Chapter 3: The World That Left Him Behind
Sunghoon,or Haru, as he was now forced to answer to,stared down at the sleek, black rectangle of the phone Se-hee had insisted was his.
The doctors had extended his stay by a few days after the amnesia diagnosis. They didn't want to risk any lingering neurological trauma, but his scans had come back clean. The stitches were healing, and the bruises on his face had faded into faint, yellowish shadows that were barely noticeable to a casual observer.
The door slid open with a soft mechanical whir. Sunghoon looked up, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips when he saw Se-hee. Over the last few days, he'd become strangely accustomed to her unwavering devotion to the color pink. Today was no exception.
"Okay, paperwork is cleared. We're officially checking out," she announced, swooping in to grab the bag Sunghoon had been reaching for.
He let out a mock sigh at her protectiveness, but she only flashed him a cheeky grin before heading for the door. He followed her, sliding the phone into his back pocket. It still amazed him that a device so small could hold an entire world of information,and his entire "identity."
As they walked through the hospital corridors, Sunghoon couldn't help but think about the "real" Haru. The boy had been injured defending Se-hee. It was clear she felt a crushing weight of guilt over it, but even without the debt of a hero, she seemed to linger around him with a fierce, sisterly love.
He'd learned a few things about her "channel",a concept he still didn't quite grasp. Apparently, she filmed herself and shared it with thousands of people online. She'd tried to show him her videos, but the prolonged brightness of the screen still made his head throb.
As far as he could tell, they weren't lovers. They were roommates and best friends,a "found family" that Sunghoon was now intruding upon.
They stepped out into the parking lot, and Sunghoon stopped in his tracks. The cars were so... round. The sharp, boxy edges of the 90s had been replaced by aerodynamic curves and silent engines. Se-hee led him to a small, compact car. After she stowed the bags, he climbed into the passenger seat, feeling like a traveler in a sci-fi movie.
She flicked on the radio as she backed out of the lot. He was relieved to hear the familiar static-free crackle of a broadcast; at least some things remained the same.
"...and I've got news for our listeners!" a high-energy announcer chirped through the speakers.
"Oh? What's that?" a second voice asked.
"The RE-draft tour has officially been announced! And guess what?"
RE-draft. The name rang a bell. Se-hee's eyes had sparkled whenever she mentioned them. He hadn't realized they were a music group.
"We have five tickets for our lucky listeners!" the announcer continued.
"We'll be hosting a Q&A this Sunday. Make sure to call in, and the lucky 'Redys' will be able to…"
Sunghoon let the voices fade into a hum as he stared out the window. He was filled with a sense of wonder,and a deep, aching fear. The infrastructure of the city had transformed. Towering glass skyscrapers pierced the clouds, and massive digital billboards lit up the afternoon sky.
He saw one face in particular on several of the boards. A young man with shoulder-length black hair accented by purple and blue highlights. He looked effortless, almost ethereal.
The sight sent a bitter jolt through Sunghoon's chest. His fists clenched in his lap. Seeing the "stars" of 2025 reminded him of the life he'd lost. He wondered what had happened to his own family. Were they okay? Did they think he had truly abandoned them?
He missed them with a physical ache. He missed arguing with his sister over the "vast" age gap she teased him about. He missed spoiling her with street food after her classes. He missed the weight of his mother's hug,the kind that could make even his worst days as an actor feel manageable.
He had worked so hard to make sure they were comfortable. He had set up university funds and invested his earnings. He hoped, with everything in him, that his overthinking nature had protected them long after he "fell."
"We're here," Se-hee said softly, nudging his shoulder.
He'd been so deep in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed her park. He stepped out and shut the door with a solid thud, looking up at the building in front of them.
In the 1990s, this neighborhood would have been considered "luxury" and new. Now, twenty-five years of salt, wind, and rain had weathered the concrete. Cracked gravel lined the road, showing the area's age.
Se-hee unlocked a gate and led him up a set of stairs. The compound was small but well-maintained, with colorful flowers in pots and laundry lines crisscrossing the space. In the center of the garden was a pyeongsang,a large wooden platform,with grains laid out to dry in the sun.
The door to the first-floor unit opened, and a middle-aged woman stepped out.
"Haru! You're back!" she exclaimed, hurrying toward the stairs.
Se-hee was already punching a passcode into a digital lock. She looked down and smiled at the lady. "He was released today. He needs his rest, so we'll talk later, okay?"
With a practiced motion, she ushered Sunghoon inside and shut the door, cutting off the neighbor's questioning gaze. She let out a long, exhausted sigh and dropped the bags.
Sunghoon surveyed the apartment. It was an open floor plan, cozy and lived-in. There was a flat-screen TV,impossibly thin,a comfortable-looking couch, and a small dining table.
"Unless you're ready to talk for two hours, you'd better stay inside," Se-hee said, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She caught his look of confusion. "The neighborhood gossip is already circling. Just ignore it."
The house felt... warm. Trinkets and small decorations were scattered about, giving the space a sense of peace that Sunghoon hadn't felt in his cold, "status-symbol" apartment in 1999.
For the first time since waking up, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.