Could time really be turned back? To face a moment already lived, to undo a wrong choice. To prevent the danger awaiting me in the future before it ever reached me.

It was unbelievable, but I had no choice except to believe it. Neatly aligned memories became proof stronger than ten thousand words. The same span of time, and yet different scenes—every fragment of my past with Kwon Yido laid bare.

How could this be? I wrestled with it endlessly, but no answer came. The memories were all real, and I had lived through two different encounters with Yido. I didn’t know when it began, only that without noticing, I had been living in a slightly altered present.

When I came to myself, it was late at night. Yido was still by my side, sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at me. The place was no longer the study, and my body, aching as if it might shatter, hurt no more.

'Sejin-ah.'

He called my name over and over, watching me open my eyes faintly. His low, sunken voice was heavy with remorse. Even his pheromones, unusually sharp in their clarity, bared his state of mind.

'...Why did you do it.'

There weren’t many questions I could ask. I had so much I wanted to know, but most of the answers I already carried. Things I couldn’t see back then came into focus only now, after everything had passed.

'Why....'

But there had been countless chances to turn back, and both of us had let them slip. I hadn’t been able to explain myself; Yido hadn’t been able to see the truth. He had known something was wrong, but blinded by emotion, ruined everything.

'You shouldn’t have done that to me....'

You shouldn’t have dismissed me. You could have listened a little longer. I knew it was selfish to demand endless understanding, but still—I wished he had given me one more chance.

'...I’m sorry.'

'......'

'I’m sorry, Sejin-ah.'

Yido clasped my hand and pressed it to his face. His dark eyes brimmed with sorrow, like the last face I had seen before. Bowing his head as if he might cry, he whispered like a breath.

'I did something unforgivably wrong.'

Through our joined hands, I felt his emotion. Because of the imprint, I could feel him as though he were part of me. His regret. His resentment toward the past. And despite everything, the affection he had never let go of.

'I...'

I could see what I had never seen, feel what I had never felt. That Yido, who had seemed to lack nothing, was in truth more afraid than anyone. That behind his air of composure, he was more desperate than anyone.

'I ruined you.'

That bitter phrase was the core of his regret. The guilt of driving me into ruin, of breaking me beyond repair.

We said nothing for a long time. Unless I spoke first, he had nothing left to say. The storm had already passed; my mood was shockingly calm.

'...Why did you send Kwon Ijeong to me?'

So I asked. About the decisive cause that had pushed me to give up everything. The one sentence from Ijeong that he had claimed was Yido’s gift.

The memories that passed through the imprint were only hazy deja vu. A mix of negative impressions, pleasant sensations, vague recollections—all blurred into memory. I knew he had suffered, but not why.

'I didn’t send him.'

Shaking his head, he clutched my hand tight. Burying his face in my palm, he drew ragged breaths. Just as I could feel his emotions, mine must have been reaching him too.

'I really loved you.'

'......'

I was hearing those words only now. But I didn’t need the bond to tell me they ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) weren’t a lie. The warmth he had shown me since I entered his house, the tenderness he had given—they all said the same.

'...But you shouldn’t have died.'

That was what he said. I had died before his eyes, and he had followed me. When my world ended, his ended soon after.

'You could have just suffered there instead.'

But what meaning was there in regret after I was gone? Treating me kindly afterward couldn’t erase the past. If the truth was only going to come out, he shouldn’t have hidden it to begin with.

'You were only going to abandon me again anyway....'

Even then, he couldn’t lift his head. The emotions flowing into me ached with sharp clarity. His pain at my words was so raw that I could feel it myself.

'...I thought a miracle had happened.'

At last, he spoke in a dreamy, sweet voice. I could imagine what he had felt when he turned back time and saw me again.

'That we could meet again, that we could start over.'

On the day of our engagement, had that been what he thought? Was that why, when he took my hand, his face had seemed on the verge of tears? When he looked at me, knowing nothing, did he believe it was a chance to redo everything?

'Another chance to set it right....'

His voice trailed off, shaking as if to hold back tears. If only he had spoken plainly from the start. But I hadn’t either, so I couldn’t blame him. Fear of loss had made it impossible for either of us to speak the truth.

'But it doesn’t change the fact that I ruined you.'

Maybe that was the meaning of the tenderness he showed in fragments. That faint distance, so close yet never bridged, may have been the defenses he built himself.

'I don’t deserve to make you happy....'

'......'

'That’s why I thought I should let you go.'

What angered me was that he still hadn’t given me a choice. Out of fear of blame, he had hidden the truth, and then tried to cast me off as if it were for my own good. But if it wasn’t my decision, then what value was there in that freedom?

'Sejin-ah.'

At last, he raised his head. I didn’t know why his gaze looked so much like a plea. He told me to leave him, but begged me not to.

'Now you can do anything.'

'......'

'Make perfume. Stand on your own. Leave this house.'

He was right. Remembering the past, all the things that bound me had vanished. I was no longer afraid of abandonment, no longer tortured by the thought that he might hate me.

'Even leave me.'

He had prepared every stepping stone for me, and taken away only two things: my family, already rotten, and the love that had never been returned. The choice of leaving or not was never his—it had always been mine.

'...Let’s call off the engagement.'

I couldn’t press him further because his pain bled so heavily into me. It felt like a piece of him had been ripped out, like his insides were rotting to nothing.

'I’m sure you already thought the same....'

'......'

'And I don’t have the courage to see your face again.'

Slowly, I pulled my hand from his. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t stop me. In the strangely calm air, only his trembling gaze filled my vision.

'Thank you, for everything.'

I thought to say goodbye, but kept silent. I didn’t say I’m sorry either. I only lowered my eyes as he sat there stunned.

'I liked you very much.'

'......'

If he was only going to show me such pain, he shouldn’t have imprinted me. If I had known how contagious emotion could be, I would have been more cautious. Still, I didn’t regret regaining my memories.

That was how I ended the engagement. Like the day I entered his house, I left with only a small suitcase. I left every object tied to him behind, abandoning all our memories to him.

“...Are you truly all right?”

Early that weekend morning, Mr. Kim came to fetch me and showed not a trace of annoyance. Instead of asking what had happened, he asked three times if I was hurt. I sat quietly for a while, then let out a thin laugh.

“I must rely on you more than I realized, Mr. Kim.”

“Pardon?”

“Even in that situation, you were the first person I thought of.”

On the day with Kwon Ijeong, driven to the edge of the cliff, I had thought of Mr. Kim. Even while assuming he was on my father’s side, I hadn’t resented him.

“I have so many questions... but I can’t ask them.”

Why had I not betrayed Father back then? Even knowing the past, why had Yido still chosen to work with Mr. Kim? After I had called him for help, what had gone through his mind?

“...Am I not allowed to ask?”

“No. It’s just that the one who could answer wouldn’t know either.”

Through the rearview mirror, he looked at me with puzzled eyes. He must not have understood, but I had nothing more to say. Because I couldn’t tell him that the past you—no, not even the past—had turned your back on me.

“Please take me to the hospital first. There are clinics open on weekends, right?”

Before heading to my officetel, I stopped at the hospital. Not for any other reason, but to avoid repeating past mistakes. Last night, Yido had knotted inside me, leaving his presence behind.

“......”

Even after hearing which hospital, Mr. Kim was silent for a long time. Though he turned the car, his face showed no understanding. Only after a while did he manage to ask one question.

“...Shouldn’t you call the police?”

I laughed without meaning to. People never changed. That truth struck me again.

“It’s fine. I have bad memories there anyway.”

Absentmindedly, I rubbed my wrist. The memory of handcuffs was still vivid. But it no longer frightened me, because too many memories had piled on top since then.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Mr. Kim.”

“......”

This time, Mr. Kim stayed silent and focused on driving. From my face, he must have known I wasn’t lying. I fixed my gaze on the window and fiddled with the bare finger of my ringless hand.

***

The officetel I returned to was as tidy as ever. Thanks to regular cleaning, there was little I needed to do. Leaving my suitcase by the wall, I slowly stepped inside.

'So you’re leaving only for that tiny officetel.'

“...It’s not that small.”

What had Yido said? That it wasn’t a fitting place to run away to? How had he even known about this place? How had he opened the door? I should have asked.

The spacious living room, the kitchen, the bedroom. After looking around, I sat blankly on the bed. A space now only mine. In the silence, scenes I had long forgotten replayed.

'I told you I’d regret it.'

Here, on this bed, Yido and I had imprinted. Here, two days after running, I had been dragged back. It was all memory now, but that much would never be forgotten.

“Imprint....”

Even apart from him, I still felt Yido. It was hard to explain, but I knew at least that he was crying. Even without tears falling, inside him countless emotions churned.

“...It’s nothing.”

But I felt nothing. As if back from a long journey, I felt I had finally returned to reality. Like waking from a long dream, what had happened seemed like an illusion.

They said people changed when they were close to death. Having died once and come back, I had grown detached from everything. I didn’t want to die anymore. Everything just felt distant, like it had nothing to do with me. Like a nightmare that lost its weight upon waking.

Come to think of it, why hadn’t a heat cycle come this time? The day Ijeong came must have been the day Chairman Kwon Byung-wook died. I didn’t know the exact date, but it was around then. If nothing had shifted, it would have overlapped with Yido’s rut.

“Does the body remember....”

Even when my mind forgot everything, I had flinched at the sight of a gun. I had recoiled instinctively from Ijeong. Sometimes I had cried at the sight of Yido. Maybe the absence of a heat cycle was because my body remembered.

'Sejin-ah.'

“...Haa.”

Lost in thought, I rose abruptly. If I stayed sitting, I feared I would drown in Yido’s emotions. So I unpacked my suitcase, carried everything to the dressing room, and put it away.

Inside were the suit from the engagement and others besides. Clothes I had worn, and clothes I never had—the off-the-rack suits Minjae had sneered at as being exactly my level.

'That’s your level.'

When I bought that black suit, I never imagined things would end this way. While I had forgotten everything, had Yido remembered? He had turned a wedding into an engagement, filled a barren hall with flowers. What had he been thinking?

“......”

Shaking my head, I left the dressing room. I thought to wash up, but on a shelf with lotions, I noticed something familiar. A small lipstick-sized vial: the perfume I had sprayed at the engagement.

'The Chairman gave it to you.'

Pheromone perfume. The scent had been pleasant enough, but Yido had looked at me with disdain, asking if I meant to mask myself with such a crude thing. What a character. Who would say that to someone on a first meeting?

“...Ah.”

I caught myself. I was thinking of Yido again. Leave me a moment in a daze, and it was all him that came to mind. Time had split into two, and now I had twice as many memories to dwell on.

'I hope our imprint doesn’t become just a tool for you, Sejin.'

And yet, hadn’t he been the one to use it as a tool? As if it were a device to bind me. Another wrong choice, another contradiction.

“What am I supposed to do now....”

An imprint, once formed, remained until death. Unless one of us died by accident, it would last until the end of our lives. And now our lifespans were bound as well; breaking it in between was nearly impossible.

I swallowed a sigh, shut my eyes tight, then opened them. Don’t think. But just then, something caught my gaze. Beside the empty bottle, neatly placed.

“Jung Sejin.”

The small card that had come with the bouquet on engagement day. I opened the folded card, and saw the handwritten words, the flower meaning of lily of the valley. Back then I had thought it merely romantic, never looking deeper into it.

'The return of happiness.'

“......”

I must have drowned in Yido’s emotions. My vision blurred, and drops fell onto the card. The grief I couldn’t hold back spilled down in an instant.

“...Ha.”

Was I your returned happiness? I remembered you as a nightmare, and you couldn’t let go even of that nightmare. You made me cry in the end, left me with an unforgettable scar.

“Hhkk....”

The tears wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know if they were for Yido, for resentment, or for regret of the past. I didn’t know if it was my sorrow, or his bleeding into me.

Our engagement ended there. I hadn’t given you happiness, and I chose to stand on my own. The memories regained through the long return ended within a single day.