RTN 21

chapter 21

I asked again, but there was no one else who had experienced the same phenomenon as me.
I was the only one who had lost their memory.

The conversation that followed went nowhere.
Those who had seen the post written by the juggler—a so-called “named user”—or who had received the illustrated card, merely added a comment or two about their own experiences.
Even that came to an end when the soldiers came in to distribute rations.

“Ms. Ahyeon, would you like to have some too?”

Jung Jin-won was the first to offer me food, but I declined.
I decided it wasn’t necessary—I could secure my own share anytime.

In fact, Baek Ihyeon had already told me where to go for meals from now on.

Instead of leaving right away, I stayed to watch Jung Jin-won distribute the food he’d received from the soldiers to the others.
I needed to see with my own eyes that everyone ate enough—that no one went hungry.

Only after Jin-won had divided the rations evenly among everyone, and even the man who had grabbed me by the collar was sitting down eating halfway through his meal, could I bring myself to leave the prisoner camp.

But I had nowhere to go.

I was an outsider—but the people in the camp didn’t see it that way.
You could tell just by looking into their eyes.

I was no longer their savior.
I was a sudden glitch, an incomprehensible anomaly.

The same went for Baek Ihyeon’s side.
If I hadn’t secured my safety by taking that S-rank, who knew how they would have treated someone like me—a “Mediator.”

I couldn’t belong anywhere.
The realization that I was utterly, completely alone chilled me.

I stood there in a daze, feeling the weight of passing gazes, then finally moved my feet.
I searched for a quiet corner—somewhere with fewer people.

It was a vast hall, its walls and ceiling made of glass, so that it felt almost like standing on the deck of a ship.
I sat curled up at the far end of a smooth white bench, trying to make myself small.

I was exhausted—and lonely.
When I lifted my head after rubbing my face with both hands, I saw my reflection in the dark glass window overlooking the endless expanse of space.

A familiar face.
Not once in my life had I ever thought I could be anything other than human.

Who am I?

It was a question I had never asked before.

Why did I come here?
Why does the status window say this is my home?

I lowered my gaze. The floor was perfectly smooth—spotless.

Did I ever have parents?

I bowed my head, burying my face in my hands, struggling to remember.
I couldn’t even recall whether they existed, much less what they looked like.
All I could do was try to reconstruct it from fragments.

The hand that used to shake me awake each morning.
The bouquet pressed into my arms at graduation.
The voice screaming my name from the bleachers until it went hoarse.

There had always been someone beside me.
Judging from those details, they were likely parents—or at least guardians—but I couldn’t picture their faces at all.

I squeezed my eyes shut and desperately tried to dig deeper.
Then, suddenly, I was back in a memory.

Black mourning clothes.
Greasy food.
The scent of incense.
White chrysanthemums.
A swarm of reporters.
People shouting in anger.
The sound of something shattering.
A small ribbon pinned to my hair.
Two black armbands.

Ah—it was Baek Ihyeon’s parents’ funeral.

The moment I realized it, someone covered my ears with both hands.
Then I was pulled into an embrace.
A broad, warm chest.
Large hands rubbed my back, patting it over and over.

“Ahyeon,”

a low, gentle voice said.

“Yeon-ah, it’s okay.”

Dad?
I wanted to look up to make sure.
Was it really my dad?
Did I even have one?

But all I could do was cry silently into that chest.
The sobs tore out of me; I could barely breathe.

“It’s okay,”

the tender voice kept whispering, soothing me.

“It’s not your fault. No one could have predicted it.
There was no way to stop it.
Sometimes… these things just happen in the world.”

In that memory, I gasped for air, muttering something incoherent through sobs.
The arms around me tightened, holding me firmer.

“It was an accident.”

I opened my eyes.
My vision was blurry.
I bit my lip hard to hold back the tears, but they spilled anyway, dripping onto the spotless floor by my feet.

As I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, a soft mechanical sound came from nearby.
A thin, jointed leg extended toward me and brushed away my tears.
I flinched, startled—then relaxed.

It was a cleaning robot.

Round, white, and glossy—like a giant rice cake—it scuttled around me, sweeping and wiping diligently. Then it stopped.

Its upper sensor swiveled, turning toward me. A small light blinked, as if it were looking up at me.

“It’s okay,” I murmured without realizing.

“No matter what happens… I’ll go home.”

The robot stayed still, as if listening.
I wiped my face with my sleeve and tied back my messy hair.

I took a deep breath.
In the window, my reflection stared back—eyes red and puffy.

“This isn’t my home,” I whispered.
“I have no reason to stay here. This isn’t where I belong. Something’s wrong—and I’ll fix it. I’ll go back. I will go back and…”

But if I go back… Baek Ihyeon won’t be there.

A pain pressed against my chest so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
I forced myself to look up at the ceiling, breathing in and out deliberately.

Beyond the transparent dome stretched an endless void.
I blinked rapidly, tears welling and drying again in cycles.

I knew it.
This Baek Ihyeon wasn’t the one I knew.
He only looked exactly the same.
Even his name was just a cruel coincidence.

A damn coincidence.

And yet—despite knowing that better than anyone—I still found myself slipping toward him, as if falling.
As much as I hated to admit it, seeing him—even like this—made me glad.

Even if it was just the same face, even if he was merely walking and breathing and speaking with that voice—
I was grateful that I could see him again.
That I could see someone who looked like him, even here.

If I could be glad about that in such a strange place, I must be insane.
Completely out of my mind.

I knew that—and yet, I couldn’t help it.

Because I still hadn’t escaped the past.
Maybe I never would.

That day—
when the flames roared around us and Baek Ihyeon held me tight, refusing to let go—
the moment his body went limp in my arms, the moment his weight pressed down on me—
my life fell, too.

It fell so deep I couldn’t climb back out.

I miss you.

My vision was flooded with starlight.

If the dead can cross into other dimensions, are you somewhere out there too?
If only we could have met here.

I prayed for it, you know.
I said I didn’t care if I died, as long as I could see you again.
I said I’d pay any price.
I begged—shamelessly.

Is that why I’m being punished now?
As if someone said, “Fine. I’ll let you meet someone who looks just like him—so you can go mad chasing the resemblance. Pay the price for your absurd wish.”

Ihyeon…

There’s someone here who looks exactly like you.

The same face, same name, same voice—so I keep mistaking him for you.
Sometimes I even think, maybe you came here first, and I just followed after you.
I keep foolishly hoping for that kind of miracle…

I lowered my head again, wiping away the wetness around my eyes.
And I whispered, as if to remind myself—

“There’s no Baek Ihyeon…”

My voice cracked. I swallowed hard and forced the words to come out clear.

“…anywhere.”

Get a grip.
I rubbed my face roughly with both hands.

“The Baek Ihyeon here isn’t the one I knew.”

Saying it aloud helped steady me.
The problem wasn’t this Baek Ihyeon, who kept confusing me.
The problem was me—my fading memories, my sense of self slipping away.

I had to endure.
Endure and survive, until I could return home.

I didn’t believe any of it—
that this was my homeland,
that I resembled some NPC.
I refused to believe it.

Repeating my vow under my breath, I straightened my back—
and nearly dropped the tablet resting on my knees.
I grabbed it quickly.

The screen lit up, displaying a list of tasks.
I had completely forgotten, but this was the most urgent matter right now.

What should I do about this?

I couldn’t decide on my own.
But I also couldn’t leave it entirely to the others.

Jung Jin-won, as the leader, would no doubt get involved—but judging by his behavior, I didn’t trust him at all.

I stood, clutching the tablet.

Then there was only one option left—
to hand it over to a third party I could trust.

Someone who knew this place inside and out,
who understood the unlisted details of each department,
who valued the lives of the outsiders enough to assign people responsibly,
someone close enough to Baek Ihyeon that taking on this task for me wouldn’t get them in trouble.

There weren’t many familiar faces I could think of.