By Zephyria 
‘You shouldn’t go in there.’
‘The wind is still blowing a bit.’
‘If you catch a cold, everyone will suffer.’
It felt as if someone’s voice was drifting through the shattering droplets of water. Jin Mu-hae instinctively turned his head to one side.
Swaying leaves. Meaningless sculptures. While he took in the unique silhouettes, his subconscious began to rise to the surface and whisper.
That when dawn broke, the vegetation here seemed to sparkle.
That when night fell, the sky between the tall buildings gradually turned red.
At the same time, fragments of blurred memories unfolded before his narrowed eyes.
‘Teacher. I think the child left his supplements again. He hid them under the bowl.’
‘He’s used to it. He’s eating things that money can’t even buy every single day.’
‘He wants to go outside. I think he feels suffocated.’
‘The house is plenty spacious enough for a child to live in alone.’
He hadn’t understood it at the time, but he guessed it wasn’t a positive conversation.
People who were responsible for his meals and lessons—people who were with him, but were not family.
Memories that felt like dreams or hallucinations settled atop his head one by one, like flower petals.
Without realizing it, Mu-hae took a step forward. Step. He felt as if he had barely moved a foot, yet things he had left behind long ago were blooming before his eyes like a haze.
“Jin Mu-hae. Not there.”
Simultaneously, his body was yanked backward. The following voice pierced through his unraveling consciousness.
He glanced back, locking eyes with red pupils. Only then did the sound of water slowly seep through the murmuring hallucinations.
…The sound of water? Ah, there was a fountain. He had searched for Yeonneul Path, climbed over a wall, and pushed through the bushes of a flowerbed to find a more detailed address.
“…Right.”
Jin Mu-hae realized the situation belatedly and pressed his hand to his forehead. A dull ache was throbbing in his skull; another headache was rushing in.
“Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Grateful for the hand holding him, he steadied his ragged breathing. He had almost forgotten his intention to move quietly and nearly stepped out onto the main road.
“We need to find the next address. What could ‘Ten’ be?”
Who knows. It could be the tenth identical building of those tall structures that seemed to pierce the dome, or it could be the tenth floor of a certain building.
If not that, it might be a specific point classified by 1s and 0s. The interpretations were so varied that it was a matter of how one chose to see it.
Yet, for some reason, Mu-hae felt as if he knew the way. He stared intently at the fountain and pressed his throbbing temples for a long time.
Another faint memory overlapped his distant vision. Holding the hand of a caregiver, he had walked this path before.
The place he needed to go wasn’t this way. He had to walk a bit further. Pass two buildings, turn right, and then go straight down the next path.
To ensure he didn’t forget, he carved that route into his mind over and over amidst his fear.
Because he had to return. Once he escaped the dark car where he had been curled up, tightly bound…
“Follow—haa—follow me.”
Human memory is incredibly fragile, yet strangely tenacious in the oddest places. To think that things forgotten overnight could resurface in a single evening, shaking his skull.
Since hearing a specific melody, the cycle had been becoming more frequent. Mu-hae ruminated on the past—not erased, but merely covered—while gripping the hand that held him.
“Excuse me.”
Even as someone spoke and blocked his path, the deja vu that had seized him did not easily vanish.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you on the resident list. Are you a visitor?”
“….”
“It may be a bit inconvenient, but could I verify your authorization code?”
As expected, a figure who appeared to be a guard approached as soon as they stepped onto the street.
Mu-hae wiped cold sweat with the back of his hand and slightly lowered his stance.
“This is a matter that would be problematic if exposed externally.”
The hologram projected by the Link Watch clearly displayed the emblem of the Defense Force. After glancing at the mark once and then at Mu-hae’s face again, the guard looked as if he were trying to recognize him.
“Since this is a task that would be meaningless if a formal entry record were left, I entered via a detour. If this causes a serious problem, you may file a formal report, but…”
“Is… is this related to that matter?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can give you any more information. A record will remain on our end, so you may request it later if necessary.”
A hero who had saved Goryeo City several times. And a clear Defense Force certification.
Unless one hires a mercenary when heading outside, most guards are arranged through agencies.
Since they are trained personnel, it is common for them to memorize the basic identities of attendees even at large-scale outdoor events.
Much less in a place like this, where they would likely recognize a few key pieces of information about the residents—who are far fewer than in other residential areas—in order of importance.
If he was a man Mu-hae had encountered every time he attended Defense Force events, the fact that he had ties to the Defense Force wouldn’t be a secret in this neighborhood.
“Just in case, I will leave my business number.”
“…Yes, then.”
Over the course of a year, Jin Mu-hae had transformed from a mere mercenary into a respectable celebrity. Accordingly, the perception of him had changed from a potential criminal who might do anything to a member of society who, at the very least, wouldn’t do anything foolish.
After some deliberation, the guard stepped aside from the path. His eyes were still filled with conflict, but he didn’t seem intent on detaining them for now.
That was enough. If he actually reported this, his movements at Yeonneul Path would be exposed, but currently, the two of them were moving under the plan of a ‘big shot.’
He must have led them to a place like this because he was confident he could cover it up. Mu-hae lightly touched his aching head.
“Do you know the way?”
“I think so.”
“Going this way doesn’t lead to 1-5.”
Joo-oh was looking at him with a peculiar gaze. It was an expression mixed with a bit of expectation, doubt, and surprise.
‘Starting from the fountain, two buildings… then right.’
Even if he vaguely remembered the path, the scenery of the route didn’t come back to him. Perhaps that was a natural result of the memory capacity at that age.
No, that’s not it. It was because twenty years had passed and many things had changed. Just as Mu-hae’s life had changed dramatically, the appearance of this place must have changed several times.
The entrance of the building they reached after walking for a while was, naturally, blocked by a security device. A sensor that recognized registered Link Watches or bio chips was attached to the ceiling.
At the same time, a keypad was attached to the door so that a password could be entered. Mu-hae reached out without hesitation.
The numbers from the clue were not an address. They were a security key applicable only to one correct building.
It seemed the intuition that had flashed through him was not wrong.
Shiiiing—
The door opened, revealing a luxurious lobby.
“Jin Mu-hae. Music is coming from here. How strange.”
“Don’t touch the flowerpots and move.”
“Should I put this on your head?”
“Where in the world is there a crazy person who walks around with a flower stuck in their head by the roots?”
Mu-hae had gestured for him to plant it back, but Joo-oh tucked it into his pocket instead. Unlike candies or tinkle friends figures, a flower would wither quickly.
Ding—!
As if detecting their entry, the elevator descended to the lobby on its own. As soon as they approached, the doors opened quietly, revealing a space of about three square meters, complete with a chair.
“Where are we going?”
“…I’m not sure.”
The memories he had managed to dig up ended here. Mu-hae’s movements, which had been decisive in front of the dozens of floor buttons, stopped.
“Should we try pressing them all?”
“Do you think that would work?”
At a glance, it was a device that moved to a designated floor by recognizing a Link Watch or bio chip. It wouldn’t budge without pre-registered information.
If someone were to walk in then, it would ruin everything; it would be better to intrude using a fire escape that might lead somewhere…
Beep.
“It works.”
Joo-oh pointed with wide eyes at a button that had lit up. The 27th floor. Unlike the other floors that remained silent despite the random pressing, that one seemed to have no security at all.
The doors closed. The elevator ascended at high speed.
Mu-hae felt the headache that had been subsiding tighten around his skull once more.
Ding—!
Arriving in the blink of an eye, they found an entrance designed for a single household.
Unfitting for such a luxury building and strict security, click! The doorknob turned without any lock catching.
A long hallway appeared, and a stifling smell wafted out. A thick layer of dust sat atop every piece of furniture and object in the house.
“Aren’t you taking off your shoes?”
“Just come in.”
It wasn’t as if they were visiting someone’s home. Rather than letting him walk barefoot on a dust-filled floor, he would rather carry him in on his back.
Step. Step. He headed inside with slow, wide strides. As he walked down the hallway and turned his head toward an open space, a dining table he had seen somewhere before sat there, having lost its color.
…He felt the taste of chocolate chips lingering in his mouth. The taste of savory milk and sweet cookie crumbs as well.
“Is the Starpath here?”
Joo-oh didn’t know. That this was a place that frequently appeared in someone’s dreams and memories.
Rather than the secret of the Return flight, this was a place where Jin Mu-hae’s lost memories were hidden.
He turned back toward the hallway. Walking toward the end, he saw a living room so silent it felt as if time had stopped, and a bookshelf with a few toys on it.
He didn’t know if his heart was beating or had stopped. His pulse was clearly rising, but he felt no blood flowing.
“Jin Mu-hae.”
Joo-oh whispered, stopping the man who was about to head into the next room.
“I think someone is here.”
His ear twitched. It was as if he had sharply captured a presence that Mu-hae had not heard.
A white index finger pointed toward the last room. Simultaneously, the sound of something being touched—clatter—was caught by Mu-hae’s senses.
Jin Mu-hae instinctively reached for his waist, searching for his equipment, but then realized there was no need and grit his teeth.
“Now that you know, why don’t you just come out.”
A dry, feminine voice drifted from beyond the slightly open door.
250 – I Became an Aberration in a Dead Game