Chapter 147

“Do you have a fever? Should we go to the hospital?”

“……”

Jaeha’s confusion didn’t end even after getting into the car. Sitting in the passenger seat, clutching at his seatbelt with his head bowed low, he gave no reply. The man in the driver’s seat turned his head toward him, hands pausing on the steering wheel.

“Song Jaeha. You have to answer.”

“……”

With difficulty, Jaeha finally lifted his head. The car hadn’t even pulled out yet, but it felt like motion sickness was already washing over him. And when his eyes finally rose, they met his.

It was his boss—but at the same time, slightly different. Gone were the business suits, harnesses, and ever-present gloves of the man who usually moved with the languid menace of a predator.

Instead, the man before him wore the Association’s official uniform. Not the black-for-espers version, but the standard gray, meant for ordinary civilians. His hair was cropped neatly, styled back with disciplined order. His bearing exuded firmness, solidity. If his boss in reality had felt like a crime syndicate lord, this version gave more the impression of a soldier.

It felt… wrong.

“……!”

The man leaned closer, reaching toward him. Reflexively, Jaeha flinched, screwing his eyes shut, bracing for familiar roughness—a hand clamping hard against his jaw, bruising fingers across his cheek.

But what came was a hand settling softly, warmly against his forehead. The gesture was gentle. Affectionate.

“…No fever.”

“……”

“It’s something else, isn’t it?”

That tender hand brushed back his hair. Jaeha opened his eyes again, slowly, still tense. Meeting the man’s gaze as an esper had always felt unnerving—he was used to sensing thoughts bleeding out. But here, he felt nothing at all. Because this man was not an esper. The uniform made that much abundantly clear.

“Jaeha.”

Yes. He wasn’t an esper either.

“Was it really that shocking to learn I’m not your blood brother?”

“……”

“…I wanted to tell you myself before our parents did. That’s all.”

Jaeha frowned. What was this now? Already choking on this surreal world, now another revelation pressed in. All he could do was sigh. Yet habit made him glance at the man’s reaction even as he released the breath.

The hand that had pushed his hair back slid down to cup his cheek. A touch far too intimate, like something between lovers. Jaeha instinctively hunched his shoulders, unable to accept it no matter how harmless it might look. Finally, the hand withdrew.

“Even if I’m not your real brother, I’m still your family.”

Was this kind of touch normal between siblings? The urge to glare accusations rose, but Jaeha bit it back. Instead, he opened his mouth slowly.

“When exactly… was I adopted? …Hyung?”

The title stumbled on his tongue. Just like back then, when even Aiden had once asked Jaeha to call him “hyung”, only for Jaeha to give up because it never stuck. If he had known this was coming, maybe he should’ve practiced then.

“When you were five. I was about eleven. I guess it makes sense you don’t remember.”

“……”

Breath leaving him, the man leaned back, relaxing against the seat. The hesitant use of “hyung” softened his expression noticeably.

He turned the key, backing the car smoothly. As he did so, his arm reached out, gripping the headrest beside Jaeha’s head. The uniform sleeve pulled taut over defined lines of muscle.

Jaeha swallowed. Not out of admiration. Out of the sudden, involuntary imagining of how much that arm could hurt if it closed around his neck.

“I lived in an orphanage first.”

“……”

“I manifested powers, briefly.”

“…Briefly?”

The car slipped out smoothly from the college town toward a main road. Jaeha searched his memory. Had he ever ridden together with this man before? He couldn’t recall it. Judging from the direction, they were headed back to the “home” of this world’s self.

“I went to the Association for classification, but within a day or two the powers vanished. By then the orphanage had already processed my release, so I was in trouble.”

“…That happens?”

“Not often. But it can.”

“……”

In Jaeha’s true world, the boss had always been a full esper. His frown deepened, glasses slipping slightly with the movement. He adjusted them automatically, the action second nature already, and glanced sideways as the man continued.

“That was when I met your parents. Your mother—she had psychic-type abilities too. She was kind. Helped me. And when they learned of my situation, they adopted me.”

“……”

“That’s everything.”

The stoplight turned red. Silence filled the car. At green, motion resumed. Fingers drummed lightly on the wheel.

“Adoptive siblings don’t usually stay so close, right?”

It was a casual remark, but it struck like déjà vu. That prickle of recognition raised Jaeha’s guard again before he could even trace why.

“It’s not common for a father to devour his own child either.”

The remembered words burned through his head. His shoulders tensed.

“But we can be different, Jaeha.”

“……”

“We don’t have to be common.”

This world. Was it reality? Or only the boss’s carefully crafted illusion?

He turned to look. The man’s eyes were fixed on the road, expression unreadable. But Jaeha’s instincts screamed. This world’s boss did harbor something for him. Whether it was lust, twisted family attachment, or even romantic desire—he couldn’t decide. But something was there.

And here, the matter was even worse. Because in this world, they lived as close siblings by law.

We’re not common, not you and I.

Jaeha braced. He knew what was coming next.

You and me both.

Negatively.

“You and me both.”

The words fell exactly as expected. His hands clenched tight around his seatbelt, stomach roiling.

Days passed.

And with each, Jaeha’s unease only grew.

“What’s wrong with you lately? Are you really alright?”

“…I’m fine, Mom.”

He wasn’t against the idea of family. He had long wished for it, after all. But perhaps it was because he’d begged for it so desperately before finally giving up, that it now felt so unreal, so unreachable. He couldn’t adapt.

Yet nothing here felt hostile. His body seemed to insist, This is home. His first time on campus, and he could navigate easily. He’d never worn glasses before, yet he wiped and adjusted them naturally.

…But maybe that wasn’t comfort at all. Maybe it meant this was the real world—and the “other” life he remembered was the illusion. Should he see a psychiatrist?

Honestly, it was a better life here. If not for his “brother.” Here, he was a normal civilian. His parents were alive. He had a family.

“……”

Pausing mid-bite at breakfast, he stared at his bowl.

Maybe he should just stay.

If he did—what would happen?

What if… this was reality? What if the Gate, the boss, his life as an esper—was just madness, not truth at all? The idea was strangely comforting.

“…Is this because of your brother?”

“…Excuse me?”

His mother’s voice broke his spiral. She sat across, watching him carefully. He looked up, reflexively pushing his glasses back.

She had his face. Her brows tilted with soft concern. That tenderness hit him like a tidal wave, bringing sudden tears.

“Your brother told me. …We’d planned to sit you down properly, but I didn’t think you’d take it this hard.”

“……”

“I’m sorry, son. But tell me honestly. Do you hate your brother now?”

Hate or love—the answer was hate. Months ago, he might have answered differently—but time had forced him into clearer perspective. His face betrayed it in a grimace. And how lucky, that his “hyung” was away at work, unable to see it.

Perhaps she saw enough though. She sighed, and he instinctively flinched, afraid of her disappointment.

“I understand your discomfort. But—to me, you’re real brothers. Blood doesn’t change years of eating, sleeping, fighting, laughing together.”

“……”

Not true, Mom. That man will never see me as his little brother.

“You know how much he cares about you, don’t you? That fact hasn’t changed. Adopted or not—look at how he’s treated you.”

“……”

His lips parted, but she quickly added, smiling faintly to ease him.

“I’m not asking you to change your mind overnight. Just… think on it a little.”

A pang of grief pierced him. To anyone else, he must look like a spoiled boy, suddenly distant after learning the truth of his adoption.

“…Yes.”

At last, he managed only that.