Chapter 8

　　I squeezed my eyes shut. Everything that had happened in this world flashed behind my eyelids like a highlight reel. The first day I saw Seongjae again. Me, knowing full well it was a dream but still being so deliriously happy I didn’t know what to do with myself. The sheer joy of attending the same university as my brother.

　　The gay couple I’d spotted while waiting for Seongjae in the library. Walking into the bathroom and stumbling upon two guys going at it. Catching a heated kiss between two handsome classmates I’d genuinely just wanted to be bros with…

　　Somewhere along the line, my memories had definitely taken a bizarre detour, but the final destination was always Seongjae’s bright, smiling face.

　　You know… I was really happy to see you smile again.

　　Every night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep properly. I was terrified that if I drifted off, I’d wake up and this dream would end.

　　I knew that if I woke up, I’d open my eyes alone in my cramped apartment, staring up at the yellowed water stains on the ceiling.

　　I’d have to face a reality without Seongjae, entirely on my own.

　　And I couldn’t endure that.

　　There were plenty of moments while reading those gay romance novels where reality would hit me like a ton of bricks, and I’d want to hurl my phone across the room. But I always pulled myself together and kept reading anyway. Because every time I finished a volume, it felt like I was granting Seongjae’s final wishes, one by one.

　　Because as your useless, pathetic older brother—it was the only thing I could still do for you now that you were gone.

　　But it was probably time to wake up now. I knew that. Dreams couldn’t last forever. Eventually, I’d have to snap out of it and go back to the daily grind.

　　They say there are five stages of grief when accepting death.

　　Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

　　Denying the fact that they’re gone. Screaming in anger, asking the universe why it had to be them out of everyone else. Begging for just one more chance, then spiraling into depression when you realize it’s impossible. And finally, accepting it. The five stages of loss.

　　For the three years I spent reading BL, I hadn’t needed to face those five stages. As long as I was reading, I didn’t have to properly mourn Seongjae. By carrying out his dying wishes, I could just follow the tracks he’d left behind.

　　But after finishing the very last novel—volume 1,321—an exhaustion crashed over me like a tidal wave, suffocating me.

　　Do you know why I’ve been dreaming for so long, Seongjae?

　　Maybe if you swallow a massive handful of sleeping pills all at once, you just end up sleeping this long.

　　But you don’t die? I guess if I’m still dreaming, I’m just in a really deep sleep. Living isn’t easy. But dying isn’t easy, either.

　　When I first heard the news that our parents had abandoned us and jumped into the Han River, I swore an oath. No matter what happened, I would be the one person who would never leave you behind.

　　But after you were gone… after I’d fulfilled every last one of your final wishes…

　　I couldn’t find a single reason to keep living.

　　Still, it was okay. I got to see you. Maybe that’s why you let me see you like this, even if it was only in a dream—so you could tell me not to die.

　　If I lived on, if I survived somehow… maybe a day would come when I’d have this dream again.

　　Even if it was just an illusion, I’d get to meet you again.

　　You always find a way to make me keep going. My precious little brother. My beloved little brother.

　　My little brother who I kind of resent for leaving me behind.

　　It was time to wake up. When I opened my eyes, I’d wash my face, eat something, and go to work.

　　I would live.

　　So if I’m going to do that, you have to visit my dreams sometimes, okay?

　　I love you, Seongjae.

　　I finally opened my eyes. Through a blurred, tear-filled vision, Junghyun’s indistinct face came into view. Even with my focus wavering and everything hazy, I could clearly tell how completely flustered he was.

　　"Taewoon, why are you crying? Hey. Don’t cry."

　　Junghyun’s fingers fumbled as he wiped at the corners of my eyes. His skin was scorching. My tears should have been warmer, yet his touch felt entirely too hot against my face. Maybe he was just the type whose body ran warm. Knowing this was the end, my brain was churning out the most useless thoughts.

　　"Junghyun. You say it first."

　　"Say what?"

　　"What you wanted to hear from me. You say it."

　　Tell me this is all a dream, so wake up now. Say it.

　　Like a prisoner waiting for his sentence to be read, I lowered my head.

　　TAP, TAP, TAP.

　　After three strikes of the gavel, I’d wake up.

　　"Taewoon, you…"

　　TAP.

　　"Ha… Yeah. No matter how much I think about it, that has to be it."

　　TAP.

　　"You have amnesia, don’t you?"

　　TAP…

　　Wait. What?

　　"Excuse me?"

　　My head snapped up. Completely derailed, I could only stare blankly at his handsome face. Junghyun, utterly misreading the situation, grabbed my shoulders tight and shook me.

　　"You got into an accident, but you thought the medical bills were a waste of money so you skipped going to the hospital, didn’t you? Did you smash your head into a utility pole or something? You idiot. If you hit your head, you should’ve gone to the ER immediately—or at least called me!"

　　If I had amnesia, how the hell would I remember to call you, asshole?

　　"When was it? Oh—was it that time? The day of the freshman welcome party? Did you get drunk, stumble down the street, and slam into a pole? I knew I should’ve checked on you more carefully. You were acting weird that day."

　　As I watched Junghyun standing there, writing a whole fanfiction in his head and convincing himself it was real, I thought:

　　This bastard is prime real estate for scammers.

　　What good was having money? One slick scam call and a hundred-thousand-dollar bank account would turn into a hundred-thousand-dollar overdraft in the blink of an eye. I made a mental note to show him that public service announcement from the National Police Agency: Dreamdol’s Smart Police Life—Watch Out for Phishing Scams!

　　"Uh, y-yeah. I think I fell that day. No—I definitely fell. And ever since then, I can’t really remember the little things."

　　"I knew it…! Come on, we’re going to the hospital right now."

　　Without warning, Junghyun grabbed my wrist and tried to haul me out the door. I dug my heels in and shook my head frantically.

　　"No! I already went. The doctor said my memory would come back gradually. He told me there isn’t really anything they can do for amnesia at the hospital anyway. He said time is the only cure."

　　That was the generic line doctors always fed the protective tops in amnesia romance novels. I had no idea if it would actually work in practice.

　　"Really? Whew… Well, thank god it’ll come back eventually."

　　Holy shit, that actually worked?

　　Even if they were just trashy romance novels about gay guys hooking up, a book was still a book, I guess. They really came in handy sometimes.

　　Thank you, dear author—master of classic, comforting tropes and amnesia plots. Seongjae was such a massive fan he owned all seventeen of your published works.

　　After silently sending my gratitude to a BL novelist whose face I’d never even seen, I patted Junghyun on the back.

　　"But I remember everything important! I can function totally normally, so don’t worry too much."

　　At that, Junghyun stared at me for a long moment before parting his lips. A low, soft voice slipped out.

　　"What about me?"

　　"Huh?"

　　"Do you remember me?"

　　I was completely speechless, unable to form a single syllable. Maybe my silence was answer enough, because Junghyun swallowed a bitter smile and jerked his chin toward the street.

　　"Come on. Let’s go make something to eat before Seongjae gets here."

　　As he walked ahead, the line of his shoulders looked impossibly lonely. Without even realizing what I was doing, I reached out and caught his sleeve.

　　"Hm? What is it?"

　　The bitterness from a moment ago had vanished. He looked over his shoulder, wearing that same sweet smile again. I spoke to him, my voice tight with desperation.

　　"Don’t tell Seongjae."

　　"Of course… I wouldn’t."

　　Only after hearing that gentle reassurance was I able to calm my racing heart. I didn’t care what anyone else thought, but the absolute last thing I wanted was to make Seongjae worry.

* * *

　　Junghyun’s place really was only a five-minute walk away. It was a penthouse in the largest building of an ultra-luxury condo complex in Hannam-dong.

　　It was the kind of real estate that made your jaw drop. I’d been overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the building from the outside, but the interior practically oozed wealth. It looked like the set of a high-budget television drama. One entire wall of the sprawling living room was floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a panoramic view of the Han River flowing below.

　　Tucked off to the side was a sleek staircase leading to a second floor. Without even bothering to count, I could tell the place had to have at least five bedrooms.

　　"What are you—some third-generation chaebol heir or something?"

　　"You can’t even remember that much?" Junghyun laughed, pulling a bottle from a massive, built-in wine cellar.

　　He has one of those in his house? It was the exact brand of wine fridge my old bar manager used to foam at the mouth over. Because of that, I knew the retail price. It was astronomically expensive.

　　The vintage he pulled from that fridge looked just as pricey. Thanks to my long stint working at a dive bar, I was intimately familiar with every cheap, budget brand of liquor on the market. If this label wasn’t in my mental database, it had to run for at least over a hundred bucks a pop.

　　Junghyun brought over two delicate wine glasses, took a seat on the sprawling sofa, and smiled, gesturing toward me as I stood there like an idiot.

　　"Don’t just hover until your legs hurt. Sit down."

　　I shuffled over and carefully parked my humble ass on the very edge of the cushions. Holy shit. It was unbelievably soft. Even through the stiff fabric of my pants, I could feel the ridiculous plushness of the velvet.

　　While I was busy marveling at the upholstery, Junghyun set a glass in front of me and began to pour. Watching that deep crimson liquid stream out, my mouth practically watered on instinct.

　　How much was each sip worth? My entire day’s wages? Or way more?

　　"My father really is a chaebol chairman."

　　While I was completely distracted by the alcohol, Junghyun smiled and answered my earlier question. Of course he is. If he wasn’t, wealth on this scale would be impossible.

　　I nodded, gingerly picking up the crystal glass by the stem. The thought that this single serving might be worth my entire weekly paycheck back in the real world made my hand tremble. I took a slow sip. It tasted like a sprawling French vineyard blooming right on my tongue.

　　Granted, that was just my imagination. I’d never actually been to France. I had no idea what their vineyards looked like.

　　Wow. This is seriously good.

　　I took another sip, rolling it over my tongue to savor the notes—when Junghyun casually dropped his next sentence.

　　"And my mother was his mistress."

　　PFFT—!

　　My daily wages violently sprayed all over a sofa worth my annual salary.