light and left the bathroom, the bitterness still lodged firmly in his chest as he slipped out of the room quietly, seeking fresh air after seeing himself in that way—as if he might stumble upon some reason to truly recognise himself.

He hated the way Dahee and Junho looked at him.

He despised how Doyoung resembled him so closely.

He loathed the sour taste lingering in his mouth.

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the light in the room at the end of the corridor was still on. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure whether to continue towards the terrace — where there were stars — or to change his plans.

Junkyu bit the inside of his cheeks and walked to the door.

He raised his hand but froze.

He could hear Jihoon pacing inside.

In the room, Jihoon sat on the bed, running his hands through his hair.

His shoulders were tense, and his expression betrayed exhaustion — clear signs of two sleepless nights and long days devoted to fruitless searches.

He carried a small bag containing some scanning devices and information he had gathered, but none of it offered concrete leads on Shin Hee-Jun.

“… I couldn’t find anything. My contacts can’t locate this person, this Shin Hee-Jun”, Jihoon admitted, exhaling deeply. “It’s like he’s a ghost, and it’s frustrating. And the Kim family isn’t making things any easier; they’re not saying what really happened or who this person is”.

Yoshinori nodded thoughtfully, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. “It’s tough to get anything out of them… and Junkyu’s always caught between muddled memories and the present, so we can’t trust what he says entirely. But they do seem genuinely afraid of this Shin Hee-Jun,” he said, his concern evident in his posture. “I reckon we should involve Jisung. If this bloke is dangerous and gets in our way, it’ll be trouble. You haven’t seen him yet, but it’s him. And we need to make sure he’s safe, Jihoon”.

Jihoon looked at Yoshinori.

Before returning, he’d received updates about Junkyu.

They had removed the facial interfaces, and he—according to Yoshinori and Haruto — looked exactly like the hologram the seer had shown Junghwan in a vision of their salvation.

But Jihoon hadn’t seen him yet.

“Alright. I’ll speak to Jisung in the morning,” Jihoon said, dodging the topic because he still didn’t know how to tell the others that Junkyu had kissed him. That wasn’t why they were there together — they were supposed to focus on what mattered, and he didn’t want to cause any discomfort or drama.

Yoshinori nodded, rising with a long sigh.

“I need some kip…” he said, placing a gentle hand on Jihoon’s shoulder with a kind smile. “You should do the same. We’ll need all the energy and focus we can muster to stick to the plan. So get some rest, yeah? We’ll sort the rest tomorrow”.

Jihoon nodded but didn’t respond.

Once Yoshinori had left the room, Jihoon flopped onto the bed.

And Junkyu, hiding in the opposite corridor, waited silently until it felt safe enough. This time, he knocked softly on Jihoon’s door, as though he didn’t want to be heard. There was no answer — not even a stir. So he knocked again.

The door creaked open moments later, “Yoshi, why…?”

Jihoon’s words trailed off as he looked down, straight at Junkyu.

And Junkyu offered him a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re back”, Junkyu said.

Jihoon blinked once, twice, thrice.

Yoshinori was right... he wasn’t ready for this.

It had been a year of their lives spent trying to find that face, watching

Jeongwoo worsened day by day, not knowing if they’d ever cross paths with that person. And now, Junkyu was standing in his room, smiling with that face Jihoon knew so well — it was terrifying.

For a while, he had doubted Kato, thought he’d gotten it wrong.

Then he met David Harp and was certain it wasn’t the same person. But as time passed, he peeled back the countless layers of Junkyu, uncovering things he’d never imagined. And now this.

That face.

“Not going to let me in?” Junkyu asked suddenly, his arms placed casually behind his back. Yoshinori had mentioned the mood swings, the way he shifted between the person they’d met on the mountain and... this grinning, unnerving version of him. “... Well? What’s it going to be?”

There was something vaguely disconcerting about his posture, as though he were deliberately testing Jihoon. It took Jihoon a few seconds to process the request, still dazed by the sight of that face.

“Right, of course...” he murmured, stepping aside to let him in, averting his gaze and attempting to regain control of his thoughts.

Junkyu entered the room with light but deliberate steps.

He glanced around, taking in the nearly empty space before turning back to Jihoon with that inviting yet oddly threatening smile. Strange.

“So... what do you think?” he asked, gesturing to his own face with an expression that blended genuine curiosity and a touch of cheekiness.

Jihoon stared at him for a moment, still trying to organise his thoughts.

“I think... it’s a face that suits you,” he said at last, offering no further explanation. “It’s... intriguing”.

There was so much more he could’ve said, so much more he wanted to say, but he chose not to. The silence between them stretched out for a moment, heavy and loaded.

Junkyu stepped closer, breaking the space between them.

“‘Intriguing’? Is that all?” he chuckled softly, almost mockingly, as he closed the gap further. “What about now?” and without waiting for a response, he kissed him again, just as he had the first time.

Jihoon froze momentarily, startled by Junkyu’s boldness, but quickly recovered, gently pushing him away. “Junkyu... no,” he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “This isn’t why we’re here for. Our focus should be on finding the cure, not... this”.

But Junkyu didn’t back down.

Instead, he laughed again, a dry, almost defiant sound.

“And why not?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with an intensity Jihoon couldn’t quite read. “Why can’t we work on finding the cure and have a bit of fun on the side? I don’t see the problem, really. I like you... I want to kiss you”.

And before Jihoon could respond, Junkyu pulled him back in and kissed him again, this time with more fervour, as though he were trying to prove a point. Jihoon tried to resist, but Junkyu’s persistence was like a tide he couldn’t hold back. He gave in, returning the kiss with equal passion, as though the weight of all his doubts and fears had momentarily lifted.

There was a part of him that hated Junkyu for everything he was.

For his inability to die or fall ill.

For the fact that Jeongwoo and Junghwan were sick, and in comas.

He hated Junkyu because there was something about him that drew Jihoon’s gaze, that made him want to patch up his wounds and whisper something — anything — that might make him feel less lost in his own existence.

He hated the fact that Junkyu had wormed his way into his system like a virus, faster than Jihoon could manage. When Jihoon had decided to dig up information about Shin Hee-Jun, he thought it would be enough to detox, to remind himself he was just... lonely.

Haruto was young and clearly infatuated with Jeongwoo.

Hyunsuk and Yoshinori were best mates, covering for each other when they needed to blow off steam. Junghwan was just enjoying the life he had — Jihoon was always punctual with his flings. He always sought out the same person, always met them at the same time, in the same place, and left without wasting a second.

But they’d been searching for Junkyu for months on end, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed by someone or felt the warmth of another body against his. And maybe that was it — the reason he was so captivated amid all his anger towards Junkyu.

He exhaled into the kiss, shifting his body to lift Junkyu by the thighs, making him just a bit taller as Junkyu’s legs wrapped around his waist. Jihoon carried him to the bed, slumping down carelessly with Junkyu still in his lap.

Jihoon licked his lips, staring at that face.

He ran a hand through Junkyu’s tousled hair, kissing him deeply.

His other hand slid under Junkyu’s shirt, resting on his back.

The night passed in a blur of heated kisses and firm touches, but neither of them crossed the line. They simply allowed themselves to be caught up in each other’s presence, until, exhausted, they eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the blinds when Hyunsuk opened the bedroom door without knocking, holding a clipboard and murmuring something about sweep reports.

He stopped abruptly upon seeing the two of them in bed.

“Woah!” Hyunsuk blinked, clearly confused, looking from Jihoon to Junkyu and back to Jihoon. “I... bloody hell, Jihoon!” his voice was a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

Jihoon woke first, his eyes widening as he realised Hyunsuk’s presence.

He quickly sat up, running a hand through his dishevelled hair:

“Hyunsuk, I... it’s not what it looks like”.

Junkyu, on the other hand, simply turned in bed, still half asleep but wearing a lazy grin as he whispered, “Morning to you too, Hyunsuk-ssi” he chuckled softly, clearly not bothered by the situation.

Jihoon looked at him, concerned.

Hyunsuk shook his head, baffled, before turning around and leaving the room, “I... I’ll wait in the machine room. Hurry up!”

As the door closed, Jihoon cast a glance at Junkyu, who was now lying on his back, staring at him with that annoying expression and wide smile on his red lips.

He shrugged.

“What?”

“He’s going to think that...” Jihoon huffed in frustration. “We shouldn’t have done this. You shouldn’t be in my fucking bed. He’ll think something happened, but nothing did. Bloody hell”.

Junkyu rolled his eyes, “And who cares?”

Jihoon shot him a glare.

It was infuriating.

The way Junkyu cared one moment and then acted like he didn’t give a damn the next. Like none of them were dying, that someone was in a coma and urgently needed help. When Jihoon stood up, abruptly sitting on the edge of the bed, he seemed agitated.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked around.

His eyes quickly returned to Jihoon, who was getting dressed.

“Jihoon-ssi...?”

Jihoon looked at him and said before leaving, “It won’t happen again”.

But it did.

Happen again.

Junkyu spent the next three days ignoring him, acting like he had no idea why Jihoon was so frustrated and why Hyunsuk was uncomfortable, and then he returned to that cold, confident act, which had so much confusion in his eyes, but was far too determined.

And then it happened again.

The kisses.

Junkyu in his bed in the morning.

The lies to Jihoon’s friends and Junkyu’s family.

The lack of attention to the work they were supposed to be doing.

Shin Hee-Jun was the governor.

He had been elected during the civil protests against the Koakh’s, his son, Shin Jisoo, was his ‘electoral inspiration’. He was in a coma after a domestic accident that had never been fully explained to the public, but seemed adored by extremists — he was against the Koakh’s.

Jisung — Jihoon’s uncle — didn’t know why a politician could cause such fear among Jihoon’s guests, but he was looking into it and promised to keep him updated. So he should’ve been worried about that, about the delay from

Yoshinori in isolating the markers they needed to start developing a cure, for Jeongwoo and Junghwan.

But, one way or another, Junkyu always ended up in his bed.

And then all his attention and commitment were put aside.

Junkyu breathed anxiously, breaking the kiss.

Jihoon wet his lips, looking back at him.

He seemed slightly dazed, as though he had completely forgotten where he was or what he was doing, “You’re...” Junkyu placed his hand over Jihoon’s mouth, stopping him from speaking.

Jihoon chuckled against his palm, confused.

He frowned, watching the movement of Junkyu’s eyes — it seemed like he was trying to memorise something — the way his lips parted slightly, tense, and his face flushed completely.

Junkyu pulled his hand away from Jihoon’s mouth, kissing him again.

It was a kiss entirely different from the others, there was calm and innocence, as if it was his first kiss. And it took longer than usual for him to deepen the kiss, for the tension to leave his shoulders, and Junkyu moved, pushing Jihoon’s shoulders.

He sat on top of the older man’s stomach, kissing him.

When he finally felt comfortable, he broke the kiss, staring at him in pure silence, immersed in some sort of feeling Jihoon had never seen before in his eyes, and with a swift movement, he removed his shirt, messing up the long strands of his dark hair.

Jihoon blinked, stunned. Surprised.

When Junkyu gently pushed him back, making him lie down again, Jihoon offered no resistance. Junkyu’s touches were hesitant at first, as though he was exploring unknown territory, but they soon gained confidence, sending shivers through Jihoon’s body.

The room was filled with whispers and broken breaths, the connection between them growing with each touch, each kiss. There was something primal, like in the other times they had kissed, but also deeply intimate, as if it was all new.

As if Junkyu was doing this for… the first time.

His groin moved against Jihoon’s, both sighing simultaneously at the contact, their bodies suddenly electric and seemingly excited. Junkyu looked down and saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and though he seemed to not want to look, he had noticed the tent forming in Jihoon’s groin.

“Fuck...” Jihoon sighed, placing his hand on Junkyu’s waist.

Junkyu bit his lip, watching him from beneath, his face a mix of fear and need as if he desperately wanted to touch him more deeply but was too terrified to do so.

He took a deep breath, as though gathering courage, and moved his hips again.

When they lived in America, he and Doyoung used to sneak off to university parties without their parents knowing. They were careful, but young and wanting to have fun, so they always found a way to blend in — that changed after a while, after the seizures started, Junkyu became more distant.

At that moment, while he moved his hips against Jihoon’s lap, pulling out pained groans from the older man’s throat, he wasn’t exactly sure where those thoughts were coming from. But suddenly, he knew he missed having fun. He knew he had never done this.

Maybe Doyoung had already... slept with a few people.

He was young and wild, like a free spirit, so he must have slept with some people at those parties. But Junkyu was sure — even if he didn't really remember — that it was the first time he was doing this, letting his body take over.

His lips trembled when Jihoon forced him to press harder, making it harder for his hips to move, making the friction of the fabric hurt the skin of his ass pressed against Jihoon's groin.

Junkyu's body trembled in Jihoon's grip, adrenaline swimming wildly under his fingertips. And, automatically, he deepened the kiss desperately, letting Jihoon take some of the control — he felt when the sweatshirt was removed, then the temperature of Jihoon's skin against his, then his lips on his body, slowly moving down his belly to his groin.

He arched his back on the bed, gripping the sheets.

His body knew it was new, having someone sucking him.

It was a new sensation because it was surreal, painful, and delicious.

Junkyu wanted to scream, but he held himself back.

He didn't want anyone to hear them, to know exactly what they had been up to in secret while pretending to be responsible adults trying to save the world from a mass calamity. And he also almost cried when Jihoon stopped.

It was inevitable... to hide his face against the neck of the man above him as, slowly, Jihoon aligned his cock against his ass and pushed inside, gasping shakily and with his eyes frightened by the pressure.

Junkyu squeezed his eyes and his nails against Jihoon's skin.

“Be gentle”, Junkyu whispered shakily, nervous, sensitive.

Jihoon seemed to get the message.

He breathed harshly against Junkyu's ear as if he was trying to control himself, and he remained still for a while, only letting him decide when it was time for him to move again — it took so fucking long.

Jihoon thought he was going to pass out because he was feeling suffocated, squeezed tightly by Junkyu's insides when Junkyu finally took a deep breath, using one hand to push his hips against his own ass, Jihoon gave a silent thanks to the gods because he didn't know if he could keep going like that, motionless inside him, for any longer.

Jihoon's movements started slow, controlled and calm.

And Junkyu moaned softly, clinging tighter and tighter to Jihoon's neck, saying things that were incomprehensible even to him, who was slowly sinking inside himself, inside those feelings that he had never felt before in his entire life and that he was loving.

Junkyu loved it.

It didn't matter if he had had sex or not before, what he was feeling at that moment was wonderful, almost as if nothing in the world could reach it, as if nothing else mattered besides the two of them.

“Fuck!” Junkyu groaned, throwing his head back.

“Are you in pain?” Jihoon asked breathlessly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No, please, no…” Junkyu begged, staring at Jihoon with those brown eyes. Jihoon knew they were contacts, that Yoshinori had made them, especially for him, but they were beautiful eyes. It was the closest Jihoon would ever see to his original eyes, and he was glad to have them so given over to him. “Just… keep going. Keep going, please. Don’t stop…!”

Jihoon smiled back at Junkyu, pushing his hips up slightly, only to sink into Junkyu’s ass with a supple squirt, holding back a moan dragging in the back of his throat.

Junkyu responded with a surprised moan, his hands flying up to his face to muffle his fuss and cover his reddened face. The intrusion clearly wasn’t uninvited, but suddenly Jihoon was being a masochistic son of a bitch, so he played coy, giving Junkyu another hesitant thrust.

It was all too much for Junkyu.

He wanted to cry.

But at the same time, it felt so good.

So painful and good at the same time.

Jihoon was gentle as he pulled Junkyu's hands away from his mouth, but firm as he stretched his arms down so he could hold them at his sides.

Junkyu finally let out a good, deep sob from deep in his throat as Jihoon moved inside him again.

He lifted his hips again and Junkyu gasped for air, finding the flex of Jihoon's thighs against his ass so delicious that he could scream now, as if a few moments ago he hadn't been afraid to even breathe a little louder — there was also the fact that his body was too excited by the burning inside him every time Jihoon thrust deep, searching for somewhere with his cock.

“God, you're so big...” he moans, rolling his eyes, whimpering, clinging to Jihoon. The words seemed unfamiliar on the tip of his tongue, but there was no other way to express exactly what he was feeling other than with all the clarity in the world that he liked it. “Was this supposed to be this good?!”

Junkyu liked to be fucked.

That was it.

He whimpered, starting to rub his hips in small circles.

A part of him rejoiced at the sound of Jihoon's whistle, smiling, but it died in a moan when he felt his hands reach the curve of his ass to spread him, pushing his cock deeper.

“Huh. It's usually supposed to be... good”, Jihoon whispered, dazzled.

Beneath him, Junkyu looked so... fragile. So naive about everything and anything in that world, as he could never have even imagined how wonderful his body could feel.

The expression on his face was breathtaking.

It made Jihoon want to keep fucking him so deep, just to see him roll his eyes and his lips part slowly, not letting any sound escape, just revelling in the pressure inside until Junkyu went crazy.

“It's... it's so... it feels so good!” Junkyu begged for something.

For anything.

Jihoon smiled.

He started moving again, thrusting firmly inside him.

“Can you...” Junkyu frowned, embarrassed.

“Can I what?” Jihoon encouraged him, moving his hips in circles.

Junkyu whimpered slightly embarrassed, “Kiss me?”

Jihoon laughed, suddenly finding Junkyu cute.

It was just sex.

They were... stressed.

A lot was going on in their lives, a lot of unexpected changes and dead ends, there was no way they could find solace elsewhere or in other ways, but at that moment he couldn't let himself be fooled by the fact that Junkyu was cute.

It wasn't always that he acted like that, it was always a spiral, between coldness and warmth. One moment Junkyu was serious, empty, without any hope and the next he seemed surprised by the way the world was.

But now, beneath him, moaning, with sweaty skin and begging for a kiss, Junkyu seemed like a third person. Someone Jihoon wanted to hug, warm his body and feel until they fell asleep together.

He moved, making his cock slide even deeper inside Junkyu, just to kiss him the way he should — his hands pushed his knees up, making their bodies fit together differently, with a little more pressure on his lower abdomen.

Jihoon growls, opening his mouth to breathe and catching the tip of Junkyu's tongue against his. He smiles, licking the younger’s mouth tenderly.

When they pull apart, Junkyu briefly hides in Jihoon’s neck.

A warm, intimate embrace amid indecency.

He presses a kiss to the younger’s shoulder cautiously before nudging him to look at him again. For some reason, Jihoon was feeling like he was starting to become obsessed with Junkyu and his moans, and the flush on his sweat-dampened face and the thought makes his cock throb against his hole, making the area increasingly sensitive.

Jihoon presses against him so wantonly, making Junkyu’s mouth water with each deep, firm thrust inside him. And even as he begins to sob, entwining his fingers with Jihoon’s, he rocks his hips back and forth, teasing until small bursts of high-pitched moans and whimpers leave his mouth.

“Jihoon…” he sobs, cringing.

Junkyu chokes on his words.

Jihoon smiles at his desperation, thrusting in and out tenaciously, fiercely. The movements are consistent at first, the speed even and unchanging as Jihoon fucks into him.

“Yes, yes, yes... like that, oh, fuck!” Junkyu begs again, for everything and nothing at the same time. He just wants Jihoon to keep going, to go deeper, to make his body burn, get hot. It feels good like this. Easy and satisfying at the same time. “Jihoon… can we do this... ah, stronger?”

Jihoon blinked, looking at him.

At first, Junkyu had been clear ‘be gentle’.

Now he was making the complete opposite request.

“Are you... sure?” he wanted to confirm.

Junkyu sank his nails into Jihoon’s skin, “Yes, please…”

Jihoon licked his lips.

He throws his head back in a rush as Jihoon goes deeper, first very slowly, as if he just wants to start working his way in, and then deep and fast, making his hips slam brutally against Junkyu’s ass, the slaps of skin against skin echoing through the room in a frenzied rhythm. The bed creaks under Jihoon’s urgent movements as he increases his speed, and slowly, in the process, Junkyu begins to be unable to differentiate between the creaks of the metal and his own.

“Oh God…”, Junkyu moaned. “It's so...”, he had no words.

With a few more firm thrusts, Jihoon leaned forward and let out a long hiss, curling around Junkyu’s lewd moan, so captivating, yet so revealing. The wet splatter of Jihoon’s cum being fucked out of him echoed in the room, but neither of them could stop.

Junkyu lay there, satisfied but insatiable, hooking his legs behind Jihoon's lower back as he fucked him relentlessly, his breath shaky and he continued to fuck him until he could feel the viscosity between his thighs, white foam around the younger's rim.

As the intensity of what they had done gave way to exhaustion, the two remained silent, their bodies intertwined under the now dirty sheets. Jihoon stared at the ceiling, his heart still racing, while Junkyu lay beside him, his head resting on his chest.

“That...was…” Jihoon began, but stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Junkyu looked up, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Huh. I know”.

Jihoon just sighed, running his fingers through Junkyu's messy hair.

As much as he knew that what had happened could complicate things even more, he didn't regret it.

At least for now, he allowed himself to just exist in that moment.

Chapter Text

☆ ૮ ꒰ • ༝ • 。 ꒱ ა WARNING: 

The first time Kim Junkyu had a nightmare — at least he could remember — his mum was the first to rush into his room. She looked scared like something terrible had crossed her mind when she heard him scream, and it took Junkyu ages to calm down.

He was very, very young.

He didn’t remember Doyoung — he would’ve cried if he’d already been born because Junkyu’s screams were so loud like he was running away from something. And Dahee stayed up with him the entire night, reminding him he wasn’t alone, that he could trust her to protect him.

He didn’t have many nightmares after that.

Dahee always found him before the dreams turned bad and calmed him down, always reminding him that she’d never leave his side, no matter what. And Junkyu knew that, in a way he couldn’t explain like it was a false memory.

He thought about it a lot and had no idea how he could remember it, but he did, and he’d told Yoshinori, who’d been having loads of weird dreams, and who sometimes said he didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious. And up until that night, Junkyu hadn’t had a seizure or any sudden blackout.

He seemed fine, but at the same time, something fell off.

So when he started screaming in desperation, he couldn’t tell if he was having a nightmare, recalling something from the past, or just trapped in some hellish limbo with Jisoo.

Jisoo.

He remembered Jisoo.

His smile.

How he’d teased Junkyu before everything happened.

Junkyu remembered what it felt like to push him.

The weight of his body against his hands.

The sound of his head hitting the stone.

Junkyu could feel his lungs burning, his bare feet on the cold street, running without being able to figure out where he should go for help—there was no time to think about an emergency; he wanted to talk to his parents, to tell them everything before it was too late.

He could feel the tears on his face.

And when — in the dream — he entered the house that was supposed to be part of his inheritance, he stumbled in shock when he realised it wasn’t his parents or Doyoung waiting for him, but Jisoo, with that cruel smile.

Dahee was the first to rush into the room, switching on the lights.

Her eyes widened.

Junkyu was having a seizure.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Yoshinori had said it wouldn’t happen again, that removing the genetic markers and the false symbiosis would bring Junkyu’s body back to normal. It wasn’t supposed to happen. But it was.

The muffled sound of Junkyu’s head hitting the pillow made Dahee’s heart race. She knew she couldn’t panic, not now. She took a deep breath, brushed her hair back from her face, and immediately recalled everything she’d learned about dealing with this kind of situation.

Carefully, she turned his body to the side, making sure his head was slightly tilted. This would prevent him from choking on saliva or vomiting. She quickly removed a pillow from under his head, replacing it with a folded towel near the bed to protect him from any impact.

Yoshinori, who was certain this wouldn’t happen again, entered the room, observing the scene. He gestured for Dahee to give him space — after all, he was a doctor. He was the best person to handle this, and Dahee needed to be a mum.

She’d done this for years; she never had time to cry or truly worry because this was such a delicate situation, a moment where taking a breath or acting like a mum could send everything spiralling.

Junkyu always needed her more as a caregiver than as a mum.

“I’m here, love. It’ll pass...” she whispered, her voice trembling despite sounding steady, as she knelt by the bed.

“How long?” Yoshinori asked, not taking his eyes off him.

“A minute... maybe less,” Dahee answered without hesitation.

Doyoung and JunHo stood in complete silence, just waiting for things to settle down, while Jihoon, Haruto, and Hyunsuk watched from the doorway, their faces a mix of fear and curiosity about the situation.

“Keep timing it for me,” Yoshinori gestured to one of the friends. Jihoon reacted quickly, stepping into the room and nodding.

He pulled a small device out of his lab coat pocket, something that looked like a mix between a scanner and a portable monitor. He turned it on and lightly placed it on Junkyu’s arm while analysing the readings on the holographic screen. “Neural activity levels are off the charts, but...” Yoshi frowned. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

He spoke more to himself, typing something quickly into the device.

Dahee watched from a distance, her hands trembling.

She hated feeling helpless but knew Yoshinori was right.

Junkyu needed a doctor at that moment.

“You said this wouldn’t happen again...” her voice came out almost like a whisper, full of pain and frustration.

Yoshinori didn’t respond immediately.

The episode was beginning to subside, the tremors becoming less intense. He waited patiently until Junkyu’s body went still, his muscles relaxing into a state of exhaustion.

“I know what I said...” he stood up and looked at Dahee, his expression a mix of exhaustion and guilt. “But we don’t know the extent of the brain damage caused by the modifications. It’s still hard to fully decode the genetic sequence... without that, it’s difficult to figure out what’s going on. But the bracelet recorded the seizure; maybe with this data, I can find a different but useful approach.”

Jihoon signalled to Yoshinori, who used his finger to activate a hologram from something he’d retrieved from the bracelet on Junkyu’s arm.

JunHo finally stepped closer, “Is he stable now?”

Yoshinori glanced at the man and nodded.

“He is. I’ve put him in suspension, Junkyu will sleep. That’s the time I need to understand what happened here,” he said, turning his gaze back to Junkyu. He really shouldn’t be having seizures anymore — the modifications had been removed, his eyes neutralised, so there was no way the nanobots were overloading his body because he now had an original symbiosis.

Yoshinori never got a diagnosis wrong.

It took some time to be 100% certain, but he didn’t make mistakes.

And he didn’t understand why he had failed with Junkyu.

“I know it’s scary” he admitted, serious. “I’m confused too, I won’t lie, but I’m not hopeless. I still think I can decode Junkyu’s genetic code...” he had to. Jeongwoo and Junghwan needed a cure. All his friends did. Even Junkyu and his family. “And even though we weren’t expecting this, what happened isn’t a failure. It’s a step forward”.

She looked at Junkyu, still pale but breathing steadily.

The guilt still burned in her chest, “He trusts you,” Dahee whispered as if revealing a secret. Yoshinori pressed his lips together, feeling his chest tighten. She looked at him again, her eyes filled with something Yoshinori couldn’t decipher, something too intimate for him to grasp. “So... cure my son or, please Yoshinori, just let us go”.

Yoshinori pressed his lips together and glanced at Jihoon.

He knew the weight of the responsibility he carried, but he also knew Junkyu was more than just a genetic puzzle. He was Dahee and JunHo’s son. Doyoung’s younger brother. He was a living being, there in that complex, suffering from something Yoshinori had sworn would never happen again...

He knew exactly what he was dealing with, but Dahee’s words didn’t make it any less suffocating.

“I will...” I have to, he thought, but he didn’t say anything else.

Yoshinori simply gestured to Jihoon and left the room with the others, leaving Junkyu alone with his family for the moment.

And he needed his equipment.

It was going to be a long night.

☽ ☾

Yoshinori's lab was immersed in a silence broken only by the soft hum of the equipment in operation. He had spent the last 48 hours monitoring Junkyu, observing every fluctuation in his vital signs, and obsessively reviewing the genomic data he still couldn't fully decode.

Yoshinori stood before a holographic interface filled with graphs and genetic sequences. Each line of data seemed to dance before him, an unsolvable puzzle. He knew Junkyu's genome was abnormal — not just because of the mutation that granted abilities, but also due to the irregularities suggesting why his body remained vulnerable to overloads.

“Why can't I get through it...” Yoshinori murmured, concerned, watching the way the genetic strand floated in the hologram, passing over and over through numerous codes and recognition programs. “What's wrong…”

There was something in Junkyu's genome that acted like a “knot” in his genetic code, and the knots were so tightly tied that it seemed impossible to untangle them without causing significant damage — there was the hypothesis, which Jihoon had asked Yoshinori to forget, that Junkyu wasn’t actually a Kim. If that were the case, it would explain why he was trying to match a genetic mapping that wasn’t his.

At first, Yoshinori had wanted to follow Jihoon’s advice.

It wasn't an option to destroy his family, but seeing Junkyu convulsing, he felt he had to listen more to his logical and sceptical side than to the one driven by empathy and care — he was frustrated with the outcome because he had ignored Jihoon’s advice and hadn’t gotten anywhere: Junkyu was 99.99% compatible with his parents.

If Junkyu was compatible with his parents, it meant the problem was something else, and Yoshinori was walking in circles with no answers.

He activated an AI assistant on the main command, projecting a three-dimensional model of Junkyu's DNA onto another table, just to make sure he wasn't making some mistakes.

There was the same error, the same impossibility of proceeding.

The AI couldn't find an answer.

“If only I could stabilise this...” Yoshinori sighed.

He knew he couldn’t monitor Junkyu forever.

Even though he was the only biohacker doctor with enough knowledge to treat the boy, it was impossible to be present all the time.

That’s when the idea came.

Yoshinori began to work frantically.

The goal was to create a personalised health interface for Junkyu that would interact only with his body, different from what they used — an artificial intelligence that could monitor Junkyu in real-time, with the function of merging with him, detecting irregularities, and intervening before any problem became serious.

He programmed the AI to analyse patterns in heart rate, neural activity, body temperature, and other vital signs. The interface would use subcutaneous nanosensors, which he injected into Junkyu while explaining his reasons for using such a technique — if Junkyu had had a seizure, it meant there was some invisible trigger, something that had gone unnoticed during the removal of the modifiers.

“These sensors will transmit your data directly to the AI, which will translate them into health reports and visual alerts” Yoshinori explained, more to Junkyu’s parents. They were much more worried. “I still don't know if this will really produce the results I expect, but it's an attempt. It’s very difficult to take another step in the right direction, so if I have constant, full monitoring, maybe I’ll be able to pinpoint the overload trigger”.

The hardest part of all this had been developing an algorithm that could adjust to Junkyu's genome because it was shot in the dark; Yoshinori wasn’t entirely sure how his genome worked, especially the dominant part of his power, so adapting the AI to monitor not only normal parameters but also the abnormal specifics of his mutation... might not work as he hoped.

“You have a seizure and get a bracelet while I stay here, wandering these bloody boring halls...” Doyoung teased his brother.

“It’s more than a bracelet,” Yoshinori activated the device, and a holographic interface projected into the air in front of them. “Let’s just say you now have a personal doctor who never leaves.”

Junkyu watched as the graphs and readings appeared on the floating screen. The AI even had a name: ‘Heidi’.

“Heidi?” Junkyu raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly.

“It’s just a name I chose. Health and Integrated Diagnostics Intelligence. Don’t get attached to it — it’s a tool, not a friend”.

“Sounds cool” Junkyu smiled, charmed by the interactive hologram that displayed his heart rate, oxygen levels, and even small alerts with recommendations like ‘drink more water’ or ‘avoid physical exertion for the next few hours.’

“Heidi will help me understand why your body is still ill, even with the healing mutation. She monitors everything 24/7 and sends me alerts if something goes off-track. At least that’s what I’m hoping for”.

For a moment, Junkyu was silent, lightly touching the hologram.

He knew how hard Yoshinori was trying, and yet, he felt utterly confused.

He didn’t know whether he should thank him or ask them to leave him alone, to try finding a cure for the FLAME elsewhere — Junkyu looked at Yoshinori:

“Thanks... for my new toy. I think it’ll help”.

Yoshinori didn’t answer immediately.

He gave a faint smile but returned to the main station.

Later that day, while Junkyu explored the features of Heidi in his room, he heard footsteps. Before he could ask who it was, Jihoon appeared at the door — looking surprised to find it open, as though Junkyu had been expecting something. Their rooms were opposite.

“Hey, you” Jihoon smiled, sitting on the bed.

He stared at Jihoon, who didn’t move a muscle.

Junkyu twisted his lips and tilted his head slightly to the left.

“Why do you look worried?”

Jihoon didn’t answer.

Junkyu sighed, pressing his lips together.

He got off the bed and walked over to the older man.

“Hug me...” it wasn’t a question.

There was something in Jihoon’s expression, something that made Junkyu certain of what the older man wanted — they weren’t friends. They didn’t know each other for long, and everything had happened quickly; he only remembered being kissed by Jihoon and things moving forward, but there was a strange intimacy between them.

Sometimes Junkyu wondered if he was hallucinating, and always chose to let Jihoon take the first step, just so he wouldn’t make a mistake and realise he was flirting with figments of his imagination — it would be humiliating, doing something and being rejected.

He might be sick and miserable, always terrified, but for some reason, he couldn’t bear the weight of the possibility that it was all just his imagination, some kind of suspension caused by his illness. Sometimes he wondered if he was in a hospital somewhere, dreaming all of this.

But the feeling disappeared when Jihoon hugged him.

When Jihoon’s breath touched his skin, and Junkyu could feel the warmth of his body against his hands, his scent, the texture of his hair, his soft lips, the sound of his moans against his back.

Everything fell into complete silence, and Junkyu couldn't understand where that intimacy had come from — that feeling that he could trust, that he should trust Jihoon blindly, without questioning anything.

“You smell of smoke...” Junkyu whispered against Jihoon’s chest when his arms tightened around him. He felt his breath grow heavier. “Were you in the risk areas in Seoul?”

“How do you know that?”

“I went to a lot of the risky areas in Seoul...” Junkyu sighed, laying his face against Jihoon’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth but avoided it.

He had missed out on so much in life.

Doyoung was bolder, and more eager to live, while he preferred to stop running and just die. So, he had skipped many stages of his life, and now... Jihoon, “It’s less risky getting contraband from them, they don’t ask many questions. I remember the smell”.

Jihoon pulled away slightly, looking down.

“You remember?”

Junkyu stared at him in silence.

The smile he had been avoiding stretched across his face, and he nodded.

“Huh. I remember,” he said, rubbing his hands against Jihoon’s warm back, gently pulling him into the room. He didn’t want his parents to know what was going on. He knew his mother would be furious if she found out he was spending time with men.

One man... specifically.

The certainty of his behaviour made him laugh again, softly.

Jihoon pushed his long hair away from his face. “Do you remember anything else about... your life... before the removal? Anything other than the risk areas or underground parts of Seoul? About Shin Hee-Jun...”

Junkyu frowned, thoughtful.

“Should I remember you?”

Jihoon looked at him, “What do you mean?”

The younger man pondered, staring at something invisible.

“I don’t know how to put it...” Junkyu shifted his attention back to Jihoon as if the thought had simply disappeared. “It’s just... sometimes it feels like I know you too well. But I don’t know that. Should I remember something... about you? About us?”

Jihoon silently shook his head, holding Junkyu’s cheeks.

Sometimes, he acted that way, as if he didn’t remember all the times, they had been together, as if it was hard to piece together how some things had happened. But Jihoon tried to give him space because Yoshinori had said that, for Junkyu’s condition, it was normal.

It was normal for him to confuse facts, for his mood to constantly fluctuate, and for him to sometimes miss pieces, so Jihoon preferred to let him find the answers on his own because that was the least he could do.

“... are you really okay?”

Junkyu’s smile reached his eyes, finally.

Jihoon could also tell exactly when Junkyu’s mind was at peace, and stable, because his smiles would reach his eyes as if they had to light up with everything, he had never been able to hold on to before — as a reward.

“Huh. I feel great as if everything is exactly where it should be...” he hesitated, laughing. “Except for my memories, of course. They’re still confusing... incomplete. They don’t exist, to be honest, but...” he shrugged, stepping away from Jihoon. “It’s normal”.

“Yoshinori...” Jihoon giggles, knowing where the answer has come from.

Junkyu nodded, poking at his cuticles.

He did that when he was nervous.

But it wasn’t a common habit, there were moments when it didn’t seem like Junkyu ever got nervous about anything. As if he was unshakable, incapable of feeling fear or any emotion that would categorise him as human.

But the few times it happened, when he poked at his cuticle, Jihoon would touch his hand with a calm smile and change the subject, just to subconsciously remind him that he was there, that — as long as they were under the same roof — he would remain present until Junkyu didn’t want him anymore.

And Junkyu would automatically stop poking at his cuticle.

Jihoon squeezed his hands onto Junkyu’s shoulders. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. I have a new routine, don’t you know? It’s very strict.”

They both laughed loudly and youthfully.

Junkyu was worried that, when Yoshinori figured out how to fix that illness when everything was over, he might never see Jihoon again. At the same time, he didn’t know why he feared that since it wasn’t like they could live outside.

It was just cas omfortable as it was because they were isolated.

When you’re on the run and hiding, it’s hard to date, meet people... kiss. Jihoon had been Junkyu’s first kiss, and even then, it was hard to remember why they had actually done that, why it felt like they were much more intimate than they should have been.

Jihoon blinked once, twice, three times.

Junkyu usually left him speechless when he acted that way as if he didn’t know where to begin, as if he always needed to make sure Jihoon was okay, even when they’d talked about it and decided to continue seeing each other.

At first, it was frustrating. Jihoon wanted to keep his distance, but slowly it became hard to avoid him, and they weren’t hurting anyone. It was all completely consensual and safe, but Jihoon still found it funny and strange when Junkyu’s kind and shy side came out.

“You’re still sick...” he tried to sound indifferent, but Junkyu knew better. There was a hidden tenderness in the way Jihoon stayed there as if he didn’t want to leave anytime soon. “You should rest more”.

Junkyu watched him for a moment before reaching out, lightly touching the sleeve of Jihoon’s jacket, “For some reason... I feel like I’ve missed you all day today. I haven’t seen you in so long, Jihoon, can’t you make an exception and be less strict with me right now?” his words came out quieter, almost hesitant, but full of sincerity.

Jihoon stayed still for a few seconds before finally relaxing.

They had seen each other three days ago.

Junkyu had kissed him secretly.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking directly at Junkyu. “You’re doing it again...” he whispered closer. “You’re acting like you care about me more than you should”.

Junkyu furrowed his brows, but his words were silenced.

Jihoon had an unknown taste.

No matter how many times Junkyu kissed him, it always felt like something was missing, a memory. It wasn’t bad, in fact, it was warm and nice, but... something was missing. A beginning.

Junkyu groaned, trembling, upset when Jihoon pulled away.

It took him a while to open his eyes. “Don’t go, please…”

“I need to talk to Yoshinori...” Jihoon stood up, fixing his hair behind his ear. He looked at Junkyu for a brief moment and wanted to smile in a way he hated. It should be just fun. He should keep holding onto the fact that that person, with that beautiful smile and those bright brown eyes, had the key to save his brother.

Jeongwoo needed his brother.

He needed the cure — Jihoon couldn’t forget his mission.

“Please, Jihoon”.

“Later, Junkyu. Go rest. I’ll see you later”.

Then Jihoon left because if he stayed, he would spend the night holding Junkyu.

☽ 16th september 2030 ☾

The laboratory was cloaked in a near sepulchral silence, broken only by the hum of machinery and the frantic movement of Yoshinori at the keyboard. Jihoon was leaning against a counter, arms crossed, watching the doctor with a tense gaze.

Though he didn't fully understand the technical details, he knew that what was happening here was important — even decisive. Jeongwoo needed attention, he needed to be reminded that... he was still there.

“How long are you going to keep messing with this?” Jihoon asked, his voice low, but thick with concern. “He's in there, trapped, while the disease does... whatever it's doing”.

Yoshinori didn't respond.

His eyes were fixed on the screen, his fingers typing in an almost superhuman rhythm. He paused for a moment only to push his glasses up his nose before returning to the task at hand.

“You know I can't just do this, I can't simply shove incomplete codes into his brain...” he sighed, unable to sound gentle now. He was exhausted as if his mind and body were no longer in this plane. “You know that the flame isn't just a disease, Jihoon” he continued typing relentlessly. “It's an intelligent threat. If I do this, if I replace his codes with something damaged, I'll cause more problems. The neural system, the biological processes, and in Jeongwoo's case, even the suspension could be affected the wrong way”.

Jihoon bit his cheek hard.

He knew that. He knew they could mess everything up, but... it was his brother.

He wanted to see him, to have him back, but he couldn't, because Jeongwoo deserved a happy life, full of complications, full of friends and love — he deserved to look up and see the stars in the sky at night.

“His mind...” Jihoon whispered. “Is it really bad?”

Yoshinori finally stopped typing.

They had been friends for many years.

When Yoshinori arrived in Korea, his parents were well respected and had become key members of Mr. Park’s research team, and they'd become close friends too. So, it was more than natural for Yoshinori and Jihoon to become friends — it had been like that with all of them.

They were family.

They'd run from government agents together, gone hungry, done things they regretted just to survive, and had slowly managed to rebuild... together. They were one family, and even though they came from different places and had different roles in each other’s lives, they all wanted the same thing.

For none of them to have to die.

Yoshinori wanted his friends to live... for Jeongwoo and Junghwan to live, and for things to be like they used to be, at least a little, with smiles and a whole life to share amidst the chaos of the universe.

He wanted his friends to survive.

“I'll find a way...” he said seriously, returning to the keyboard.

But it was hard to say those words.

The suspension state was designed to keep him stable, but the disease was slowly progressing, overwhelming his brain, destroying neurons until there was nothing left, like setting fire to tree canopies and only ashes remaining from the flames.

Jihoon felt his stomach tighten.

He hated feeling powerless, and the thought of his brother trapped in an endless nightmare was almost unbearable.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Yoshinori stood up from the chair, walking to another table where several devices and monitoring tools were laid out.

He picked up a small portable console and began typing rapidly.

“For now, I’ll just interrupt the passive monitoring and reconfigure the suspension interface”, he glanced at Jihoon over his shoulder. “We need to stabilise his brain responses, simulate an environment that fools the FLAME, just like we did the first time, but more slowly. This will stop it from continuing to alter the system”.

“And will that work?” Jihoon asked, his voice sad, and worried.

Yoshinori never lied to his friends:

“There are no guarantees”, he said, placing the DNA blade into the reader and beginning to adjust Jeongwoo's codes. “But it's a chance, it worked the first time, it could work again, I just need to update everything and make sure there are more obstacles. I need more time, Jisung is helping me with Junkyu's genome, but there are still many blind spots and it's... tricky. But I don't think it's impossible. I need time”.

Jihoon remained silent for a few moments, processing Yoshinori’s words. He knew the doctor was doing the best he could, but the uncertainty was a heavy burden to bear.

“And what if you're wrong?” Jihoon asked, voice sounding harsher than he'd intended. “What if reprogramming the suspension doesn't change anything and we don't have time for anything, Yoshinori... what if you can't find the cure in time? My dad and the MOME scientists spent decades creating us... Jeongwoo doesn't have all that time”.

Yoshinori stopped for a moment, turning to face Jihoon squarely.

“I know that, Jihoon. And you can bet I'm as scared as you are, but...” he gritted his teeth. “If I'm wrong, it won’t be the first time. But if we do nothing, it might be the last time, and I don't know about you but I'm not willing to let it be the last time...”

Jihoon bit his lip, fighting the urge to scream.

He hated this feeling of helplessness, hated depending on other impossible things to save his brother and friends, to make sure no one died — it was like having powers was pointless, and half of them had no idea about it, no matter how much they tried to spread the word, to get more doctors to try and find a cure, it was futile.

His father had created all of that just to make them easy prey.

But at the same time, he knew Yoshinori was right.

“Just... do what you have to”, Jihoon finally said, his voice softer. Less defiant. He needed to stop pointing fingers at Yoshinori and put his feelings second. “Do what you have to do, Yoshi…”

Yoshinori nodded and returned to work, adjusting the parameters in the command centre with surgical precision. Jihoon watched in silence, fists clenched by his sides. He knew there was nothing he could do but wait — and hoped that Yoshinori was right.

But he was.

He was right.

It had taken longer than it should have.

Yoshinori had needed a few extra hours in complete stasis to recover from all the sleepless nights where he hadn’t managed even a moment’s rest. But he’d stabilised the suspension and managed to create more obstacles for Jeongwoo’s brain — he was stable.

He was dreaming with their mum.

Jihoon had been by his side for days, just watching in silence, forgetting everything else outside that bubble, wishing, as though by some stroke of magic, that Jeongwoo would open his eyes and smile.

It would be... wonderful. If he woke up.

But Yoshinori had managed it.

He looked shattered now, but Jeongwoo was stable, and that helped ease the weight on Jihoon’s chest. At least they’d managed to buy his brother some more time — time for Junghwan and, in turn, for all of them.

The hiss of the automatic door sliding open echoed through the lab, making Jihoon flinch slightly. He sat by Jeongwoo, his brother’s calm face a stark contrast to the wires, monitors, and the rhythmic hum of machines keeping his condition in check.

Jihoon turned his head sharply, his heart racing, only to see Yoshinori walking in hurriedly, his eyes narrowed as though he was trying to piece together scattered thoughts.

“Bloody hell-” Jihoon began but cut himself off at the sight of Yoshinori. The doctor looked as though he’d just woken up from a nightmare, his hair in disarray and his clothes slightly crumpled. “Are you alright?”

“I was sleeping and...” Yoshinori ignored his friend’s question, already striding towards the desk cluttered with holographic screens and monitors. He seemed dazed, his hand brushing the biometric scanner to activate the smart interface. A torrent of data began streaming across the projection at a speed that was nearly impossible to follow.

Jihoon glanced at his brother and Junghwan, lying in isolation under protective domes, then back to Yoshinori. They needed a quiet space with minimal traffic, which was why they stayed in suspension in Yoshinori’s main lab. No one else had clearance to be there. So, seeing the doctor so agitated was... strange.

He always insisted they stay calm in that room because the entire smart interface was linked to Jeongwoo and Junghwan’s life-support systems. Any emotional shift or risk factor could trigger the automatic mode.

If that happened, they wouldn’t be able to take them out of the sleep chambers.

“Yoshinori?” Jihoon called, touching his friend’s arm.

“I... when I finally managed to sleep... a dream, almost like a persistent thought, woke me. A dream. Or rather, an... insight”.

Jihoon stood, frowning.

“Insight? What are you on about?”

Yoshinori ignored him for a moment, his fingers darting over the interface controls, causing the AI to appear as though it was spiralling under the sheer volume of information. He muttered to himself, analysing the data with eyes that suddenly seemed alive with purpose.

Then he stopped, turned to Jihoon, and spoke, a near-desperate urgency lighting up his face — an expression filled with certainty, with a discovery yet unnamed, something Jihoon struggled to grasp without hearing it fully.

“I made a mistake!”

Not what Jihoon had been expecting.

He tried to keep calm — there was no point panicking; Yoshi had enough nerves for both of them.

“A mistake?” Jihoon asked cautiously. “What kind of mistake? Is there something wrong with the new suspension system-”

“Not with them. With Junkyu!” Yoshinori sighed deeply, rubbing his face before turning back to the frantic stream of data on the hologram. “During Junkyu’s genome readings, I came across an unusual sequence, something that didn’t make sense. I thought it was a system error, some aberration caused by the false markers the analysis system can sometimes produce so I dismissed it, right? I’ve been ignoring it all this time...”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed.

“And now you think it’s important?”

“It is important as fuck!” Yoshinori pointed at the hologram, zooming in on a specific genetic sequence. “Look at this. It’s not a normal marker. When I saw it, I thought we were having issues with the government. Jisung had to run a secondary analysis... we’re in the clear now, but back then, I thought it was nonsense and completely disregarded it”.

Jihoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, staring at the sequences.

It was a DNA strand, some sort of code he couldn’t decipher.

“Can you maybe... I don’t know...” Jihoon gestured vaguely. “Explain what I’m supposed to be looking at here? Something still affecting Junkyu, is that it? I’m not following-”

Yoshinori huffed, rolling his eyes.

He made a subtle motion with his hand, and another projection screen appeared. Jihoon felt even more confused — it looked exactly the same.

“This is you, Jihoon. Your genetic code. It determines everything about you — the colour of your hair and eyes, the tone of your skin, even where every freckle is on your body. This is you, in your purest and most organic form, just you being you...” his voice grew agitated. “And this is Junkyu”.

Jihoon still couldn’t see it.

He stared at both screens, trying to find whatever had lit a fire under Yoshinori’s brain but came up short.

“It’s different!” Yoshinori enlarged the images. “Here are your mutated cells, generated by the 28 chromosomes. They’re what give you power and you’ll see the same pattern repeated across your entire system, in specific regions, regulated by the genes that control cellular processes and can be reprogrammed to manifest abilities... think of it like a tracking code. It’s always the same!”

That’s when Jihoon saw it — what Yoshinori had been talking about.

There was an identical pattern in every specific area of his brain, in his DNA. It was like stamps or tracking codes, always the same sequence, the same colour, the same size — Junkyu’s was different.

Yoshinori smiled, “I thought it was because of the modifiers and the symbiosis but look here... something triggered Heide’s defence protocol this morning, and this was the alteration report. There’s a sudden change here...” he gestured. “And then it holds until... five minutes ago”.

Jihoon blinked, baffled.

“What do you mean?”

“I just sent a command for Heide to run another health scan and this is what she gave me...” the new hologram appeared over Junkyu’s previous one, clearly showing a massive alteration, as though it had doubled in size and changed to a completely different colour. “It just shifted again. And then reverted to normal a minute later... but it was enough to create a fixed change in his… in everything. Every part of him has a new one”.

Yoshinori ran a hand through his hair, staring at Jihoon.

He looked... unhinged.

“Don’t you get it?” he said, his voice trembling.

His expression now seemed stricken, as though the weight of realisation had just dropped on him amidst all his agitation.

Tears welled in his eyes, and a single one rolled down his cheek.

“He’s sick. Junkyu, all this time...” Yoshinori whispered. “He’s dying”.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING:  This chapter contains a scene involving violence, including (1) injuries with sharp objects, (2) blood, (3) a panic attack, and (4) sex as a defence mechanism.

The room appeared calm, the soft light filtering through the large windows, casting patterns on the floor like dark, closed boxes. The bracelet wrapped around his arm pulsed quietly in the background, marking the slow and steady rhythm of his breathing.

Yoshinori stood before a holographic screen, the image of a glowing DNA sequence hovering before them. He seemed more distant, more serious than ever, as if carefully weighing every word before speaking, almost as if it might sound too far-fetched to believe.

Junkyu sat in the chair, his eyes fixed on the hologram, though not seeing it. The silence in the room stretched between them, dense and heavy with something he didn’t yet understand. Something was about to be said — something he already sensed but couldn’t quite grasp.

Yoshinori sighed, removing his glasses and wiping his forehead with his hand.

Dahee’s voice pierced the fog in Junkyu’s mind:

“What’s that supposed to mean then?”

“That, contrary to what we’ve believed, contrary to the prophecy that led us to you on that mountain, Junkyu...” Yoshinori turned back to the hologram, tapping the screen with his fingers to enlarge the image. “You don’t have healing power like Doyoung or mr Kim”.

Junkyu froze, his heartbeat quickening without a clear reason for the panic. But he couldn’t stop it — his body felt as though it was trying to remind him of something, though he couldn’t work out what.

Yoshinori continued, his expression grave, as if this was harder for him to say than it was for Junkyu to hear, “You’re a copycat, Junkyu…”

Junkyu’s wide eyes doubled in size.

“But I...” he shook his head, licking his lips nervously. “Jihoon drove a soul-forged sword through my body, and I came back to life!”

Jihoon clenched his jaw — he wouldn’t even look at Junkyu.

It was as if he’d lost something.

Starting with what he thought he knew about him, what he had searched for over two years before finally finding him. And now, with the knowledge they had, the cure that could save so many people — including their families.

Jihoon took a deep breath, his tension palpable.

Junkyu raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head frantically.

“You came back to life, and you can heal from injuries like that because you’re a copycat, Junkyu”, Yoshinori’s words came slowly, sinking deep into Junkyu’s ears as he huffed in frustration. “... you have a rare ability, classified as level 3, high risk to human life and under current martial law, you should be eliminated. Do you know why tho?”

He didn’t want to know.

If it meant opening a chasm... no. He didn’t want to know.

“Because your ability allows you to copy other people’s powers most deeply. Only the first generation...” Yoshinori hesitated, opening and closing his mouth. He seemed too exhilarated to explain without sounding like a fanatic or a lunatic obsessed with ancient tales.

There had been rumours that the first MOME test subjects were babies handed over by their mothers in exchange for money.

The rumours said many infants had died during the first twenty-five years of experimentation, long before Park Jinyoung had solved the enigma with Do Hanse. But five subjects survived. That’s how Jinyoung found the genetic activators needed for the manipulation and creation of a new race.

Five subjects buried as dirty secrets by MOME, kept far below the earth until Park Jinyoung deemed them obsolete — no longer necessary for the evolution of that race. However, the genetic factors from those subjects produced Koakhs with powers shared in those underwater ducts, cold and submerged.

Powers deemed too dangerous, powers that needed to be eradicated.

They had killed anyone who could foresee the future, like Kato — a mere child on the run — and now, anyone who could copy powers, like Kim Junkyu.

“I’ve checked... aside from you, there are no others with this ability, Junkyu, because they were all killed a long time ago...” Yoshinori said, exhaling deeply. “Or they should be. For some reason I can’t yet explain, you are... you’re a copycat”.

Junkyu heard his mother gasp, as if recalling something.

His eyes shifted to Doyoung, who had recently become his closest friend again simply because they shared something in common. Doyoung was staring at him as though he didn’t recognise him anymore, as though a few words could change something Junkyu couldn’t fix.

And Jihoon still wouldn’t look at him.

“… you’re not healing, you’re replicating”, Yoshinori pressed on, his voice tense now. Junkyu looked at him, his eyes red and brimming with tears, a knot tightening in his throat. “But instead of simply copying and dispersing the power that you absorb, you fuse it so deeply it becomes yours, possibly indefinitely — it becomes a part of you”.

Junkyu remained silent, merely existing.

Yoshinori stepped closer, the tension visible in his shoulders, as though every word he spoke cut through his own emotions like a blade.

“Each time you use an ability, you’re only replicating what already exists in someone else. You absorb it, but you don’t truly heal, Junkyu. This means your body died when Baikal ran through you, but your genes absorbed Doyoung’s powers and altered themselves by that”.

Doyoung let out a sharp gasp. “So it’s my fault?”

“No! That’s not exactly how it works. It’s not you who is transferring your powers, it’s Junkyu who absolves it whenever he’s near or touches you. Just being in this room could mean he’s copying from one of you...” Yoshinori explained concisely. “That’s how his power works — it’s a vortex. It absorbs and transmutes everything, making the power stronger”.

Junkyu stood and walked to the window.

For some reason, there was that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though he was no longer necessary. They were here because he needed medical attention; his parents and brother didn’t have to worry about the government or Governor Shin, and Jihoon gained something out of it.

That was what Junkyu should remember.

But he couldn’t — not really.

There was the suffocating feeling, but not the reassurance that he was losing something essential: a safe place, treatment, and...

Jihoon.

He might not know all the pieces, but he didn’t want to lose the ones he had. And he didn’t want any of them to die.

“… I don’t know. Why can Doyoung heal from fatal wounds, but mr Kim needs medical treatment if he’s shot? Or why was Hyunsuk the only teenager in his family’s generation to survive the Glimpse machine when their powers were activated? No one knows why these things happen as they do, but they do...!” Yoshinori sighed deeply. “So I can’t say if it’s permanent or if one day the powers will dissipate. I can’t say for any of you. But what I do know, as a scientist and doctor... is that he’s sick. He has the… FLAME”.

The silence between them was deep.

Junkyu couldn’t look away, but the words began dissolving in his mind like a distant echo. He didn’t know how to feel.

Yoshinori’s words didn’t seem to make sense.

It felt as though a piece of his identity was crumbling — one he hadn’t even realised existed. There was no cure for anyone. Doyoung had already been excluded because it seemed there was a specific genetic factor required to act as a cure for the disease, and he didn’t have it.

But Junkyu did.

And now, he didn’t anymore.

He blinked several times, but his eyes were clouded as if a thick curtain of disordered thoughts was blocking any sense of clarity. His breathing began to quicken, first shallow, then erratic, tearing through his chest.

His throat felt tight, like the air couldn’t get through. He raised a hand to his neck, trying to drag in more oxygen, but nothing seemed enough. His heart pounded in time with the confusion that consumed him entirely.

Junkyu’s skin began to change colour, shifting from its usual pale shade to an intense red that crept up his face and neck as though he was boiling from the inside. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, slowly trailing down to his chin, while the veins around his eyes started to pulse.

Thick and dark, they looked as if they were about to burst through his skin.

His pupils, which had been dilated with surprise just moments ago, now trembled within his wide, panicked eyes. He looked utterly lost, as if he were being dragged into a place within himself from which he couldn’t escape.

Yoshinori was still speaking, his voice cutting like razor blades, even though his tone was calm and controlled. To Junkyu, however, it sounded like an unbearable scream, a noise impossible to block out. The words echoed in his mind, repeated, multiplied, blending into a cacophony of chaotic thoughts.

He wanted to scream at Yoshinori to stop.

And then, it happened.

There was a moment of complete silence.

Like the stillness of plunging into the depths of a lake. And then, a distorted sound emerged — a chorus of voices spilling from Junkyu’s throat.

It was a muffled roar, but it wasn’t just his voice. It was several voices occupying the same space. The dark expression on Junkyu’s face — bulging veins, sweat-drenched and reddened skin, brown eyes turning completely black as if nothing of him remained — was the last thing they saw before they felt their bodies stiffen, pain radiating in places they couldn’t reach.

Haruto, standing near Jihoon, moved.

“Silence!” Junkyu bellowed in Haruto’s direction, silencing whatever thought Haruto had been about to speak. He blinked, tears streaking down his grim face. “Be quiet!”

Haruto’s eyes widened — it was his power. OBLO.

It was Junkyu speaking, and yet it wasn’t.

The second voice was deep, inhuman, as though something primal and ancient was using his vocal cords as an instrument. It was darker than anything Haruto had ever been able to summon from his power.

It was… wrong.

“‘Pick up the scalpel…’” his voice rasped, his black eyes fixed on Yoshinori. He had done this. He’d given Junkyu hope, made him believe he could become some kind of hero, only to snatch it away without a shred of mercy. “I said… ‘pick up the scalpel!’”

Yoshinori’s hand moved, reaching for the scalpel.

His heart pounded, but he couldn’t move.

He’d had the occasional scrap with Haruto before and experienced the boy’s power, but nothing compared to this. He’d always been able to resist the urge to follow the command, always able to think of a way out.

But… not with Junkyu.

He was trapped in the trance, scalpel in hand.

Junkyu’s lips moved again but his eyes returned to normal before the command could leave his mouth — a command that would have forced Yoshinori to slit his own throat if spoken.

It was as if the storm had dissipated, the prison evaporating entirely, leaving only Junkyu’s terrified brown eyes behind, as though he had no clue what had just happened — or nearly happened. They gasped for breath, their bodies aching, frightened by the ordeal that had just unfolded.

Junkyu coughed, wincing in pain.

He clutched his head and pressed hard, screaming.

And then, he collapsed.

☽ september 22, 2030 ☾

Junkyu woke up slowly, like his consciousness was crawling out of a deep nightmare where the shadows refused to let him go. The silence in the room was heavy, almost like the world around him was holding its breath, waiting.

His body felt like dead weight, completely unwilling to move, and his mind — still hazy — struggled to make sense of it all.

He felt the cold, smooth fabric of the sheets against his skin.

His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, started to crack open little by little, every movement demanding more effort than it should. The sharp sound of his breathing was the only thing he could make out.

Then, other sounds started creeping into his mind.

“Shouldn't he be awake by now?” Jihoon’s voice cut through the silence, dark and tense. Junkyu couldn’t focus his vision enough to spot the source, but he could feel the anger rolling off of him.

“I hate to admit it, but I don’t know. Heide’s trying to figure out how the hell we missed this, but honestly, I’ve got no clue in here, Ji. It doesn’t add up...” Yoshinori sighed. “Even if there’s no one else, the interface should’ve flagged him as a copycat”.

Junkyu tried to move, but his body refused to cooperate.

He tried to breathe, but the air felt thick, heat swelling inside him, mixing with the rising panic. Every muscle in his body was frozen, and he wasn’t sure if it was from pain or the fear still gripping him.

He forced his eyes to focus — and then, he saw the silhouettes.

He was back in the patient ward. The figures around him were blurred at first, but soon, familiar faces started coming into view. Yoshinori stood tall, stiff as a board, his gaze locked onto Junkyu with a tense expression.

Doyoung sat slumped in a chair next to Junkyu’s bed, his head lowered, avoiding eye contact. “So what are you guys gonna do with him?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, but the doubt in his words was crystal clear. “Now that you know he can’t save anyone… what’s next? Are you just gonna toss us aside now that there’s nothing left?”

The words hung in the air, unfinished, and the tension in the room thickened.

Junkyu tried to open his mouth, but his tongue felt heavy, like he didn’t have enough strength to make a sound. His throat was dry, and the feeling of suffocation only seemed to grow.

Yoshinori stepped closer to the bed, and Junkyu could hear the soft thud of his footsteps. His face was serious, his gaze fixed on Junkyu with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You’re awake...”

Doyoung’s question was left unanswered.

Junkyu tried to focus on Yoshinori, but the sheer exhaustion was overwhelming. He felt the weight of everything pressing down on him — the crushing realization that, for some reason, his very existence had now become a burden to everyone.

He groaned in pain but forced himself to move, trying to sit up.

“Whoa, easy there!” a voice echoed from the other side of the bed, where his vision was still unclear. Junkyu turned his head slowly, locking eyes with Jihoon’s tired, brown gaze. Just moments ago, he could’ve sworn Jihoon had been far away, but now, he was sitting right next to him.

Right by his bedside.

And even though his voice wavered between relief and frustration, his eyes... his eyes looked happy. It was almost like he could finally breathe again. His face slowly relaxed, and a small smile crept onto his lips.

“You shouldn’t be trying to sit up. You need to rest…”

“Where... where are my parents?” Junkyu asked, voice not sounding like his own.

Doyoung finally looked at him. “Heidi’s gonna call them. We managed to get them to eat something... You were out for a long time. Almost five whole days…” he said, visibly worried. He took a deep, shaky breath, like he was scared and overwhelmed all at once. “They’re okay. They’ll be here soon”.

Junkyu nodded carefully, trying to piece everything together.

He didn’t remember much.

Just the memory of something hurting him — badly — when he had commanded Yoshinori to grab that scalpel. After that, everything went dark. He vaguely remembered seeing a blue light... and a shadow, like someone had been watching him, waiting to strike.

He remembered seeing someone right before he blacked out.

Junkyu pressed a hand to his forehead, “There was someone... here”.

“What do you mean?” Doyoung asked, confused. “Where?”

Junkyu glanced around.

It had been so vivid, like they had been in the same space but separated by something impossibly thin — something invisible but still there. They had been together, even as the shadows swallowed him whole before his mind faded into nothingness.

Junkyu blinked slowly.

“I don’t know...” he whispered. “I saw someone right before I passed out”.

Yoshinori exchanged a glance with Jihoon before motioning for the interface to run a scan of Junkyu’s neural system — just to make sure nothing was off in his diagnosis.

Everything came back normal.

Still, he decided to pump a high dose of nanobots into Junkyu’s system, just to avoid any more unexpected issues with his health. They needed to buy time — enough time to understand what they had missed before they lost every opportunity to realize that he wasn’t the cure.

“… Don’t worry. You were under a lot of stress when you passed out. It makes sense that you’d see weird things. But you’re fine”, Yoshinori said, crossing his arms. His tone was calm, measured.

Junkyu let his head sink back into the pillows.

A moment later, Dahee and JunHo rushed into the room, their eyes wide with relief at seeing him awake after five long days of silence. Dahee leaned over her son, sniffling, whispering over and over that everything would be okay, that they’d figure something out.

JunHo — always the cautious, patient one — just smiled, ran a gentle hand through Junkyu’s brown hair, and took a deep breath, visibly relieved.

“So... he really doesn’t have the cure markers?”

Junkyu kept his eyes fixed on the wall as they talked.

For some confusing reason, he felt the heat in his chest intensify, like something burning beneath his skin — something that had always been there but had just never been seen the way it should have been.

It was a strange feeling. Like knowing and not knowing at the same time. He had no idea when he started feeling this way or when it had begun, but he knew that feeling — that invisible sensation — had been there longer than he could name, and that was terrifying. It was horrifying not to know exactly where everything had gone wrong or why it suddenly felt real.

For the first time in his entire life — he was scared. Really scared.

Panic took hold of him again, and he tried to breathe faster, but it didn’t work. With each breath, the heat intensified, and his vision blurred once more. That was when Jihoon’s voice cut through the conversation, frustration and pain laced in his tone:

“So… we got fooled? The prophecy…” he paused. Junkyu finally looked at something — Jihoon’s furious face. “So it was all bullshit? The seer was wrong when he said he’d be the only solution to… all of this?” He let out a rough, bitter laugh. “Junghwan was sure about the flow. The seer saw Junkyu’s fucking face! So what do you mean it’s not him?”

“Jihoon-”

“No!” Jihoon snapped, cold and sharp. “It was his face in the seer vision, right? Kato was dead sure that we could end all of this if we found… that fucking face. My brother believed in it. Junghwan believed in it, and-” he let out a humorless chuckle, his eyes finally locking onto Junkyu’s. “And now we have nothing? Again?”

Junkyu knew exactly why Jihoon was looking at him.

The seer — a kid way too young to be talking about prophecies and the future — had found them just to tell them to look for a face in the crowd, a face that would lead them to the cure, solve all their problems — save them.

Junkyu had come back to life.

Not even Doyoung had been able to heal from Baikal’s wound when they tested it on him. Now he had a huge scar on his right arm and sometimes felt a pain he couldn’t describe, even though the wound had closed weeks ago, but Junkyu had come back to life after being run through by Baikal, without a single scar.

So… how could he be just a copycat?

Junkyu was nothing more than a thief.

The frustration in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“... We don’t have time to figure out what it all means”.

“And what are you guys gonna?” JunHo asked, worried. “He’s sick. You said it was serious and that he needed to be monitored, but we know you were only helping because you wanted something. So what happens now that he’s no longer useful for whatever the hell you were trying to do?”

Junkyu shifted his gaze, observing the expression on Yoshinori’s face.

There was no need for an explanation — it was obvious.

Junkyu knew what Doyoung had said, how they had ended up in this place, and why Yoshinori and his friends were so interested in his powers. But now, he wasn’t the person they needed him to be — now, they didn’t need him at all.

There was no reason to keep him under protection.

“... he’ll keep getting treatment and you guys can stay here as long as you need, but…” Yoshinori looked at Junkyu. Dahee had said Junkyu trusted him. That, from the start, it had been way too easy for the kid to trust the doctor. So he wanted to believe she was right — that despite everything, his family would be okay. “But we need to go back to the beginning. We need to restructure everything and figure out what we can do”.

“What he’s trying to say is, we don’t have time,” Haruto — who was usually quiet and introverted — cut in for Yoshinori, sounding like he was finally pissed off about something.

Not even when Junkyu had stolen his power, when he had forced all of them into near harm, had Haruto been this angry. But now, hearing that Junkyu couldn’t save them from anything, that he couldn’t save Jeongwoo or Junghwan, it was like something inside him snapped.

“We don’t have time to play private doctors anymore, so we need to get back to searching”, he grumbled, staring at Junkyu with an unfamiliar expression. He couldn’t remember, but it was hard to believe a kid his age could be this cruel and detached. “So you’re gonna have to figure things out on your own”.

“Haruto!” Yoshinori yelled, exhausted.

“You guys came to us!” Doyoung shot back, just as furious as if any of them had the right to demand anything. Junkyu was grateful they had helped him. That they had given his family a second chance. His parents and his brother could walk freely without worrying, and they were healthy. That was enough. “We were living our lives, and you came to us. Now you’re just gonna ditch us?”

Jihoon’s frustration exploded, and he abruptly stood up.

The silence that followed Jihoon’s outburst hung over the room like a threat. The only sound breaking the stillness was Junkyu’s uneven breathing. He was sitting on the examination table, arms resting on his knees, watching the chaos unfold around him with the cold detachment of someone who refused to take part in a game that wasn’t his — he just wanted it all to end.

“This is unacceptable!” Doyoung roared. “You said you were sure it was him, Yoshinori. That everything lined up and you just needed to figure out how to synthesize his system into a serum, and now… you’re tossing us aside because he’s not the right person?”

Yoshinori, who had been keeping a neutral expression up until now, sighed, shoulders tense. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. I know it feels like a setback. But you need to understand-”

“Understand what?” Jihoon cut him off. “That we’re further than ever from saving Jeongwoo? From saving anyone?”

It was… confusing.

There was a part of Junkyu that felt sad.

Something inside him wanted to be the person they were looking for. Maybe it would give him some kind of reason to accept everything he had done and everything he had put his family through. But there was another part of him that was relieved — because he couldn’t handle the weight on his shoulders anymore.

For a brief moment, his face turned pale.

For the first time since he had removed the modifications from his biological system, he was sure he was feeling something normal. Something about this entire situation made him feel like they were all in this mess because of him.

He remembered Jisoo.

And pushing him away.

That was why they had been running all this time. That was why Doyoung was so scared. That was why Dahee was whispering nonstop to JunHo, like he needed to do something — because they were afraid they’d have to run again.

And beyond all that… Junkyu was sick.

He was really, really sick, and they knew it now.

“If you really want to take out your frustration on someone, do it right, Jihoon-ssi...”, Junkyu finally said something. He felt bad for all of them, even though he felt like he shouldn't care. He just wanted everything to end, like it was some kind of default thought and feeling. It felt familiar. “Are you upset because your brother is sick? That I can’t help? Well, I am too”.

“You think it's that simple huh, copycat?” Jihoon glared at him coldly, pissed off. “You should at least pretend you care about everything that's going on here because we've wasted time on you, Junkyu. We've wasted time on you and your family, so you should care because it's because of you that we're stuck in this fucking mess”.

Junkyu tilted his head slightly, like he was considering the accusation, but his face stayed blank, “So what?”

The whole room seemed to freeze.

Dahee looked at her son, like she was surprised.

Not because of what he'd said, but because of how he was acting, like he was the same Junkyu she had known all her life, like he'd come back a few months ago, before Yoshinori had removed all the modifications from his body and his mind had been shattered.

“So what?!” Jihoon repeated, incredulous, his voice harsh. “You're unbelievable. Do you think Jeongwoo or Junghwan have more time? You think we should be going through this shit again because you-”

“Because I don't have the power you wish I had, and you guys messed up everything?” Junkyu growled tiredly, pulling the blanket off him, yanking out the needles and wires connected to his arms. Yoshinori tried to make him stop, Heide noted a change in his heart rate, but Junkyu just ignored him coldly. “I didn’t come looking for you. You came to me. You put a sword right here...” he snarled through his teeth, pointing to his stomach.

He remembered.

Not everything.

It was confusing, and there were other strange memories, but something just made sense again, like someone had flipped a switch and made him remember that he wasn't that confused, scared person, that he didn't care about anyone other than him and his family.

It didn't matter if he was going to die anyway.

So he didn't need to feel sorry for not being the person they wanted him to be, because it wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't sought this out, he'd been brought here because he wanted to help them create a cure to save Doyoung, because JunHo had a whole life ahead of him.

That was the only reason he helped... because it was convenient.

Before Jihoon could respond, Yoshinori intervened, his voice firm enough to cut through the tension, “Enough. This isn't going anywhere!”

All eyes turned to him.

Yoshinori took a deep breath, his expression serious.

“You shouldn't be getting up like this. Your body, your brain... you're dying, Junkyu. You need to stay under observation and Heide was made for that, remember?” he asked cautiously, pressing the spot where the needle had been before Junkyu tore everything out. The floor was covered in blood, red and fresh. “And you...” he turned to Jihoon. “He's right”.

“Yoshinori!”

“He's right!” he repeated, now to Haruto. Yoshinori was also worried, he was scared too, but he was more logical than all of them and always acted accordingly. “We went to him, brought him here based on a prophecy from a kid too young. But things aren't like that, and we're no closer than we were before finding a cure, but it wasn't him who made us believe it was possible...” he glanced at Junkyu's arm. There were no wounds. “It's no one's fault”.

Junkyu really trusted Yoshinori.

He was completely sure of it now, that he trusted him.

“So, please, can we stop fighting?” he asked everyone, tired. “I know it's scary and we're all nervous, but it doesn't matter anymore. Jeongwoo and Junghwan are still in a coma, the disease keeps progressing. Also you're fucking sick, Junkyu”.

Jihoon seemed about to say something, his eyes angrier than before, but Yoshinori was in front of them all, as if he wasn’t willing to let them keep fighting like that.

“... you all are going to get sick. But Jihoon...” Yoshinori looked at his friend, then at Haruto. Hyunsuk had been notified, but he was far from a search mission with Jisung, so they needed to calm things down before he got there. “I can still make this work, if Kato saw him in a vision and was sure he was the way out, then I’ll figure out what to do. Even if he doesn't have the powers we expected, Junkyu can still be the key to all of this”.

He looked at Junkyu again:

“And you...! You need to understand what's happening and stop being so defensive. You're sick!” he said seriously. “You're pretty sick, Junkyu, I've never seen the disease at this stage, and I have no idea how you're capable, but we don't know if you'll hold on forever. We don’t know how far your power can go with this, we don’t know how long you'll keep replicating cells until your brain stops working for good”.

Junkyu looked at Yoshinori’s hand on his arm.

He couldn't feel it, Yoshinori's touch.

It was almost like a ghost sensation, he knew they were in contact because he could see his fingers around his arm, but he couldn't really feel the touch, he couldn't tell what temperature Yoshinori’s hand was — Junkyu frowned.

“So, you guys are still going to help him, right?” Dahee suddenly asked, frantic. “If Junkyu's sick, that means Doyoung and JunHo can get sick at any moment, right? And you came to us, the least you can do is keep helping”.

Jihoon rolled his eyes, drawing Junkyu’s attention.

“We will!” Yoshinori reassured them. “And I'm saying this as a doctor, mrs. Choi, I won't just kick you out. I know it sounds scary when I say I need to focus on other strategies, but it's necessary. And it doesn’t mean you won’t be treated, every patient is the same to me, your kids' and your husband's lives are just as important as the lives of my friends...”, he looked at Jihoon, as if he wanted to cram some sense or logic into his head.

It was terrifying, thinking they were all in the same boat.

Junkyu just wanted to end it all once and for all. Honestly, he wanted to take his family and leave, forget he’d even thought he could help with anything, pretend they’d never crossed paths, but... he was a good brother, despite everything.

He was a good brother, and a good son, so he was worried.

He wanted his father and brother to stay safe, and for Dahee to be happy.

So, a part of him was relieved that Yoshinori was saying that.

And it felt like the wave of relief had only reached his family, because they were desperate for help, because Dahee didn’t want to stay, but she also didn’t really want to leave since her kids were safe now, since Junkyu had medical help, and Doyoung was being taken care of by Yoshinori — but Jihoon and Haruto were still furious.

Junkyu couldn’t tell if there was sadness in Jihoon’s gaze, he didn’t know him that well, so it was hard to say. But it felt like he couldn’t look in his direction without something strange breaking, like it was more than just Junkyu not being able to help Jeongwoo.

“... like I said, he's at an advanced stage of the disease right now, mrs. Choi. His brain is in complete overload. It's a miracle he's still alive and functioning...” Yoshinori pointed at the projection, where images of Junkyu's brain flickered with incomprehensible patterns to them. “This level of brain activity is not sustainable. At some point, his body might just shut down”.

Doyoung clenched his jaw — Junkyu didn’t even know how long they'd stopped fighting and hating each other, he just blinked, and they were all calmer, still upset and sad, but calm. A lot of time had passed between a simple blink of the eyes. He looked at his brother.

“How... how long do you think he has?”

Yoshinori hesitated before answering, carefully choosing his words.

“It’s hard to say at this moment. Each stage evolves differently for different people, but... his power is...” he shook his head, like he wasn’t sure how to explain it properly. “There’s no one else like him or like Kato. Like I said before, only the first generations were born with this kind of power, so we don’t have studies because MOME destroyed them. I couldn’t tell you how long it might take for him to... die”.

Doyoung nodded, as if he understood.

But Junkyu knew he didn’t.

He knew his brother too well.

A strange smile spread across his face.

“Why the hell are you smiling?” Haruto’s voice cut through the room. Junkyu looked at him. “What’s so damn funny about this whole situation that’s making you grin like you’re actually happy right now? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Yoshinori was about to say something, but he was cut off.

“I just remember him...” that was all Junkyu said before looking back at Doyoung with that same eerie smile. Doyoung frowned for a moment. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay…” he leaned in toward his brother, his voice dropping to a whisper, still smiling. “But don’t worry bunny. I can’t die”.

Dahee’s eyes widened as she stepped closer to her sons.

She cupped Junkyu’s chin, tilting his face up.

And when their eyes met, it was as if she recognized him.

But there were no more words.

Partly because Dahee just started crying, relief washing over her like she could finally say her son was back. And partly because Junkyu just collapsed — suddenly, like his body was so exhausted it didn’t even have time to brace for the fall. Dahee caught him, panicking across her face as she yelled for her husband to help her get him onto the bed properly.

Yoshinori kicked everyone out.

He needed time.

Time to figure out how they had even made it this far without any real chance of getting what they needed from Junkyu. Time to keep him stable through all this overload. Time to come up with a backup plan.

He needed time to take care of Junkyu.

And to figure out what the hell they were gonna do next.

☽ september 28, 2030 ☾

Jihoon’s room was drowned in shadows, the only light coming from the faint glow slipping through the gaps in the curtains. Junkyu stepped in silently, his footsteps muffled by the worn-out carpet.

He knew he shouldn’t be there.

But something pulled him in, like an invisible thread.

Jihoon was lying on the bed, face partially hidden by the crook of his arm, his slow, steady breaths signaling deep sleep.

Junkyu stopped near the edge of the bed, watching in silence. Something was unsettling about seeing him like this — vulnerable, exhausted.

He stayed there, unmoving, as a mess of emotions swallowed him whole. He didn’t know why, but he had been itching to see Jihoon again. Ever since they had found out Junkyu couldn’t help them, everyone had been dealing with it in their own way. It was suffocating for his family, for Jihoon, and for his friends. It was a massive step backward.

But still, he had been wanting to see him.

He knew Jihoon was ignoring him, avoiding him completely.

Knew he was trying his hardest to stay away, to stay focused on not strangling him for wasting their time. But even so, Junkyu wanted to see him — just for a little while. That was enough.

For now.

A small shift pulled him back to the moment.

Jihoon’s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the darkness.

He noticed the silhouette standing beside the bed and shot up, his hand instinctively gripping the glowing blue sword strapped to his back. And before he could even think, the blade nicked Junkyu’s finger, making him pull his hand back.

Jihoon’s eyes widened as he stood, the blade vanishing as quickly as it had appeared in the dimly lit room. He wanted to apologize, but Junkyu just took a step back and shook his head.

“You didn’t hurt me”, he said, his voice steady, cold.

“I didn’t…” Jihoon’s gaze searched the darkness, his breath heavy.

Junkyu raised his hand, showing him. “See?” he said, tilting his head.

Jihoon ran a hand down his face, then placed both hands on his hips.

“What the hell are you doing here? I could have...” he stopped, looking away. He remembered. Junkyu couldn’t die. Not yet. Not because of Baikal. He would probably die from the disease — someday, long after all of them were gone — but not from some stupid wound. “You shouldn’t be here”.

Junkyu just wanted to see him.

He hadn’t planned on waking Jihoon, mostly because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it. He just wanted to see him for a little longer before everything went to shit—before they were all slaughtered.

“I... just wanted to see... you”, he finally admitted, his voice low.

Jihoon stared at him for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“You should go, Junkyu…”, Jihoon said, defensive.

The silence thickened, weighed down by something Jihoon couldn’t name. Junkyu’s gaze was too intense, too fixed on him, like he was trying to figure something out. And that made Jihoon uneasy.

Before he could react, Junkyu leaned in, moving closer with a quiet determination that made Jihoon’s breath hitch.

Then, he felt Junkyu’s lips on his.

A sharp jolt shot through his body, like something had been violently pulled from a deep sleep inside him. His hands flew to Junkyu’s shoulders, trying to push him away. But the movement was weak. Hesitant.

“Junkyu...” he whispered, his voice trembling. His thoughts were chaos, a war between what he felt and what he knew. “What the fuck-”

But Junkyu didn’t pull away. His eyes were dark, filled with an urgency that devoured the space between them. He pressed his forehead against Jihoon’s, his breath warm and uneven. “Jihoon...” he murmured, voice rough and cold. “Please, don’t be like that. Just kiss me”.

Jihoon didn’t know why, but something in Junkyu’s voice terrified him. He tried to resist, to fight against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to swallow him whole. But when Junkyu moved closer again, his lips captured Jihoon’s with a softness that barely masked the storm behind it.

Jihoon gave in.

A low sound escaped his throat, a mix of frustration and surrender, as he pulled Junkyu closer. His hands abandoned resistance and gripped his back. The kiss escalated fast — hesitant to desperate.

Jihoon felt Junkyu’s hands slide up his neck, fingers tangling in his hair with an almost feral urgency. Junkyu gently pushed him onto the bed, their bodies moving in sync as they collapsed onto the messy sheets.

Jihoon felt the mattress under him, but reality blurred, overshadowed by Junkyu’s unexpected presence in his room.

And unlike anything Jihoon remembered, Junkyu’s kisses were deep, laced with a kind of anxiety that felt close to desperation. Every touch, every movement, was filled with intensity — like time was slipping through their fingers, and they had to cling to it with everything they had.

The smile on Junkyu’s lips made him nervous, and his fingers almost loosened their grip, but the younger one held his hand again and shook his head, bringing his other hand up to Jihoon’s face. “Don’t overthink. I promise I’ll take care of everything. It’s gonna be fine...” he said. “Just fuck me”.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING:

The complex was in chaos.

The air, heavy with tension, seemed to pulse against the walls, reflecting the anxiety of those still there. The distant hum of machinery and monitoring alarms echoed through the corridors as Yoshinori moved back and forth, adjusting equipment and checking Junghwan’s vital signs, who now lay resting in his care pod.

Jihoon sat in a corner, his leg bouncing restlessly as he watched Yoshinori work. He wanted to talk, needed to get the thoughts out of his head, but the words seemed to vanish every time he tried to form them.

The silence between them, punctuated only by the steady beeping of the machines, was almost unbearable, “He’s stable”, Yoshinori finally said, his voice low and tired. He turned to Jihoon, wiping his hands. “I’ve made some new modifications and replaced his projection algorithms, but I don’t know how long it’ll last. I can’t keep all of you like this forever”.

Jihoon swallowed hard, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him.

He was relieved that Junghwan was stable for now — especially because any change in his or Jeongwoo’s condition was delicate. It could mean their time was even shorter than they imagined, that they wouldn’t be able to keep pretending they were managing.

So, he was relieved that Yoshinori had managed to stabilise him.

But a small part of him was anxious about something else.

“I need… to tell you something”.

Yoshinori raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by Jihoon’s hesitant tone. He stepped closer, crossing his arms as he waited for him to continue.

“I… I slept with him… Junkyu”, the words came out as a whisper. Jihoon didn’t dare look at Yoshinori, feeling the heat rise on his face. “I slept with him a few times, actually.”

The shock was evident on Yoshinori’s face, but he quickly tried to school his expression into something more neutral. Honestly, it wasn’t his business how Jihoon spent his free time. He knew they weren’t kids, that they could make their own reckless decisions.

“Right… That’s… not exactly something I expected to hear right now”.

“I know!” Jihoon let out a deep sigh. “But it’s the truth. Hyunsuk thinks he caught us once, but you’re the first to actually know about it, so…” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. Yoshinori nodded back, staying silent. “But that’s not all I wanted to say…” Jihoon finally lifted his eyes, his fingers gripping his knees tightly. “There’s something off. About him”.

Yoshinori frowned, trying to follow.

“Off how?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but... hm, it’s like he’s not always himself”.

Yoshinori pondered, thoughtfully:

“Got it. He says weird things, right?” Yoshi scratched the back of his neck, aware of what Jihoon was getting at. “He does that sometimes. It didn’t make sense before but now I know it could be an effect of the illness. Since it affects the brain, it’s normal for him to sometimes forget who he is”.

Jihoon shook his head impatiently.

“No, it’s not just that. It was before — before we knew about his illness and stuff. And I’m not talking about not recognising his own face or his family. It’s about acting like a completely different person. Plus, he forgets really recent things, like when we first kissed or when...” he glanced at Yoshinori and pressed his lips together before continuing. “It’s deeper than it seems”.

The silence between them grew heavier.

Yoshinori seemed to be processing the information, but Jihoon carried on, the words now coming out with an almost desperate urgency.

“The last time we were together, it felt like he was someone else. He... he looked at me like he was forcing me to accept him, like I had no choice but to say yes to him in everything, and I’ve seen that look before. But the next moment, he acts like he doesn’t understand what’s happening”.

Jihoon thought about the last night he’d spent with Junkyu.

He’d started to think that... knowing what he knew now, Junkyu had been using OBLO — Haruto’s power — on him, as a subtle way to make Jihoon believe he really wanted all those things. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about every time they’d kissed.

It was always confusing, suffocating, desperate.

And it had started as messily as it ended, with Junkyu staring at the stars like he hadn’t seen them in years, like he was trapped, and then Jihoon was trapped in a cycle that always ended with them in bed.

Yoshinori ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to find a logical explanation, but the concern in his eyes was undeniable.

“I don’t know, Jihoon. What you’re describing actually makes me think it could be a sign of cognitive deterioration. If he’s losing fragments of memory or creating versions of himself, it could be the illness being aggressive... or something related to his powers”.

Jihoon stared at Yoshinori. “What if it’s not?” he whispered, wetting his lips before continuing. “What if I told you I think he’s been using OBLO longer than we’ve known...?” he watched his friend’s expression pale. “What if, somehow, he’s been controlling all of us without us even knowing?”

“Jihoon!”

“I slept with him!” Jihoon protested impatiently. “Yoshinori, please! You know me — do you really think I’d have slept with him? In this situation? With my brother and one of our best friends confined in those pods because they’re slowly dying?” he groaned, agitated. “I’d never have done something that before! But I did, over and over, without any remorse”.

It was possible.

Jihoon knew the moment Yoshinori furrowed his brows that he could see the possibility too, because they knew each other too well. Jihoon really wasn’t the type to sleep with people in the middle of chaos, he didn’t usually act the way he was acting, and Junkyu had Haruto’s powers — he could do whatever he wanted.

Before Yoshinori could say anything, the hurried sound of boots echoed down the corridor. Jihoon and Yoshinori turned at the same time to see Hyunsuk entering the room, his expression stern and marked by deep bags under his eyes — Haruto followed closely behind.

“Hyunsuk?” Yoshinori asked, surprised.

He was supposed to be away longer — they needed more supplies and expanded network access. He was meant to be gone for six weeks.

“We need to talk” Hyunsuk announced, his voice carrying an urgency that left no room for discussion. Yoshinori stood up immediately, while Jihoon hesitated for a moment.

“What’s happened now?” Yoshinori asked.

Hyunsuk locked the door and gestured for Haruto to hand him something. Yoshinori frowned as he watched him use the secure network system Jisung had developed for emergencies only — a holographic file projected into the air in blue light.

“We’ve found out who Shin Hee-Jun is” Hyunsuk paused, looking at each of them as if to make sure they were really paying attention. “He’s a governor. But it’s not just that — he’s the head for several seeker sectors and was the one who initiated the Peacemaker program... he was behind the Goyang massacre”.

Jihoon looked at Hyunsuk, with horror in his eyes.

Around 1.04 million people had been killed in Goyang.

They weren’t just koakh’s — they were ordinary people, with ordinary lives, who’d been wiped out in the dead of night without a chance to defend themselves because a madman decided to prove his Peacemakers were a valuable, functional project.

Jihoon felt his stomach drop. “What?!”

Hyunsuk gestured, making another image appear on the hologram.

It was an old picture of a group of smiling teenagers.

Junkyu was there, in the centre, looking slightly younger. His face lit up with a genuine smile that Jihoon recognised because he’d seen it before — every time Junkyu’s eyes had seemed soft and gentle, it was that smile he’d seen. Beside him was another boy, with dark hair and bright eyes, clearly close to him.

“Shin Hee-Jun is Shin Jisoo’s father”, Hyunsuk explained, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Who, in fact, was Kim Junkyu’s childhood friend”.

Yoshinori widened his eyes in confusion.

He looked at Hyunsuk as if he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing.

“Shin Jisoo suffered a household accident — he’s been in a vegetative coma for nine years...” Hyunsuk moved, making another photo appear. It showed a younger Junkyu standing beside a boy with cold eyes and a haughty expression, their arms around each other as if it made sense for them to be together at that moment. They were opposites. “And, coincidentally, a fire killed Kim JunHo and Choi Dahee’s entire family around the same time. They have no descendants. They’re the last of both families”.

Yoshinori sat down, frozen in shock.

Jihoon opened and closed his mouth — he didn’t know what to say.

Or ask.

“As for Junkyu?” Hyunsuk hesitated, but the image projected on the screen was crystal clear. “He was reported as a politically significant missing person. But what’s even stranger is that there’s no official record of it because... his face was erased from all official interfaces. The missing person report is a bounty notice!” an old document was projected. “The strangest thing is that... he was... erased”.

“What? From the interface?”

Hyunsuk nodded. “From all legal AI interfaces, in every country. It’s like he doesn’t exist, but...” he paused, looking around the room, waiting for them to grasp the gravity of what he was about to say. “The black market has information on him”.

He projected the bounty notice, complete with Junkyu’s photo, his birth code, and everything else needed for him to be found by seekers and peacekeepers — or, in this case, by black market operatives willing to take on the worst jobs in the underworld.

“Jisung managed to infiltrate us, and we were recruited. The subnet has a high-level capture notice for Kim Junkyu”, he said, referring to the code he’d received for the private job of illegal merchandise. The subnet was the worst place in the world — the people involved in it were responsible for massacres like the one in Goyang. “And the search order is addressed to Baek Jaemin, one of Shin Hee-Jun’s men”.

“Wait!” Yoshinori adjusted his glasses, gesturing hurriedly for someone to give him a moment. “So... Junkyu is a high-level target?”

“How high?”

Haruto looked at Jihoon. “Blue level”.

Yoshinori’s eyes widened. “Why?!”

“We don’t know...” Hyunsuk gestured. “But there are some theories on the subnet. Some people have ideas about why someone so young was listed as a blue-level target, but the one thing everyone gets as an extreme warning is that Shin Hee-Jun wants Junkyu alive. Any other state... and the deliverer pays with their life”.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Suddenly, in the midst of the quiet and confusion, Heide’s digital form illuminated the room, and the artificial voice spoke firmly:

‘YOSHINORI, JUNKYU IS ON HIS WAY. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: TWO MINUTES. DESTINATION: LABORATORY UNDER ISOLATION PROTOCOL’.

Jihoon exchanged a tense look with Yoshinori, who frowned.

Junkyu didn’t usually show up unannounced, especially after the chaos of the past few weeks. Heide’s information was always accurate, and the health protocol Yoshinori had programmed made it clear that any movement from Junkyu had to be monitored.

“Understood, Heide. Keep the other sensors active”.

He deactivated the isolation protocol, and moments later, the automatic door slid open with a soft noise. Junkyu walked in, his face neutral but his eyes heavy with exhaustion. Before he could say anything, Jihoon stepped forward as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Did you know they were hunting you?!”

Junkyu stopped, surprise clear in his eyes.

It was the naive Junkyu, the one who usually didn’t understand why people were questioning him about something, the Junkyu who didn’t remember Dahee, JunHo, or Doyoung even though he felt like he knew them.

“Who are you talking about?”

Hyunsuk was more direct, his voice firm. “Shin Hee-Jun. Jisoo’s father”.

Junkyu looked at Hyunsuk, his gaze was distant now.

“He’s a governor. He’s responsible for the Goyang massacre — he’s literally one of the most violent men since the peacekeepers. And, for some reason, he’s put a bounty on you on the subnet...” Haruto said, his voice nervous. Unsteady.

Ever since Junkyu had used OBLO on Yoshinori, he’d been afraid.

He was frustrated and disappointed that he couldn’t help them, but most of the time, he was just scared, which was why he kept his distance, only observing Junkyu from afar.

Junkyu averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable, but before he could respond, voices could be heard in the corridor. The door opened again, revealing Dahee and JunHo, Junkyu’s parents. Both looked surprised, their eyes scanning the group gathered in the laboratory.

“What’s going on?” Dahee asked, eyes fixed on Yoshinori. “Something’s wrong with Junkyu? Is Junghwan okay?”

JunHo, more reserved, stepped forward, observing Junkyu and the others. When he noticed the holograms floating in the air, showing his son’s face from when he was just a young, innocent, and kind boy, his expression shifted from surprise to concern. “Does this have to do with Jisoo?” he asked directly, his voice lower but laced with tension.

Junkyu looked at him, surprised.

“Jisoo?”’

JunHo hesitated but nodded.

“You don’t remember him, but...” he glanced at Dahee, who shook her head. The man turned his attention back to the images, then to Yoshinori and asked: “Why do you have this? How do you have this?”

“Seekers. There are loads of them on the subnet — they’ve been looking for Junkyu. He’s blue-level...” Yoshinori said calmly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

That Junkyu would be killed.

The blue level was the highest tier of illegal search.

It meant the merchandise was extremely valuable, the payment was usually exorbitantly high, and the mission was so dangerous that if the merchandise was delivered outside the requirements, the deliverer would be brutally killed for it.

It was an extremely risky job — only the most ruthless in the underworld took on that kind of work. And Junkyu was on a priority list, classified as high-importance cargo.

“Your entire family was massacred, wasn’t it?” Hyunsuk asked cautiously, watching their expressions. “They made it look like a fire, and everyone in your family was murdered because he was looking for Junkyu…” the man frowned. “Because he did something”.

“He didn’t do anything!" Dahee defended her son, furious. "He was a child. They all were. It wasn’t intentional, and we tried to pay for it, we tried to do something, and he just… that man is the devil himself, and you shouldn’t be looking for him like this”.

“Dahee-”

“No! I won’t let that demon keep haunting our lives. It wasn’t his fault at all. Teenagers are idiots — and I know my son! He would never have-”

“I pushed him…” Junkyu interrupted her, his voice cold and calm. His expression was so peaceful that it seemed like he was talking about something trivial, something as simple as eating bread with water. “That’s what happened”.

“Junkyu...”, Dahee took a step toward her son, gripping his arm as if demanding that he not speak of it. That he does not remember it. Losing him had been easier because of one thing — Junkyu didn’t remember anything.

He didn’t know what had happened.

He was supposed to forget.

Forget and live the rest of his life in peace.

“That’s what happened, isn’t it?” Junkyu asked her, as if he needed confirmation, though his expression looked certain of every word. “You want to know why I’m classified as blue-level? It’s because I killed him. Jisoo. I did that to him”.

Junkyu pulled Dahee’s hand off his arm.

He looked at Yoshinori, Haruto, Hyunsuk... Jihoon.

It was true.

He had done that to Jisoo. He remembered it — at least, for now.

“He was my best friend. It was my birthday, and we were camping in the forest...”, Junkyu tilted his head as if he could see the scene playing out right in front of him. He raised his hand, fingers stiff as if reaching for something in the air, and with a sharp movement, everyone in the room was flooded with distorted images.

Jihoon flinched, startled, when a bloodied boy ran past him, his face stricken with terror, his eyes red from crying, hand is bare feet stumbling over the ground — Jihoon gasped and instinctively stepped aside as if making space for the boy to keep running.

Junkyu panted anxiously. “I can’t go back...” he whispered, frightened.

Dahee screamed in pain as a sudden jolt of energy repelled her the moment she tried to touch Junkyu, as if his very skin was pushing her away. And before she could beg him to snap out of it, Junkyu’s expression changed.

There was almost... pleasure on his face.

He froze the image, crouching beside a boy who collapsed on the ground until the picture became sharp enough for everyone to see — Shin Jisoo. Lying there, head bleeding, eyes staring blankly at the sky, body motionless in the middle of the forest while everyone else ran to save themselves, to pretend they had no part in what happened.

“So foolish...” Junkyu’s voice echoed like a funeral whisper, but there was raw honesty in every word. “I thought I could hold the whole world in my hands, that nothing could ever touch me, that I would never lose control and then... look at what happened. What a foolish, stupid boy”.

Junkyu looked up, straight at Jihoon.

“Is this what you wanted to know? How I...” he stopped, his lower lip trembling with words he couldn’t bring himself to say. “You want to know how he ended up in that hospital? Why is Governor Shin hunting me down all this time?” Junkyu glanced at Jisoo again. “It’s because he’s punishing me for his kid. He was good at pretending he didn’t want to hurt me, but in the end, even loving me that way, he did”.

Dahee sobbed — loud, desperate.

She clung to her husband, who wrapped his arms around her.

Junkyu stood up, gesturing for the scene to rewind — to before Jisoo’s body was on the ground before he ran before it all spiralled out of control. Back to when the fight started, when they turned into wild animals ready to tear each other apart — back to when Junkyu pushed him until his life came to a halt.

He took long strides toward Jihoon, smiling:

“I did it, Jihoon. I killed someone. He’s never going to wake up and because of that my entire family was brutally slaughtered. Because deep down, I’m just a rat caught in a trap, and soon, all of you will be found and be dead too...”, Junkyu smiled again. “And it won’t matter if you’re sick, if you’re dying — you’ll die just the same, just like everyone who ever tried to help us died before because that’s what he does, he-”

Junkyu’s voice caught in his throat.

A single tear slipped down the corner of his eye.

He turned his head abruptly, startled, as a voice echoed through the room. The image projected by whatever power he possessed — one none of them knew he had — sent his fragmented memories screaming like omens of something forgotten, something so painful it made him want to cry.

Junkyu stumbled back, confused, bumping into Jihoon.

He looked around, searching for something.

The lab lights flickered for a moment before the holographic figure of Heide materialized in the center of the room. Its translucent, angular form looked different than usual, a red glow pulsing along its outline as its digital voice took on a grave tone:

‘ALERT! Brain activity levels are critical. Intense neural instability and body overheating were detected. Core temperature recorded: 41.2 degrees Celsius. Risk of imminent death’.

Yoshinori tried to force a state of inertia, but the interface wasn’t working — it was like something was interfering. Jihoon was jolted when Junkyu’s back slammed into his chest.

The moment Jihoon’s palm touched Junkyu’s shoulder, a blinding flash enveloped them both, like a wave of energy distorting the air around them. The floor vanished beneath their feet, replaced by a shapeless void, and with a familiar, cold sensation, Jihoon felt as though he was being pulled into a dimension between reality and nonexistence.

For about a minute, everything was chaos.

A crushing weight overwhelmed him as fragmented, repetitive images danced in his vision. Jihoon could barely process what he was seeing, but then, amid the void, he noticed Junkyu.

And he realized, too late, that they were in LIMBO.

And if they were in LIMBO, it meant Junkyu was trapped in an endless cycle of memories, and at the center of them all was the lifeless body of Jisoo — Jihoon felt a searing pain, and then there was light.

He blinked in shock, realizing they were back in the room at the complex, amidst the chaos. Jihoon stumbled, falling to the cold floor with Junkyu. The holographic glow of Heide illuminated them, echoing endlessly:

‘CRITICAL ERROR. Patient’s vital signs not detected. Out of sensor range. Reconfiguring... Reconfiguring... Extreme risk identified! Reconfiguring... Patient located’.

The sound of Junkyu’s muffled, desperate sobs filled the room like a scream that left everyone deafened, horrified by the pain.

Jihoon felt breathless. He fell back, pushing himself away.
His eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down his face as if they’d never stop. “What happened? Jihoon!” Yoshinori shouted, grabbing his face.

“Why did you take him there? What happened?”

Junkyu looked at his hands. “Five years...” he whispered, his voice breaking. “How... how... There was no end. No way to escape”.

Jihoon turned to the side and vomited.

They’d never seen him like this after going into LIMBO.

They knew it was painful, that time there was different and cruel, that bad things happened, but Jihoon had never been like this before — like there was a despair he couldn’t shake, like his chest was being crushed and his mind was terrified.

Dahee moved, and Jihoon’s eyes followed her.

“Don’t touch him!” he managed to say, in the middle of a disgusting cough, his voice anxious, his chest rising and falling uncontrollably. Jihoon felt something inside him hurt. “You can’t... you can’t touch... him”.

Hyunsuk stopped her for him. “Junkyu can’t have direct contact with anyone except Jihoon. They were teleported into LIMBO. If you touch him, his mind will conflate the self that was there with the self that’s here, and no one will be able to... bring him back”.

Jihoon coughed, gripping Yoshinori’s shirt.

“How long?”

“About a minute”.

Jihoon shook his head, confused.

“That’s not possible...” he coughed. “I don’t know...” Jihoon gasped, pressing his other hand against his temples. “Shit. He forced the jump, Yoshinori. I didn’t take him there! He forced it... he opened the breach himself, and we were there for five years. I saw him trapped in the same moment for five years, unable to snap him out of it, listening to him scream and cry for five years, and then suddenly, we were back here”.

Yoshinori’s expression pales.

Haruto was beside them, and they hadn’t even noticed.

“I didn’t take him there, and I don’t know how he did it, but we were stuck there, Yoshinori. Five years...” Jihoon cried in terror. “I can still hear his pain, I can still feel it!” he said, pointing to his chest. The doctor moved quickly, activating the nanorobots inside Jihoon.

He groaned as the robots stopped searching.

It was a crack.

There was a massive crack in the part of Jihoon’s soul that he’d managed to hold onto. “No...” Yoshinori whispered, his voice trembling, eyes wide. He ran another scan. The result was the same. Jihoon’s soul — the small part that hadn’t been corrupted and stolen by LIMBO — was fragmented. There was a new crack. “No, no, no. What happened there, why... no, Jihoon”.

Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pain grow.

Heide’s voice alerted again: ‘ALERT! Mind collapsing, mind collapsing. Error in brain reading, cardiovascular death detected...’

Then, Junkyu’s entire body glowed with a strong, dark light, unlike anything Jihoon had ever seen, and in a silent explosion, it blinded everyone — Heide beeped, announcing: ‘ALERT: CARDIAC ARREST’.

The flash disappeared, and Junkyu’s body collapsed.

And Jihoon... stopped breathing.

☽ december 17, 2030 ☾

The soft, steady glow of the vital signs monitor partially lit the room, casting irregular shadows on the sterile white walls. Junkyu sat at the examination table, his back slightly hunched, his eyes fixed on his own hands.

He turned them slowly as if expecting to find some hidden secret in the lines of his palms — something that could explain the strangeness he felt. But his hands were just hands, ordinary and familiar, though they felt heavier now.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sounds of machines keeping him under constant surveillance. He looked around, taking in his surroundings with a mix of disbelief and discomfort. Nothing felt real, even though everything was tangibly present. The rough texture of the sheet against his fingers, the cold metal of the IV stand beside the bed — every sensation was both intensely vivid and absurdly distant.

Junkyu blinked slowly, trying to gather his thoughts, but everything felt fragmented, like a poorly stitched patchwork quilt. He knew he was back, but the line between life and death had blurred for him in LIMBO. There had been no farewell to existence, no welcoming upon his return.

It was as if he had simply... been displaced.

His gaze swept over the room again, but the discomfort remained. Something inside him was wrong, misaligned. It wasn’t physically, he could tell that much — but it felt as if an essential part of who he was had been left behind. He had changed irreversibly, but he didn’t know how or why. The memory of LIMBO was now just a distant shadow, and he had barely had time to process it before everything had gone dark again.

And now that he was awake, Junkyu felt even worse.

Before, there had been only emptiness, a vague sense that something was missing. Now, the feeling was tangible. He felt like a complete stranger in his own body, unable to shake off the sensation.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the air in his lungs, and exhaled slowly, as if that simple act could anchor him to reality. But even the oxygen felt foreign like he was an intruder in a world that had moved on without him.

“...You were unconscious for two months”.

The voices were different too.

No matter how hard he tried, everyone’s voices sounded off.

He looked into their eyes — he could remember who they were, more than he had before, back when they had stripped him of all his modifiers and his memory had simply vanished — but he couldn’t say for certain if he truly knew them. Because the truth itself felt nonexistent, like a false world crumbling apart.

“You were in a state between coma and death, Junkyu. For about 66 days…” Yoshinori. Junkyu knew his name. Recognized his face. Remember trusting him but his voice was different, as if it didn’t belong to him. “I don’t know how you managed it, but after you came back from LIMBO, your heart stopped. But then… you came back”.

Junkyu blinked, shifting his gaze.

His parents, Dahee and JunHo, sat nearby, their expressions oscillating between relief and worry. Doyoung, standing beside them, stared intently at Junkyu, as if trying to comprehend the impossible. Yoshinori sat facing Junkyu, studying him like he was trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle.

“Do you remember anything from that day?”

Junkyu looked at Yoshinori again. “No. I don’t”.

Yoshinori nodded. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Tired”, Junkyu replied, his voice hoarse and low. “I remember being there... in LIMBO... but I can’t understand how I’m here now”.

Yoshinori nodded, adjusting his glasses as he checked Junkyu’s vitals.

“It’s hard to explain. We only know what happened — even Heide couldn’t identify the pattern of events — so it’s difficult to give you a clear answer...”, he was honest. That was why Junkyu had trusted him because Yoshinori was straightforward. “But, scientifically speaking, your heart stopped. When you came back from LIMBO, there was a complete neural collapse. Your body shut down. So, you died”.

But he was here now... alive.

Confused, distant from who he remembered being, different — but alive.

“... your powers created some kind of energy vortex when you connected with Jihoon, opening the dimension of LIMBO that Jihoon created...” Yoshinori explained cautiously as if he wanted Junkyu to really pay attention. “You took him with you ‘cause your power formed a neural link with him, so you were both trapped there for about a full minute”, he looked at Junkyu, searching for something in his expression. “But it was five years”.

Junkyu blinked. “Five years?”

“Yes. Usually, when Jihoon goes into LIMBO, time passes differently, but it’s never been so many years in such a short time. Somehow, you amplified the space-time continuum and made the dimension extremely react to you, so you were stuck in a loop for... five years”, Yoshinori nodded patiently.

There was more.

Junkyu could feel it — that Yoshinori wanted to say something else.

“When you pulled him out…”, Yoshi spoke again, more cautiously. Junkyu hadn’t seen Jihoon in the room. Maybe he was with Hyunsuk. Now that they knew the truth, they were probably avoiding him. “You absorbed a significant part of what was left of Jihoon’s soul… causing a fracture”.

Junkyu blinked, watching Yoshinori’s expression.

His eyes were sharper now, as if he could see more than he ever had before. He could notice the way Yoshinori’s pores were dilated, the tiny scars — things he’d never noticed before. He felt completely different.

“He... died, Junkyu. Because you were anchoring the remaining part of his soul to come back”, the doctor said. Dahee took a deep breath, and Junkyu’s ears felt sensitive to the sound. He frowned slightly. “His heart stopped for a few minutes, so when you died, it broke the connection and we were able to bring him back. But you went into a kind of coma. We didn’t know if you’d wake up because there was no brain activity for days, even though Heide was certain you were alive... somehow”.

“Maybe that’s it...”

“That’s what?” Yoshinori asked.

Junkyu looked at him again. “I feel... different”, he said. “Like there’s something that isn’t mine... here”, the man pointed to his head, then to his chest. “And here. And my senses — I can feel everything, every little thing at my fingertips and yet it doesn’t feel real. Even your voice doesn’t sound real”.

Yoshinori nodded hesitantly.

It didn’t seem like he knew the reason, but he seemed eager to figure it out. “Maybe... it’s Jihoon’s power. It’s different now because you opened a dimension and were sucked into LIMBO, and there...”, Yoshinori searched for the right words. “The thing is, LIMBO isn’t just a place — it’s the part of Jihoon’s soul that was left behind. You were inside his power, his essence, Junkyu. It’s like living inside a veil”.

But it wasn’t just that.

“I know that. I could feel him, the whole time... screaming. I knew there, and I know here, that we weren’t in a place. That we were inside him, half of him...”, Junkyu moved his head, gripping the sheet. The texture felt nothing like he remembered. “But still, it’s more than that. Like something’s missing”.

“You died!” Doyoung, who had been as absorbed in everything as the parents, finally murmured. Junkyu couldn’t remember if his voice had always been like that, but it sounded so sad and scared. “Again. It’s the third time for you, hyung. Maybe the way you’re feeling is just a side effect”.

“It’s possible…”, Yoshinori agreed. “Hyunsuk gets some data from the past, some information about the experiments. It’s really hard to find data on someone like you, but the assumption is that...”, he hesitated but said it anyway because it was his job as a doctor to make sure Junkyu understood the truth. “After a while, the body has to find a way to dissipate the powers it has absorbed”.

Junkyu blinked, thoughtful.

“So… I’m dying for real this time… right?”

“Uhu-hum. It could mean that you’re finally dying, for real this time, Junkyu. Right now you're in stage three of the disease — it’s extremely aggressive, and it seems to be progressing really fast in you. It’s been like this for a while now, and the only thing keeping you... alive, in a way, is the mutation caused by absorbing Doyoung’s powers. And since you absorbed more than you should have from Jihoon and got pulled into LIMBO, it's like you sped up the dispersion of all the powers you've accumulated”.

Junkyu was dying. For real this time.

If he understood correctly, going to LIMBO had triggered a domino effect — it had accelerated the degeneration of his brain cells, forcing his body to heal itself over and over again, without stopping, without even a moment’s rest to keep from collapsing.

Doyoung’s powers, the ones keeping him in constant regeneration, were slowly dying inside him because his body was moving too fast. Meanwhile, the disease was spreading like strong roots in his brain, ready to finally pull him away from the world of living.

“And I think that’s why you were unconscious for so long — because your body is trying to heal faster than it actually can, and that process put your consciousness in some kind of standby mode. It’s something we can’t fully explain”.

“And now?” Junkyu asked. “What happens now?”

“I can’t say for sure”, Yoshinori sighed. “Maybe you have a few months left, maybe I can do something and buy you a couple more years. But the only real way to stop this...”, he glanced at Junkyu’s parents before looking back at him. “... It is healing you from the FLAME. If you’re not sick, then your body won’t need to keep trying to heal the damage that’s been done, meaning you’d be able to absorb Doyoung again”.

Junkyu wanted to laugh.

It was pathetic and sad how everything always led back to that search.

Yoshinori and his friends had been hunting for a cure for years.

They had two sick people in their team and were desperate to find a loophole, but Junkyu had been a miscalculated bet. Whoever that so-called prophet was — they had been wrong.

And yet, everything, every problem, always circled back to the same dead end. They had no real leads, no clue where to even start now that he wasn’t useful anymore.

“... that’s what I’m hoping for. If we find the cure and stop the disease’s progression, then absorbing Doyoung will stabilize your body because, right now, the power is depleting because he’s too sick, and the amount absorbed isn’t enough”.

“But... you’re nowhere near finding the cure”.

“You can keep absorbing from me while they-”

“I’m sorry but it doesn’t matter how much he absorbs you, Junkyu will still be sick, and it won’t change the fact that, eventually, he’ll die. His body will stop trying to heal itself and your power will fade inside him. Then there’ll be nothing we can do...”, Yoshinori cut both Junkyu and Doyoung because it was much bigger than that.

Yoshinori let out a deep sigh and stood up.

He cupped Junkyu’s face — something unexpected.

Junkyu couldn’t remember ever feeling Yoshinori’s hands before.

“You trusted me once, remember?” the doctor asked, his expression serious, like he needed confirmation of something. Junkyu studied his eyes in silence. “When you guys got here, you told me that something made you trust me, and you let me help you. Right?”

Junkyu’s eyes darted around, searching his memory.

“Right…”, he whispered.

He remembered that.

He remembered arriving at the complex and telling his parents they would stay, that he would let Yoshinori do whatever was necessary to help them — to make sure Doyoung never got sick.

He lifted his eyes again. “You said you’d do everything in your power to keep us safe… alive. I remember that”.

Yoshinori’s expression paled, but only to Junkyu’s eyes, which suddenly seemed sharper, more perceptive. The doctor let go of his face, his hands dropping to his sides before nodding firmly.

“Then trust me again. Your parents are terrified, your brother won’t leave your side…”, Yoshinori glanced at them briefly. “But I swear, Junkyu, this will pass. I’ll find a solution. So just trust me and stop using your powers. Don’t absorb from anyone else. Even if the pain is unbearable, don’t use your powers”.

“But if he doesn’t keep absorbing from me, you-”

“If he keeps going, it’ll make his body keep searching for a way out and it’ll need more and more every time. Eventually, you’ll start feeling the effects yourself, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle it or have time to save you both, so...” Yoshinori said, firm. “If you don’t want to make your brother your own killer, he can’t absorb you”.

Junkyu fell silent, processing every word.

Dahee squeezed JunHo’s hand, visibly emotional, overwhelmed.

All she wanted was for her children to be happy.

She wanted to escape Governor Shin, to live a good, long life.

Yoshinori sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“And... as for Jihoon”, Yoshinori murmured. “I need you to stay away from him. Unlike you, Jihoon has some lasting effects. His power is unstable and unpredictable. I don’t know what your presence might trigger, so please, try to keep your distance until I have a solution for all of this, okay?”

Junkyu felt his face react to that request.

He didn’t remember everything, not about Jihoon, but he knew something made him feel desperate when they were apart and even more desperate when they were together. He could remember Jihoon’s presence when they were in LIMBO, how his pain was screaming even though there was no sound.

He remembered Jihoon calling his name.

He lowered his eyes, staring at the white marble floor.

He nodded silently, finally realizing that, in the midst of all this chaos, this seemed like the hardest request of all — as if it would hurt too much to fulfil it the way Yoshinori expected.

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I know it’s a lot, but try to rest a bit. Heide will let me know if anything unusual happens, so let me worry about your health alone, and try to sleep. Your body will need the energy”.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING:

The early morning was wrapped in a heavy, almost suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional sound of the wind cutting through the air. Junkyu was on the rooftop, leaning against the ice-cold metal railing. The biting cold of the night made his body shiver, but he didn’t seem to care.

The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars blinking through the dark veil of night. He stared up, eyes distant, like he was trying to figure something out beyond the constellations. His mind was in constant motion, a whirlwind of thoughts that just wouldn’t quit.

There was something else — something he couldn’t name.

A voice that felt like a whisper in the background, a distant echo in his mind. It wasn’t clear, but it made him restless. He didn’t know if it was from his condition, the exhaustion, or something bigger than that. He just knew he couldn’t sleep.

The sound of footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts.

Junkyu didn’t move, but all his senses snapped to attention.

A few seconds later, the rooftop door creaked open, and Jihoon stepped out. He had a pack of cigarettes in one hand and looked distracted, rubbing his arms against the cold as he shut the door behind him. His eyes landed on Junkyu, and the motion of lighting the cigarette froze halfway.

The air suddenly felt heavier.

For a moment, neither of them moved or said a word, the silence between them as sharp as the cold wind sweeping across the rooftop. Their eyes met, full of unspoken things. It had been two weeks since they were in the same space, and now that they were face to face, the emotional distance felt even wider than before.

The tension was almost physical.

Jihoon was the first to look away, turning his attention to the cigarette he finally lit. He took a deep drag, exhaling smoke mingling with his breath's vapour.

“It’s cold…” his voice broke the silence, hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in days. He didn’t look at Junkyu when he said it, eyes fixed on some distant spot on the horizon.

Junkyu took a moment to answer, his voice soft, almost a whisper, “Yeah, way colder than usual, I think”.

Jihoon didn’t reply right away, he just kept smoking in silence. His shoulders were tense, and he avoided Junkyu’s gaze. After a few seconds that felt like forever, he stubbed out the cigarette against the railing and tossed the butt into a nearby bin.

“You should go inside, Junkyu,” Jihoon said. “Standing out here won’t help. Yoshinori made it clear you need to take care of yourself, so…” He wet his lips. “Quit being so damn stubborn and go in”.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and started walking back toward the door. Junkyu stayed where he was, watching as Jihoon disappeared from view. His absence made the rooftop feel even emptier, even colder.

Junkyu pressed his lips together, unfazed, and turned his eyes back to the sky.

☽ ☾

Junkyu hadn’t been able to sleep.

The sun was dimmer than usual for a winter afternoon, casting orange and golden tones across the sky. Inside Yoshinori’s office, the air was tense when Junkyu arrived with Dahee and Doyoung.

His mother sat with her hands clasped on her lap, her face marked with worry, while Doyoung remained serious, his eyes locked on Yoshinori, who stood in front of them.

“I’ve called you all here because I might’ve finally found a potential loophole. It’s not a full cure for FLAME, but...” he paused, glancing from Junkyu to Dahee. “It’s a stabilizer. Something to slow the symptoms and keep the disease from progressing too fast”.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Junkyu leaned forward, his voice low:

“How?” he asked. “Last time, you said there were too many obstacles—that you had no starting point. What changed in two weeks?”

Yoshinori pressed his lips together before answering.

“Jihoon,” he murmured gravely. The doctor had Heide display their post-LIMBO test results. “When you anchored his powers — his soul — it caused a fracture. His death released energy in a way that left traces, accelerating the disease’s progression in your system...” he enlarged the holographic images. “We still can’t create a cure without the right genetic markers, but by mapping your DNA against the disease’s evolution, I’ve isolated something promising”.

Dahee brought her hands to her mouth, hopeful.

Doyoung stared at his brother, unreadable.

Junkyu just blinked.

“Your powers used to follow permanent absorption patterns, but post-LIMBO, that’s obsolete — the disease is killing cells too fast now. That created an opening...” Yoshinori explained. “Now, when your body sheds a power, it leaves behind fragments — like genetic memories of that ability.”

Doyoung frowned. “What’s the practical application?”

“It means I’ve synthesized these memory fragments,” Yoshinori said, manipulating the reactive hologram. “Pre-LIMBO, these became part of your mutations. Now they contain raw data from absorbed powers — including Doyoung’s healing.” He gestured sharply. “I’ve created a compound that tricks the disease into thinking it’s being sustained by regenerative power”.

Dahee exhaled a tearful sigh.

“So you can help him?”

Yoshinori met her gaze. “Theoretically, yes. If the simulations hold, I can stabilize FLAME’s symptoms without induced suspension. It’s temporary, but it’s something.”

Doyoung, silent until now, demanded:

“How temporary?”

Yoshinori hesitated.

“Untested on humans, but digital trials varied by disease stage. Early stages? Weeks, maybe months. But...” He looked at Junkyu. “Advanced cases like yours? Days, at best. Still buys us time to keep searching”.

Junkyu nodded tightly — so his ravaged brain, already shutting down post-LIMBO, might not even respond.

The door hissed open.

Everyone turned to see Jihoon frozen in the doorway, confusion shifting to tension as he spotted Junkyu.

“Thought you wanted me...” he muttered at Yoshinori.

The doctor gestured him forward, despite his own orders to keep them apart. “Need you to understand the plan. But Junkyu-” he fixed him with a warning look. “Control your power. Your system will try to re-anchor to Jihoon’s magic”.

Jihoon lingered by the door before stepping inside.

Yoshinori laid it out bluntly — no sugarcoating.

“... I don’t get it, Yoshi.” Jihoon’s voice cracked—not just anger, but frayed desperation. “Why gamble now?!”

Yoshinori didn’t flinch. He expanded Junkyu’s DNA hologram. “His cells produce stabilizing proteins that preserve power-induced changes. Isolated, they can create a palliative vaccine. Not a cure,” he repeated. “But it slows the bleed”.

“And if it fails?”

“Maybe it does. Maybe it backfires. Got a better idea?” Yoshinori snapped. “Hyunsuk and Jisung are chasing dead ends. No prophecies left. No miracles. But doing nothing changes nothing”.

Jihoon shut his eyes, visibly torn. First, he’d literally died — his heart stopped by Junkyu’s connection. Now this? The whiplash between hope and despair was exhausting.

Sometimes, he just wanted to drag them all into LIMBO forever — escape FLAME’s brutality, live their remaining time without pain. But they always circled back here: desperate, empty-handed.

And now Yoshinori wanted to bet everything on a half-baked stabilizer?

“What if you can’t?” Jihoon demanded. “What if instead of slowing the disease, you accelerate it? He could flatline, couldn’t he?”

Yoshinori went silent.

He pressed his lips together before explaining, “You’re missing the point, Jihoon! We can’t use Junkyu. His body’s too far gone. The risk is astronomical, and the vaccine needs a subject in early or mid-stage...” his voice dropped to a whisper.

Jihoon’s stomach lurched. He knew what was coming.

“Right now... Junghwan’s our only viable candidate.” The doctor’s words hung in the air as Jihoon launched to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor. “I know how this sounds! But his early-stage body might actually respond-”

“Are you fucking insane?!” Jihoon’s roar shook the room. He stalked forward, eyes burning into Yoshinori with such fury the others recoiled. “You want to yank the kid out of stasis and treat him like some disposable test subject? What kind of monster-”

Yoshinori stood his ground, though the accusation landed like a gut punch, backing him against the holographic panel. Because part of him agreed.

He’d built the suspension pods specifically to keep Jeongwoo and Junghwan safe — waking them without a cure violated every oath he’d taken.

But Junkyu was no longer an option.

Not for this.

“I know the stakes better than anyone else, Jihoon”, Yoshi fired back, voice steel. “I designed the whole goddamn life-support system. Kept them alive this whole time. So yeah, I know exactly what could go wrong...” he exhaled sharply. “But we’re out of runway, Jihoon. FLAME isn’t waiting for us to figure our shit out”.

Jihoon shook his head, raw hurt flashing across his face.

“This isn’t just another calculation!” he rasped. “You’re gambling with a child’s life, Yoshi! We swore we’d protect him — no conditions, no exceptions”.

Yoshinori’s jaw tightened. “I know. And I will protect him. But logically — he’s our best shot”, he said with a grim shrug. “You know I’m right. If there were another way...”

Jihoon’s fists clenched, tremors of fury wracking his frame.

This wasn’t just about waking Junghwan.

They were talking about turning him into a sacrificial lamb for a Hail Mary experiment that could torch everything.

“And if he dies on the table?” Jihoon’s voice cracked.

Yoshinori stepped into his space, expression hardening.

“I won’t sugarcoat it — there’s risk. But there’s also real potential. You think I’d propose this if I didn’t believe in it?” He searched Jihoon’s face. “You know me better than that”.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Jihoon scanned the room — Junkyu, Doyoung, Dahee — but found only resigned devastation. They were staring down a one-in-a-billion long shot that could backfire catastrophically.

Finally, Jihoon turned away, dragging his hands down his face.

He’d protected them all for years. Fought alongside them. Sworn blood oaths to keep the youngest safe.

His gaze snapped back to Yoshinori, ice-cold:

“The answer’s no.” When Yoshinori tried to interrupt, Jihoon shut him down with a slash of his hand. “I’m still the one calling the shots here. The one who took us out when MOME raided us. The one who promised protection — and I’m keeping that promise. Risking one of ours? Not happening”.

“You’re not listening! We’re-”

“Then use him!” Jihoon bellowed, jabbing a finger at Junkyu. His eyes were glazed, unhinged — pure fury with no anchor. “You want a lab rat? Take your goddamn chosen one. He’s the prophecy, right? So stop playing Russian roulette with our family and do your job properly for once”.

He stormed out without another word, leaving Yoshinori gaping like a fish. Part of Yoshinori had hoped to offer Jihoon some shred of hope—but he’d known this would break him.

Because he felt it too.

That same sickening protectiveness.

“Run the numbers again...” Junkyu muttered, voice hollow. Yoshinori turned to him. “Jihoon’s right about risking your people. I was brought here for a reason. Maybe...” he blinked slowly. “Maybe you can make that count. Just... keep trying with me”.

☽ ☾

Hyunsuk strode through the complex halls with purposeful steps, the cold wind that had come in with him still clinging to his jacket. Haruto followed close behind but looked dead on his feet. As soon as they reached the main area, Hyunsuk placed a hand on the younger one's shoulder.

“Crash for a bit. We roll out again soon, and I need you functional”.

Haruto nodded, visibly grateful for the break. Without another word, he disappeared toward the dorms.

Hyunsuk sighed and made his way to the research room, knowing Yoshinori would be glued to his screens. He needed to discuss Jihoon’s revelation — that half-baked synthetic stabilizer idea. The news had rattled him, but he couldn’t shake it. Every contact they’d made in Seoul and the red zones only confirmed one thing: Kato, the young seer, never missed.

No matter how green he was.

They hadn’t found him yet. Kato only appeared when he deemed it necessary, turning their search into a wild-goose chase. That’s why Hyunsuk had cut the mission short, returning empty-handed but needing to confront Yoshinori directly.

When the door slid open, Yoshinori was hunched over his holos, eyes bloodshot from staring at floating data streams. He glanced up at the sound.

“Back already?” his voice was gravel-rough with exhaustion.

“Not fast enough. JunHo stayed behind — had unfinished business”, Hyunsuk dropped into a chair, reading Yoshinori’s gaunt expression. “Jihoon filled me in”.

Yoshinori’s hand froze in mid-air.

He knew Hyunsuk wasn’t one for small talk.

“So you know he’s vetoed using Junghwan as a lab rat”, he finally said. “He’s been making my life hell. Acts like I’m some mad scientist”.

Hyunsuk raised an eyebrow, unsurprised.

“Predictable. He’s always been obsessive about protecting those two”.

“It’s not just that”, Yoshinori’s fingers twitched. “Jihoon’s right to be scared — because I’m terrified too. But I’ve burned through every other option, hyung. This is the only play left”.

Hyunsuk leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“Then level with me”, his gaze was flint-sharp. Before everything went to shit, Hyunsuk had been all grins and reckless charm. But after MOME executed his parents, something in him flickered out. The smiles vanished. Now he operated on cold calculus. “No spin. What’s the real failure rate?”

The doctor exhaled sharply.

“Bad. We’re working with error margins that keep me up at night”, he pulled up a hologram. “I ran simulations while you were gone. Junkyu’s death rate hit 96.8%. His system’s too far gone — FLAME wrecked him, and his powers are unstable as hell. With Junghwan... we might stabilize symptoms, but...”

“But he might flatline on the table”, Hyunsuk finished, voice hollow.

Yoshinori nodded, the shadows under his eyes speaking volumes.

“Waking him risks neural collapse from prolonged suspension. Even if the synthetic holds, his immune system could nosedive — or accelerate cellular decay” a bitter pause. “It’s a stopgap. But it’s the only shot we’ve got”.

Hyunsuk dragged a hand down his face, absorbing the gut-punch reality.

The silence between them thickened, broken only by the hologram’s soft pings.

“No way to tweak it for Junkyu?”

“None. This’s the only version that doesn’t end in a body bag”, Yoshinori’s voice cracked. “I wouldn’t suggest this if there was another way, hyung”.

Hyunsuk looked up, decision made.

“Do it”.

Yoshinori blinked like he’d been slapped.

“I’ll handle Jihoon. He’ll lose his shit, but I’ll take the heat”, Hyunsuk pointed a finger, deadly serious. “You? You make damn sure Junghwan walks out of this. No shortcuts, no cowboy shit. Because if we lose him too...”

Yoshinori’s nod was heavy with the weight of it all.

“Every resource. Every safeguard”.

Hyunsuk stood, his frame weighed down by exhaustion. At the door, he turned back — eyes devoid of hope but stubborn as hell.

“Better be right about this, Yoshi. Because if you’re not?” a beat. “That’s a line even Jihoon can’t uncross”

He left without waiting for a reply, footsteps echoing like a countdown.

Yoshinori remained frozen, staring at the holograms — terrified that this gamble might burn their last bridge.

☽ January 25, 2031 ☾

Yoshinori hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks.

Since Hyunsuk’s reluctant approval, he’d buried himself in the lab, losing days to an endless cycle of calculations and tests. Time blurred — the only marker being the glowing holo-calendar in the corner.

By January, Yoshinori revisited every simulation.

The serum worked — but not well enough. Junghwan’s younger, healthier body offered better stabilization odds, but one misstep could trigger catastrophic immune rejection.

He fine-tuned the serum derived from Junkyu’s power-replicating cells for Junghwan’s biology. Every cell was mapped, analyzed, and stress-tested. Some days felt hopeless — charts flashing red, compounds failing before bonding.

By week two, Yoshinori had hit 72 hours without sleep. Eyes burning, he only ate when Haruto dragged him out. Even then, his mind raced — dreaming in DNA sequences, waking to scribble fragmented theories.

On day eighteen, he finally hit an acceptable risk threshold. The new formula used Junkyu’s biology to induce temporary immune adaptation, buying Junghwan’s system time to adjust.

A high-wire act between hope and disaster.

On day twenty-five, Yoshinori assembled the team.

Hyunsuk stood rigid, tracking every move. Haruto’s anxiety was written across his face. Jihoon looked gutted, staring at the suspension pods where Junghwan and Jeongwoo had slept for months — their peace a cruel contrast to the chaos around them.

The pods were cutting-edge — part of Jinyoung’s legacy for his sons. A doomsday bunker stocked for generations. Almost like he’d anticipated the plague. Each pod was a sleek glass cylinder, pulsing blue with its occupant’s breath. Junghwan lay still, monitors showing steady vitals — and a beachside dreamscape.

Yoshinori adjusted controls, his voice clinically calm:

“Phased revival. First, temperature normalization. Then oxygen adjustment…” he glanced at Jihoon. “Finally, neural stimulation”.

Jihoon stepped forward.

“Will it hurt?”

“Yeah. He will…” Yoshinori didn’t sugarcoat it. “Suspension wake-up’s brutal. But I’ll mitigate it”.

Hyunsuk squeezed Jihoon’s shoulder — a silent warning. Yoshinori initiated the sequence.

The pod’s blue light flickered as warmth returned.

Junghwan’s fingers twitched.

“He’s coming up…” Yoshinori monitored the data.

The real test came next.

The fluid drained, exposing Junghwan to lab air. He jerked — eyes squeezing shut against consciousness. Then — too fast — they flew open.

Disoriented panic.

Junghwan gasped like a drowning man, pounding the glass.

“He’s seizing!” Hyunsuk barked.

“Open it!” Haruto shouted.

“Not yet!” Yoshinori cranked the oxygen. “Neural sync first!”

Inside, Junghwan screamed soundlessly, trapped between sleep and waking horror. Jihoon slammed the pod.

“Yoshinori! He’s dying in there!”

“Almost there…” Yoshinori lied, his own pulse hammering.

IZYA — the system responsible for keeping Junghwan safe — blinked with a new alert: ‘Neural stabilization complete. The suspension disconnect is finalized. Patient is conscious.’

The pod hissed open.

Junghwan collapsed, his knees hitting the floor. Jihoon caught him, cradling his shaking form.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you”. Jihoon’s voice cracked.

Guilt ate him alive — this was his father’s legacy. His failure.

Junghwan gulped air, eyes wild. Yoshinori draped a blanket over him.

“I need to assess him. If his mind’s fragmented…”

Jihoon’s glossy eyes met his. Hyunsuk stepped in:

“Let him work”.

Yoshinori hooked Junghwan to BAIK before IZYA could accidentally revive Jeongwoo — far too frail for this.

Junghwan jolted as BAIK took over, then settled, breathing steadily. Awareness clicked into place.

“Hyung…” his voice was sandpaper-rough. “Where…?”

Yoshinori exhaled. Cognitive recall — good sign.

“You’re out. We need you”.

Junghwan processed this, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you cure us?”

Jihoon’s jaw clenched. Haruto knelt beside them.

“Hyung…” Junghwan smiled weakly at Jihoon’s tears. “Why are you crying? I knew you’d solve it”.

Hyunsuk shot Jihoon a warning look.

Yoshinori cleared his throat.

“Hwanie… we didn’t find the cure”.

Junghwan blinked. “But the vision — that guy calling your name, Jihoon-hyung! He’s a key!”

Jihoon took his hand.

“We found him. Junkyu. He’s safe”.

Junghwan relaxed. “Good…”

Yoshinori rubbed his face.

“But Kato’s vision was wrong. He’s not the answer”.

Junghwan froze.

“Not… what?”

“He doesn’t have the markers”, Yoshi explained. “His ability’s something else. He can copy and tweak the powers he absorbs. He’s the copycat, Junghwan, and right now, he’s super sick. His brain is already in late-stage three of the disease...” he muttered, frustrated. “He wasn’t the one”.

Junghwan shook his head, overwhelmed.

His face made it obvious — he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“But I managed to break down how his powers work, the way his cells multiply constantly trying to heal themselves and” Yoshi looked at the others before going on, because they needed Junghwan to be on board. “I made a palliative cure. A simulator to trick the disease’s degeneration for a while”.

The newly-awakened boy stared at him, face blank.

It was like he understood… and also didn’t.

Junghwan pressed his lips together before asking:

“If it’s just a palliative cure..., why did you wake me up?”

There was no way to lie.

Even if he wanted to, Yoshinori couldn’t lie:

“Because I need you... to be our first test subject”.

☽ ☾

The sunlight felt almost unreal against Junghwan’s skin — warm and welcoming after months in suspension. He was standing in the glass courtyard, a space designed so that residents of the complex could feel connected to the outside world without actually being in it.

Even if he hadn’t known it, he had missed that place.

He had missed the carefully arranged plants growing all around, the sound of artificial birds echoing softly in the background, the warmth of the sun, the quiet — he missed the world.

Junghwan took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

Feeling the sun again was a privilege he’d nearly forgotten.

But despite the calmness of the environment, something was unsettling about being awake again, like the world around him was too fragile, like it might shatter right in his hands.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes to see Haruto approaching, clearly worried, a deep frown on his face.

“I need to talk to you”, the older man said, serious — almost desperate.

Junghwan just nodded like he already knew what was coming.

 “You can’t do this”, he started, no sugarcoating it. “Letting them use you as a test subject is way too risky. We don’t know what could happen, and... you literally just came out of suspension. You can’t go through with it”.

Junghwan gave a small smile, but it wasn’t a happy one.

It was sad, resigned. He looked up at the sky through the glass, eyes locked on the golden light.

 “I know it’s risky, hyung. But I also know we don’t have a choice”.

 “They can find someone else if they actually try,” Haruto pressed, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And Yoshinori can figure out another way. He always does. You don’t need to do this… you shouldn’t be the one”.

Junghwan turned to him, serious.

“There is no other way,” he said with a soft smile. “If Junkyu-ssi doesn’t have the healing ability or the markers, then this is the path. I saw it happen — in Jihoon’s flow. We were healthy, all of us. That means Yoshinori is on the right track. It’s the only way”.

Haruto frowned, confused.

 “But Junghwanie!” he murmured, almost begging. “You’ve been wrong before. And besides, when you entered Jihoon’s flow, you said you were sure Junkyu was the one who would heal us. But he’s dying…” he said, exasperated, serious. “He can’t save us”.

Junghwan took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

 “I never saw the future, hyung. Not in any flow—until I saw Junkyu in Jihoon’s life stream. It was crystal clear. I don’t know how he’s going to help us, but it’s him. I’m one hundred percent sure. That’s why I’m willing to be the test subject in this experiment...”

He placed a hand on Haruto’s shoulder.

 “I know you’re scared but trust me. It’s gonna work”.

Haruto fell silent for a moment, going over Junghwan’s words, trying to find something to argue with, something to hold onto to keep begging — but there was nothing.

He shook his head slowly.

 “Whatever. You’re wrong. Junkyu doesn’t have the power to heal. And he’s just as sick as you were. How the hell is he supposed to help us?”

Junghwan gave a sad smile, tilting his head like he shared the same doubt, “I already told you I don’t know either. I just know what I felt. What I saw. If Yoshinori believes he can slow the disease using his DNA, then that means the prophecy is legitimate. He is the one meant to save us. I’m completely sure of that”.

Haruto hesitated.

He hated fighting with Junghwan.

They had been friends for years, and sometimes it was just too hard to stay mad at him. He always ended up giving in, even when he wanted to keep yelling and say everything he was holding in — he hated the whole situation.

He wanted to be cruel and use OBLO on him.

At least that way, he’d keep him safe until the others figured things out.

But he couldn’t do that. They had promised they’d never use their powers on each other unless it was absolutely necessary, with no other way out. So he couldn’t just do it.

Not to Junghwan.

 “So… if you’re sure the prophecy is still following its path, then that means Jihoon hyung…” Haruto sighed, clearly upset. “He slept with Junkyu. They were… I don’t know, having a thing”.

Junghwan looked at him, but he didn’t seem surprised.

And he definitely didn’t look happy.

 “Huh. I figured”, he muttered.

He glanced around, even though he knew they were alone, and anyone walking in on this convo would be super noticeable.

“If they are or were together, that’s just more proof that the prophecy’s unfolding the way it’s supposed to”.

Junghwan looked away, his expression clouded with worry.

 “Are you sure you saw the future?”

The younger one nodded.

 “Absolutely. I saw what Jihoon’s life will be like from now on. I saw success and chaos, smiles and tears...” he murmured, wetting his lips. “I saw him wrecked. When it’s all over, when we’re all safe and MOME and their twisted experiments are finally done... that’s when it’ll happen. He’s going to die”.

Haruto gasped, breath catching in his throat.

Junghwan seemed so sure.

He had told Yoshinori he’d be the test subject because he believed Junkyu was key to the success of the mission — but Haruto still didn’t want to accept it.

After everything, he was starting to think Jihoon might’ve been right.

If they all went to limbo, they’d be safe.

Time wouldn’t catch up to them for a while, and they could live together.

 “Once we’re healed...” Junghwan said quietly. “That’s when the man with the cruel smile will show up. That’s when Baikal will shatter his soul, and Jihoon hyung... in a way, his life ends too”.

Silence fell between them, heavy like the glass walls surrounding them.
Haruto couldn’t hide the distress in his eyes, but before he could say anything else, the door to the glass courtyard slid open.

Hyunsuk stepped in, his expression composed, though the tension in his shoulders gave him away. He looked straight at Junghwan, ignoring Haruto for now.

 “Yoshinori’s ready for you”.

Junghwan nodded, straightening up and taking a deep breath, like he was getting ready to carry the weight of the whole world.

He placed a hand on Haruto’s face, giving a soft squeeze in a quiet gesture of goodbye, and then followed Hyunsuk — leaving Haruto standing there, staring into nothing as the sun kept shining, completely indifferent to the storm heading their way.

The cold light from the lab’s overhead lamps made the equipment gleam with an almost intimidating intensity. Junghwan was lying on a reclined exam bed, surrounded by wires and cables all hooked up to the BAIK interface — a system designed to monitor every detail of his biology in real time. Yoshinori worked beside him with precise focus, tweaking the last few settings before starting the experimental treatment.

Junghwan stared at the ceiling with a calm expression, but there was something unspoken in his eyes. When Yoshinori paused to check the readings, Junghwan broke the silence.

“Before we start, I want to meet him”.

Yoshinori looked up from the control panel, surprised.

 “That’s not a good idea, Junghwan. He’s still unstable, and his powers are… way too unpredictable. I explained this to you — Junkyu’s a copycat. He absorbs powers just by getting close and-”

“I know” Junghwan said with a soft smile. “But it’s important to me”.

Before Yoshinori could argue again, Jihoon stepped in, cutting through with a firm voice. “No. That’s not happening. You just got out of suspension, and Junkyu… he’s not exactly trustworthy”.

Junghwan turned his head to face Jihoon, calm as ever.

“Hyung, please. This isn’t about what’s safe or being smart. It’s something I need to do. Just stop being stubborn and bring him here”.

There was a tense silence as Yoshi and Jihoon exchanged looks.

Finally, Jihoon ran a hand through his hair. “Fine!” he muttered, reluctantly. “But just for a few minutes”.

Yoshinori looked uneasy, but he didn’t stop Jihoon from leaving to get Junkyu. The room fell back into silence, broken only by the hum of monitors and machines.

When Junkyu walked in with Jihoon beside him, the air in the room seemed to shift. There was something almost ethereal in the way Junghwan smiled at the sight of him — like he was meeting someone he’d known forever.

“Oh. It’s you,” Junghwan murmured, his voice unexpectedly soft and warm. Junkyu blinked, a little thrown off. “Hey, hyung”.

Junkyu hesitated for a second, glancing around the room before walking forward. His steps were careful, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and caution.

 “Uh. Hey, Junghwan”, Junkyu said, stopping beside the bed.

Junghwan let out a soft laugh, a warm sound that seemed to ease the tension in the room. “This’s crazy…” he said, studying Junkyu carefully. “You look exactly like I saw. Your hair’s different, but it’s the same face”.

Junkyu glanced at Yoshinori.

They had explained how they’d found him, but this was the first time he was meeting Junghwan — and hearing him speak like they were old friends felt strange, intimate. It made Junkyu feel… normal.

 “Why so surprised?”

 “Because flows are messy. I never see the future when I connect with an essence, but…” he pressed his lips together, thoughtful. “I saw yours. Just like this. And I saw things that made me believe everything’s gonna be okay. You’re going to change everything”.

Junkyu didn’t really care.

Some part of him hoped Junghwan could sense that — that he didn’t care whether or not he could help them. The only reason he was still here, still trying, was because of his brother and his dad. He didn’t want Dahee to be left alone — that feeling had been growing stronger lately, like something inside him just knew he had to think like this, act like this.

Like it was something from the past, from before the removal.

Before forgetting all the things that were still lost in his memory, things that resurfaced now and then like roots breaking through dry ground. But other than that, he didn’t feel like he had to care.

Whether they lived or died —it wasn’t his fault.

And it wasn’t his responsibility to save them.

But when it came to his own family, he had to keep them safe.

 “... I don’t know how. Looks like I’m dying. Maybe you’re wrong”.

Junghwan smiled. “I’ve been wrong before. It’s true. Like I said, flows are confusing and hard to read, but…” he shook his head. “I know what I saw when I touched your trail. It’s tangled in Jihoon’s future, and it was so clear. We’re going to be okay. All of us”.

The two locked eyes for a moment, and for the others in the room, it felt almost surreal. There was no rush or discomfort — just a calm that seemed to defy the gravity of the situation.

Junkyu glanced at Jihoon, who stood silently beside Hyunsuk, like he was waiting to step in at the first sign of trouble.

He stepped a bit closer:

 “Aren’t you scared?” he asked softly. “Of what you’ll have to do to get that future you saw…” he explained, watching him closely. “Aren’t you scared of being the first guinea pig?”

Junghwan smiled again, shaking his head.

For a moment, Junkyu noticed how Junghwan’s chest rose and fell with each breath, how the tiny hairs on his skin stood on end, the texture of his pores. He could smell him — not a manipulated scent, just him — and hear the sound of his fingers brushing the fabric of his clothes. He could see the way the veins pulsed in his throat.

He blinked, pulling himself out of that moment.

He’d been noticing things since he came back from the limbo.

Everything — sounds, tastes, textures. People and the tiniest, invisible details seemed to scream at him like they wanted to be seen. Like they were clear only to him — his eyes, ears, nose, skin. Yoshinori thought it was a side effect of the connection between Junkyu’s powers and Jihoon’s soul, but he didn’t agree.

It felt like it had always been there.

Like a whisper. A sharp awareness.

But it had always been there. He just never knew how.

Finally, Yoshinori cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

 “We should get started. Time’s ticking”.

Junghwan nodded, but before leaning back on the bed, he reached out his hand toward Junkyu, who stared at it, confused, then looked at Yoshinori — who didn’t say a word. So Junkyu took Junghwan’s hand.

“You should talk to him”, Junghwan murmured with a small smile, looking over Junkyu’s shoulder. “Jihoon hyung”.

“Jihoon?” Junkyu tilted his head, confused.

Jihoon, who’d been holding back, let out a nasal laugh at that.

It was sharp. Mocking.

There was no way they could have a real conversation after everything.

Junghwan ignored Jihoon. “Huh. You two should stop fighting. There’s not much time left now, so you should talk it out before it’s too late… he knows. Knows how things will be after, so you need to stop. He needs you”.

 “Junghwan…” Jihoon muttered coldly. “Enough!”

The boy squeezed Junkyu’s hand like he wanted to make him remember those words. And Junkyu looked down at their hands — clasped tight, fingers interlaced. He could feel Junghwan’s power in his palm, spreading through his fingers, slowly seeping into his skin and up his arm.

Junkyu let go and stepped back.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t understand what Junghwan meant by “fix things before it’s too late” or how Jihoon “needed him”. It didn’t make sense. But the feeling in his arm was too overwhelming to focus or force himself to ask anything else. So he just turned around and walked out.

He didn’t look to the sides.

Partly because he was weirdly nervous.

And partly because he still didn’t want to look at Jihoon.

It would be better for everyone if that never happened again — if Junkyu never had to be in the same room as Jihoon, because just being near him made his skin feel like it was burning, like it was impossible to be that close and that distant at the same time.

The door closed behind Junkyu, and he exhaled deeply.

He looked at his hand — there was a thin translucent layer on his fingertips.

Junkyu looked up. “Shit”.

He had absorbed Junghwan’s powers.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING:

The days were exhausting.

The first dose of Junghwan's experimental treatment had started with uncertain promise but quickly became an almost unbearable challenge.

In the first hours after administration, Junghwan suffered two seizures. The BAIK interface monitoring showed dangerous spikes in vitals — his heart rate was skyrocketing, blood pressure had dropped to alarming levels, and the disease mapping in his brain showed intense activity.

Yoshinori worked frantically to stabilise him.

Jihoon was livid.

“This is fucking insane! He shouldn't be going through this!” Jihoon shouted, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he confronted Hyunsuk and Yoshinori. “I told you this was wrong”.

Hyunsuk kept his stance firm, but his tone was heavy and exhausting.

“Jihoon, we've been over this. It was risky, but he agreed from the start. Yoshinori will stabilise him”.

“Are you blind? Two seizures and he's getting worse”, Jihoon shot back, frustration boiling over. “He trusted you and that damn prophecy, and all you're doing is putting him in more danger!”

Yoshinori, who'd stayed quiet until now, raised his voice — though the emotional weight was clear: “You think this is easy for me? Every decision is calculated, data-based, Jihoon. I'm not doing this out of ego or carelessness. I'm trying to save lives — including his!”

The arguments became constant.

Even Haruto, who shared Jihoon's concern, tried to calm tensions.

“Jihoon-hyung...” Haruto said during one rare moment of peace between them. “I talked to him before. He seemed so sure, like he knew this would work. It was hard to understand why — seeing the future didn't feel like enough to me, but...” he met Jihoon's gaze, brown eyes anxious despite trying to convince himself of his own words. “It was enough for him”.

The tension between them felt like a rope about to snap.

The turning point came when Yoshinori administered the second treatment dose — just as Junghwan began showing signs of improvement. On the first morning of Stage Two, the monitors registered subtle but positive changes. The high fever broke, irregular brain activity stabilised, and his heart rate settled into controlled patterns.

Junghwan's brain mapping, previously lit up in blazing red to mark the disease's spread, now showed clear signs of retreat. The intense red was gradually fading to orange and yellow — proof the critical activity was decreasing.

“It's working...” Yoshinori murmured to himself, almost disbelieving, as he watched the real-time data with watery eyes. He was relieved.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been terrified — if he hadn't cried alone or spent hours rereading every plan to ensure nothing was missed. So yes, he was relieved. Because he'd been scared.

Anyone would have been.

But by the seventh night, Junghwan — though still weak — began responding more actively to stimuli and tests. His breathing grew stronger, his motor reflexes quicker.

Suddenly, the impossible started to feel... possible.

Then, on the tenth day of treatment, the unexpected happened.

Hyunsuk and Jihoon were called to the lab, where Yoshinori waited with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Jihoon blinked, long lashes trembling with relief and pain.

Before they could fully process it — after all the fights and sleepless nights to keep him stable — Junghwan turned to them... standing. Healthy. Jihoon's breath caught.

He looked tired, but fully awake, hands braced on a table for balance. His posture was firm, and his eyes — once dull — now shone with renewed energy.

“You're awake...” Jihoon whispered, eyes wide.

Junghwan gave a serene smile.

“Told you it'd work”.

Hyunsuk gripped Jihoon's shoulder, as if anchoring him to reality. Yoshinori, still by the monitors, just watched — visibly relieved but exhausted after so much work and stress. His vaccine was working.

Junghwan's condition had visibly improved.

Jihoon looked at Yoshinori.

“So...” he felt breathless, questions crowding his mind. He smiled, slightly terrified. “He's in remission? The disease is actually retreating?”

Yoshinori nodded, lips pressed into a smile.

“Yeah, his tests say the disease is in remission and the areas affected by the FLARE...” he muttered, glancing between Hyunsuk and Jihoon “They’ve shrunk. The vaccine is working, Jihoo. I can buy us more time. I can keep him stable — for a long, long time”.

☽ ☾

Junghwan was healthy.

Ever since Yoshinori had discovered the vaccine's effectiveness, the disease that had consumed his body was in remission. Yoshinori, tireless in his vigilance, performed medical evaluations regularly. The data showed solid progress — the disease showed no signs of spreading, and Junghwan seemed stronger every day.

But outside the complex, reality was different.

The vaccine was a significant breakthrough for all of them, but not a definitive solution. Hyunsuk, Jihoon, and Haruto were tasked with vaccinating people who believed in the existence of the disease or were already showing symptoms based on the survey they had done.

Hyunsuk had worked hard with Jisung to help people, share accurate information, and create a safe communication channel between other Koakhs without the government realising they were organising — the president had plans to wipe them out.

He intended to imprison and tame Koakhs with useful powers so they could be used in military wars; the rest would be killed by Seekers and Peacemakers because their abilities and freedom were feared.

Because of that, Hyunsuk had an important job.

He had spent weeks outside the complex, far from his friends, mapping out risk zones, identifying places where government fugitives were hiding. It was always risky to go on a search mission, but he had managed to find a significant number of people to help.

That afternoon, Jihoon walked among the fragile buildings of a once-vibrant community, now taken over by desolation. Hyunsuk was further ahead, explaining the vaccine protocols to a group of adults, while Haruto unloaded thermal boxes from the vehicle.

Jihoon spotted a woman sitting beside an improvised stretcher.

She was holding a small boy in her lap, around five years old, while another, older one, lay down, breathing with difficulty. Two men who seemed to be underground doctors were taking care of the older child.

He approached slowly so as not to scare her, and crouched to her level.

“Mrs. Han?” he asked, his voice calm.

She looked up, her face marked by exhaustion.

“Are you the doctor?”

Jihoon shook his head with a slight smile.

“I’m not a doctor, but I’m here to help you”, he said cautiously, watching the child in the woman’s arms. “I was informed about your case and wanted to talk to you about what we can do for your children”.

The woman turned fully toward him, tightening her hold on her son, her expression torn between fear and urgency:

“About my children? You want to take them like that other man did?”

“No. No!” Jihoon quickly explained. “A friend of mine was recently here, checking if your children were sick. He mentioned a vaccine. Do you remember that?”

The woman nodded, “Yeah. He said they were working on a vaccine for a disease, something about the Koakh’s powers, but...” she looked at Jihoon uncertainly. “That was months ago. He never brought any vaccine”.

She must’ve waited a long, long time.

“I’m sorry you had to wait, but I’m here now, and I’m going to help”.

“You brought the vaccine?” she asked, agitated, gesturing toward her children, especially the one being examined. Jihoon breathed subtly, but heavily. “They need it, both of them!”

He looked at the children.

The boy in her lap seemed fine, unaware of the tension around him, but the older one looked to be in critical condition. Jihoon took a deep breath before answering, “The vaccine can help your younger son, yes. He’s in the first stage of the disease, and the results show it’s effective at stopping it from progressing in these cases...”

Her hope turned into relief, but it vanished quickly as Jihoon kept explaining — Hyunsuk had done enough; they knew everything they needed to know about the people they should help, but there was still no easy way to say this to a mother.

“But… but for your older son...” Jihoo paused, choosing his words carefully. “He’s in the third stage, the disease has already caused a lot of damage. Since it’s a palliative vaccine, it can’t reverse it and might even be dangerous for him. We’re still looking for a viable solution for all stages, something permanent too”.

Her face twisted in despair.

“So there’s nothing you can do? He’s still so young... It’s unfair”.

Jihoon felt the weight of her pain like it was his own.

He reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know this is terrible. It’s still an early trial and we don’t plan on giving up any time soon. We’re still working on finding a permanent cure for all of us, so I promise we’re doing everything we can to save as many lives as possible”.

Tears ran down her face.

“He doesn’t have much time... You need to move faster!”

He wished Yoshinori were there.

He didn’t know how to deal with people.

He was stubborn, always felt awkward and exposed whenever he tried to help with words, but he knew Yoshinori had bigger things to do in the complex — like finding a permanent cure. So he had to focus on doing his part, but it was hard to know what to say:

“We’re going to find the cure for everyone” Jihoon said firmly. “You’re not alone. Keep doing everything you’re doing for him. These doctors are helping keep him stable, and we’ll keep working to guarantee a definitive solution”.

She nodded slowly, trying to hold back her sobs.

Jihoon waited patiently until she calmed down. When he stood up, he saw Haruto and Hyunsuk watching from a distance. Haruto wore a heavy expression while Hyunsuk walked over with a heads-up that the group was ready to go.

Jihoon gave one last look at the woman and her children before turning away, sighing deeply at the thought that soon they might have to come back there — and maybe tell her again that there still wasn’t a permanent cure.

It could be the last time he saw those kids.

“Let’s keep going. We still have a lot of people to vaccinate”.

☽ may 4th, 2031 ☾

Junkyu was in the corner of the room, sitting on a cold metal chair, hands resting on his knees and eyes locked on the concrete floor.

The harsh white light from the lamp above did nothing to soften the space, glaring off the smooth surface of the table where JunHo gestured calmly as he spoke — he had just gotten back from outside.

The voices in the room echoed like they were far away, even though Junkyu was right there. He didn’t feel the weight or the importance of his father’s words like the others did, because honestly, he couldn’t care less about any of it.

JunHo was explaining everything he had found out over the past few weeks — how he’d been creeping through high-risk areas, blending in with refugees to gather info about the bounty that had been placed on Junkyu’s head. The details were spot-on: two squads of ex-marines had been deployed, now scattered across the fields of England.

“There was a rumour a few years back that you were spotted in a foreign country”, JunHo said, adjusting the collar of his coat like that would ease the tension in the air. “But I couldn’t confirm it. I don’t know if they’re still searching over there. And even if those squads are focused on another region, it doesn’t mean we’re safe”.

Junkyu took a deep breath, but it felt like the air didn’t quite make it to his lungs. A dull uncertainty gnawed at him — somewhere between not giving a damn, caring too much about his family, and just wanting to vanish. The only thing that seemed to stick was the fact that as long as he was alive, he was a threat to everyone around him.

That part hadn’t changed.

Even if he couldn’t remember everything, he knew that part of himself was still there. In fact, the weight of his existence had tripled, and now, one wrong move could wipe them out in every possible way.

They were stuck in this endless game with Governor Shin, sick as hell and on the verge of dying — leaving Dahee behind for good.
Nothing had changed.

 “It doesn’t make a difference…” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but his father heard him. JunHo stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes landing on his son’s face, which still hadn’t lifted from the floor.

“What do you mean by that?” Doyoung asked, his voice calm but firm, laced with a hint of worry.

Junkyu finally looked up, but his expression was blank.
He looked exhausted — like he couldn’t take it anymore.

He’d tried to explain it to his brother, how he felt now.

There was a version of him before the removal, and another one after. One before the limbo, and one after. He was a fragmented mess of all those confusing moments that existed and didn’t exist in his mind — moments that made him pull back and run forward all at once. He could feel it under his skin.

Like something was missing.

He didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was made him feel like an intruder in his own body.

Now it was like he belonged to that body, like he’d been trapped in it for a stretch of time he couldn’t even place — some faraway blur that had left him in the dark and was now trying to recover from the loss.

Something was missing, and he could feel it at his fingertips.

“They’ll find me eventually,” he said, with a coldness that made the air in the room even heavier. “And when they do, maybe all this will finally be over. Maybe he’ll leave you guys alone”.

Silence dropped like a storm — thick and suffocating.

JunHo pressed his lips together, fingers brushing the edge of the table as he stared at him. He knew that tone, that look on Junkyu’s face. He remembered all those years on the run, how he’d watched his son grow up wrapped in shadows, like life never meant anything to him.

Junkyu had become cold, distant, calculating.

JunHo was afraid of him.

Afraid because he had watched it happen — watched him turn into someone closed off, indifferent. Afraid because something deep down told him he’d never see his son smile again. And yet, for a brief second, he thought he did. That fifteen-year-old boy who once left home with a bright smile, full of wonder, with kind eyes and a deep, spiritual vibe.

Junkyu didn’t remember any of it, but he looked more like himself now than he ever did in those memories.

Now, ever since he came back from the limbo, JunHo saw it again. The cold version of him — someone who had no interest in life, who was tired of pretending he needed to live. The man he never thought his son would become, but who had been the only version that stuck around long enough.

Even if Dahee tried to see it differently, clinging to hope for all of them, Junkyu was still the same guy he had been in those final years hiding from Governor Shin — even if he was a whole different person now.

“Don’t say that…” JunHo’s voice broke the silence, but he didn’t get up, didn’t step into Junkyu’s space. “It’s not fair for you to say that — not after everything we’ve been through together. So cut it out”.

Junkyu didn’t respond right away. His eyes drifted back to the floor, and for some reason, he wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh loud and clear, so his dad would get just how pointless those words were, how he really was that other person — and no half-assed comfort talk was gonna change that.

It was pathetic, doing this whole thing again.

“Like I said, there’s no confirmed info on where they’re searching right now, but we need a plan,” JunHo went on, circling back to the original point. “Doesn’t matter if Jihoon and his friends think they can keep us safe or if we’re off the grid. They can still track us down. We don’t know what they’re planning or how far they’ll go to find you, so we need an escape route.”

Junkyu stayed quiet.

While JunHo kept talking with the others, laying out next steps and strategies, Junkyu stayed right where he was, his thoughts pulling him deeper into that dark space — the only place he could really shut everything out.

The night felt heavy, wrapped in a silence that seemed to pulse in Junkyu’s ears. He hadn’t been able to sleep — it was like an unbearable emptiness had taken over his mind, leaving him restless.

Every time he tried to close his eyes, the feeling that something was missing hit harder, more suffocating, more desperate. After hours lying there, staring at the ceiling, he realised there was no point in trying anymore. He threw on some random jacket and left the dorm, heading to the rooftop to look at the stars — stars he hated, but missed more than ever before in his life.

The stairs were cold beneath his feet, the air getting colder the higher he went. The building felt deserted at that hour, but when he got close to the hallway that led to the rooftop, the sound of voices caught his attention. He froze the moment he recognised Junghwan and Yoshinori talking in a room with the door slightly open.

“It’s just one possibility”, Yoshinori was saying, his voice low but full of concern. “We can’t take everything you saw as absolute, Hwanie. You said it yourself, you’ve been wrong before”.

“I know!” Junghwan replied, his voice firmer now. “But you have to believe me when I say that this time, it was different. It wasn’t just a flow or a trace — it was their future, hyung”.

Junkyu stepped back, thinking about walking away and heading up to the rooftop like he’d planned — but then, one word stopped him cold: his name.

“Junkyu’s gonna break his heart”, Junghwan said, and Junkyu froze. His body went tense, eyes locked on the door like he could see through it. He stood there, completely still, as Junghwan kept going. “I saw Jihoon stab him with Baikal. I saw... that scarred man, the one you said is the guy looking for him”.

Junkyu furrowed his brow, confused.

He’d heard that before — that Junghwan had seen the future.

He always spoke like Junkyu was some big deal in Jihoon’s life down the line, like a warning sign or something, but Junkyu had never asked about it.

No one had ever told him more.

And now, Junghwan was saying he’d seen Mr. Shin.

“It was cruel, hyung. I’m sure that man was behind it all. There was something brutal in his eyes when Jihoon stabbed Junkyu with Baikal and his body just dropped...”, Junghwan’s voice dropped too, nearly a whisper. “I saw what happened next, with Jihoon”.

“Junghwanie...”

“When Junkyu’s body disappears in that stream, it’s gonna be the end for Jihoon. It’ll be like he got swallowed up by the void”.

Junkyu’s lips parted, shocked.

Junghwan paused before continuing, like the words were too heavy on his tongue: “He’s gonna be destroyed. His life won’t mean anything without Junkyu. I saw it... that emptiness in his eyes. He’ll never bounced back”.

So that was the whole story?

Without realising, he took a step back, the sound of his feet against the floor echoing in the hallway. He turned quickly, almost tripping over his own steps as he moved away so he wouldn't be caught listening.

He didn’t go up to the terrace anymore.

Instead, he went back to the hallway of the dorms, where his room and Jihoon’s were on opposite sides because, honestly, he needed to see him even if he wasn’t physically completely there — a light blinded him.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: this chapter contains: (1) blood (2) street fight (3) execution and (4) sex.

It all happened so fast, he didn’t even have time to blink.

The feeling started as a light tingling, something pulsing at the base of his head, growing quickly — an energy that seemed to have a will of its own, completely detached from what he wanted or needed. The pressure in the air intensified, heavy, suffocating, until everything around him warped. It was like space itself was folding in on itself, like glass shattering into a thousand pieces, distorting everything around him.

The light came abruptly and blinding, not a normal glow, but something that felt alive, constantly moving — like the ocean had turned into light and was pulling him somewhere where the ground no longer existed.

He felt the void.

A deep absence he couldn’t comprehend, floating between dimensions, his own existence unravelling in the process. The air around him became dense, electric, like the universe itself was trying to brand his body with an energy that didn’t belong to him.

The fall was brutal.

Space tore apart around him, the air squeezing tight before launching him back into reality like he was being spat out. When he finally landed, the impact hit so hard it felt like the air in the room bent inwards, crushing everything nearby.

The wild, cutting wind that blew into the room seemed to carry traces of the dimension he’d just left behind. Papers on the desk flew everywhere, scattering across the floor while Junkyu tried to recover from the feeling of being lost in the middle of nowhere.

Inside the room, Jihoon woke up with a start.

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed, heart racing, body still halfway in the dream, the sudden light had shattered. He looked around, searching for an explanation — gun already in hand, like he was always ready for the worst.

When he saw Junkyu’s silhouette, his heart skipped a beat.

“Junkyu-ssi?” his voice came out rough, a mix of surprise and doubt, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Junkyu was standing in the center of the room, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. His blank, distant stare reflected an inner mess he couldn’t process — he remembered what it felt like when he pulled Jihoon in while absorbing his powers: the cold, the fear, the emptiness.

He slowly shook his head, unsure how to explain it even to himself.

Yoshinori had always warned him not to absorb or use other people’s powers, since the disease was degenerative and progressed faster when they did, but sometimes it was just… unavoidable.

He’d felt a trace of Jihoon’s powers but never meant to use them. All he wanted was to confront him — to ask if he’d always known they were just running in circles, meant to end each other’s lives. According to what he’d heard, Junkyu would die by Jihoon’s hands, and Jihoon would be left in pieces.

And mr. Shin would be with them the day Junkyu died.

Unlike what Yoshinori had said — about them not knowing when the disease would finally kill him — they actually knew exactly when and where. It was just… time. They’d always known.

“I don’t know how I got here...” his voice was low, flat.

Jihoon blinked, still trying to shake off the sleep and make sense of the moment, like he was putting together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. There was this vibe that something was off, and he couldn’t shake it:

“Did you... did you open a dimension all the way here?” he asked, hesitant, like testing out a theory that sounded way too far-fetched.

Junkyu shook his head, but his expression was far off, like he wasn’t really there. Like he didn’t even understand. And honestly? He didn’t. He didn’t know how he’d taken them to the limbo last time, and he didn’t know how the hell he’d ended up here now.

He walked, confused, to the window.

His eyes doubled in size.

He was in Seoul.

He recognised the shell and ruins left by the war and by the peacekeepers where the Gyeongbokgung palace used to be — he turned his head, locking eyes with Jihoon, his expression bare and anxious.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” he said firmly. He needed Jihoon to believe him, because Hyunsuk had warned him: if he broke the rules, if he didn’t listen to Yoshinori, he and his parents would have to leave — and he couldn’t abandon them. Not now. Not yet. “I was at the complex... in the hallway. I was heading to your room, but... this happened”.

Jihoon lowered the gun carefully, watching Junkyu’s every move. He looked like a familiar shadow, but there was something off about the way he moved — something that didn’t match the person he used to know.

He took a step forward, more curious than cautious now.

“You used my powers, didn’t you?” Jihoon’s voice carried a mix of uncertainty and realisation, like he was trying to fit one last stubborn piece into a broken puzzle.

Junkyu didn’t answer right away.

He looked lost, struggling to find the words — or whatever was left of his own sanity — but deep down, he knew there was no use denying it.

“Y-I-no- Jihoon... it wasn’t on purpose”, he finally said, snapping out of it. Like a switch. Like he’d just given up the part of him that was still human enough to be alarmed. “It just fucking happened. I think your power hasn’t been fully wrecked by the disease yet, so I probably tapped into it without meaning to”, he stepped back, pulling away from the conversation like he was trying to hide. “... it all happened too fast. I couldn’t stop it”.

Jihoon studied his face, trying to see past the blank expression.

There was something about him, an energy, a weird vibe he couldn’t place.

He frowned, both curious and a little uneasy.

“Are you sure you couldn’t control it?” he asked, the tension in his voice making it clear he wasn’t just talking about the powers — he meant Junkyu’s whole state. “Are you sure?”

Junkyu replied quickly, his voice cold as ice:

“No. It was like a reflex... something my body did without asking. I didn’t mean to do it, I couldn’t stop it”, he stepped even farther back, like being near Jihoon was dangerous. “Believe me or don’t”.

Jihoon watched him in complete silence and surprise.

He still hadn’t decided what to think.

It was like Junkyu was somewhere he didn’t belong, even though everything around him screamed he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“I have to go back…” Junkyu finally said, taking a step toward the door. But he didn’t move any further. Instead, he hesitated, his eyes fixed on the floor for a moment before looking up at Jihoon. “Teach me”.

Jihoon frowned, crossing his arms as he studied him.

“That’s not… come on, man, that’s not how it works!” Jihoon shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Junkyu-ssi. You think this is something you can just learn like… math? It doesn’t work that way”.

“I know. But there’s gotta be a way you can help me go back”, Junkyu admitted, his voice sounding as composed as always, but Jihoon could see the cracks in the mask. “If you can do it, so can I”.

Jihoon sighed, leaning against the wall next to the bed.

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “How were you feeling before you ended up here?” he asked. “What kinda of emotions were running through you? What were you thinking before you accessed my power and opened a dimension?”

Junkyu went quiet for a few seconds, as if he were replaying the moment in his head — it still felt fresh.

“I was…” he blinked, glancing around. He’d been thinking about Jihoon. About the things he’d overheard in secret. “I wanted to talk to you. I think I was feeling pissed off, confused, restless. It was weird… like my fingers were tingling, like something was moving through them…” he looked down at his hands. “It was cold but at the same time, it felt hot. Like burning, but not in a painful way”.

Jihoon stayed silent, listening closely.

“And there was this echo in my head, like I was thinking something but couldn’t figure out what it was,” Junkyu curled his fingers, trying to recapture the feeling. “It was like… like the emptiness I’ve always felt suddenly got filled with something chaotic, something that pulled me in. I don’t know, it didn’t make any sense. One moment I was in the hallway, the next… everything got fuzzy, a light took over, and then... I was here”.

Jihoon watched Junkyu closely, his face remaining neutral, but his tone gave away more than he probably meant it to.

Something had changed.

For a split second, Jihoon felt jealous of Junkyu.

The guy could heal, had come back from the dead after being pierced by Baikal. His parents were alive, his younger brother was healthy — and Jihoon had none of that. His own brother was sick, his mom had died before he got the chance to say goodbye, and his dad had vanished after the MOME facility got raided.

He’d envied Junkyu — right up until he’d found himself pulled toward him. Toward that weird, chaotic energy that made him both irritated and intrigued by his complicated personality. Which led to everything that happened between them — even the weird, disconnected sex.

Then came the disappointment. Realising that his thing for Junkyu had more to do with jealousy and his own inability to accept that Junkyu could survive anything… while Jeongwoo was dying. And now, all that was left was a mess of feelings Jihoon couldn’t explain — and maybe didn’t want to, because nothing he said would change anything.

Nothing would change the fact that Junkyu wasn’t the person Jihoon had imagined.

There was no reason to feel jealous. No reason to hold onto that bitter mix of guilt and resentment that had driven most of what happened between them.

Now… there was just nothing.

Jihoon just wanted him to be gone while he dealt with everything else, while he kept trying to help until they actually found a way to save everyone — without Junkyu’s help. So yeah, he wanted him out.

“… and why did you want to talk to me?”

Junkyu looked at Jihoon, blinking those long lashes.

The question hung in the air like a blade.

Junkyu didn’t answer right away, his gaze shifting away.

“I don’t know…” he lied, and somehow Jihoon knew it was a lie. Still, he didn’t push it.

“I just wanted to talk to you, and then all this happened and now I’m here. And if Yoshinori finds out, it’s gonna be bad for my parents. I don’t care what happens to me, but if you kick them out…” Junkyu pressed his lips together.

Jihoon and the others didn’t know it, but JunHo was scared.

He was watching for signs of mr. Shin’s men everywhere — it was like an obsession. And it was clear he was getting more and more anxious, because this was the kind of atmosphere they were used to: always running, always hiding. But Junkyu couldn’t let things go wrong. If they got kicked out, Doyoung wouldn’t be safe.

He didn’t know when the illness would hit, but it would.

And they couldn’t afford to be on the move when it happened.

That’s why they needed Yoshinori.

That was the only reason Junkyu was trying to keep his head down — because he wanted to make sure Doyoung got treated the moment the illness kicked in. He knew it was coming, one way or another — and this was the best shot they had.

And JunHo was still healthy. For now.

That was the only reason — just that. If it weren't for that tiny obstacle, Junkyu would’ve left already, or maybe even turned himself in to Mr. Shin willingly, 'cause he was dying anyway.

“I can take you back, but...” Jihoon muttered, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. “If I do that, there's a chance you'll end up absorbing me again. And according to Yoshi, that’s not exactly ideal... you're...” he stared at Junkyu. “Sick. It’ll make you worse-”

“I don’t care. Just take me back”.

But Yoshinori was very clear. He said that at Junkyu’s current stage, he could die faster than any of them because the LIMBO had triggered some kind of acceleration effect on his body — the disease was always moving faster in him, and opening a rift was risky as hell.

The fact that he’d managed to open a rift just to find Jihoon was already worrying. If Jihoon took him back, it would use way more energy — and way more power than Junkyu could handle now. Jihoon might end up killing him during the trip, ‘cause his power would be wrapped all around Junkyu in its rawest form. There’d be no way to hold it back.

“I...” Jihoon gave a bitter smile, more at himself than at Junkyu. He couldn’t believe that, after everything, he had to be the one to go easy on him and try to make him see the obvious. “I don’t wanna kill you, Junkyu-ssi”.

Junkyu looked at Jihoon, startled.

His head throbbed, and he clenched his jaw to keep from groaning.

He didn’t know why, but every time he got near Jihoon, something seemed to push him in his direction. Like a damn fridge magnet he just couldn’t peel off. And whenever he tried to fight it, move the opposite way, this annoying pain would hit.

Something he couldn’t name haunted him, whispering Jihoon’s name in his ears. That’s why it was so damn hard to sleep at night — because he couldn’t shut off that feeling crawling under his skin, the sweat on his neck, the twitching eyes and oversensitive fingers whenever his mind forced him to think of Park Jihoon.

Junkyu hated it.

He hated the gaps, the feeling of emptiness and loss.

He hated looking at Jihoon and feeling... longing.

“You can’t kill me...” Junkyu whispered.

He balled his fists, staring at Jihoon with those brown eyes that didn’t always seem like his — eyes that always looked like they were searching for something he couldn’t quite remember admiring — Jihoon.

It was always Jihoon.

“Not yet. Not now”, he went on. “I know that. I know it’s gonna happen, but not yet. There’s still too much left, right?”

Jihoon frowned, “What are you talking about?”

Junkyu rolled his eyes, annoyed. And in pain.

“I already know. I heard Junghwan and Yoshinori talking”, he said, voice more bitter now. “I heard them talking about my death, Jihoon”.

Jihoon gave a blank nod, “And what do you think you heard?”

Junkyu let out a pissed-off smile, biting his lip before replying:

“How you’ll stabbed me with Baikal. Junghwan saw it in your future... my death”, he tilted his head. That was the Junkyu Jihoon knew best. The cold and distant one, the one who locked his emotions away and didn’t give a damn. Who didn’t care about living or dying. The one who woke up beside him almost every morning, until he was replaced by the Junkyu who looked at Jihoon like he was seeing him for the first time. “You're the one who’s gonna kill me”.

It was true.

If Junghwan was right... Jihoon would kill Junkyu.

“It’s not the illness. Or opening a dimension. It's not that man... it’s you, Jihoon. You’re the one who’s gonna let me go, so...” Junkyu smiled, shrugging. “So why don’t you just tell me when it’s gonna happen?”

Jihoon stepped away from the wall.

He’d known for a long time.

Even before finding Junkyu on that mountain, he already knew he’d be the one behind his death. That’s why he freaked out when he stabbed him with Baikal, and why he got so confused when Junkyu came back — because Junghwan had seen it happen, and no one could survive a cut from that sword. But Junkyu had.

It all started to make sense once they uncovered the truth.

Junkyu had survived Baikal because he was powered up by Doyoung and JunHo’s abilities — because he’d mutated so deeply that his reproductive cells and mirror cells kept dragging him back to life... but he was sick.

The first time he got pierced by Baikal, he was still protected by the power boost he got from amplifying others. But after limbo, everything changed, and now there was a scar on his palm — left by the blue blade in one cruel, painful test.

So Junghwan had been right.

Jihoon would kill Junkyu... sometime soon.

“So you... know everything?”

Junkyu nodded.

Jihoon tilted his head, watching him, “You sure about that?”

He looked sure, but Jihoon had to ask. He needed to know exactly what Junkyu had overheard, how much had gotten into his head — enough for him to unconsciously tear open a breach straight to Jihoon. He had to be sure before confirming anything else.

Junkyu’s brown eyes looked a little lost.

“I heard...”, he whispered, confused by his own words. It was like he didn’t even know how to feel the meaning of what he knew. “He said you’d be... Junghwan...” Junkyu blinked, staring at his own hands.

Sometimes Jihoon wondered if he even recognized himself all the time.

Ever since he saw him use OBLO, Jihoon had a feeling Junkyu’s fragmentation ran way deeper than anyone thought — that there was way more hiding under the surface, and that sometimes Junkyu didn’t even recognise himself.

He always looked at his hands when he didn’t know something he was supposed to know, like the back of his hand. Like... when their first kiss had been. Or when they fought because Junkyu didn’t wanna admit to Jihoon he was scared of his own damn existence.

“I’ll be shattered...” Jihoon finished for him, watching closely. “When you're gone... according to Junghwan’s vision, when you die, my whole world falls apart. We'll be healthy and safe, we’ll have saved so many people, but...”

“But you’ll be shattered when I die”, Junkyu nodded, suddenly remembering Junghwan’s words. He clenched his fingers tightly, staring at Jihoon. “... but why? That’s what I wanted to ask you — why? Why will my death destroy you?”

Jihoon had seen it too.

Back then, it felt like a living nightmare.

He remembered seeing Junkyu run, remembered the man with the scar — the one they now knew was Governor Shin. He could still feel the rain on his skin, the cold, the tears streaming down his face, and the jolt through his body when Junkyu was impaled by his sword — by his soul.

It was still a vivid memory.

A never-ending nightmare.

“You don’t have to worry about your parents”.

That wasn’t the answer Junkyu had been expecting. But Junghwan hadn’t seen that part, so Jihoon didn’t really know why. He had his guesses, but no real explanation.

“I’ll take responsibility for you, and I’ll make sure you stay safe until we’re back at the compound. Yoshinori will understand”.

Junkyu looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t — Jihoon had already disappeared right before his eyes, the same way he’d suddenly shown up, taking with him the answer to what had been eating Junkyu alive.

He stood frozen, staring at the now-empty room.

☽ may 11th, 2031 ☾

Junkyu hated it.

The constant hotel hopping — this was the third one already — was wearing him down. He felt trapped, isolated in that stuffy room.

The tension between him and the others was still unbearable, especially with Hyunsuk and Haruto, who made it very clear in every gesture and looked that they didn’t want him there.

He was lying on the bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the door open. Jihoon rushed in, tossing a beat-up backpack onto the tiny couch in the corner.

He looked wrecked — shoulders slumped, hair sweaty and a mess. When he turned to shut the door behind him, Junkyu spotted a dark bruise on his temple and a fresh cut just above his left eyebrow.

Junkyu sat up, frowning.

“What the hell happened to you?”

His voice was direct, but not cold.

Jihoon flinched, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

He let out a sigh and didn’t even look at Junkyu as he checked the cooler boxes, making sure they had the right number for the next medical visit sector — if not, he’d have to head back to the compound, and he was done wasting time.

“Did you check the temps like I asked?”

Junkyu tucked his hair behind his ears and nodded.

“Shit. I’m gonna have to go back”, Jihoon muttered, rubbing his temples while digging through the backpack to load the new syringes into their secure compartments. “You’re gonna have to wait before we head out”.

Junkyu shifted, sitting on his knees. “Alright. But what about your face?”

“What about it?” Jihoon shot back.

“You’ve got blood on your face. And your temple’s busted”.

Jihoon let out a bitter laugh, “And how exactly is that your problem?”

Junkyu stared at him in silence but didn’t say anything.

He took a deep breath, swallowing the urge to argue.

The past few days have been suffocating.

There was no space for him outside that room, and even if he wanted to go, they wouldn’t let him join the vaccine runs. So all he had was time — time to stew in his thoughts and disappointments. And he hated the way he’d been feeling since their last conversation.

He still didn’t understand why Jihoon would be shattered by his death, and he wanted to find out.

He didn’t like guessing, didn’t like making up fake narratives.

He knew his only shot at the truth was that man.

“Where’s the first aid kit?”

Jihoon finally looked at him — neutral expression, but eyes so worn out they were teetering on the edge of collapse.

“Didn’t you hear me? You don’t have to worry about me. Just go back to whatever-”

“I didn’t ask if I had to”, Junkyu cut him off, pausing his search and turning to look at him dead-on. “Just… where’s the damn kit?”

Jihoon didn’t answer at first, just studied him with that calculating stare — like he was trying to figure out if Junkyu had some hidden motive for showing concern.

Eventually, he pointed to a drawer near the bed, saying nothing else.

Junkyu grabbed the small white box and came back to the bed.

Jihoon had already sat down, leaning forward and rubbing the back of his neck. Up close, the injuries were more visible: on top of the cut and the bruise on his temple, he had scratches along the side of his neck and a tear in his shirt sleeve, exposing a nasty scrape on his arm.

“… what kinda mess did you guys get into today?” Junkyu asked while opening the kit. He tried to keep his tone even, but something about Jihoon’s state messed with him — a mix of unease and worry he couldn’t shake even if he tried.

Another feeling he hated.

That mess in his head every time he thought about Jihoon.

It was like he knew something about him that he technically didn’t.

Jihoon just shrugged.

“The usual. Idiots who think the government’s got it right, who can’t wait to see us blow up from the inside out…”

Without asking, Junkyu soaked a gauze pad with antiseptic and moved closer. Jihoon flinched slightly, but not enough to pull away from the cold press of Junkyu’s fingers.

“Hold still!” Junkyu snapped, firmer now. “Or this’ll get infected, and you won’t die blowing up — you’ll die from a dumb cut”.

They didn’t have access to all the tech they needed to take care of each other outside the compound. It was too risky to walk around with interfaces or nanobots since ID AIs made sure only government facilities had that kind of care — yet another way to keep everyone hostage. So they had to be careful.

Outside the compound, they only had the basics.

And in the world they lived in, infections could kill you just as fast as a bullet. Jihoon pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed, but let him do it.

He turned his gaze to the window while Junkyu cleaned the cut on his brow. Every time the gauze touched his skin, Jihoon winced just a bit, but didn’t complain — even when Junkyu pressed harder to test his theory.

“What really happened?” Junkyu asked again, eyes now on the wound on Jihoon’s arm. He picked up tweezers to pull out small shards of glass.

“I thought you guys had full control over the vaccine zones. Didn’t Hyunsuk spend months mapping everything out so this kind of crap wouldn’t happen?”

Jihoon kept staring out the window.

Junkyu clenched his jaw.

“Is shutting down and ignoring me your fix for everything now?”

Jihoon finally looked at him, his face hard.

“And why the hell should I tell you anything?”

Junkyu shrugged.

“I dunno. Maybe ‘cause I’m elbow-deep in your blood right now. Least you could do is distract me”.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost choking.

But instead of biting back, Junkyu just kept going. He cleaned the scratches, applied ointment to the bruise, and wrapped Jihoon’s arm with practised ease — just like Yoshinori had taught him — without another word.

When he was done, he stepped back, arms crossed, eyes on Jihoon.

“There. Now you can go back to pretending I don’t exist for everyone’s sake — at least you’re not gonna die of some stupid infection”.

Jihoon glanced up at him, and for a split second, something different flickered in his eyes — a glimpse of exhaustion.

“… Thanks!” he said, almost under his breath.

Junkyu shrugged again, irritation creeping up his spine.

“Next time, try not to get yourself killed out there. I’m not your damn nurse”.

☽ ☾

The flea market was buzzing, as usual.

The narrow aisles were packed with underground vendors and rushed customers. Jihoon carried the backpack full of vaccines while his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, always on alert.

Next to him, Haruto walked silently, his expression serious — like he was way older than he actually was. Sometimes, Jihoon wondered if they shouldn't send him off to stay with the refugees Jisung was helping — at least there, he might get a chance to live outside the bubble that constantly forced him to act like he carried the weight of the world.

At the same time, he was afraid. He’d rather keep Haruto close enough to always be there when he needed him. So he stayed trapped between letting him live freely and forcing him to survive in a hostile environment that constantly tried to crush him.

“Hyung...” Haruto called for Jihoon, glancing at the device strapped to his wrist. “Is it cool if I dip for a few hours? I need to check on... something important”, he said cautiously, stopping mid-walk. Jihoon raised a brow at him. “A friend of mine is supposed to be in this zone, I wanted to give the vaccine to his sister. But he's kinda... paranoid. I wanted to go see them”.

Jihoon pressed his lips together.

He wished Haruto and the other younger ones could just act like regular teens — live what little life they were given and behave like everyone else still pretending the world hadn’t turned upside down. But he couldn’t ask them.

Not knowing everything they knew.

He nodded, though unnecessary detours weren’t exactly his thing.

“Go ahead,” he said, adjusting the strap of his backpack before gesturing. “But be careful. And be back before curfew!”

Haruto hesitated for a beat but then nodded.

“Got it. I’ll meet you at the hotel”.

They split paths, Haruto disappearing quickly into the crowd. Jihoon, on the other hand, walked toward the hotel, his mind already locked on the task ahead. It was a habit he’d always had: never leaving traces. Every space they stayed in was thoroughly swept and cleared before they left.

That’s how they never got caught.

One slip, one trace left behind, and the peacekeepers or smugglers would’ve found them ages ago.

Once he got to the hotel, Jihoon made his way down the narrow hallway to the room they were using. He pushed the door open — it creaked faintly — and stepped inside. The late afternoon light spilt through the half-drawn curtains, lighting up the dusty corners of the small room.

He got to work immediately, stashing scattered items and checking the trash piles for anything that could ID them. He was so focused, for a second, he totally forgot Junkyu was even in the room.

The soft, uneven sound made him pause.

He lifted his eyes toward the bed and saw Junkyu.

The other was lying down, hair messy over his damp forehead, his face twisted in pain — like he was scared or something. Jihoon frowned, dropping the bag on the floor and taking a hesitant step closer.

Junkyu was mumbling at something.

The words were low, barely audible, but the language was clearly foreign. Jihoon — despite not being all that invested in Junkyu’s whole secret drama — activated the interface on his wristband, holding it close for a better translation.

‘Don’t touch him... he’s mine... give him back...’

The words were weird, disjointed, and Jihoon couldn’t begin to guess what they meant. But the tone in Junkyu’s voice carried a kind of anguish Jihoon had never seen in him before. He sighed, frustrated:

“Hey, wake up...” he murmured. “It’s alright, it’s just a dream”, Jihoon said, touching Junkyu’s shoulder gently. “Ya, Junkyu-ssi. Wake up!”

He shook him a bit harder, and Junkyu gasped, snapping his eyes open.

He coughed, sitting up quickly like he was thrown off by something Jihoon couldn’t name — and then, like a jolt of awareness hit him, he inhaled deeply and looked at Jihoon. The fear vanished from his face.

He realised he was out of the nightmare.

Before Jihoon could step back or say anything, Junkyu moved toward him. One hand grabbed the front of Jihoon’s shirt, yanking him close. And Jihoon, just as lost as Junkyu had been waking up, tried to pull away, startled.

But Junkyu held him in place.

The kiss was sudden and rough — like lightning tearing through a clear sky. Jihoon froze, eyes wide, while Junkyu seemed totally caught up in the moment.

It started awkward, more tension than tenderness, but it quickly turned into something deeper. Jihoon felt a mess of emotions — shock, confusion, and something he refused to name because he was set on hating him.

His instincts screamed at him to push Junkyu away, but his body didn’t listen. And when Junkyu’s fingers slid to the back of his neck, pressing gently like he wanted to keep him close — right there — Jihoon gave in to the heat of his touch, the intensity of his lips.

Then, with one sharp tug, Junkyu threw him off balance, making Jihoon fall onto the bed. Junkyu moved fast, climbing into his lap, eyes locked on his, an unreadable spark flickering in his gaze — like he hadn’t really seen him in forever.

Jihoon parted his lips, maybe to ask why, but nothing came out. Junkyu didn’t say a word either. He just looked at him, a quick smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before leaning in again.

He hesitated for a split second, then instinct took over — Jihoon’s hand shot up, gripping the back of Junkyu’s neck tightly, holding him there as the kiss deepened, messy and hot between ragged breaths and pounding hearts. He could feel the warmth of Junkyu’s skin, a stark contrast to the usual coldness he carried.

Time felt like it warped while they touched.

Junkyu’s fingers slid along Jihoon’s jawline, tracing invisible patterns down to his shoulders and anchoring there like he needed the contact to stay grounded. Jihoon, in turn, let his hands drift to Junkyu’s waist, gripping with a mix of need and uncertainty.

There was something raw in how their bodies met, like every touch was both a comfort and a burden.

The kiss got deeper, and Jihoon felt a wave of something he couldn’t explain — maybe longing, or the guilt he refused to name but clung to him like a parasite. He wanted all of Junkyu for himself.

His smiles, his rage. But most of all — his powers.

He grabbed Junkyu’s waist and, in a bolder move, let his hands slide down to the firm curve of his ass. The grip was strong, deliberate, pulling a low, raspy sound from Junkyu’s throat that echoed between them like a shared secret.

Their breathing turned uneven, small noises slipping out like they were being torn from deep inside. The friction between their bodies, even through layers of clothes, felt almost unbearable in its intensity.

Every move was loaded with a tension that was right on the edge of uncontrollable — almost feral in the middle of all the chaos that moment meant for both of them. Jihoon and Junkyu should not have been doing this, should not have been giving in to their bodies’ messed-up needs, should not have been anywhere near each other like this.

Junkyu pulled back just enough to meet Jihoon’s eyes, lips red and swollen, his breath uneven. He looked like he was searching for something in him — maybe permission, maybe a reason to keep going.

“… did you miss me?” he whispered.

Jihoon, his gaze clouded and mind in turmoil, said nothing.

Doubt and clarity coexisted on his face, the contrast so sharp Junkyu could almost reach out and grab it. But he did nothing — didn’t even press him to just admit it. Partly because he felt the same, and partly because it didn’t matter.

Without looking away, Junkyu slowly pulled his own shirt up, revealing his skin and the faint scars that had grown more pronounced since the disease progressed after limbo. The motion was deliberate, almost provocative, and Jihoon felt his pulse spike in response. He wasn’t sure what scared him more — Junkyu’s unexpected vulnerability or what it meant for them.

Either way, it dragged Jihoon somewhere he’d been afraid of, somewhere he’d tried to run from ever since realising they were going nowhere with that whole miracle prophecy nonsense. Somewhere, he wanted Junkyu.

He wanted Junkyu, desperately, for everything he didn’t have.

And it was awful. Unfair. Yet it was tiny in the mess of touches, sounds, and the raw desperation on Junkyu’s face — begging Jihoon to do something, to remind him what it felt like to be in his arms one last time before they snapped back to reality.

Jihoon hooked an arm around Junkyu’s waist, flipping him onto the bed effortlessly. He nudged Junkyu’s legs apart with his knees—the sight of him sprawled out, skin flushed under the dim light, was enough to send Jihoon’s thoughts spiralling into what he’d avoided for months.

Junkyu shifted beneath him, legs falling open in silent invitation, and Jihoon’s breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t fight the hunger, or how his hands seemed to remember exactly how Junkyu liked it as he slid fingers into him without shame between messy kisses.

“Jihoon…” Junkyu whined, gripping the back of his neck.

He nodded frantically when Jihoon’s fingers moved faster, breath hitching as he clung to his arms — scratched, pulled, blunt nails digging into sweat-slick skin.

“More… I want more!”

And for a split second, Jihoon wondered who the hell would say no? Sure, he knew every damn problem between them, knew exactly where things had gone wrong — but right then, lust and withdrawal screamed louder than logic.

So with a quiet shift, Jihoon kissed Junkyu’s cheeks, hot lips grazing flushed skin, before tightening his grip on Junkyu’s jaw, forcing his mouth open. Junkyu’s breath came in shallow pants, tongue peeking out as he waited — until the fingers that had been inside him pressed into his mouth instead, squeezing his tongue.

Jihoon smirked, expression dark with hunger.

“You like it messy, don’t you?” he murmured, low and taunting. Not waiting for an answer, he pulled his fingers free, sucking Junkyu’s tongue into his own mouth.

The wet sounds of their kiss filled the room, spit mixing and dripping down their chins, messy and heated.

“God, you’re so-” Jihoon bit out impatiently, his free hand swiping Junkyu’s chin clean only to lick the wetness off his own thumb with a grin.

Junkyu shuddered at the sight, breath stuttering.

He didn’t know if it was disgusting or — no, hot, judging by how his cock twitched against Jihoon’s thigh.

“Jihoon-ssi…” he whimpered, but words failed him, his mind too hazy with want to form a coherent thought.

Jihoon — ever obedient — didn’t reply. He just pulled his fingers free, spat between them, and pushed back in. The slickness only amplified the filthy, wet sounds filling the dark room, frantic and almost painful.

Junkyu’s body arched with a soft, needy moan, teeth sinking into his lip.

The taste of his own spit mixed with sweat and arousal left Jihoon burning, and he didn’t care if he looked desperate.

Not now. Maybe later. But not yet.

Jihoon gritted his teeth at the way Junkyu’s back bowed, the way his legs shook when Jihoon finally bottomed out—his thighs clamping around Jihoon’s hips, nails raking his shoulders in a desperate grip, every nerve in his body alight.

“Fuck…” Junkyu hissed, head slamming back into the pillow, thoughts spinning like Jihoon hadn’t wrecked him this exact way before — rough and impatient.

Jihoon’s hands framed Junkyu’s head, but his thumbs brushed his temples, almost tender in a way he’d never allow otherwise. He watched him for a second — writhing, lips parted, skin damp and red.

The look on Junkyu’s face made Jihoon laugh, the sound warm and rich, before he finally rolled his hips, a smirk twisting his lips as a low groan escaped him. The motion tore a long, broken sigh from Junkyu too.

Jihoon stared down at him in the faint light slipping through the curtains, their breaths heavy, bodies tangled like the world outside didn’t exist. His fingers traced Junkyu’s collarbones slowly, memorising every dip, every flaw.

The movement pulled a long sign out of Junkyu too.

Jihoon looked at him under the soft light slipping through the gap in the curtains, both breathing heavily, their bodies tangled like the world outside didn’t matter. His fingers traced slowly along Junkyu’s collarbone, memorising every detail, every tiny flaw on his skin.

Tomorrow, he knew, the consequences would come — the questions that had never been asked, the judgmental looks, because they both had their reasons to hate each other in that moment.

But right now, with Junkyu staring back at him with eyes that seemed to see more than Jihoon was ready to admit, he decided he could be reckless — just this once.

Tomorrow could wait.

Chapter Text

☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა WARNING: there’s an almost fight at the end of the chapter. Nothing too serious, but some people prefer things a little less intense.

The rhythmic sound of the punching bag being hit filled the small gym inside the compound. Jihoon had barely taken off his music transmitters since returning from Busan. The images from the last few days still flashed through his mind — the expressions of despair, the race against time to vaccinate as many people as possible, and the constant weight of decisions that always felt wrong, no matter how hard he tried.

Especially the ones involving Junkyu.

His thoughts kept drifting back to him.

To the way they had kissed.

To the vivid memory of every touch, every sound, their mouths, the heat of their skin. The way they fell asleep. And how he had woken up with Junkyu by his side, sleeping like he was safe as long as Jihoon was there — and how horrible it was to realise what he had done.

His punches grew faster, harder, until the door suddenly slammed open. Yoshinori walked in without warning, his face twisted in a fury that Jihoon rarely saw.

“You’ve completely lost your mind?” Yoshinori’s voice was low, but the intensity made Jihoon stop. He turned off the transmitters, the music in his head going silent, and turned to face his friend.

“What now?” he asked, licking his lips.

Yoshinori let out a bitter laugh, gesturing as he pulled up a hologram in front of Jihoon, the data from a recent analysis blinking clearly — something Jihoon instantly recognised.

“Junkyu. His levels! You know what this means?”

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat.

He licked his lips again, searching for words as his eyes scanned the image. Yoshinori had made damn sure he knew how to read the obvious signs when it came to Junkyu and his powers, so Jihoon could immediately identify the power-generating cells that were way more active than they should’ve been.

He could lie.

He didn’t want to talk about it.

Not just because he’d let it happen, but because Yoshinori had listened to him rant about how something was off with Junkyu — his behavior, the way he acted sometimes, like he was more than one person at once.

So yeah, Jihoon could lie. Because he didn’t want to admit it.

He didn’t want to go through that conversation again. Didn’t want to regret, once again, crossing a line he’d drawn himself. He had made it very clear he wanted to stay away from Junkyu, to hate him from a distance for wasting their time. But he’d messed up. Just a little.

And he couldn’t accept it.

“It could be a coincidence…” Jihoon started, but Yoshinori’s expression shut him up instantly.

“Coincidence?” he laughed. “Don’t treat me like an idiot, Jihoon. How long were you alone with him? Because the only plausible reason for the amount of energy he absorbed is that you spent a hell of a lot of time together!” he snapped. “So I’ll ask just once: what the hell did you do?”

Silence dropped between them like a wall.

Jihoon knew he was caught.

He took a deep breath and answered, “We… I slept with him”.

Yoshi dragged both hands down his face — frustration, disbelief — then pointed at Jihoon but said nothing for a moment. He finally exhaled and, in a serious tone, said:

“Do you get what that means?” he narrowed his eyes. “Junkyu’s sick, Jihoon. His brain is literally being eaten by that disease, and being stuck in the limbo only sped it up. There’s no way to predict it, no way to stop it. And after everything I told everyone — after I explicitly told you to keep your distance — you decided to fuck him like this?”

Jihoon opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head.

“He’s dying, Jihoon!” Yoshinori shouted again, exasperated with Jihoon’s lack of control. They’d talked about this so many times. Junkyu had been isolated most of the time, barely saw his dad or brother, and Jihoon had still decided to throw himself at him.

“Do you even understand what this data means? His body is so overloaded, the reproductive cells are completely maxed out!”

“I know I messed up!” Jihoon defended himself, even though he knew there was no excuse. The guilt was obvious in his voice. “I tried to avoid it, okay? You know how I feel and…” he shrugged. “Shit. I’m sorry, Yoshi. I don’t even know what the hell happened-”

“Did he use OLBO on you?”

No.

Junkyu hadn’t used any of his powers to force him.

Jihoon had just woken him up from a heavy sleep and… things happened. He shook his head, biting his lower lip.

“Then why’d you sleep with him?” Yoshinori’s voice was sharp, almost pissed. “I can’t wrap my damn head around it. After all that hate you claimed to feel — you still went and screwed the one person you were supposed to stay the fuck away from. He’s a goddamn vortex, Jihoon. Junkyu absorbed so much power, his body might not even survive it”.

Jihoon blinked, stunned.

He knew that was a risk. That getting too close could trigger Junkyu’s powers and then everything could go to hell. All the work Yoshinori had done to stabilise him — just enough to give him some quality of life in the middle of that chaos — had gone down the drain.

Jihoon had done that.

He lost control.

He caused it all.

“… we know this…” Yoshinori gestured. “You and him — it’s inevitable. Junghwan already saw it. We know how the future plays out and somehow, you’re walking straight into the exact mess we’re trying to avoid. But…” the doctor pressed his lips tightly. “I’m still trying to find a way through this that doesn’t end with someone dying. Including him, Jihoon”.

Junkyu was going to die.

Not because of the disease or the amount of power he’d end up absorbing — keeping him at a distance was one of the only strategies Yoshinori was still trying to make work — but because Jihoon would stab him with Baikal, and maybe, the acceleration caused by the limbo would make it impossible for him to survive the wounds.

He had a scar on the palm of his hand.

There were small scars scattered across his body now, because he was sick, and his body was struggling to regenerate. So maybe that was the catalyst for the future. The unchanging prison they’d lived in for five long years in the limbo, the acceleration of his condition, and the aggressive progression of the disease. Maybe that was it.

Junkyu was going to die.

And Jihoon was helping him get there.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jihoon. We need each other and, when Jeongwoo wakes up, he’s going to need his brother, so...” Yoshi let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “You’ve got to give me time to change what’s coming, because if Junghwan is right — if Junkyu’s death destroys you — then we won’t be able to bring you back”.

It was selfish and cruel.

To be more worried about losing Jihoon when they knew Junkyu would die. But at that moment, it was all they had. They had to try and make sure that part of the future, at least that part, didn’t play out that way. And to do that, Junkyu needed to be strong enough — just barely — to survive Baikal.

That’s all Yoshinori wanted.

To save his friends. To save the people who needed saving.

And to make sure Jihoon didn’t vanish into his own pain.

“I’m trying to save both of you...” Yoshinori muttered, pulling the hologram back into his wristband. He looked at Jihoon before continuing, carefully, “Just give me a little more time to keep him strong enough to make it through what’s coming. So please — you’ve got to start thinking about what’s best for everyone, not just what you want”.

Jihoon didn’t say anything.

He looked away, staring at the punching bag like it held some kind of answer. But he knew there wasn’t an easy one.

All that was left was guilt, burning in his chest like a constant reminder that, once again, his actions came with a high price.

☽ 23, august 2031 ☾

The flickering yellow light blinked in and out in the hallway as hurried footsteps echoed off the walls. The atmosphere was tense, voices overlapping as commands were issued by the central interface. Inside the med room, Yoshinori was frantically adjusting charts and numbers on the holograms floating around him.

“Junghwan’s levels are tanking”, he said, directing his words to Jihoon and Hyunsuk, who were standing beside him while he worked without even pausing to breathe. “The vaccine’s losing effectiveness way faster than we expected. We’ve got less than 48 hours before we need to give him another dose — so I’m gonna need your full cooperation”.

Jihoon folded his arms, jaw clenched.

“I thought we had... months. What the hell happened?”

“I told you it was unpredictable”, Yoshinori replied, eyes still locked on the data. “His exposure to the system, the nanobots, the communication interfaces... it could all be screwing with how the vaccine works in his body. It’s like his system’s rejecting the compound altogether. We need a new protocol, and fast”.

Hyunsuk frowned.

“What about the other test subjects? If Junghwan’s crashing like this, there might be more in the same boat”.

Yoshinori nodded, hitting a button on the table to trigger an emergency call. A hologram of Jisung flickered to life in the middle of the room.

“Did you get the data?” he asked, leaning over the table.

Jisung nodded firmly, eyes serious.

“Good. Then you know we’re on a timer again. I need an updated list of everyone who got the first round of the vaccine in Busan. We have no idea how many could be going through the same thing as Junghwan”.

Jisung blinked on the screen, his voice replying with precision.

“I’ve compiled all the data I had access to since we last spoke. The preliminary analysis shows a general drop in efficiency rates — anywhere between 12% and 15% over the last 72 hours. The full list will be ready in five minutes…”

“Perfect”, Yoshinori said. He turned to Hyunsuk. “Get the lab prepped to refine the formula. We can’t afford to waste time with the body this close to crashing again”.

While the others headed out to handle their tasks, Yoshinori stayed behind for a few moments. He took a deep breath, knowing he had another difficult conversation ahead. After some hesitation, he walked into a side room where Junkyu was sitting, eyes blank, his expression hollow.
It felt like he was always the bearer of bad news when it came to Junkyu.

Junkyu furrowed his brows.

“So...” he muttered cautiously, like he was trying to carefully pick his words. “Does this mean it’s not working the way you hoped?”

“Not exactly. It’s just... not lasting as long as I wanted it to”, Yoshinori replied, trying to keep his tone steady. “Some of the test subjects started showing unexpected resistance after the first six cycles, so now the effects are all over the place”.

Junkyu nodded slowly, processing.

“Is it my fault?” he asked. Yoshinori didn’t know. It was written all over his face — he couldn’t say for sure if it was something tied to Junkyu’s DNA or just another random mutation like so many others. “Why am I in acceleration mode? Why is the disease progressing faster in me?”

“No. The samples I used were taken before you went into the limbo, so technically, they’re untouched by any space-time alterations. I think what’s happening now has more to do with changes in the environment. The atmosphere’s mutation, caused by those years of chemical modifications, it’s not just messing with the test subjects, but the vaccine formula itself. It’s like the environment keeps throwing in new variables on a loop. The samples we used were stable. Now they’re reacting totally differently”.

He paused before continuing.

“But I’ll need to collect new samples of your genetic material. I know it was a painful process, and I get how serious it is to ask you to go through that again, but I need to understand how your cells have evolved. Comparing the old samples to the new ones might give me the data I need to tweak the formula and make it more resistant to these environmental shifts”.

Junkyu blinked, still looking distant, detached.

“And if the new samples are... worthless?”

Yoshinori offered a faint smile.

“Then they’re worthless. But that doesn’t mean I won’t learn something. You’re sick now, Junkyu, yeah — but your power, and how your body generates it — that’s one of a kind”.

Before Junkyu could reply or ask anything else about the situation — because with them, it always felt like they were living at the edge of something: some new crisis, some blood test — the door slid open with a low hiss. Hyunsuk stepped in, looking clearly on edge.

He stopped when he saw Junkyu.

Then turned back to Yoshinori, “We need you in the lab. Now”, he said, voice tight with urgency. “The preliminary analysis from the subject Jisung vaccinated just came in. Some are showing signs of total rejection of the vaccine compound, and he spotted something weird in the atmospheric data from the southwest sector”.

Yoshinori gave a quick nod, adjusting his glasses as he headed for the door. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Junkyu.

“Think about what I said. This time, it’s your choice. I’ll come back and talk to you later”.

With that, he left, Hyunsuk right behind him, leaving Junkyu alone with his thoughts — his feelings held at a distance, though some small parts of him still felt a flicker of concern for Doyoung.

And, just like his thoughts, the sensation crept into his fingertips, fast. Just like it had that one moment with Junghwan, or when he’d slept with Jihoon and felt him filling every inch of his body with life.

He could feel the texture of Hyunsuk’s power settling under his skin, a subtle static buzzing in the back of his mind before it became very real to his hypersensitive ears. With one deep breath, the power sank into his stomach like it had always been there.

Junkyu already knew.

He hadn’t told Yoshinori yet, but he knew his powers were slipping.

Like something was triggering them — without his saying, without full awareness. And he felt full, like something was feeding him from the inside, bloating him until it felt unbearable.

Like he was going to explode.

Any minute now.

Junkyu could feel it.

He was going to explode soon.

That same night, Junkyu went to Yoshinori.

He didn’t need time to think — he just agreed. And even though he didn’t want to be reckless, Yoshinori got everything ready.

The collection room was cold and sterile, with white walls that seemed to swallow up every last bit of sound. Bright white lights lit the place without casting any shadows, and the air was tightly controlled to prevent any kind of contamination. At the center of the room stood an adjustable exam table positioned under a complex-looking machine that gave off a soft, mechanical hum.

At first glance, the room looked like a cross between a high-end research lab and a surgical bay. Every detail had been designed with precision and safety in mind. Junkyu had once asked Yoshinori about it, and he’d given a rushed answer — something about Jihoon’s dad building the space to keep them safe.

Junkyu lay on the table, his body secured by padded restraints to prevent any sudden movements. Thin cables were connected to his chest and wrists, tracking every vital sign in real time through his medical AI.

Yoshinori stood beside him, dressed head-to-toe in a sterile surgical suit. A mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his focused, alert eyes visible. He was fine-tuning the machine’s final parameters, scanning through the holographic data floating around the exam table.

On the other side of the reinforced glass, Junkyu’s parents and younger brother, Doyoung, watched in silence — their faces a mix of concern and quiet frustration at having to see him go through this all over again.

Heide, the AI assigned to monitor Junkyu, kept tabs on every variable in real time, ready to flag even the slightest anomaly the second it appeared.

Yoshinori finally broke the silence, speaking directly to Junkyu.

“It’s all set. It’s gonna be a bit more invasive than last time, but Heide will handle the sedatives to make sure you stay comfortable. Just try to relax”.

Junkyu gave a faint nod.

Then Yoshinori triggered the collection protocol.

The machine projected ultra-thin, laser-guided needles that lined up with pre-marked spots on Junkyu’s body — specifically around his lower back and shoulder blades, where the most active stem cells were clustered due to the mutation.

The precision was flawless.

Every insertion was tracked and adjusted in real time by Heide, leaving no room for error.

The procedure took just over an hour. The silence in the room was only broken by the soft hum of the equipment and the quiet beeping of the vitals monitor. When it was done, the needles gently retracted, depositing the extracted material into sealed compartments for immediate analysis.

Yoshinori double-checked the data one last time before signalling the system to safely collect and store everything.

As for Junkyu, he slowly began to wake up.

His eyes fluttered against the harsh lights. His body felt heavy, and there was a dull ache in the collection sites — especially in his lower back. A deep, lingering discomfort pulsed inside him, like something had been pulled out from way too deep — not painful enough to be unbearable, but definitely there. And impossible to ignore.

It was different from the first time.

The first time, Junkyu felt like only his mind had changed. There wasn’t much physical pain — just something invisible. Now, though, the pain felt real and heavy, something he could actually point to.

“You feeling alright?” Yoshinori asked. “Heide, give me a current condition report, please. Check pain levels too...” the bracelet around Junkyu’s wrist blinked blue, and Heide’s voice responded right on cue. “I’m enabling the extra care protocol — it’ll ease the pain levels”.

Yoshinori double-checked his vitals again before continuing.

“The extraction was a success. I want you to rest a little longer before we move you back to housing. In the meantime, I’ll start analysing the changes in the new samples today…”

Junkyu tried to speak, but Yoshinori gently placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know he didn’t need to push himself.

“Just rest for now. Your body needs a few hours to bounce back”.

Yoshinori left the room shortly after, pulling off the surgical gear before walking over to Junkyu’s parents and his younger brother, Doyoung. Junkyu’s mother stepped forward, worry written all over her face.

“Is he okay?” Dahee asked. Yoshinori had been keeping them at a distance — partly because Doyoung and JunHo had abilities that Junkyu could absorb, and partly because it was standard protocol.

After all, he was Subject Zero.

“Can we see him?”

Yoshinori shook his head.

“He’s stable. But no, you can’t see him. I need to keep him that way. Besides...” he glanced at JunHo and Doyoung. “You two can’t have contact with him. I’m sorry. I promise this will be over soon”.

“But are you sure he’s okay? Last time-”

“Last time, I had to do the extraction while removing the genetic alterations,” Yoshinori interrupted, knowing exactly where that conversation was headed. “That’s why he lost his memories. This time, it was only a marrow extraction”.

He cut Doyoung off before he could dig further.

 They were worried — and worried people tend to be unpredictable.

“His memory’s intact. Junkyu just needs some time to rest.”

Doyoung gave a slow nod, while their mother looked slightly relieved, even if still uneasy. Yoshinori rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I know this situation sucks, and I know you’re scared, but I’m still trying. And Junkyu’s a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. So please, take care of yourself too. You need rest just as much as he does”.

They nodded quietly, and Yoshinori locked the room down under strict access protocol — just to make sure no one ignored the “no contact” rule — and with a quick wave, he disappeared down the hallway, heading straight to his research center.

He didn’t have time to waste.

☽ 26, august, 2031 ☾

The past three days had been intense for Yoshinori, who—already used to this kind of routine — had barely left the lab. A floating hologram hovered in front of him, displaying an endless stream of genetic sequences and data from Junkyu’s samples.

He had spent all that time sharpening the system’s precision to dig deep into the samples — comparing data from before and after Junkyu had been exposed to Jihoon’s power.

And honestly? The difference was way more noticeable — and way more complex — than he’d expected. Now, there were brand-new abilities active. Some were popping up like totally unexpected anomalies.

What caught his eye the most was the faint presence of a sequence the system labelled as "Hyunsuk."

And that was wild, because Yoshinori had been sure Hyunsuk would be the one person to keep his distance.

So that could only mean one thing: Junkyu’s power was expanding.

Hyunsuk had been several meters away — and still, Junkyu had absorbed him, even if just barely. During those three minutes, they shared the same environment, and it had been enough. The system recognised it as new because Junkyu had never shown signs of that power before.

But what really caught Yoshinori's attention was how Jihoon’s power was behaving.

Back when they’d returned from Busan, he had spotted unusually high traces of Jihoon’s energy in Junkyu’s biological system, but the cells weren’t merging like they used to. During the first test, they’d multiply, take root, then show up everywhere. Now, that same sequence was isolated in a very specific part of Junkyu’s system — like it was trying to stay put.

Like a built-in safety protocol.

Yoshinori rubbed his tired eyes just as the interface broke his train of thought with a soft ping. A brand-new genetic protocol has just been detected in Junkyu’s samples.

The system tagged it as unknown.

“What do you mean, unknown...?” he muttered, eyebrows furrowed.

He quickly adjusted the parameters and had the interface track the original source of that biological system. But there was no match in the entire database — which made zero sense. Unless the source was someone like Junkyu or his family, who had undergone heavy modification and weren’t even in the government records. A ghost. A blacklisted subject.

“MARGO, expand the search to the integrated net,” he ordered, hoping some broken fragment of info would show up. When nothing came back, he let out a slow breath. “Switch to the sub-network under stealth protocol. Scan for anything tied to this genetic signature”.

The hologram lit up with a tangled mess of encrypted data — but the outcome was the same: No records found.

He scratched his chin, thinking.

“Try locating any genetic anchor point we can use. Something that links this system to any known pattern…” he said.

The interface complied, cross-referencing Junkyu’s data with legal, underground, and even historical gene banks. After several minutes of analysis, the result popped up again — clear and annoyingly final: Unknown.

“How the hell is that even possible?”

Before he could ask MARGO to try a different scan, the system notified him that Haruto was on his way. Yoshinori turned just as the door slid open.

He smiled faintly at the young man.

“Heading out?”

Haruto nodded.

“Mr. Kim’s coming with me this time. We’re meeting up with Jisung in Busan to check on the test subjects that showed vaccine rejection. He reported two cases got worse pretty fast”.

Yoshinori nodded, his mind still tangled up in the bizarre data he’d found: “Got it. Keep me posted if anything shifts. I’ll be here digging through Junkyu’s samples. Something about this... doesn’t add up”.

Haruto gave him a slightly worried glance, but didn’t push.

He was one of the few who never did.

“You got it. And hey — don’t burn yourself out. We need you sharp”.

With a small nod, Haruto left, leaving Yoshinori alone again with his screens and the mystery that just kept deepening. There was something off about that unknown protocol. Something wasn’t being said — and he was damn sure he was going to find out what.

Junkyu was lying on his bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, when he heard a faint whisper in the back of his mind — barely audible, but urgent. A signal, pulling him for some reason to go see Jihoon.

It was relentless, like the tide dragging him out to sea. Without thinking, he got up, and before he could even question the logic of it all, he reached out, focusing on the place he needed to be.

The air around him warped like cracked glass.

A vortex of energy opened in front of him — what Jihoon called a gravitational rift. A portal capable of instantly transporting him anywhere he wanted. It tore open with a burst of energy and blinding blue light. He didn’t care about consequences or how much energy it would cost — he just let the urgency take over and stepped in.

He emerged in the training center.

Jihoon was mid-punch, fists wrapped tight, sweat rolling down his skin.

The force of Junkyu’s arrival threw him off-balance, his punch going wide and smacking the edge of the bag’s support, making it swing hard.

He let out a grunt, pain flashing through his hand as his wrist twisted awkwardly. “What the hell…?” Jihoon turned, his confusion quickly giving way to annoyance when he saw Junkyu standing there, breathless, eyes glowing. “Are you out of your damn mind? What are you doing here? I told you-”

Before he could finish, Junkyu lunged forward, grabbing the back of Jihoon’s neck and kissing him.

It was desperate, messy, and full of a longing so raw it almost had a sound. Jihoon tried to resist, pushing against him with whatever strength he had left through the pain and chaos.

“What the fuck!” Jihoon managed to shove him back, eyes locking onto his face, twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. That faraway look, like some part of Junkyu had checked out. “What the hell’s wrong with you? The more power you use... the more you absorb... the faster-”

His words were cut off by the sudden blare of alarms.

The lights in the facility flashed deep red as MARGO’s robotic voice echoed through the halls: “Invasion protocol triggered. Unknown biological system detected. Threat level: CRITICAL”.

Red lights pulsed through the ceiling panels, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Security holograms lit up every surface, showing schematics of the building and the areas now in lockdown.

Doors slammed shut with magnetic seals, locking down access.

“Jeongwoo...”

Before Jihoon could say more, he vanished — his own gravitational rift opening and pulling him through.

He reappeared in the suspension chamber, where his younger brother lay in stasis. The room was untouched, but Jihoon dashed to the control panel beside the tank to check his vitals.

Stable. But Jihoon’s breath was still shallow and fast.

Junkyu’s rift opened behind him. He stepped through, his eyes hard with resolve. But before either of them could speak, the facility’s defence system kicked in, showing two unknown figures moving through the corridors.

One of them had JunHo at gunpoint.

Junkyu’s eyes burned with fury.

“Junkyu, wait!” Jihoon shouted, reaching out — but it was too late. Junkyu vanished in a flash, his rift snapping shut behind him.

Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut. “Idiot,” he muttered, fists clenching as the chaos unfolded around him — sirens, alarms, and flashing holograms creating a war zone out of the facility. He knew this wasn’t going to end well.

The east hallway looked like the opening scene of a full-blown firefight.

The sirens kept pulsing, bathing the metal walls in red. In the center, two men moved with precision. One of them — tall, dark-haired, with a sharp glint in his eyes and a dangerously calm face — held a gun pressed to JunHo’s head.

Behind them, Haruto was being forced forward by a sickly-looking man. Pale, almost translucent skin, stiff movements — like a human puppet being yanked on invisible strings.

Suddenly, the air warped again.

A black vortex tore open, sucking in all nearby light.

Junkyu stepped out, his face twisted in rage. He didn’t need to ask questions. His gaze snapped straight to the dark-haired man holding a gun to his father’s head.

His jaw clenched.

Sparks of energy crackled around him.

The dark-haired man didn’t flinch. In fact, a cold smile curled across his lips. “Interesting…” he muttered, calmly adjusting his aim.

But before Junkyu could process his thoughts — before he could act — his body locked up. Completely frozen.

Muscles seized, like invisible wires were holding him in place.

His breath came short and shallow. He tried to move his hands — nothing. The energy that once surged through his veins had gone silent, leaving behind only a crushing void.

His eyes widened in disbelief, rage building like wildfire.

It felt like being trapped in a waking nightmare, like his body wasn’t his anymore. His mind fogged over, as if something was sitting on his skull, pressing down until he couldn’t think straight.

Then came a dry snap of sound.

Jihoon stepped into the far end of the corridor, gun in hand.

And suddenly, Doyoung appeared — running through the chaos.

His eyes went wide as he took in the scene.

He froze when he saw the dark-haired man collapsed on the floor, writhing. Something about him felt... familiar.

But the real shock came when the second man — blond hair, sharp eyes, cool expression — looked right at him and smiled.

“Hello…” he said, his voice echoing through the corridor, hitting Doyoung’s sensitive ears like a whisper just for him. “Sakaguchi Kento. I’ve been looking for you”.