Chapter 30

When consciousness returned, Myeong-joo was roused by voices murmuring nearby. Two men were conversing, and their cadences sounded startlingly familiar.

“Instructor, I told you it is freezing outside.”

“However cold Gangnam gets is nothing. I have never felt cold south of the Ari River.”

“Stop being so stubborn.”

A youthful cadet shook his head in fond exasperation. He possessed a striking, handsome face—Lee Yi-tan at roughly eighteen years of age. Myeong-joo blinked blankly in disbelief, wondering if he was caught in a vivid dream. It was clearer than any memory of the past, sharper even than the motion pictures he had watched at the Great Han Cinema with Myeong-in before his regression.

“In any case, that is enough walking for today. I told you the weather is bitter, yet you insist on wandering about.”

“A nag at home, and a nag here as well. All I ever get fed is scolding! Hey, Yi-tan, your instructor’s belly is about to burst from all your nagging. Care to see for yourself?”

“Where do you think you are baring your chest?! Do you know how many Aberrant scoundrels pass through here? You must refrain from drawing the attention of those thickheads.”

“Yes, you are quite the big man, are you not? A mere youngster talking back to his elder… Speaking plainly, what if I want to strip to get friendly with another Aberrant? Why are you meddling?”

Unaware that Myeong-joo was observing them, the two looked only at each other. There stood Yi-tan with a noticeably boyish countenance, and before him stood a man with long hair. Looking closely, Myeong-joo realized the long-haired man was none other than himself.

The reason he had not recognized himself immediately was the pale scar slashing across his left eyelid, leaving the eye milky and blind like that of a cataract patient. Leaning upon a wooden crutch, the man looked exhausted, yet his expression was strangely cheerful. Despite hollow shadows beneath his eyes and an orthopedic brace strapped around one knee, a warm smile rested upon his lips.

Recognizing his own face, Myeong-joo realized instinctively that he was witnessing a memory from their first life prior to the regression. It was not a logical deduction, but an intuitive certainty, allowing him to perceive the past life of which he held no conscious recollection.

“Another Aberrant? As if. You could never do such a thing, Instructor.”

The smiling man bore countless faint traces of old trauma; the hand gripping the crutch was crisscrossed with fine scars as though dragged through briars. Startled by the cadet’s derisive tone, Myeong-joo turned to look at the boy, surprised because Yi-tan was never one to speak with such biting sarcasm.

“Even now, you tremble all over just holding hands with me.”

Young Yi-tan stared at Cha Myeong-joo with an impatient, petulant expression, his eyes smoldering with a distinct fire. Myeong-joo could tell it was hurt and resentment, yet he was astonished, having never seen Lee Yi-tan express his emotions with such raw candor.

So he was capable of wearing such an expression…

Young Yi-tan did not appear immature, yet the vibrant impetuousness of youth gave him an undeniable vitality. He was like a silk tree whose leaves grew sturdier and more resilient after a drenching summer downpour. The more Yi-tan laid bare his unvarnished feelings, the more refreshing he seemed, which Myeong-joo found endlessly wondrous. By contrast, Myeong-joo, who lived concealing his true self, always felt as murky and damp as a den of vipers.

“And what other Aberrant are you talking about? The Aberrant paired with the Instructor is me, Lee Yi-tan.”

“…”

No response followed. Having never seen Yi-tan flare up in anger like that, Myeong-joo watched him in stunned silence before finally taking in his own unfamiliar reflection.

Cha Myeong-joo, whose one eye was clouded and who looked as though standing upright on two legs was an agonizing ordeal, offered no answer to the cadet’s outburst. As if long accustomed to that wall of silence, Yi-tan clicked his tongue in fed-up frustration and turned on his heel. His back was rigidly straight in his polished combat boots. He strode away without looking back.

Myeong-joo’s gaze followed the departing cadet, then swung back toward the crippled man on crutches.

And in that moment, Myeong-joo froze entirely.

“…”

Left alone after Yi-tan departed, the long-haired Cha Myeong-joo stood with his face burning crimson. Exhaling a soundless sigh, he watched the boy’s retreating silhouette, then hung his head low. He rubbed his face with his free hand, stole another furtive glance in Yi-tan’s direction, and lowered his head even deeper to hide his expression. His ears were flushed bright red.

The instant Myeong-joo beheld that posture, lightning struck his consciousness: That miserable fool is in love with his own student.

“I know you are there, Instructor.”

“…”

“I knew you would never leave me behind… that you could never abandon this disciple.”

“You used to scold me, praise me when I did well, and cherish me so dearly…”

A dry laugh escaped him. Within that bizarre dream, Myeong-joo could only chuckle bitterly as he recalled the words Yi-tan had spoken to him in the stairwell. With what reverence and adoration the younger man had remembered his instructor! Yet in truth, that instructor had shamelessly harbored a secret, one-sided devotion for his youthful student.

It was sickening. Whether before or after regression, his unrequited love remained equally gloomy, clinging, and pitiful. Cha Myeong-joo glared at the foolish man on crutches as if mocking himself.

Even after turning back time, Lee Yi-tan clearly had never realized what a cowardly simpleton his instructor truly was. The Cha Myeong-joo he described had been a magnificent soldier and an upright mentor… but behold his true nature. Myeong-joo could declare with absolute certainty: that one-eyed cripple was engaged in the exact same pathetic love. A foolish man who loved a young Aberrant who looked up to him without knowing anything, blushing and stealing furtive glances at his departing back. That was Cha Myeong-joo before regression, and that was Cha Myeong-joo today.

Myeong-joo mocked Lee Yi-tan for being so thoroughly deceived, for ridiculing the officer was the same as ridiculing himself.

The dream shattered there.

***

He opened his eyes in the waking world: an acoustic tile ceiling, an incandescent bulb casting stark light, an olive-drab blanket covering his chest, and a bespectacled man who appeared to be a medical officer standing near the foot of the bed.

“Instructor, are you feeling all right?” Yi-tan asked with deep concern.

Then he saw the man who had once been his brother-in-law looking down at him with an anxious expression. The iron collar and chains were gone; though dried blood caked his cheek, his striking features were undiminished. Even in this condition, finding himself immediately checking whether Yi-tan was safely out of his rampage was so absurd that Myeong-joo let out a dry, self-deprecating scoff.

“You are truly a fool.”

He could not suppress the sharp remark. A shadow of perplexity flickered across Yi-tan’s affectionate eyes, but Myeong-joo closed his own again, wishing to shut out the world.

“I am fine,” Myeong-joo muttered, turning his face away. “I will recover if I sleep longer, so please do not wake me, Lieutenant.”

Because I loathe myself far too much to face anyone right now.

He swallowed those unspoken words back down. Though he felt someone’s persistent gaze lingering over his closed eyelids, he refused to open them.

Myeong-joo was bone-weary. Unlike when he received his terminal diagnosis and felt merely numb, a deep, suffocating exhaustion settled upon his spirit now.

Yes, you pathetic fool Cha Myeong-joo. Wherever you exist, you are merely mold festering beneath Lee Yi-tan’s shadow. What else could you ever amount to?

Shrouding himself in self-loathing instead of the blanket, he sank into deep slumber. This time, no dreams came to disturb him, which was a welcome mercy.

After perhaps three more hours of sleep, Myeong-joo was roused by nearby voices, opening his eyes only to confront a thoroughly unwelcome face.

“Ah, you are finally awake,” Lee Yi-ho remarked with a broad grin.

Lee Yi-ho seemed entirely oblivious to how deeply repulsive his presence was to someone just waking, or he would never have smiled with such smug cheer. Yi-tan was nowhere in sight, and the medical officer had vacated the room. Myeong-joo exhaled a heavy sigh, but Yi-ho remained undaunted, leaning casually against the bedpost.

“I told you to pace yourself, did I not?” Yi-ho chuckled.

“…What brings you here?”

The blunt question made it clear the visit was entirely unwelcome. Lee Yi-ho wore his formal dress uniform, and beside him stood that arrogant captain from the bunker. Looking down at Myeong-joo with an insolent smirk, the captain’s overbearing posture was a grating sight. He had raised such hell during the emergency because he was Yi-ho’s lackey all along. Only now did the jeering soldiers in the bunker make complete sense.

Prior to the regression, Yi-tan had been a seasoned commander with a family of his own, a towering tree deeply rooted in the armed forces. By contrast, the current Yi-tan was only twenty-one years old, far from having established an unshakeable foothold. In his previous life around this time, Yi-tan had likely accepted remaining a Second Lieutenant to avoid provoking the Army Chief of Staff, who doted upon his out-of-wedlock son.

Though Myeong-joo did not know the intricate details, the Chief of Staff was undoubtedly still backing Lee Yi-ho. That the half-brother was already a field-grade officer while Yi-tan remained a Second Lieutenant was largely by the Chief of Staff’s design. While Yi-tan commanded an elite platoon of peerless combatants, Yi-ho oversaw a full battalion with multiple attached detachments. Before the regression, Yi-ho’s battalion had behaved insolently under the Chief of Staff’s protection. That captain and the jeering soldiers in the bunker surely belonged to that unit. They had flaunted their arrogance until their faction abruptly fell from grace, though Myeong-joo had already left the army by then and knew little of the specifics.

“So, how was it, trying your hand at harmonization?” Yi-ho asked, subtle anticipation shining in his eyes.

Unsure what answer the man was fishing for, Myeong-joo stared at him with cold detachment. “How was what? More importantly, where has the medical officer gone?”

Yi-ho urged with an oily chuckle, “Come now, indulge me a little. What did it feel like when you channeled your harmonization? Did you not feel blocked, constricted, or uncomfortably stifled?”

The only thing stifling was his cursed misfortune of seeing this scoundrel’s face the moment he opened his eyes. Myeong-joo turned his head away in disdain, yet Yi-ho persisted relentlessly. Uncertain of what the man was scheming, Myeong-joo grew increasingly wary, deciding to probe his motives before answering.

“And what if I did?”

“Really?! How was it? How suffocating was it, eh?”

Sure enough, the reaction was bizarre. Lee Yi-ho had been grinning with undisguised anticipation, but under Myeong-joo’s unblinking stare, he coughed dryly and took an awkward step back.

“Come now, you are about to become family, so shouldn’t this officer look out for you? I am only curious, that is all. Just curious.”

“Major, haven’t you left for the day?” a cool voice cut in.

The question came from an entirely unexpected direction. As Lee Yi-ho whipped around in shock, Myeong-joo caught sight of Lee Yi-tan stepping into the infirmary. He was drying his damp hair with a towel, an unlit cigarette resting between his lips. Having changed out of his blood-soaked fatigues, he now wore a dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, paired with tailored trousers.