RTN 37

chapter 37

An arm shot up under my chin—Baek Yi-hyun’s.
My breath was instantly cut off as he crushed down on my throat.

Instinctively, I reached up to push him away, but both of my hands were subdued in a blink.
My whole body slammed back against the wall.

His movements were quick, precise, and dry—like he was handling an object, not a person.

Even when he killed enemies, he would probably show more emotion than this.
Being pinned under that cold, efficient strength, I felt no pain… only the crushing realization:

There was never any possibility.

“Seol Ah-yeon.”

A calm voice. An emotionless face.
The stillness in his eyes didn’t frighten me—what scared me was seeing my own trembling reflection in them.

Even now, even like this, I was staring at him—desperately trying to find the person I once knew.
My vision blurred.

How pathetic, hoping and being disappointed on my own.

“If you act like this, I’ll have no choice but to restrain you by force.”

With his forearm still pressing against my throat and my chin forced upward, I glared up at him.

He stood close—too close—looking down at me with that cold, unfeeling expression, his body trapping me without the slightest warmth.

…He really isn’t him.

The realization hit again, harder.
My vision stung and grew hot. I didn’t want to cry.

But a dry tear slid down my cheek anyway.

“Your actions just now are inexcusable—”

He stopped.

After a brief silence, he released me and stepped back.

I slid down the wall and collapsed at his feet.
Supported on one hand, I coughed hard, gasping for breath.

Through blurred eyes, all I could see were his heavy black combat boots—just like the first time we met.

I clenched my teeth. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

Above me, his voice came again—lower this time.

“Tell me why you attacked.”

Why?
The answer was pathetic, miserable.

Because I still couldn’t accept my friend’s death.
Because I was weak and kept avoiding the truth.
Because I couldn’t let go without checking for myself.

I steadied my breathing as best I could.

“…I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need an apology. I need a reason.”

“To confirm something.”

My voice caught. I swallowed and continued.

“I wanted to confirm something.”

He didn’t respond.

Staring at his motionless boots, I spoke quietly:

“When I cling to him like I did to you… my friend always used his left hand to hold me.
He wouldn’t react the way you did. I wanted to check that.”

Something soft—dangerously soft—bloomed in my chest.

Hope.
Stupid, useless hope.

I lifted my head even though I knew how foolish it was.

“Did you… fix it?”

“That habit never existed.”

His response cut like a blade.
My head dropped. My eyes burned.
I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t cry.

Then his voice again:

“Wasn’t this already settled? You asked if I was left-handed. I clearly told you there was no issue.”

“I thought… maybe you didn’t realize. You’re a battalion commander now.
You don’t get into close-quarters like this often. Even if you still had the habit, you might not notice…”

My voice failed.
He spoke cleanly:

“One-on-one combat is part of basic training. I have no such habit with my left hand.”

“But if it were with me… maybe it would be different. So before my memory fades, I just… wanted to try once…”

As I replied and raised my head—

I froze.

Papers were scattered across the polished floor—some torn beneath bootprints.
My notes.
I hadn’t even noticed I dropped them.

I frantically began gathering them with trembling hands.

If I had died and he had survived… he would have handled the grief.
He would have lived well, even for my share.

But I survived instead.
And I wasn’t like him.
No matter how much I tried to move forward, I was always dragged back into that burning building.

Even though he died in my arms—
Even though I buried him myself—
Some absurd part of me kept hoping he’d come back…

“You walked all the way here just to check that one thing?”

My hands stopped.
I couldn’t speak. I just nodded and picked up the last sheet, then stood—

My knees buckled.

I reached for the wall, but strong arms wrapped around my waist first.

I sucked in a breath and looked up.
Our eyes caught—too close.

His face was right in front of mine.

Hair falling slightly over his forehead as he leaned down toward me,
his eyelashes casting long shadows,
those dark eyes sinking deep beneath them—

I stared until my mind snapped back and I tried to pull away.

But his arm was solid around my waist—unmovable.
And my feet barely reached the floor, only brushing it with my toes.

Startled, I looked up at him.
He wasn’t just supporting me—
he was practically holding me in his arms.

“Can you stand?”

“Y-yes. I—I can.”

Slowly, he lowered me to the floor.
I hurriedly stepped back—and brushed against his chest.

Something small clicked and fell to the ground.

A silver emblem—shaped like a scale.
One of the many on his uniform.

I bent to pick it up—but he spoke first.

“I’ll get it.”

He leaned down.
His uniform brushed my shoulder, and the face I always had to look up at dropped into my lowered line of sight.

I held my breath.

Watching him pick up the emblem, my eyes traced the sharp bridge of his nose, the firm line of his jaw—
the same elegant profile as my friend.

He straightened.
Even that small movement seemed to push air outward.

He pinned the silver emblem back to his chest.
All of those medals… those ranks…

I realized again who he was.
A man who held my life in his hands.
Someone I had no right to cling to or trouble any further.

The weight of that hit me, and panic stirred.
How was I supposed to fix this?

As soon as his eyes met mine, I bowed my head.

“I’m sorry. I was disrespectful. I won’t—”

“What would you do if you found out?”

I looked at him.

“There’s no meaning in it. Right? Even if I were your friend, I live a new life here.
To me, you would be a stranger.”

If it were Kim Do-woon or Jang Seok-joo saying this, it might hurt less.

“Even if my memories returned, it would be like a past life.
It would change nothing about my current life.”

But because it was him saying it—
my vision stung again.

“Would that even be the same person?
The body is the same, but the life is different.
Wouldn’t that make him a completely different person?
I don’t understand what you’re clinging to.
Just… attachment?”

He stared at me, waiting.

“…Yes. It’s attachment.”

He was right.
It was meaningless.

But it was still my truth.

Even if he lost every memory, even if nothing remained—
it didn’t mean the past never existed.

I remembered.
I remembered everything—clearly enough to hurt.

“If I met him again, there’s something I wanted to tell him. And…”

Why was I saying this aloud?
Maybe because he looked so much like him.

“Before the accident, he said he needed to talk. That it was important.”

But I didn’t hear what it was.

“I suggested we stop by the department store first.
I wanted to pretend I was picking something for someone else, then secretly buy him a gift.”

That was when the fire started.

I regretted it until I thought I would go insane.

If I could go back, I would sell my soul.
If I had thought about how he never asked me for anything,
about how serious he looked when he said he needed to talk—

Maybe I would have gone with him to the café instead.
Maybe he’d still be alive.

Sometimes it felt like the flames didn’t kill him.
I did—by leading him there.

If only I’d chosen differently.
If only I’d cared a little more.

“My heart wasn’t enough… and it killed him.”

“I just… want to know what he wanted to tell me.
Even if you don’t remember.
I just want… to ask.”

Saying it out loud only made it feel more pathetic.
I lowered my gaze.
My chest ached.

“I read your file. It said your friend died a year ago.”

I looked up.

“The flow of time between your world and this one differs.
One year in your world equals three years here.”

He spoke slowly.

“If your friend died one year ago in your world and crossed over,
he would have been living here for three years.
But I was found here, memory lost, five years ago.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“I am not the one you knew.
It is physically impossible.”