Kang Juwon blinked, surveying the scene. Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun were still sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled as if they had been auditioning for some tragic slapstick routine.

  Mu Yichen, on the other hand, was upright, pacing slightly, eyes darting around like a man who had just realized someone moved the furniture in his childhood home.

  Anxiety radiated off him in sharp waves.

  Kang Juwon’s lips twitched. That wasn’t his usual calm, gentle Mu Yichen. No, this was the Mu Yichen who remembered.

  The one who carried echoes of a past life, faint but undeniable.

  He and Kang Juwon exchanged a glance, and at that moment, neither needed words.

  The memory of everything, Lee Aseok, the gates, the betrayal, the pain, passed silently between them.

  Park Taegun groaned, rolling over like a wounded bear, and Seo MinHyun flopped into a sitting position, shivering.

  “I… I dreamed of Lee Aseok getting beaten by a monster,” Seo MinHyun stammered, voice wavering like a kid who just got caught lying about homework.

  Park Taegun, rubbing his temples, said, “I dreamed of Lee Aseok getting beaten… by Mu Yichen.”

  They stared at each other for a long, awkward second, each knowing exactly what the other was thinking: clearly, both had fallen into some cruel illusion.

  Seo MinHyun clicked his tongue, waving a hand dismissively. “Obvious. Totally obvious. Lee Aseok is the one who beats monsters, not the other way around. Even a stray dog knows that.”

  Kang Juwon let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

  Somehow, the world felt a little lighter in that moment—funny, ridiculous, and unbearably tense all at once.

  And in the corner of his mind, he couldn’t help but marvel at how utterly unshakable Lee Aseok’s reputation was, even in illusions.

  Kang Juwon and Mu Yichen exchanged a glance.

  Both men instantly understood what was happening.

  Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun weren’t fully recalling the truth, they were grasping at fragments, their memories distorted, dismissed as illusions. That worked in their favor.

  Mu Yichen exhaled slowly, a quiet shiver of relief running through him.

  At least the others hadn’t realized the past had returned, hadn’t pieced together what had truly happened.

  He pressed his palms to his temples, trying to calm the pounding in his head, to settle the storm of memory into something he could manage.

  He remembered clearly, painfully, how he had failed Lee Aseok in that other life. How he had left him, unaware, unready, unworthy of the trust the boy had put in him.

  The guilt was a heavy, familiar cloak that wrapped his shoulders and pressed on his chest.

  A faint sound interrupted the tension, the slow, deliberate tapping of boots against stone. Heads turned automatically.

  From the corridor, Lee Aseok appeared. His steps were measured, calm, as if the world itself waited for him to move.

  His black hair fell straight and long, brushing against his waist as he walked, swaying with each step like ink waves against a dark surface.

  In his hand rested the old iron rod, worn, scratched, a weapon as unpretentious as its wielder. Behind him, hovering almost like a devoted shadow, floated the holy sword.

  It didn’t need to shine or proclaim its importance. Its presence alone was enough to announce that something extraordinary walked the corridor.

  The room seemed to shrink around him.

  Mu Yichen’s chest tightened. His throat went dry. He hadn’t dared hope, not fully.

  But here he was. Lee Aseok. Alive. Breathing.

  “Lee Aseok…” Mu Yichen whispered, the word trembling on his lips. His hands clenched involuntarily, like he might crumble if he didn’t hold onto the reality in front of him.

  The pain, the guilt, the longing, it all pooled in his chest and pushed him forward. Without thinking, without restraint, he stepped toward the man who had haunted his thoughts for years.

  The moment his fingers brushed the fabric of Lee Aseok’s sleeve, Mu Yichen’s vision blurred, his eyes watering.

  His defenses collapsed. “I won’t let you go anywhere alone ever again,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad you’re alive. I—” He broke off, overwhelmed.

  Lee Aseok’s frown deepened, subtle but precise, a small crease between dark eyebrows.

  He looked at Mu Yichen’s moist, desperate eyes with a quiet curiosity, tilting his head slightly. Has he gone completely mad? the expression seemed to ask.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Then suddenly, Lee Aseok’s dark eyes narrowed as they fixed on Mu Yichen’s glistening, moist gaze.

  The calm, gentle man he had known seemed… unhinged. Or at least, that was what his expression told him.

  A twitch of the lip, the faint crease between his brows, he didn’t know whether Mu Yichen had lost his mind entirely or had simply decided that today was the day to express every pent-up emotion he had buried in.

  Park Taegun, who was leaning against a wall, sighed audibly. “Uh… must’ve been some nightmare.” he muttered.

  Seo MinHyun clicked his tongue, exasperated. “ “Yeah, right… he’s crying because of the illusion. Totally normal. I mean… I saw monsters. And now Mu Yichen’s having a full-on soap opera about something he saw in his dreams. What even is this day?”

  He flopped onto the floor dramatically, hands behind his head. “Do we get a refund in reality or something?”

  But Lee Aseok wasn’t focused on the theatrics of his teammates. The words—Mu Yichen’s words, shocked him to the core.

  He hadn’t expected this. Not a hint, not a tremor, not even a trace.

  And now, facing Mu Yichen’s red-rimmed eyes and trembling voice, the truth became undeniable. The man remembered.

  The thought hit him with quiet force. So he knows.

  Lee Aseok’s frown deepened. He stepped closer, keeping his distance but letting his presence press down with silent authority.

  “You… remember?” His voice was calm, almost detached, but the question carried weight. I need to be sure. No illusions here.

  Mu Yichen straightened, his gaze locked on Lee Aseok’s. His red eyes gleamed like fire under dim light, a mixture of guilt, relief, and something unnameable churning beneath the surface.

  He stepped forward, closing the distance with careful, deliberate movements. “I… I want to explain. I want to tell you everything,” he said, voice barely above a whisper but carrying through the tension-filled room. “Please… just give me a chance.”

  For a moment, Lee Aseok simply stared, unblinking. The shock that had been coiling in his chest slowly unspooled.

  A strange calm settled over him, like a storm passing in reverse, silence where chaos had been. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

  The pause hung heavy. Then, as if the world itself had been holding its breath, Lee Aseok swung his iron rod.

  Mu Yichen didn’t see it coming. The movement was fluid, effortless, and precise.

  The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into the wall with a thud loud enough to make Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun wince in unison. “Uh… did… did he just—” Seo MinHyun stammered, his face pale.

  Park Taegun groaned, running a hand down his face. “Yep. He just did that. And yes… that is Mu Yichen.”

  Mu Yichen groaned, dazed, head spinning from the sudden assault.

  Pain bloomed across his body like a warning flare. But he wasn’t angry, not in the usual sense.

  Shock, yes. Bewilderment, yes. But deep down, somewhere behind the ringing in his ears and the ache in his bones, he understood why. He had known this moment would come. It was inevitable.

  Lee Aseok stepped forward, iron rod swinging lazily at his side.

  He leaned slightly over the groaning figure of Mu Yichen and looked down at him with that same calm, unflinching gaze he always wore.

  His voice was low, even, and almost casual. “I wanted to give you a good beating for a long time,” he said, “but you didn’t remember anything from the past. So… I didn’t. Now, however…” He paused for effect, tilting his head slightly as though savoring the moment. “Now I can do it without any problem.”

  Mu Yichen blinked, still catching his breath. “You… you mean..!”

  Lee Aseok didn’t finish the thought.

  Instead, he tapped the end of the iron rod lightly against Mu Yichen’s shoulder, a sound that was too gentle to be threatening yet entirely terrifying in its inevitability. “Without any problem,” he repeated.

  And with calm eyes, he swung his iron rod and gave Mu Yichen a beating without holding anything back, he didn’t use any of core energy but pure physical power.

  Kang Juwon, observing from a corner of the room, tilted his head and smirked faintly. He had seen many strange things in his time, but this was particularly satisfying.

  The careful, deliberate satisfaction of someone finally settling an old score. Yet he made a wise, silent decision: he would never, ever reveal that he remembered his past life.

  Let the others stew in their own confusion. The truth could be as dangerous as it was entertaining.

  “Are we… okay?” Park Taegun finally whispered, clearly confused.

  Seo MinHyun, always the dramatist, clutched his chest. “I think my brain just filed for early retirement. Does anyone have a fainting couch or at least some smelling salts?”

  Meanwhile, Lee Aseok tapped Mu Yichen lightly again with the iron rod, just enough to assert dominance but not enough to injure further. “You should have remembered,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “so I could have beaten you earlier.”

  His eyes, dark and unreadable, scanned Mu Yichen’s face carefully.

  The faint smirk that crept onto his lips betrayed the smallest shred of amusement in what was otherwise perfect composure.

  Mu Yichen, still winded, attempted a weak laugh, coughing and clutching his ribs. “I… guess… I deserved that,” he wheezed. His eyes, however, were alight with relief.

  Despite the physical pain, despite the humiliation, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

  Lee Aseok was alive. He had remembered. And the world, messy, chaotic, broken, still had room for some semblance of righting the past.

  Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun remained frozen, oscillating between confusion and disbelief.

  Seo MinHyun’s hand hovered over his heart. “I think my chest is permanently scarred. Can we leave now?”

  Kang Juwon shook his head, a faint, wry smile on his lips. “No. You stay. You watch. This is history unfolding in real time. And believe me… you’ll never get a better view.”

  Kang Juwon leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he observed the scene before him.

  Watching Lee Aseok operate in his current form, the calm, terrifying, unflinching version of himself, was infinitely more enjoyable than any power play.

  In fact, Kang Juwon had to admit, he likes Lee Aseok more.

  The one who carried all the weight of past life knowledge in his eyes but had learned to wield it like a weapon, without theatrics, without needless emotion.

  There was something beautifully efficient, ruthlessly precise, and quietly humorous in the way he moved, the way he struck, the way he decided who was to be punished and who was merely observed.

  Meanwhile, Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun were frozen.

  “Do you… think Mu Yichen did something?” Seo MinHyun whispered, his voice trembling slightly, betraying both curiosity and fear.

  Park Taegun clicked his tongue, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, but whatever it was… it must’ve been catastrophic.

  This is Lee Aseok we’re talking about. He doesn’t swing like that for fun. Not even for amusement. That… that’s pure judgment.”

  The thought alone was enough to make them shiver. They couldn’t quite articulate it, but they felt a strange, reluctant pity for Mu Yichen.

  After all, it was obvious, even without remembering past events, that Mu Yichen cared deeply for Lee Aseok.

  Yet here he lay, battered, helpless, and utterly at the mercy of the man he loved… or respected… or feared. The lines blurred.

  And then Lee Aseok did something that tightened the air even more: he stopped swinging.

  He ignored Mu Yichen entirely, the battered man lying in a crumpled heap, and turned his dark, unreadable eyes on the rest of the group.

  Park Taegun and Seo MinHyun froze. It was like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in the room.

  Breathing felt dangerous, like any slight motion could draw the attention of a predator. Lee Aseok’s gaze wasn’t just intimidating, it was absolute.

  Absolute authority, absolute danger, and absolute clarity.

  Author Note:

  Every “OH MY GOD ASEOK STOP” gives me the strength to write the next disaster.

  Mon ? Wed ? Fri

  (Yes, I too question my life choices.)

  https://www.patreon.com/c/LithutheBloom

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