Chapter 33
“Oh! Jellyfish! Hello!”
As my vision flipped, a cylindrical tank teeming with eternally living jellyfish came into view. Proof that I’d successfully infiltrated Choi Kang-min’s dream. I decided not to rush things and just watch the jellyfish until the room’s owner showed up.
‘Ah! Right! The letter... it came with me safely.’
The letter from Manager Seo Hye-ju to her future self. I was dying to know what it said, but reading it first would be rude, so I left it tucked in my pocket.
“...This is boring.”
I wanted to hop online and check the latest news, but the director’s computer was password-protected, leaving me with nothing to do.
Thud.
“Hm?”
While poking around the desk with the computer, my eyes caught the title on a thick stack of documents that brushed my hand.
<Certification Report for Kang Moon-soo>
“......”
My name. How could I not read it now?
Smoothly flipping through, the first page was a notice about reissuing my resident registration card.
‘Even after I vanished, they kept it going?’
Time flowed three times faster here than in reality, so a fair bit had passed. And yet Vice Director Seo Hye-ju hadn’t given up—she’d methodically pushed through my ID procedures. It was a little touching.
“Hm...”
I skimmed further.
‘Too obvious, huh?’
No shocking revelations about me being a mutant. Just a perfectly ordinary human. And scientific data showing my genes matched perfectly with “Lawyer Kang Moon-soo,” who’d died fifteen years ago.
“...Kang Moon-soo?”
“Ah!”
“Where have you been all this time—no, how did you even get in here? I never gave you the room password or an access card.”
Vice Director Seo Hye-ju had approached like a ghost, without a sound, and hit me with questions.
“Well... should I say I came through a fourth-dimensional door?”
“If anyone else said that, I’d call it a joke. But coming from you, I have no choice but to believe it.”
She’d already calmed down. Plopping onto the plush sofa, she settled into a relaxed pose perfect for talking.
“So, where have you been?”
“Before I explain, take a look at this first.”
I handed over the letter from Manager Seo Hye-ju.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll see when you read it.”
Vice Director Seo Hye-ju tore open the sealed envelope with a curious expression and started reading.
“...This is?”
“I don’t know the contents either.”
“......”
Furrowing her brow, she pressed her lips tight and focused on the letter.
‘I wonder what it says.’
I was curious too. What would I write to my thirteen-years-future self? Probably not just chit-chat. Stocks, wars, environment, politics, disasters... I’d ask about all sorts of things to prepare for an uncertain future.
“...There’s a lot of shocking stuff in here.”
“Is there?”
“For starters, I get why you only lost your memories from your lawyer days. And a world without magic boys like monsters. I miss it. This world was like that twenty years ago too.”
A world without magic boys. Manager Seo Hye-ju must’ve told her future self everything.
“If you have any other questions, I’ll explain.”
“I’ll ask later if something comes up. It’s all detailed in here anyway—everything I’d wonder about.”
“Aha!”
She knows herself well, huh? That worked out great for me—less to explain.
“If you’d told me ahead of time, I wouldn’t have wasted effort... Guess I’ll have to restart the research from scratch. Got the first button wrong. So it wasn’t resurrection after all?”
“Sorry.”
“I get it. Hard to trust me at first. But handing over this letter means you trust me now, right?”
“Yes.”
Could a single letter change someone this much? The way she looked at me, her whole vibe—it was very much like the “real” Seo Hye-ju.
“My past self from thirteen years ago says that once the magic boy disappears, the world goes back to how it was twenty years ago, where fairness and common sense ruled.”
“That’s true.”
“Heroes who protected humanity were actually the black hand behind every threat... A self-made play. Not surprising at all.”
“You believe it?”
“Who else would I believe if not myself? Thirteen years ago was when my ambition and confidence peaked—my black history. Embarrassing just to think about.”
“Ha, ha...”
Her face flushed beet red, proving it wasn’t a joke, and she fanned herself to cool off.
Then, casually: “I’ll help you.”
Just the answer I wanted.
“Thank you!”
“You’re sure the magic boy’s true identity is Chairman Choi Kang-min?”
“Positive. He admitted it himself—said he’d hidden it with magic.”
“And right after, he was killed?”
“Yes.”
Bonus: I went through hell too.
“Hmmm... Extremely dangerous. Magic boy, symbol of power, plus Choi Kang-min, political heavyweight. An unbeatable combo.”
“That’s why no head-on fight.”
“If word gets out I’m helping you, I won’t stay safe long.”
“......”
Her sharp words weighed heavy on me.
“I don’t like this world much either, but I can’t risk my life.”
“...I understand.”
“So the support I can give you without a trace is cash and info only.”
“That’s plenty.”
In a capitalist society, how many things can’t money buy? With cash, I could handle food, shelter, and clothes even without an ID. And info on top! Exactly what I needed.
“We’ll discuss cash delivery later...”
Scribble-scribble—Vice Director Seo Hye-ju picked up a ballpoint pen and drew pentagons, hexagons, and lines connecting them on a blank sheet, packing it with letters and numbers.
“This can’t be... a chemical formula?”
“Yes. The formula for a new drug developed two years ago. The world went nuts over it.”
“What kind of drug?”
“Memorize this formula perfectly, and I’ll tell you.”
“Ah...”
One slip in a chemical formula, and it’s a totally different result. No half-assing it.
“Conversation’s gone on long enough. I have work to do, so I’ll head out. Memorize it while I’m gone.”
“...Vice Director?”
“Bathroom’s inside. Thirsty or hungry? Help yourself from the fridge.”
“No, I mean this formula. Can a person even memorize it?”
“I did.”
“Ah, okay.”
I stared bleakly at the page crammed with shapes, letters, and numbers.
* * *
Culture and environment vary a bit, but kids are pure—they haven’t been tainted by society yet. They don’t overthink commissions, secrets, trust, responsibility, betrayal... stuff like that.
For example, “Why are you bullying me?” “Dunno. Your big bro told me to.” ...Ridiculous developments like that are totally possible!
A client’s identity is a secret you must never reveal, but they don’t see spilling it as betrayal.
Kids! Answer honestly when friends or adults ask! ...That’s what elementary and kindergarten teachers drill into them.
In other words, despite his father’s tight info lockdown, Choi Kang-hun had long known his half-brother Choi Kang-min was behind it all. But he’d bottled it up, not wanting to fight the brother who’d always acted affectionate on the surface. He lacked the courage anyway.
Now?
“I hope my brother wakes up soon.”
No more running away.
“Young Master Choi Kang-hun, you’re a truly great little brother.”
“He’ll definitely be proud when he wakes up.”
The bodyguards in the driver’s and passenger seats warmed the mood.
“But I’m worried. If I drag him into this and something goes wrong...”
When he heard Kang Moon-soo’s heart had stopped, the shock left him breathless.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Have faith. He’s the man you approved of, right?”
“Yeah, I guess?”
But their comfort didn’t ease his worries.
What if Kang Moon-soo hyung died? What if he stayed trapped in that dream forever?
Dark thoughts swirled, filling him with self-loathing over his selfishness, but ‘I just can’t give up.’
He couldn’t stand watching this hypocrite Choi Kang-min slink away without a single apology.
Especially after Kang Moon-soo hyung casually dropped that “absurd future.” Magic Boy Choi Kang-min. Locking his little brother in prison while playing hero for twenty happy years.
Even if it was just a dream, he couldn’t accept it.
“...I hope his treatment goes well.”
After seven years of turning a blind eye in reality, when that half-brother finally opened his eyes, he’d welcome him with open arms.
‘Hyung. Come back soon. I’ll feel cheated if you leave like this.’
Choi Kang-hun prayed as Elmolrans Hospital drew nearer.
* * *
P’s Aptitude Test results matter a lot, but you can’t ignore school grades. When aptitudes tie, companies do secondary screening based on transcripts and records.
What I’m getting at is...
“Have I gotten dumber...?”
I’d never been top of the school, but always upper ranks. Without the part-time job, I could’ve been number one—I was a bit proud of that.
So wasn’t it a problem that I, of all people, couldn’t memorize one chemical formula after eight hours of staring?
“Hard to believe you passed the bar exam.”
“I didn’t pass it!”
I couldn’t help bristling at Vice Director Seo Hye-ju’s jab.
“Your brainpower’s the same, isn’t it?”
“Ugh...”
No comeback for that!
“The cash is hidden at the spot marked on this map.”
She handed me a roughly hand-drawn sketch.
‘A mountain...?’
A circle at the midpoint of a high-elevation area, complete with kindly added contour lines. Looked like I’d be hiking out of nowhere.
“Like a treasure hunt.”
“A small treasure. It’s packed with my precious monthly salary.”
“Thank you.”
“Any questions, ask now. Win or lose, this’ll be our last meeting.”
“Hm... Nothing for now.”
Most info was online anyway. And for Magic Boy Choi Kang-min’s schedule, real-time checks were the only way.
“Then get ready. When I give the signal, the hallway cameras will be off for thirty seconds. Turn right at the corner and head straight down the emergency stairs.”
“Thorough.”
Clearly meant to cover that I’d been in the vice director’s office.
“I can’t run to the past like you can.”
“...Thank you.”
All I could say.
“17:58. Get set. Two minutes left.”
“Got it.”
“......”
“......”
“Ah! Wait. What’s the effect of the drug made from this formula?”
I’d torn my hair out for eight hours to memorize it—would be deflating if it was nothing special.
“Sigh... What a shame. I wanted to make my past self suffer for trying to steal future gains.”
She’d planned to dodge telling me.
“Come on.”
“You really wanna know?”
“Yes!”
As I answered briskly, Vice Director Seo Hye-ju handed me a mask and hat to cover my face. With a sly smile, she said,
“The secret to my youth.”
“What?! You mean—”
“Time’s up. Go!”
“Damn...”
Regret lingering, I slipped quietly out of the vice director’s office.