* * *

Even now, he couldn’t reveal the truth to his brothers or Ki Beomhyeon for fear of rejection—fear of being abandoned.

But… if the real Lee Jungin returned, and his body reverted to its original state, would there still be a place for him?

Lee Jungin was their real family, beloved by everyone.

They would surely welcome him back with open arms.

But Jungin… he wouldn’t have a place to return to.

As this reality dawned on him, Jungin felt suffocated.

“What makes you think you’re special?”

“Ah, ugh…”

Jungin staggered as his vision whitened, and one knee hit the floor.

“You were abandoned here, weren’t you?”

A maliciously grinning young Choi Jungin appeared before him.

“You’re abandoned too! Even though you have a family, you ended up here, didn’t you?”

‘No, that’s not… I didn’t…’

“I saw your parents leave you here. Even though you have a family, why were you abandoned?”

Choi Jungin’s shrill voice pressed down on him, joined by the pointing fingers of other children from the orphanage.

Hounded by their taunts, Jungin hid in the farthest room, but Choi Jungin found him.

“You can’t get adopted because you have parents. So, go in there, Lee Jungin!”

“Don’t, Jungin. I hate it here… I’m scared, Jungin.”

“I said, get in!”

Choi Jungin forced him into a closet.

The faint light through the cracked doors gradually faded, engulfing him in darkness.

Fear surged through him.

“I’m scared… Please let me out… I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Will you do everything I say?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it all. Just let me out, please!”

The closet door creaked open, revealing Choi Jungin’s terrifyingly smug smile.

The memory sent Jungin trembling, clawing at his neck as if he couldn’t breathe.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

“Hah… hah…”

Hyunjin’s face turned pale as he watched Jungin collapse.

Jungin’s small frame trembled like it might break, gasping as if he were on the verge of suffocating.

Hyunjin hurriedly reached for his phone.

“Don’t….”

Jungin’s hoarse voice stopped Hyunjin from calling for an ambulance.

“I’m fine…”

Even the children, who had been joyfully unwrapping presents, looked at Jungin with concern.

Forcing himself upright on shaky legs, Jungin smiled faintly.

“…You look really unwell.”

“I just felt dizzy for a moment. Sorry for worrying you.”

“….”

Avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze, which seemed like it had so much left unsaid, Jungin forced a trembling smile and added, “The assistant director must be waiting. I’ll get going. Hyunjin, take care of the kids.”

Hyunjin couldn’t shake the strange déjà vu.

That parting touch on his shoulder reminded him of how his brother used to say the same thing before leaving for early-morning part-time jobs.

“See you next time. Study hard.”

“….”

Watching Jungin’s retreating figure, Hyunjin murmured, “I never told him where the assistant director’s office is.”

The unease grew heavier.

Jungin seemed to know too much about the inner workings of the orphanage, far beyond what even a close friend might know.

As Jungin stood before the old office door, he whispered to himself, “…It feels so small.”

The once-terrifying door no longer seemed as imposing.

After taking a deep breath, he knocked.

“Come in.”

Stepping inside, Jungin greeted the assistant director, who looked exactly as he remembered.

“Hello.”

“Ah, you must be Jungin’s friend.”

“…Yes.”

“Well, sit down. Coffee is a bit much for a student. How about green tea?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

The assistant director’s indifferent expression and casual demeanor mirrored her past self.

Jungin sat, watching her pour steaming tea into two cups.

“So, what brings you here?”

“To be honest… I grew up in this orphanage.”

Her typically unreadable face momentarily displayed surprise.

After taking a sip of tea, she studied Jungin carefully.

“Oh, I see. Your name is… Lee Jungin, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I remember now. There were two kids with the same name. But I didn’t expect you to still be in touch with the other Jungin.”

---

The deputy director, her eyes clouded with nostalgia, nodded slightly as though recalling fragments of a memory.

Her voice grew shorter, her sentences clipped, as she spoke.

Listening quietly, Jungin finally broke the silence.

“I lost my childhood memories because of an accident,” he explained hesitantly.

“That’s why… I came here, hoping to find some answers.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much I can help you with that,” she replied indifferently.

The woman, who held the title of deputy director, had always shown little interest in the orphanage or the children who lived there.

Was it a mistake to have come here?

Perhaps, despite the risks, seeking out the director would’ve been the better choice.

Jungin clenched his fists tightly on his lap, his nails digging into his palms as the memories that had briefly resurfaced tormented him.

“But,” the woman added after a pause, “we still have some photo albums. If you’d like, you can take a look at them.”

Photo albums?

Did the orphanage even have something like that?

Hearing this for the first time, Jungin nodded.

Rising from her seat, the deputy director walked to an old cabinet, opened it, and pulled out two worn albums.

“I used to keep up with things like this back then. Now, I don’t have the energy,” she remarked with a faintly bitter smile.

As she handed over the albums, Jungin began leafing through them, his eyes falling on photos of the orphanage—places and faces that stirred no memories.

Children laughing while chasing a soccer ball, others beaming atop swings that had long since broken, and some crying miserably, drenched in rain under a blurred sky.

Then, as he turned another page, one photo captured Jungin’s attention.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s you—Choi Jungin,” she replied casually.

Choi Jungin?

That’s… me?

Peering closer, Jungin saw a young boy grinning brightly, flashing a peace sign while standing next to an elderly woman.

The face undeniably belonged to him.

When… when was this taken?

“And the person next to me—who is she?”

“That’s your grandmother,” the woman said.

“You were placed in the orphanage due to family circumstances, but your grandmother visited once a week to see you.”

No… That can’t be… I had family?

A sharp ringing filled Jungin’s ears, and he winced.

If he had a grandmother, then why… why had he been left alone all this time?

No matter how hard he tried, his memories remained blank, as if someone had carved them out of his mind.

He remembered nothing of his childhood self, nor of the grandmother in the photo.

Nothing.

“Then… where is she now?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Last I saw her was about ten years ago. I really couldn’t tell you,” she replied with a shrug.

“I see…” Jungin murmured, his heart sinking.

“Do you have any other questions?” she asked, looking visibly impatient.

Jungin hesitated before asking, “Would it be okay if I kept this photo?”

“Sure, take it,” she said.

“Thank you… Thank you so much.”

A flicker of hope burned within Jungin.

The thought that his only living relative might still be out there filled him with a bittersweet ache.

‘I had a family… Just like Lee Jungin, I had a family too.’

‘But why… why did I forget?’

* * *