72. Guess Who? (3)

While Suho was reeling from shock as though he'd been struck on the back of the head with a baseball bat, Hajin maintained an utterly composed expression. For some reason, Suho felt an inexplicable sense of betrayal as he stammered not once, not twice, but three times.

"Th-that, um, so you mean...uhh...that is to say...are you lying?"

"Nope, it's true. Yeah, I went back to the past."

Yet Hajin answered simply—even cheerfully—as if Suho's triple stammer meant nothing.

As Suho pursed his lips, thoroughly feeling like he was being toyed with, Hajin shrugged and continued.

"But whether it's true or whether you believe it are two different matters, right?"

Just as Suho was about to retort—Are you messing with me right now?—he clamped his mouth shut again.

Hajin was smiling his usual easygoing smile, but at the edges of that smile lingered an indescribable loneliness.

Finally regaining his senses at that smile, Suho pressed Hajin pointedly.

"You told me without even knowing if I'd believe you? What if I'd treated you like a lunatic?"

"Team Leader, you're full of questions today."

"As I said, I need to know. What kind of person is the artist I'll be managing?"

Suho was curious about Hajin.

At first, it had just been a casting move to counter the director.

When they'd learned each other's secrets, he'd thought, Well, we're stuck in the same boat now.

And after seeing Hajin's performances several times, he'd begun nurturing a small dream as a manager.

"Managers are like that, you know. No matter what happens, we have to be on our artist's side."

The dream of wanting to see this person shine even brighter on bigger stages.

"I believe you, Kang Hajin. Everything you say."

Suho smiled a rare, relaxed smile.

To achieve that dream, he first needed to earn Hajin's complete trust.

As Hajin silently studied him, Suho continued in a calm voice.

"I'm telling you I'm on Kang Hajin's side. So if there's anything you want to say, you can tell me anytime."

"......"

"Honestly, it's kind of a relief for me. Having someone who knows my secret."

Suho chuckled wryly.

"You have no idea how shocked I was when I first saw light emanating from a person."

"......"

"This is confidential, but I actually went for counseling a few times early on. Even visited hospitals. Eventually, they all said there was nothing wrong with me. I really thought I'd lost my mind."

"...I know that feeling."

Hajin, who'd been listening quietly, let out a soft laugh and nodded.

"I thought I'd died and was seeing my life flash before my eyes."

"When you first went back to the past? Yeah, I can imagine."

"One moment I was lying in bed, the next I was taking a high school exam. I thought I was dreaming."

Hajin seemed to be reminiscing about that time as he fell briefly into thought.

Suho waited patiently through that silence.

After several minutes had passed, Hajin—who'd been absentmindedly tapping the table with his fingers—finally spoke again.

"...I was twenty-nine."

"Huh?"

"When I first regressed. I was a twenty-nine-year-old unemployed guy, then I opened my eyes and I was seventeen again."

With that as the starting point, Hajin's story unfolded at a pace that was neither rushed nor slow.

How he'd lived through four regressions and reached his current state in this fifth life.

Hajin recounted his life sometimes succinctly, sometimes earnestly.

Though every part of his story was hard to easily believe, Suho could believe it. In fact, he even felt somewhat relieved now. It seemed he could finally explain, at least partially, the unrealistic abilities he'd gained.

"So that person you said we need to find—that's the one?"

"Yeah. The bastard who made me live again four times and made you see people in weird colors."

"And you're saying that person is among our company's current trainees..."

"Which is why, Team Leader, if you notice anything suspicious, you have to share it with me. I really, really don't want a sixth life."

Hajin shuddered exaggeratedly as if disgusted by the thought. Suho nodded in understanding.

Though he still had many questions and curiosities about this "regression," it was obvious he wouldn't fully comprehend everything even if they talked more today.

"Thank you for telling me."

After hearing everything, Suho shared his honest impression. It felt like he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was finally seeing Kang Hajin a little more clearly.

Why he seemed to draw lines in all matters and live that way.

'Because everything could suddenly become undone one day.'

He'd thought being able to relive the past was an incredibly good opportunity, but apparently, it wasn't always like that.

As Suho was having these thoughts, Hajin poured water into an empty cup and continued.

"...Thank you too."

"For what?"

"For saying you're on my side."

Ah, that smile again.

The one tinged with an indescribable loneliness.

"Talking with you just now made me realize—I think I was a little lonely."

"......"

"I lost everything. Friends, dreams, the life I'd lived until then, memories...all of it."

"......"

"If you asked whether I want to go back to being twenty-nine again, I'm not sure... But thinking about how all those times remain only with me sometimes feels... bitter."

Thanks to the Mental Care System still functioning, whenever Hajin recalled his past lives, it felt like remembering the very distant past.

But that didn't mean those memories had become as if they'd never existed.

"It was a life full of mistakes and regrets... But I guess even that life had things I miss."

The first family trip they'd ever taken.

The new friends he'd made in college.

The movies and songs that had comforted him on hard days.

All the various episodes and mishaps from his time working at companies.

All those things remained only with Hajin.

And at times, that made him feel terribly alone.

"So that must be why. Why I kept telling you about my past lives."

"......"

"I think I just wanted to tell someone. That I'd lived those lives."

Only then could Suho understand the reason for the loneliness he saw in Hajin.

Perhaps even if a lifetime passed, he'd never be able to fully understand Hajin.

No—maybe no one in this world could completely comprehend his loneliness.

'Unless it's that Fixed Regressor person... For ordinary people, it's impossible.'

Still, as someone who'd lived a bit longer, couldn't he offer some comfort?

Suho cautiously opened his mouth.

"People are like that, you know."

"......?"

"Only after getting badly hurt do we realize—Ah, this hurts. I shouldn't touch this. After that, whenever we see something similar, we instinctively recoil. Because we don't want to feel that pain again."

Though Suho had never relived his past like Hajin, he too was someone who'd been hurt by the world and by people.

He knew well how people who'd been wounded by something would gnaw at themselves and cut themselves off.

"But even then... Even then, after enough time passes... There comes a moment when we think—Maybe this much is okay? Maybe this much warmth is bearable?"

"......"

"When that moment comes, we just endure it. Is it really like that? Will holding on keep hurting me, or not? Ah, maybe this much is alright. Maybe I can withstand it. That's how we learn our limits."

Hajin looked bewildered by Suho's seemingly abstract words, but Suho paid no heed and continued.

"Everyone's like that. Aren't we all lonely? In this warmth-less world."

"...I don't think you're telling me to touch a gas flame to learn."

"I'm saying don't be too afraid of the hands others extend."

"......"

"I hope you won't view the moments of your life too coldly. Kang Hajin, you're a passionate person. You have enthusiasm, you like people...you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enjoy being on stage."

Finally seeming to grasp Suho's meaning, Hajin's pupils trembled slightly. Watching him, Suho offered comfort with as much warmth as he could muster.

"Isn't it better to love without regrets than to turn away from everything because it might disappear someday? You said you don't want a sixth life."

"......"

"Now you have someone to talk to. If you want to talk about your past lives, tell me. But I really hope you'll remember that the present you're living now is also your life, Hajin."

"......"

"If we really find that person and the regression ends, then these moments will become your memories, your experiences."

This is advice from someone who cares about you as an older brother.

With those final words, Suho closed his mouth. Hajin seemed to be quietly digesting Suho's words.

Suho waited calmly through that time too.

Hajin probably hadn't even realized how deeply he'd been hurting from his wounds.

It would take considerable time for him to first recognize that, pull himself together, and wash those wounds with cold water.

'That kid Taeil has good instincts.'

A remark Taeil had once made about Hajin suddenly came to mind.

—Didn't you say you worked at some company before?

—Yeah. It was such a new company that it probably doesn't exist anymore now.

—...Did he get badly burned there, that kid?

—Why?

—He grew up too fast. For a twenty-year-old, he thinks way too much. At that age, it's okay not to know some things.

Without knowing anything about Hajin's regression, Taeil had assessed him that way.

'As expected, you can't disregard the experience of a thirteen-year veteran.'

While Suho was resolving not to speak carelessly about Hajin in front of Taeil, Hajin seemed to have sorted through his thoughts somewhat. Seeing Hajin's expression—now slightly less shadowed than before—Suho felt relieved.

"Did it help a little?"

"...Yeah, somewhat."

"That's good."

As Hajin nodded, perfectly timed, a knock sounded at the door. Giving the signal to enter, a server soon carefully wheeled in an extravagant tray.

"Let me serve your meal."

Dish after visually stunning, delicious-looking food was placed on the table. As the premium course meal piled up until the table legs seemed to bend, Hajin—as if having discarded all his earlier shadows—brightly picked up his chopsticks.

Watching this, Suho felt a slight existential crisis.

"Is it just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, or does it look like all your trauma has been healed the moment you saw food?"

"It's just you."

"It doesn't seem like it is."

"After our earlier conversation thoroughly comforted my soul, now this delicious meal satisfies my body's hunger—what more could I ask for?"

Seeing how smoothly the words flowed out, this was Hajin's usual self.

Suho smiled helplessly at that sly tongue and shook his head.

Anyway, there was no winning against that mouth.

"Be honest with me—did you deal drugs in your past life?"

"Should I be really honest? You might not be able to handle it."

"...Aren't you being too bold with things I can't verify?"

"But isn't it fortunate? At least I sold drugs—if I'd been an addict, I could've never dreamed of debuting as an idol."

"...You really sold them?"

"Would I? The only drugs I've taken are cold medicine, so let's stop here and eat."

Seeing Ji Suho genuinely relieved by that, Hajin burst into a hearty laugh as if finding it absurd. With that laughter, a slightly more comfortable atmosphere flowed between them than before.

It was the first time since the regression began that Hajin had fully ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unlocked the latches of his heart to someone.