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    Loves Balance

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    After that, several more deaths repeated. Wanting to prevent the zombies from spreading at least on the first floor, I desperately tried to stop the breath of the first zombie that manifested each time but ultimately failed every attempt.

    The woman’s vitality was disgustingly tenacious. Even when I pierced her head or severed her neck, her mutilated body wouldn’t stop moving like a mutilated yet writhing live octopus. Moreover, the weapons available in the café were extremely limited, and time was always pressing.

    If even one person among the café customers had helped, the story would have been completely different. Even if we couldn’t kill it, couldn’t we have at least contained it? But through countless repeated failures, the people in the café always remained bystanders to my violence. Sometimes, those bystanders felt more spiteful than the violently thrashing zombie.

    Despair gradually became familiar. Just when I’d relax thinking I’d succeeded in completely subduing it, I’d always belatedly discover the wounds the woman left on me. Black scars remained on my cheek, nape, sometimes the back of my hand or wrist, as if mocking me. Each time, I’d drag my dying body to the real estate office to see Yoo Min-ho.

    Ironically, peace of mind came the moment death was certain. My death meant that at least for that cycle, Yoo Min-ho wouldn’t die. Of course he’d recoil calling me a stalker bastard when seeing me, but that actually put me at ease.

    Hyeon-ho said Yoo Min-ho and Cha Min-jae were the same person. That meant my desire to revive him had pushed Yoo Min-ho into this hell. If he ever remembered me, I feared how I could possibly beg for forgiveness.

    Then suddenly, I wondered. After spending so long believing myself to be Lee Chae-eun until my soul wore thin, why had I suddenly realized the truth without any memories? Was there some trigger?

    In this situation, only one person could give answers. After reaching the management office the same way as the cycle where Yoo Min-ho died in the unmanned convenience store, I spoke to Hyeon-ho.

    “Let’s talk.”

    Do Ji-hyuk and Yoo Min-ho were fighting near the CCTV monitor about whether to go outside, while the real estate agent struggled to mediate. Hyeon-ho sat lazily at the table fiddling with his phone, though it was unclear if he was listening. With a tone suggesting he couldn’t comprehend, he instead questioned me:

    “Does your phone work?”

    “…Isn’t it just yours that’s not working? The whole system—”

    “I know the networks are down. I did it. But mine was working. Why’d it suddenly die? Weird, I clearly—”

    “……”

    Hyeon-ho suddenly froze mid-sentence, looking shocked as he stared at me. His face went completely blank. Simultaneously, his phone slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Unfortunately, its screen was already cracked like a spiderweb, but he made no move to pick it up, instead asking me in a trembling voice:

    “…This isn’t your first time coming to the management office, is it?”

    “……”

    “My phone didn’t die, ah… right, my ability disappeared. I can’t remember anymore… right?”

    When I silently stared at him, Hyeon-ho’s face gradually twisted into a smile. Then suddenly, he burst into loud laughter—”Wahaha!” Instantly, everyone in the management office looked over, but he didn’t care. Like someone watching a perfectly timed comedy show, he bent over laughing until his face turned red. The other three seemed to think Hyeon-ho had gone mad from the zombie-induced terror. His cheerful laughter only made the room’s atmosphere heavier.

    “I told you everything! And you believed it. Well, if you hadn’t, my ability wouldn’t have disappeared. Yeah, that’s it! Haha…”

    I silently waited until his laughter subsided. Even when the agent came over asking if he was okay, Hyeon-ho couldn’t hide his excitement.

    Several cycles ago, he’d told me he wanted to see futures beyond this predetermined repeating world. If that was impossible, he’d rather become an ordinary human. Regardless, Hyeon-ho seemed immensely satisfied now that he’d gotten what he wanted. After finally calming down, his face still flushed, he asked with shining eyes:

    “So… which cycle is this?”

    “…I stopped counting long ago.”

    “Any progress? Looking at your face, I can guess without asking.”

    “Even if we give up on the high schooler upstairs… just the woman in the café—I can’t stop her. Severing limbs, decapitating—nothing kills her. Even when I lock her in the bathroom, I always find scratches somewhere. If just one person helped… but no one cares despite the commotion. Damn… fucking hell.”

    Hyeon-ho listened while leaning on his arms, as if hearing an amusing story. His faint smile seemed discordant with the situation. Yet words kept pouring from me. Just sharing this with someone eased my mind slightly.

    “Last cycle she scratched my neck, before that my cheek. Once, I got distracted and she bit my shoulder. Eliminating her before she infects others seems the easiest solution but… haa.”

    After speaking, I caught my breath. If I could just eliminate that woman and seal the emergency stairwell, at least the zombies wouldn’t spread on the first floor. Then we wouldn’t need to fight through zombies to reach the firefighters at the main entrance. Essentially, Yoo Min-ho’s survival chances would skyrocket.

    But with each failure, I lost confidence. Subduing the frenzied zombie without injury seemed nearly impossible. The café had barely any weapons—just mops, fire extinguishers, bread knives. It was practically hand-to-hand combat.

    Yet unlike before, I didn’t want to die. Guilt toward Yoo Min-ho prevented it. Suppressing my bursting heart, I got to the point, “You don’t remember now, but you once said there’s no afterlife—death is just the end.”

    “……”

    “Then… what about Yoo Min-ho? He died.”

    Silence lingered. Hyeon-ho studied me curiously before countering, “Do you remember everything now?”

    “…Not everything… but when near Yoo Min-ho, fragmented scenes surface regardless. The clearest is that Yoo Min-ho died, causing me immense pain. Enough to write this insane story.”

    A clattering sound made me turn—Yoo Min-ho had found a toolbox behind the sofa and was handling a pipe wrench. As he practiced swinging it, Hyeon-ho quietly said, “By projecting Yoo Min-ho to create Cha Min-jae, he was reborn. Reincarnation, I guess? Something similar to that. He’s the only human who achieved it. Whether to thank or resent you for that is ambiguous.”

    “…Then why did my memories suddenly return? After living so long believing I was Lee Chae-eun?”

    Again, Hyeon-ho hesitated. Time approached 9 PM, but I felt no urgency. Simply waiting here for the firefighters to cut through the shutters didn’t seem bad—at least the reset would happen without deaths. With each cycle, I grew exhausted. I couldn’t remember when I last slept or ate.

    “…Ki-hyeon, he’s cute, right?”

    “What?”

    Following his gaze, I saw Yoo Min-ho tying shoelaces around a severed zombie wrist. That guy again. I sighed. Whether ‘cute’ referred to his face or actions was unclear, but neither seemed accurate. His behavior was bizarre, and his face… more strikingly handsome than cute. Hyeon-ho’s random comment baffled me.

    “He lacks so much. No manners, rude, insolent… yet surprisingly pure and blindly devoted sometimes.”

    “……”

    “Know who my favorite character is? Yoo Min-ho. Maybe because you didn’t create him… he’s unpredictably fascinating.”

    “……”

    “Honestly, though I brought you here, I didn’t expect much. But losing all memories without questioning the possession? Beyond imagination. Your doubts always stopped at resident registration numbers. Even with low expectations… it was absurd. Yet funnily, while you remembered nothing, Cha Min-jae started changing from your first cycle here.”

    “…What?”

    “You asked why you suddenly became self-aware? Simple. Last cycle, Cha Min-jae—no, Yoo Min-ho—remembered your real name. Recently, whenever near death, he always remembers you. An anomaly in what was once just scripted character behavior.”

    “…Why suddenly?”

    At my trembling voice, Hyeon-ho shrugged, continuing with interest, “Probably… same reason as you. Just as traumatic life memories kept resurfacing until you committed suicide. For him, memories with you became foundational roots. Doesn’t he want them back?”

    Yoo Min-ho was now staring at me. Meeting his eyes, I didn’t know what expression to make. 

    After nervously studying his face, I finally looked down, quietly asking Hyeon-ho, “…What exactly were we? Family, or…?”

    Simultaneously, a deflating laugh and cheerful voice sounded.

    “As if.”

    “…Then?”

    “You’re thinking correctly.”

    “…What am I thinking?”

    “Why ask me? I’m just a powerless human now.”

    Seeing Hyeon-ho scold me like this was absurd left me conflicted. If not family, only one answer remained. No one writes such extreme stories over a friend or acquaintance’s death. Perhaps my suicide was related to Yoo Min-ho’s death, too.

    I could no longer ignore possibly being gay. Me, gay? And passionately in love at that. Amidst the chaos, one consolation emerged—Yoo Min-ho perfectly matched my top star persona’s visuals. Even if inside was just a rude brat who couldn’t speak formally.

    “…Alternatively, Yoo Min-ho himself might be this world’s glitch.”

    This is chapter 4 of volume 1.

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