RAT Chapter 8 (Part 1)
by Brie- Skip to the good part
“Wow… this is new again.”
Out of all the countless restarts, this was the first time one had ever begun like this. If every restart had been this different, maybe the number of times I’ve had to start over would’ve been a little less.
With a faintly nervous heart, I tugged at the handcuffs fixed to the bedpost, but of course, they didn’t come loose.
“No, seriously, this is a bit too much, guys.”
At first, I’d pulled lightly, thinking it was some kind of joke, but even when I used my full weight, the cuffs didn’t budge or break.
…At this point, it’s hard to just laugh and call it “new.”
I let out a small sigh and looked down at the cuffs, which clinked loudly every time I moved, as if proud of their presence.
Where the metal touched my wrists, a thin, soft ribbon had been wrapped around. It looked a bit awkward, like someone had tried to be careful but wasn’t used to it. Probably to prevent injury.
Since Eden wasn’t the meticulous type, that meant this had to be Jin Yoorim’s doing.
Between my wrist and the wall, there was roughly a meter and a half of chain. Thanks to that, I could get off the bed and stand, but I couldn’t reach the door handle.
“…Hey, guys? Seriously, what are you trying to do?”
Even after just a bit of exploring, their intention was obvious.
The one who trapped me here—the Regressor, Jin Yoorim—seemed determined to block every possible way I could die.
When I was confined to the psychiatric ward, they hadn’t even gone so far as to cuff me, so I couldn’t help but laugh dryly. Seriously, this much?
Of course, back in the hospital, I was considered a special case—three people always had to enter the room together. But that wasn’t the issue here.
I don’t even want to imagine how I must’ve looked back then: too weak to eat properly, skin and bones, obsessively composing day and night.
I mean, isn’t it obvious how a twenty-one-year-old former idol, locked in an empty ward composing all day, must have looked to everyone else?
After a long battle between pity and professionalism, several nurses quit. When the number who left exceeded one hand, I was labeled “special case.”
Then my attending psychiatrist walked in one day and clapped, saying I was their first patient who wasn’t violent or restrained, yet still required three staff members for rounds.
Every time I insisted that I was fine, they’d scold me harshly, saying the very idea that I could “solve everything by dying” was a symptom of illness. Well… not that it matters now.
Anyway, not even the sum of modern medicine could change me.
The doctors who treated me always diagnosed severe depression, but I never actually had it—so of course, their treatments didn’t work.
Maybe that’s why it made sense to them that physical restraint might be the only way to keep me from dying.
Not that it really made sense, considering he’s the one who killed me in the last round.
I had no idea what point in time this was, what happened to D.I.Y., or even where I was. It was frustrating not being able to check anything without my phone.
“…But normally, wouldn’t they be watching?”
If they saw me wake up, wouldn’t they usually show up right away?
I sat still on the bed, waiting for Jin Yoorim to appear. I wondered if I should at least pretend to struggle, out of respect for the effort he’d put into imprisoning me, but…
The ribbon wrapped around the cuffs looked slightly frayed, suggesting it hadn’t been long since it was tied.
Since they couldn’t lock me up from the start, they must’ve timed it carefully—but not precisely enough.
Well, that figures. If he were capable of perfect timing, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering what timeline this was.
“Uh… but you are watching, right? Can you hear me too, maybe?”
Apparently, my patience was shorter than I thought.
…Or maybe it wasn’t impatience—just the frustration of being in yet another situation beyond my control.
I scanned the corner of the wall until I found the camera, waved toward it, and leaned back against the headboard.
“Can you see this? The chain’s longer than my neck circumference, you know?”
The metal clattered as I lifted it slightly, smiling—then the closed door swung open.
“…Put that down. Now.”
“Haha. So you were watching after all?”
Jin Yoorim stepped inside, exhaling a low sigh. He looked utterly exhausted.
And right behind him, another familiar face popped out, speaking in an absurdly light tone.
“―Just saying this up front, I was against it, hyung.”
…Ah. So this wasn’t just Jin Yoorim’s doing—it was a joint effort.
The two regressors—number 1 and number 2—changed my clothes with practiced, almost synchronized hands. While Eden unlocked one cuff, Jin Yoorim held onto my wrist, then switched arms with Eden the moment the sleeve went over.
It was so absurd that I didn’t even think to pull away or try to escape. Not that I could, with one standing behind me and the other in front.
With a mix of disbelief and annoyance, I stared at Jin Yoorim as he fastened the buttons on my shirt. He averted his gaze awkwardly.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Uh… I can think of about three reasons.”
Instead of answering, I just raised my head to look at him.
Raised my head to look up.
I’d stopped keeping count once I passed the triple digits, but after so many loops, there were a few things that had never changed.
First, my parents always died after my debut was confirmed.
Second, our group’s name was always D.I.Y., and we always debuted through END Entertainment.
And there were smaller, more trivial constants too—like the fact that Jin Yoorim was always the shortest member of our team.
Even if I was standing a little awkwardly between the two of them, something felt off. Jin Yoorim’s gaze, which should have been angled upward, was clearly looking down at me.
“―You’re probably wondering when we got so close, huh?”
Eden said it jokingly, and though Jin Yoorim made a face like he was disgusted, he didn’t deny it.
While I was still the only one who hadn’t adjusted to this situation, there was another metallic click—and the cuffs snapped shut around my wrists again.
“…That’s one of the reasons, yeah.”
I sighed quietly and pushed Eden away as he shamelessly leaned against my back, still holding onto the cuffs he’d just locked.
They’d changed my clothes, sure—but apparently letting me wash was too much. Jin Yoorim was now holding out a damp towel instead.
…Whatever this was supposed to be, I figured I should at least play along. So I took the towel and wiped my face. From behind, I felt someone start brushing my hair. For someone who’d been acting so casually, his touch was surprisingly gentle.
Now that I thought about it, had my nails been trimmed too?
Just when the air started to feel a little suffocating, Jin Yoorim snatched the towel out of my hands.
“…….”
“Why do you keep making that… No, forget it. Just stay quiet. That’s better.”
He muttered it to himself, though it was loud enough for me to hear clearly. Not that it really needed a response.
Considering how far he’d gone—actually locking me up—I thought I should at least try to listen to him. But I couldn’t help it. I called his name anyway.
“Yoorim.”
“…Keep your mouth shut. I’m putting lotion on you right now.”
“Haha, I feel like a baby.”
At my laugh, both of them froze for a moment—Jin Yoorim’s hand, which had been touching my face under the pretense of applying lotion, and Eden’s, combing hair that no longer needed it.
…Well, of course.
Even without my memories, I was still me.
After so many regressions, I could barely remember who I’d been before it all started—but aside from the most recent few loops, no one had ever noticed the difference.
Ever since the loops began, I’d developed habits that carried over each time—like keeping my phone under my pillow when I slept, and starting to compose earlier and earlier after each reset.
This regression affected every version of me. Even without the memories, there’s no way I would’ve quietly accepted this kind of treatment.
With a playful tilt of my head, I rubbed my cheek against Jin Yoorim’s hand and smiled with the corners of my eyes.
“How strange.”
“…….”
“When did you get so tall?”
“…….”
“What a shame. I didn’t get to see you grow.”
It was a somewhat sincere thing to say, but apparently not enough. When I frowned slightly out of regret, Eden pulled me back into his arms from behind.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough. You’re not really falling for this kind of act, are you?”
Jin Yoorim, who looked like he was about to say something, stared straight at me before shifting his gaze toward Eden and clicking his tongue.
“Watch yourself. How long are you going to keep brushing his hair?”
“Oh, thanks for the concern. I was almost getting jealous just now.”
Hmm… It felt like nothing was going to move forward unless I somehow got the two of them apart. But how?
Just as that thought crossed my mind, Eden laughed softly as if he’d read it, then messed up my hair.
“Hyung, you’re thinking about something stupid again.”
“I was thinking about you.”
“…….”
Eden sighed at my offhand reply but didn’t push it any further. Maybe he’d decided that trading meaningless lies wasn’t worth it.
As much as I knew Eden, this dear regressor of mine knew me just as well. So it made sense, really.
I let my body go limp and leaned against him, lifting my hand.
Just like I’d done to Jin Yoorim earlier, Eden brought his cheek to the hollow of my palm. He’d never really had any baby fat on his face, but the coolness of his skin and the unfamiliar texture made me feel strange.
“I meant it when I said I was sad, you know.”
Trying to hide it, I said something that even I could barely believe, tapping his cheek lightly with my fingertips like it was a joke. This time, it was Jin Yoorim who sighed.
“…You’ve never thought that this might be the problem, have you?”
“Huh?”
“Everything you’re doing right now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Even though I said it with a smile, they both sighed almost in unison, sensing the irritation behind my tone.
With a look of utter disgust, Jin Yoorim shoved Eden’s face away from my hand, knelt down in front of me where I sat on the bed, and pulled my hand toward his own face. He made me cup his cheeks, then looked up at me, lips forming the silent word, “idiot.”
I stared down at him quietly. He was still beautiful—but now fully, unmistakably a man.
Sorry, but he’d grown too much for me to call him pretty anymore.
“Yoorim.”
“…Yes, hyung.”
“I’ve never treated you as someone special.”
“…….”
Whether this cursed regression began because of Jin Yoorim or Eden, I still didn’t know.
Without another word, I lightly tapped Yoorim’s cheek and whispered softly, as though sharing a secret.
“The same goes for Eden.”
“…….”
“You already know that, don’t you?”
“…….”
He could obviously hear me—Eden was right behind us—but that wasn’t the point. It was a matter of feeling.
I watched Yoorim’s eyes waver and slowly close, pretending to act mature, and only then straightened my back.
If Jin Yoorim had blamed me for using him to restart the loop, I would’ve listened. Just like I’d apologized to Eden about the fountain pen—no matter the form, I wouldn’t have hesitated to make amends.
But this kind of accusation was different.
I’d done enough to deserve being called trash, sure. But I didn’t deserve to be blamed for things I hadn’t done.
When I’d dated Jin Yoorim or Eden, I’d done my best. Maybe my idea of a relationship had been a little different from normal—after all, it was a relationship I’d started because I wanted to die. It was never going to be pink and sweet.
Still, I tried to give them whatever they wanted.
Even if I couldn’t truly love someone who I believed was at the root of these regressions—Eden could still tell from my face when I cared, and Yoorim could still say things like, “Please hold me.”
And when it wasn’t that kind of loop, I treated everyone equally. That was easier. I’d never thought of anyone as special, so it didn’t take effort.
So Yoorim’s accusation—as if all these regressions were my fault—was unfair. It didn’t fit.
Not wanting to see him kneeling at my feet, I pressed my foot lightly against his shoulder and fiddled idly with the cuff on my wrist, letting out a quiet sigh.
…I’d gotten genuinely angry for once, but neither of them—neither Yoorim nor Eden—showed any sign of freeing me. Failure.
If anything, my sigh seemed to provoke them further, because Eden took my hand and wrapped it tightly in his own.
“…Hyung, this is exactly the problem.”
“What is?”
“You say you’ve never treated us special, but—”
Before I could respond, he pulled suddenly, and I fell back onto the bed.
At the same time, Yoorim grabbed my ankle—the one resting on his shoulder—and between the two of them, I ended up in an even worse position than before.
Eden smiled, looking pleased at my lack of freedom, and asked as if it were nothing.
“Hyung, if I’d been the one kneeling just now—would you have punished me too?”
“…What are you even trying to say?”
“Nothing. Just curious.”
“You wouldn’t have knelt in the first place.”
I laughed. For someone so desperate to be the one in control, he sure wouldn’t humble himself that way.
Eden laughed too, then leaned forward, pressing his body over mine. He lifted my wrist to his lips, kissed the inside lightly, then bit down hard.
“Then what about this?”
“…….”
“What if Jin Yoorim had done it instead?”
“…….”
“Would you punish me again then?”
I felt like I should answer something, but I couldn’t grasp what he was really asking. More than anything, stepping on Jin Yoorim’s shoulder had been an impulsive act, not something I’d call a punishment.
And besides, biting the insides of wrists or shoulders—places that don’t show—is Eden’s habit. I doubted Yoorim would ever imitate that. But that wasn’t really the point either.
I sighed quietly and pushed Eden’s head away with the hand that wasn’t caught.
Instead of backing off, he leaned into my palm, nuzzling it like a teasing child.
“Just admit it, hyung.”
“Yeah? Then my answer is no, to everything.”
“You don’t have to think or choose. We already agreed, remember?”
“Can’t you hear me? I said no—ugh.”
Before I could even finish saying “no,” he bit my toe. I couldn’t move with him sitting on top of me, so all I could do was tense my legs. Then Jin Yoorim reached out and gently ran his hand down my calf.
“So this is what you two came up with? Kidnap and assault?”
I’d tried to sound as dignified as possible, but that failed too—Eden burst out laughing before I even finished.
“Ha! Us? Doing that to you?”
“…….”
“Me? And even Jin Yoorim?”
As Eden doubled over laughing like a maniac, heat crept up my face. Then Yoorim climbed onto the bed and lay down on my other side, speaking softly.
“Don’t worry, hyung. If that ever happened, I’d kill him first.”
“Uh… thanks?”
I assumed the one he meant he’d kill was Eden, not me.
Forcing an awkward smile, I lay flat on my back, carefully avoiding both of them—Eden to my left and Yoorim to my right—and stared at the ceiling.
“So what is this, really?”
At my sighing question, Eden finally stopped laughing and replied in an overly cheerful tone.
“Life stories.”
“…What?”
“You know, the kind of thing you actually like—talking about the things you enjoy, and about life.”
Still lying down, he turned his head toward me and held up the key to the handcuffs.
“I’ll unlock you when you’re ready to talk.”
He was smiling as he said it, and for a moment, he didn’t look like the unfamiliar “adult Eden” in front of me—but the same Eden I used to know.
I glanced between him and Yoorim, who had burrowed into my side and hidden his face from view, then looked back up at the ceiling.
I still wanted to die. I still wanted a perfect ending where there would be no more restarts.
And at the same time, I regretted the versions of them I’d never seen—the parts that had grown up without me.
I wanted to see Jin Yoorim’s dancing and singing after he’d grown taller than me. I wanted to hear Eden’s rapping voice—lower and steadier than I remembered. I wanted to know what I’d missed—the process of their change.
Maybe Eden was right. No matter how desperate I’d been, it wasn’t in my nature to date or sleep with someone I truly hated. Maybe I hadn’t loved them, but I had liked them.
Smiling faintly, I raised my cuffed hand and gave it a small shake. But still…
“Eden.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never once refused to talk to you.”
The ones who’d refused were always you two. When I died again, when I cried saying I was afraid to fall asleep because waking up meant starting over again, when I begged you to just kill me yourselves—every time.
I’m sorry, but I’ve grown too old and worn out to be swayed by kind words anymore.
I laughed a little as I said it, without much thought, but Eden let out a quiet sigh and spoke again.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah.”
“Since we knew you wouldn’t answer, we tried to think about it ourselves.”
“Yeah? Think about what?”
“…….”
Unlike his usual confident expression, Eden didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling and began rubbing my hand between his palms.
It was Jin Yoorim who broke the silence.
He reached out, turned my face toward his, and met my eyes with a slight curve of his own.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah, me.”
“Why do you want to die?”
“…….”
Even though he was the one who brought it up, Eden immediately let out a pained sound, tightening his grip around my hand.
He was probably making quite the face beside me, but instead of turning to look, I squeezed his hand back and quietly looked at Yoorim.
He had a grown man’s face now—calmer, more grounded than I’d ever imagined.
The anxious look that always flickered in his eyes whenever he looked at me was gone.
I found that endearing and almost reached out to pat his head, but the cuffs rattled loudly, so I stopped.
When I lowered my arm, Yoorim must have guessed what I’d been about to do. Smiling faintly, he took my hands in his and lifted them above his head. Then he whispered.
“Why stop? Keep petting me.”
Of course, Eden could hear every word, and I heard his groan of disgust beside me, but Yoorim acted as though he heard nothing.
They used to fight about this all the time, and even now, it hadn’t changed. The thought made me laugh, and I pushed Yoorim’s head down hard.
“What are you so proud of?”
“…….”
His sulky expression was so unlike him that I burst out laughing again and ruffled his hair roughly.
“…Sorry.”
“Hyung?”
“…What’s that supposed to mean? Sorry for what?”
Eden, still holding me from behind, tightened his grip on my hand, and I smiled quietly.
In the end, I had stolen the “Park Yeoul” who should have grown up beside them—the one who should have shared their lives as they became solid, grown adults.
And that “Park Yeoul” would never return.
It was ironic—after chaining me down so I wouldn’t disappear again, they still reached out to the me who came back, yearning for affection.
I let out a soft sigh and lifted my cuffed arm, hoping my old exhaustion and disgust wouldn’t show through.
“So, what do you want to talk about? I’m starting to miss my freedom.”
It’s kind of ridiculous, but I’m actually feeling pretty down right now.
“Hyung, are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah.”
“…Really?”
“You said I’m twenty-four now, the leader and producing member of a JM idol group called Own’s, not END.”
In this restart that I’ve gone through countless times, I had become a version of Park Yeoul living in a time I’d never experienced before.
Apparently, I’d even debuted without D.I.Y.—with these two, no less.