RAT Chapter 2 (Part 2)

I didn’t like how things were moving without my say, but since I was the one who had approached Jin Yoorim first this weekend, I couldn’t really protest. So I just sat down and looked at the regressor.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I know you hate the coffee here.”

“……”

“But there’s nowhere safer than here… whatever. Just wait. I’ll order.”

That wasn’t why I was looking at him, but fine. He was right about me hating it.

He must’ve been worried I’d bolt, because even while ordering and waiting for the drinks, he kept glancing back at me over and over.

He knew perfectly well that if I wanted to leave without being seen, I could do it easily.

The café on the first floor was famous for its terrible coffee, but it also sold sandwiches and “potions” — highly caffeinated, syrup-heavy drinks that were lifesavers for the staff.

And when a celebrity happened to stop by the company and got cornered by a stalker — stalkers are not fans — this café offered discreet escape routes that looked perfectly natural. The seat I was in right now was one of them.

Even though the spot was cleverly hidden by a few pillars and large plants, the regressor walked toward it without a hint of hesitation, carrying the tray.

He must have come here often enough for his body to know the way better than his eyes.

He avoided the hand I held out to take the tray, set it down, and stared at me in silence.

“Why aren’t you sitting?”

“Move in.”

“What?”

“Go inside.”

“……”

Even though there was plenty of space on the opposite side, he pushed me further into the booth and sat down right beside me.

I could tell he was determined to block any chance of escape, but… we’re not exactly close enough to be sitting this close, are we?

I stiffened awkwardly and pretended to look straight ahead, when he slid a mug toward me.

“Drink.”

“What are you even trying to—”

“I’m sorry.”

“…What?”

The words I never expected to hear from Eden — the regressor who always either twisted my nerves by declaring himself a regressor or stared holes into me — finally came out.

I even forgot to keep up my annoyed act and turned my head to look at him.

Eden ignored my reaction completely, staring between me and the cup, frowning like he’d force me to drink if I didn’t.

“What the…?”

“Just drink. I’ll explain everything.”

“……”

What the hell is this?

I looked at him, lips sealed as if he wouldn’t say another word until I drank, and let out a small sigh. I lifted the mug. Warm steam rose, carrying a sweet scent.

I don’t usually like sweet things unless I’m in the middle of working on a song… maybe he saw me once during a timeline when I wasn’t in the failed idol phase.

Feeling the weight of Eden’s uncomfortably direct gaze, I took a small sip.

“…What the? Why is this good?”

“…Ha.”

At my unguarded reaction, Eden, who’d been tense the whole time, covered his face with one hand and laughed quietly, as if in relief.

The tips of his fingers were trembling slightly.

How long does it take for a person’s emotions to wear down completely?

Everyone’s limits are different, so it’s hard to say based on my own experience alone, but one thing is certain — it doesn’t happen quickly.

At least, it never did for me.

When I first realized that I had regressed, it was hard to accept that all the relationships I had built before no longer existed here.

In this round, there were people I was meeting for the first time, yet I’d forget that and call them by name as if we were old friends. Sometimes I’d even talk about things that had never happened, like sharing fond memories. And whenever I realized my mistake, my mind would go completely blank, so I’d end up overacting to cover it up.

There were a few people who found that side of me entertaining. Some thought I was lying and felt sorry for the “celebrity Park Yeoul,” trapped in his own persona, and even worried about me.

But most people simply rejected me.

I didn’t blame them for it. Honestly, I probably would’ve done the same. If some stranger walked up to me, talked to me like an old friend, and started bringing up things I didn’t know—maybe even things no one else could know—wouldn’t I report him for being crazy?

So even if they pushed me away, that didn’t make them bad people.

And really, it was my fault. I kept making the same mistake over and over again. The people who once thought I was fun began to find me uncomfortable, and those who had felt sorry for me eventually turned on me, calling me a liar.

That happened again and again, until no one was left by my side.

To make an excuse for myself, it wasn’t because I was too stupid to understand how people would react.

It was just… I was young then.

Surrounded by things that were both familiar and endlessly strange, I was desperately searching for something. People who wouldn’t change. Things that would still remember me.

If I didn’t do that, I couldn’t survive in a reality where nothing ever repeated, where everything kept changing completely every single time.

I needed something to hold on to.

Of course, this was after I’d regressed enough times to actually count them.

It’s hard to restart life if you get caught up in small things like relationships.

Even though I could tell Eden was crying, I pretended not to notice and focused entirely on the drink in front of me.

It was similar to a white chocolate mocha, but not quite.

Did he put cream in the milk? No, if he had, there’d be whipped cream on top. It wasn’t exactly sweet either—more on the nutty side…

“Butter?”

“Oat milk.”

“Huh?”

“It’s made with oat milk instead of regular milk… Is it really that good?”

While I was analyzing the recipe, it seemed the regressor had finally managed to get his emotions under control. His face, clean and dry without a trace of tears, twisted in disgust as he stared at me—no, at the mug I was holding tightly with both hands.

“It’s good, so you recommended it, didn’t you?”

“……”

Yeah, probably. The regressor doesn’t like sweet things.

He might’ve thought, I don’t like it, but Yeoul probably would, but even he must’ve realized how weird that sounded.

When I didn’t look away and kept my eyes on him, curious to see what he’d say, he opened his mouth several times as if to speak, then finally gave up and lowered his head. After a quiet sigh, he stood up and moved to the seat across from me.

“Things like this never change.”

“……”

Ah, there it was again. Another “regressor declaration.”

I pretended not to hear and sipped my drink again, waiting for him to continue. He was the one who dragged me here saying he wanted to talk, so I doubted he brought me all this way just to recommend a drink I’d like.

Leaning slightly toward him, I tried to show that I was ready to listen and willing to wait.

The regressor avoided my eyes, staring at a spot on the table, then eventually covered his face with his hands.

“I know it’ll sound weird. I know it’s strange.”

“More than everything else you’ve said so far?”

“…Please, just listen.”

“……”

No, it’s just that he suddenly started acting so serious, and I kind of went along with it without realizing.

And honestly, hasn’t everything he’s done so far already been weird enough?

He called me “hyung” before we even introduced ourselves, and he demanded to know if I was planning to die.

He’s already made it blatantly obvious that he knows me, so how could whatever comes next be stranger than that? I can’t even imagine.

Well, not that I’m expecting much. I mean, seriously — a “by the way, I’m a regressor” kind of confession? That’s not deep or touching, it’s just awkward and awful.

I was wondering how to hide my boredom when he suddenly extended his phone toward me, still covering his face with his hand.

“Why are you giving me your phone all of a sudden…?”

“……”

“…‘To my beloved Yeoul hyung’?”

…Wow. What the hell. That actually surprised me.

If he had me saved like that, I understand why he didn’t want to show me his phone. I mean… sure, there were times we got along, but not like that.

The regressor, noticing my awkward reaction, muttered a quiet curse and snatched the phone back.

“I didn’t save it like that.”

“…Right.”

“I’m serious. I didn’t do that.”

“……”

Sure. Someone else must’ve stolen his phone, unlocked it somehow, and gone out of their way to find my number just to save it under that ridiculous name. Yeah, sure.

…Ha. As if.

When I stayed silent, he lowered the hand that had been covering his face and looked straight at me.

“You’re the one who did it.”

“…Ha.”

“I had it saved as ‘Park Yeoul,’ but you said it made you sad.”

“I did?”

“So I changed it to ‘Yeoul hyung.’”

“……”

“And then, when I woke up the next morning, you’d changed it again. To ‘My beloved Yeoul hyung.’”

Oh… I see.

That’s not from any timeline I remember. Then again, I don’t remember all of them, but still — does that even make sense?

“…So, let me get this straight. I supposedly sneaked into your room, unlocked your phone using your fingerprint while you were asleep, and… changed the name to that?”

“Not ‘your room,’ it was our room. And you wouldn’t need to do that.”

“Our room— okay, fine, whatever. Why? Did I memorize your lock pattern or something?”

“I knew the password.”

“…Ah. Is that how it is?”

I’d expected something simple like “Actually, I regressed,” but this— this was turning into a whole new lore drop. My head was starting to ache.

Seriously. Can we not add random new backstory details all of a sudden? If we’re going to do this, at least give me a status screen or a guide system or something.

I forced a calm smile and slowly leaned back, pressing myself closer to the pillar. I was already planning when to make a run for it.

“Hyung, don’t avoid this. Don’t you think it’s strange that I already knew your number?”

“…Maybe I got it from the company.”

“A trainee got another trainee’s number through the company? Does that make any sense?”

“……”

“I knew your number before you told me. And I know that you like this weird drink — not coffee, not hot chocolate.”

“No, I just thought it tasted good…”

“No. You’re the only one who likes it, out of all of us.”

“……”

That’s only because you guys hate coffee, you little brats. What would you even know? You’ve never stayed up all night working on a song.

I almost snapped but decided to act like an adult and let it go with a smile.

The regressor, seeing that, let out a sigh, covered his face again, and muttered a curse.

“…Stop smiling like that.”

“Ha…?”

“Even if you always call me slow… I still know what the person I love is thinking.”

“……”

…Well, I don’t even know what to say to that. Too abrupt to laugh at, but too awkward to get angry over.

I covered my mouth with my hand, unsure how to react, and the regressor continued with a sigh in his voice.

“I’m saying this so you don’t misunderstand.”

“……”

“When I said ‘the person I love,’ I didn’t mean family or friendship or anything like that.”

“…Ha.”

“…You remember I said you changed the name to ‘my beloved Yeoul hyung,’ right?”

“……”

Then the regressor lowered the hand that had been covering his face and looked straight at me.

“It wasn’t one-sided.”

“…Really?”

I didn’t look away. I leaned forward toward the table—toward the regressor—and placed my hand lightly on his clenched fist, tapping it gently.

The regressor reacted like it was instinct, leaning toward me naturally, and I pretended not to notice as I moved closer, bringing my face just a little nearer to his.

“So… did we sleep together?”

“…What?”

When he flinched back in shock, I grinned sharply and grabbed him by the back of the neck.

“I asked if we slept together.”

“…I’m not lying about what I said.”

“So what then?”

“…Hyung.”

“Ah. You didn’t imagine that far, huh?”

I stared at his tense face, teeth clenched, then loosened my grip and sat back down properly.

The regressor—Eden—still leaned toward me, lips moving as if he wanted to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him.

“You know, I really don’t know how I’m supposed to take this.”

“……”

“So you’re saying, after I got scouted and changed companies, I ended up with a stalker there? Ha… unbelievable.”

I felt a little bad if he’d been trying to shock me into listening, but I’ve been through this kind of thing before.

When I said stalkers aren’t fans, I wasn’t exaggerating.

Waiting all day outside the dorm or company was the standard. Some even pretended to be delivery drivers to sneak inside. Honestly, that kind of thing was almost cute compared to the rest.

Then it would escalate—following our cars, trying to cause accidents on purpose. That’s when it stopped being a minor nuisance and became something worse.

And me? Yeah, I’ve been reported to the police before.

Not the one doing the reporting. Reported by someone else.

From claims that I borrowed money and didn’t pay it back, to things I can’t even bring myself to say out loud—accusations that were on a whole other level.

Usually, the agency handled it, but once, when things got really bad, I had to go to the police station myself. …Let’s not talk about that anymore.

Anyway, the regressor’s “We were in love” declaration wasn’t all that shocking. Sure, I was surprised for a second when I saw my name saved like that in his phone, but that was about it.

Honestly, I think I’d only be shocked if it turned out Jin Yoorim was actually a woman in disguise and the two of them had a kid together.

Saying “we were in love” and then not even being able to answer when I asked if we slept together… come on. Where’s the creativity? Try harder next time.

Still, even now, the regressor seemed unwilling to give up. Despite my irritation, he gripped my hand tightly—the one I’d left resting on his earlier.

“Park Yeoul.”

“Wow, really? We’re dropping honorifics now?”

“If you’re going to keep pretending you don’t know, then fine. Do that.”

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

At those words, I rubbed my forehead and let out a dry laugh that wasn’t even forced this time.

He just kept talking like he didn’t even hear me. At this point, it felt less like he was being stubborn and more like he was seeing something that wasn’t there. Otherwise, it made no sense.

“Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I’m not pretending— that I really don’t remember?”

“……”

When I finally asked him outright, too curious to hold back, the regressor smiled for the first time that day. That somehow made me feel uneasy, so I quietly pulled my hand away from his.

I started thinking maybe I really should prepare to run this time, but the regressor didn’t try to stop me. He just watched calmly and answered, as if my question hadn’t been the one I asked.

“I’m not going to cheapen what we had by calling it ‘sleeping together.’”

“…Wait, that conversation isn’t over yet? I thought we finished that part already.”

A stalker would’ve been bad enough, but if he was also delusional? That was actually kind of scary, even between guys.

I muttered that to myself, and the regressor burst out laughing, loud enough for others to hear.

Yeah. Time to get out of here.

Just as I slid one leg out from under the table, ready to bolt, the regressor stopped laughing and looked at me again.

“And you don’t have to make excuses for me.”

“…What?”

“You don’t have to worry so much about how I might look like a lunatic to everyone else.”

“……”

If you know you sound like a lunatic, then maybe try saying things more clearly?

Instead of answering, I just gave a light laugh, bowed my head slightly, and stood up. I’d already concluded there was nothing more to gain from this conversation.

He’d been calling me “hyung” since the first time we met, so I figured he might be a bit off, but this was worse than I expected.

I’d hoped I might at least get a clue about why he’d regressed, but I hadn’t realized he was this deeply trapped in the memories of a past round.

I can’t say I never acted like that myself, so I get it… but even if the me from his round and the me now are technically the same person, our experiences and circumstances are different.

Our memories aren’t the same, right?

No matter what kind of relationship we had in the round he remembers, it’s already over. Even if, by some miracle, I really had lost my mind and we loved each other, even slept together.

“If you approach me like this again, I’ll report you.”

“…You’re really the same as ever.”

I guess that could also mean that in every round, I end up being the same person anyway.

I sort of agreed with him but still frowned, like I’d just heard something I couldn’t make sense of, and walked away.

I made sure to pause a few times behind pillars and planters, pretending to check my phone, just to make it seem like I wasn’t storming off. He was probably watching.

…But what about Jin Yoorim?

The best thing about weekends is that Sunday comes after Saturday. You get one more legal day to rest.

Not that that applies to me right now.

If I told my parents I’d lost my phone, they’d just buy me a new one. Which meant I spent Sunday unable to contact Jin Yoorim at all.

But honestly… judging from how Yoorim was acting yesterday, it wouldn’t have been easy to talk to him anyway.

All I wanted was to pretend nothing had happened, stay home, and laugh at TV shows with my parents. But since they were the proud parents of a “former JM trainee,” they knew all too well that my new company ran weekend training sessions.

They wouldn’t even let me have another bowl of breakfast, saying eating too much in the morning would make practice harder later. Before I knew it, I was half-forced out the door.

Couldn’t they just pretend not to notice that I wanted a break?

I mean, considering I left my last agency because of bullying, it didn’t feel right to say I didn’t want to go back to the company less than a week after joining.

At least it was early in the day, so the streets weren’t crowded yet.

Still, the traces of last night’s festivities were everywhere. As I walked, eyes fixed more on the ground than ahead, I heard a familiar voice.

“Hyung!”

“……”

Jin Yoorim was waving at me, his face shining even brighter than yesterday’s.

…Seriously? Are they not even trying to hide that they’ve regressed?

I stopped walking, glanced around, and looked back at him. Yoorim clearly couldn’t stand waiting even a moment longer — he ran right up to me and stopped in front of me.

“I was worried when you left so suddenly yesterday.”

“…Worried?”

“I was worried you might not have liked my singing… but since you left your phone behind, that’s not it… right?”

If someone would cut ties just because they didn’t like a song, wouldn’t it be better to just end things there?

Instead of saying that out loud, I tilted my head like I didn’t understand.

“Right, my phone. You have it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Eden said he’d come pick it up, but I’m really glad you came yourself.”

Maybe it’s because he’s still young, but unlike the Yoorim I remember—the one who used to get angry and ask if Eden was some kind of singing doll—he smiled so sweetly now.

When he smiled at me with that gentle, eye-creasing grin, I couldn’t help but think that with that face, he could easily charm seventeen-year-old Eden without even trying. I nodded absently before quickly asking again.

“…Eden said he was coming to pick it up?”

…Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have come after all. Would it be weird if I said I was leaving now?

Sure, Yoorim being overly cheerful compared to the one I remember was a little strange, but this much I could handle. It’s not like I was going to be stuck with him all day.

My plan was simple: thank him for finding my phone, buy him a drink or meal, casually bring up the company, and then part ways.

Something like, “I was so caught up in your performance that I didn’t realize my phone was gone until I got back to the company.”

If the conversation went normally after that, he’d probably ask something like, “Company? How old are you?” since I didn’t exactly look like an office worker.

Then I’d act embarrassed, admit I was a trainee, and invite him to visit the agency sometime. Mission complete.

After that, Team Leader Seo Donghoon would take care of the rest. That was the whole reason I left my phone behind in the first place.

As for Jin Yoorim, who might have the memories of a regressor—
It’s not hard to ignore someone who just seems to “know” me. And if it were, I’d feel sorry for Eden, considering everything I’ve already gone through for him.

…Still, I really don’t want to get caught between Yoorim and Eden.

Honestly, I don’t hate either of them, even if they’re the reasons for my regressions. Sure, I was angry at first—anyone would be.

There were times I knelt and begged them to let me live, and times I shoved a knife into their hands and told them to just kill me instead… yeah.

Anyway, I don’t hold any personal grudges against either of them. Between those two, there’s just… too much unresolved emotion.

Repeated regressions created certain compulsions.

They ranged from simple ones like “The title track must be self-produced, and all members must take part in the lyrics,” to things as detailed as meal plans and practice hours during promotions.

If something could be controlled, I controlled it completely. When things were bad, I even dictated how many times members should speak on broadcasts and in what order.

But there’s a limit to how much you can micromanage people. Those same kids who could follow directions on camera angles and how loudly to laugh suddenly stopped listening when it came to relationships.

So what can you do? You get reset, or you start over again. At first, I got reset more times than I can count.

For me, it wasn’t really obsession—it was more like system maintenance. Removing the unnecessary things in advance so I could reach the best outcome in the shortest time possible.

If we’re talking about shortest time… well, this round’s already doomed.

Anyway, once those two get close, things always fall apart. And this time, even handling Eden alone is exhausting enough. So please, cut me some slack.

I looked at Yoorim’s face, waiting quietly right in front of me, and smiled lightly.