DP Episode 134

Episode 134

「Gate Closure D+54」

A string of delivery boxes ordered by Cha Yeon-woo began arriving one after another.

“This might help the lieutenant regain his memories,” Yeon-woo said hopefully.

A large Christmas tree suddenly appeared in the hospital room in the middle of February. With his arms crossed, Cheong-oh stood beside Song-hee, watching Yeon-woo decorate the tree with ornaments.

Seo-joon had once mentioned that the first thing he saw after being found beneath a Christmas tree was its twinkling lights. Yeon-woo’s logic was simple—if he recreated that scene, maybe Seo-joon’s memories would return.

“Sure, kid. That’s a good idea.”

Cheong-oh said, though his tone was tinged with pity.

“Do you think Lieutenant Ji will like it?”

Song-hee murmured, her voice soft with sympathy.

The two of them encouraged Yeon-woo, moved by his unwavering determination. It was heartbreaking to witness his endless efforts.

Cheong-oh eventually joined Yeon-woo, helping him hang ornaments. Together, they wrapped the tree with colorful lights, creating a dazzling masterpiece. But both Cheong-oh and Song-hee harbored doubts. Would this really work? Seo-joon hadn’t so much as flinched when they’d tried popping a balloon in front of him. How could a Christmas tree possibly catch his attention?

To their surprise, the reaction was immediate.

“Lieutenant, look here.”

Yeon-woo said, making his usual soft hissing sound to draw Seo-joon’s attention. He plugged the tree into the outlet. The dim hospital room was suddenly bathed in vibrant colors.

Red, green, yellow, blue—each light blinked on in sequence until the entire tree lit up.

“…”

Seo-joon’s eyes widened in astonishment. Yeon-woo stared at him, captivated. Seo-joon’s expression, unfiltered and childlike, was a rare sight Yeon-woo had come to treasure during this long wait. It was something the “old” Seo-joon never showed.

“Do you like it, Lieutenant?” Yeon-woo asked.

Seo-joon’s gaze remained fixed on the tree, unwavering. It was as if he would sit there and watch it all night, unless Yeon-woo coaxed him to bed.

The problem, however, was that Seo-joon now wouldn’t look at Yeon-woo, no matter how many hissing sounds he made.

Four days into the hospital room’s impromptu February Christmas, Seo-joon seemed utterly entranced by the tree. He ate the liquid food Yeon-woo fed him, allowed Yeon-woo to brush his teeth, and even woke in the middle of the night to stare at the tree.

‘This isn’t right. Lieutenant, you’re too much.’

Yeon-woo thought, sighing in frustration as he tried to catch Seo-joon’s gaze, which remained glued to the tree.

On a quiet night when everyone else was asleep, Yeon-woo approached Seo-joon and sat beside him.

“Lieutenant,” he whispered.

“Do you like the tree that much?”

He followed Seo-joon’s gaze to the tree and spoke as if to himself.

“Is it because it’s pretty?”

The silence stretched between them.

“You used to say I was the prettiest, you know. When your memories come back, you’ll regret this.”

Yeon-woo said softly, looking at Seo-joon’s profile.

…This isn’t working.

With sudden resolve, Yeon-woo unplugged the tree. The vibrant lights vanished, leaving the room in darkness. Seo-joon’s gaze faltered, confusion and a hint of melancholy flitting across his expression.

Yeon-woo crouched on the floor, wrapping the tree’s string lights around himself. Plugging them into the nearest outlet, his body lit up with a kaleidoscope of colors, his face illuminated by the glowing bulbs.

“Lieutenant,” Yeon-woo called gently.

This time, Seo-joon’s eyes locked onto him.

‘Finally, you’re looking at me… finally.’

Even knowing Seo-joon was drawn to the lights rather than himself, Yeon-woo’s heart raced as if the Seo-joon he knew was just within reach.

Then, unexpectedly, Seo-joon extended a hand. Slowly, hesitantly, he traced the contours of Yeon-woo’s face through the glowing lights—his eyes, nose, lips, and forehead. The movements were clumsy, without rhythm or logic.

‘Does he see me as some strange alien creature now?’

Yeon-woo wondered, his thoughts tinged with sorrow.

‘These eyes, this nose, this mouth… he used to call them beautiful. What if they’re not anymore?’

Seo-joon’s gray eyes flickered in the dim light as he meticulously explored every inch of Yeon-woo’s face. When the bulbs all lit simultaneously—red, green, yellow, blue—his eyes widened slightly. Yeon-woo watched, mesmerized.

“…”

Perhaps, Yeon-woo thought, Seo-joon wasn’t captivated by the tree itself but by this moment—when all the colors converged. Maybe he, too, was waiting for something, just as Yeon-woo was waiting for the day Seo-joon returned to him.

“I miss you, Lieutenant.”

Yeon-woo whispered.

“When you come back, you’ll have to tell me I did well. Say you missed me, hug me, kiss me a lot… you’ll do that, won’t you?”

As he spoke, Seo-joon’s gaze, illuminated by the colorful lights, drew closer.

Two hand spans. One hand span. Right in front of him.

Yeon-woo blinked, startled, as Seo-joon leaned in.

“…”

A soft, brief touch. Seo-joon’s lips brushed Yeon-woo’s in what could hardly be called a kiss. It was a clumsy gesture—just lips meeting for a moment before pulling away.

Seo-joon blinked slowly, then turned his attention back to the lights encircling Yeon-woo.

Frozen in shock, Yeon-woo blinked as if waking from a dream. His trembling fingers touched his lips, his heart pounding like it had during their first kiss.

“Lieutenant…”

Yeon-woo’s voice wavered with disbelief.

“Did you just… kiss me?”

Of course, Seo-joon didn’t answer.

✽✽✽

“Lieutenant kissed me!”

Hee-min blinked, holding a steaming cup of coffee mid-sip. He let out a low hum, setting the cup down with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, that’s quite the romantic news for this early in the morning, Yeon-woo.”

“Do you think his memories are coming back? Right?”

Cheong-oh, standing nearby with a somewhat awkward expression, nodded hesitantly and nudged Hee-min in the ribs.

“Well… I mean, it’s a good sign, isn’t it? This is the first time Seo-joon’s taken any initiative.”

“Exactly. That’s right, Yeon-woo. It’s a good sign,” Hee-min agreed, nodding earnestly.

The two exchanged a knowing glance, trying to mask their amusement. They were all too aware of how many kisses Yeon-woo had showered on Seo-joon in the past.

It was clear to them that Seo-joon’s action was more a result of learned behavior from Yeon-woo’s persistent “training” rather than a meaningful breakthrough in memory recovery.

But neither of them had the heart to crush Yeon-woo’s excitement, not when he was so visibly buoyed by hope.

“I’ll try something else,” Yeon-woo said, his enthusiasm undiminished. “I’ll show him old pictures, and… oh, can I take him outside? A change of scenery might help trigger his memories.”

“Sure, Yeon-woo. Try anything you think might help,” Hee-min replied, nodding in approval.

With a relieved smile, Yeon-woo hurried out of the room. The door clicked shut, and Hee-min’s lingering smile faded into a quiet sigh.

‘This is taking far too long.’

Even among no-nameds, cases like Seo-joon’s—where recovery stretched out endlessly—were exceedingly rare.

The optimism Hee-min had held at the start was slowly giving way to unease.

“…”

A grim thought crept into his mind, one he could never voice in front of Yeon-woo: ‘What if Seo-joon truly vanished that day along with the Gate? What if the Seo-joon here now is merely a body Yeon-woo crafted out of his guiding ability?’

But Hee-min couldn’t let such fears show, especially not around Yeon-woo.

“Dr. Kang, why are you sighing like that? It’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

Cheong-oh clapped him on the shoulder. Hee-min clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair.

On the monitor in front of him, the title of his research paper blinked back at him:

“The Variables of Bonding Between No-nameds and Assigned Guides in Guiding Effectiveness.”

“I want to stay optimistic,” Hee-min murmured, “but as time goes on, the chances seem to dwindle.”

✽✽✽

“This is dragging on for far too long. What if that’s not the Seo-joon we knew, but just the shell of him that Yeon-woo created? There’s no proof it’s really Seo-joon, other than the outward appearance.”

Yeon-woo froze, his hand gripping the doorknob. He had intended to ask if he could take the lieutenant home for a visit, but now he couldn’t move. Through the slightly ajar door, he heard the harsh words spill out.

“If this goes on for 100 days, 200 days, and Seo-joon still doesn’t come back… How could I ever face Yeon-woo again, Cheong-oh? I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

Hee-min’s voice carried the weight of guilt, but his concern wasn’t his alone.

Gate Closure D+59

The longer people celebrated the peace and safety brought by the Gate’s closure, the more Yeon-woo’s unease grew.

He could feel it, like a shadow lurking at the edges of his mind—a creeping fear that no one dared to voice aloud. While everyone else reveled in relief, Yeon-woo was left clutching at hope, which now felt more fragile than ever.