RTN 06

Baek Ihyeon said nothing.
His dark eyes looked down at me in silence.

I met his familiar yet strangely distant gaze without turning away. My heart pounded uneasily. A mix of longing and fear churned inside me until I could no longer tell what I felt.

Finally, Baek Ihyeon spoke.

“Why are you protecting me?”

It took me a moment to understand what he meant. My face instantly flushed.
For all my resolve, he had seen right through me so easily—it was ridiculous.

And then I realized that this emotion, too, had shown plainly on my face.

“With a pitiful face like that, who’d believe you just mistook me for someone else? You’re not suddenly scared of lying now, so what’s your angle?”

“I don’t have an angle. None.”

“You think if you claim to know me, I’ll be treated like an outsider too, and my position will drop?”

He hit the mark so precisely that I had nothing to say.
I rubbed my cheek with the back of my hand; it felt hot.

“Your face is red. Is that part of the act, too?”

“It’s not,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

“Why are you worrying about me? Trying to look more like a friend while pretending to care?”

“Don’t ask if you’re not going to believe me anyway.”

Baek Ihyeon looked at me quietly, then reached out to the side. I flinched instinctively. But his hand only pulled open a nearby metal drawer.

He took out a small container and scooped a generous amount of blue gel with his fingers. Then he knelt down on one knee before me.

“You said you can see status windows.”

Before I could react, he grabbed my foot. Supporting my heel with one hand, he rubbed the gel over my swollen ankle.

The cold sting made me jerk my leg, but he held it firmly in place.
After finishing one ankle, he moved to the other.

“As you probably know, those who can see status windows are rare. Whether you really can will soon be verified, and your fate decided by the results. So I won’t discuss it further here.”

As the gel spread, a cool sensation eased the throbbing in my ankle.
Only then did I notice how red my wrists and ankles were—marks left from struggling not to be dragged onto the experimental table.

I’d thought they were going to dissect me alive, but aside from being changed into a thin white dress, nothing else had been done.

In the trash bin nearby were bloodstained and filthy clothes—mine. My pajamas, to be exact.

I had logged into a game from home, then a flash of light—and I’d lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was inside the Gate.

“What I want to know is who’s behind you.”

Baek Ihyeon stood. He scooped out more gel and took my wrist this time.
His hand was gentle and dry. As the gel was absorbed, the swelling faded almost instantly.

I stared not at my wrist, but at his hand touching it, and muttered,

“There’s no one behind me.”

“I suspect you’re a spy. You’re far too different from ordinary outsiders.”

“I don’t even know what an ordinary outsider is supposed to be. Are you saying I’m working with someone else, pretending to be your friend?”

It was so absurd I couldn’t even get angry. I looked up from his hand rubbing my wrist.

Just then, there was a metallic click near my hand. I glanced down, but before I could see, Baek Ihyeon spoke.

“You have no connection to the Order?”

“The Order? What’s that?”

He didn’t answer—just stared quietly at me.

“I don’t know what kind of Order you’re talking about. Some religion? I’m not religious.”

“Most outsiders come here by dying. You said you only lost consciousness. Crossing into this world alive is impossible without divine intervention.”

“I really don’t—”

I stopped mid-sentence. Something came to mind.

“I did pray to God.”

After losing Baek Ihyeon, I had drifted through religions I’d never cared about before.
Following my mom to a temple, tagging along with a friend to church, taking free wet wipes from street evangelists, even listening to strangers ramble about the afterlife.

That’s how desperate I’d been. I missed him. I regretted letting him go.
If selling my soul could have turned back time, I would have done it.

“I prayed,” I whispered hoarsely.
“I prayed every day to see you again, even if just in a dream. Of course… I didn’t mean like this.”

Only after saying it did I realize I had assumed he was my friend.

Before I could correct myself, my breath caught. I didn’t want him to see me cry. I blinked rapidly, drying my eyes, and lifted my head.

Behind Baek Ihyeon, I spotted a small device in the corner of the ceiling.
A red light blinked faintly—CCTV.

I looked back at him. If there was ever a chance to be alone with him, this was it. I had to be sure.

“Is that CCTV?”

“Yes.”

“Does it record sound too?”

“To some extent. Why?”

“Because I don’t want anyone else to hear. Just come a little closer…”

I gestured for him to lean in. He didn’t move, only looked at me silently.

That emotionless face pressed against my chest like a weight.
I felt stupid for still treating him like the friend I once knew—until he moved.

He bent forward smoothly, almost gracefully.
The tie of his uniform brushed my shoulder as he leaned close, and I swallowed hard, trying not to show how tense I was.

With his face near mine, I whispered in his ear,

“Do you use your left hand when you fight?”

For a moment, he didn’t react. Then he blinked, drew back slightly, and looked at me.

“What do you mean?”

I gestured again for him to come closer, but instead he straightened, expression unreadable.

I gave up and covered my mouth, lowering my voice.

“When you sparred, even if you weren’t supposed to use your hands, you’d catch your opponent so they wouldn’t fall…”

“There’s no issue with that.”

My gaze dropped. Even though I had half-expected it, the lump in my throat hurt.

“Why ask that in a whisper?”

“Because it might be a weakness.”

My answer came out flat and tired.

“It was… a habit my friend wanted to fix.”

I bit my lip to keep from crying. After a moment, I looked up.

Our eyes met—still blank, still impossible to read, yet so painfully familiar that I couldn’t look away.
I knew it was foolish, but I couldn’t stop.

“You’re just… too much like him. How is that possible? Are there doppelgängers across dimensions? When did your memories start?
If you died in our world and crossed here, maybe you lost your memories… and your habits… and that’s why you don’t remember me…”

Baek Ihyeon moved. I fell silent and froze as he sat down beside me.

His uniform brushed my knee. I caught the faint, metallic scent of blood. My heart clenched again.

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else do you know about me? Tell me.”

Something felt off. No matter what I said, it would mean nothing to him.

A chill crept up my spine. At the same time, I felt something cold on my wrist.

I looked down. Baek Ihyeon was holding it. Beneath his large hand glinted a thin strip of metal.

A silver ring—smooth, reflective—had been fastened there.

And I hadn’t even noticed.
That was always the way with him; he could hold your attention so completely you forgot everything else.

I finally understood.
Tending my injuries, keeping the conversation going—none of it had been kindness or patience.
It was all a test.

“It won’t hurt you,” he said. “It’s for verification.”

“Verification of what?”

“The truth of your words.”

He brushed his fingers slowly across the ring’s surface, eyes never leaving mine. His voice dropped lower.

“Tell me the most important thing you know about me.”

The most important thing.

I looked straight into his eyes.
The man before me was exactly the same as the one I remembered.
All the years we’d shared flashed vividly before my eyes—our first meeting, the days that piled softly but firmly atop each other, the countless cycles of seasons.

What was the most important truth?

The day we met. The moment we realized each other’s existence.
Why we came to live under the same roof.
How long it took you to call my parents “Mom” and “Dad.”
That uncertain bond between siblings and friends.
The bullying I endured because I lived with you.
Your face when you stood up for me.
And the words you said when I quit sports.

Sifting through those memories, I chose one.

“You saved me… and died in my place.”

Baek Ihyeon’s calm pupils swept slowly over my face. His gaze lingered, searching, before finally dropping.

“Your claim has no evidence. The issue is…”

The ring on my wrist remained silent.
No light, no alarm—just still, cold metal.

“There’s no evidence you’re lying, either.”