6. A Forgotten Memory
F or the past few days, Ri Yunho has been feeling adrift, dithering about what to say or do next, wondering if he’s merely fighting a battle he has already lost.
Today, he’s a healthy eighteen-year-old high school student again, but he is fully aware that his mind is of a twenty-eight-year-old man. He has lived different lives through his notable acting roles: an honest policeman, a sexy demon, a heartless assassin, a powerful alien, and a smart doctor. He’s supposed to be stronger and more mature, not more... pathetic. So much of what he has done feels useless: Organizing his bucket list like a kid, getting into verbal fights, challenging the football captain, and accusing everyone of ruining his life.
It’s unreasonable and childish.
And worse, he’s been overthinking about the boy he should be turning a blind eye to—the boy who started it all.
A week has flown by since Yunho and Taehwan almost had the fight of a lifetime. It’s also been a week since he switched seats with the class president named Hana; he had made up a lie about his sight issues so he wouldn’t have to deal with Jihoon. And of course, one full week of him learning how to adapt to this new timeline (or wherever he is) by ignoring Jo Wooju.
Before writing ‘Find Manager Yoon Bora’ on his to-do list, Yunho had reflected on himself. Why and when did acting become his dream? Is it worth fighting for? Is wishing harm upon others and finding the answer behind Wooju’s treachery what he truly needs to reclaim his stardom?
Yunho had his acting debut at age nineteen. Bora may have helped him rise to the top, but it was Wooju who introduced the two of them to each other. And although his first director taught him how to act, it was Wooju who inspired him.
The night he first learned about Wooju’s career, he’d watched every show and movie Wooju starred in. Every little role, no matter how irrelevant they seemed to his friend. And Yunho saw it—Wooju’s undeniable talent, the way the boy spoke with elegance, how his light blue eyes conveyed countless emotions without him having to say a word, and how he portrayed all his characters as if they were his own.
Yunho studied the art of acting through Jo Wooju’s small but outstanding works. And God gave him Wooju so he could realize this dream.
But which one was the dream? Was it to act and rise to the top? Or to have something similar to do with his best friend—like acting alongside each other before life after high school shatters their friendship just like every other friendship in the world?
What was I thinking?
What if he wasn’t thinking at all?
Nothing terrible has happened since he dared challenge Han Taehwan. Yunho is actually surprised. His acting must have been so convincing that he scared Taehwan off.
Perhaps his decade-long experience in the film industry helped. He’d played every type of hero in all movie genres and tropes. He could kill real-life villains with his murderous gaze, though not literally.
According to his favorite director, “Yunho’s eyes are naturally vicious, and his voice is so deep and sharp, it’s like a knife ready to destroy you in one slash. He plays layered, complex characters perfectly. He could be a villain with his looks!” His heart had melted when he heard those words.
However, now that he’s thinking about it, was it a compliment or an insult? One time, Yunho was offered a villain role, but he rejected it because he believed he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. He wound up accepting another offer from a less popular writer. It benefitted him until a renowned director proclaimed him the most handsome actor in the Korean film industry who can’t act. He should’ve just accepted the villain role, huh?
On the other hand, Yunho is starting to realize that living another week without Wooju is more mentally demanding than expected. He’s feuding with God and Fate, going against destiny by erasing his relationship with Wooju. It goes against nature.
Nonetheless, that’s the plan: alter his future and avoid anyone hell-bent on destroying him. Even with an 80 percent chance he time traveled and a 20 percent chance he’s trapped in a dream, the goal stays the same.
It’s Monday morning when Yunho casually walks into the classroom with his hair sticking out in all directions, looking as chaotic as his countenance. The droopy bags under his eyes are darker than a raccoon’s. His black windbreaker is unkempt, tarnishing the formality of his school uniform, but at least he’s wearing a backpack now. On his way in, Yunho collides with something.
Or someone .
Jo Wooju.
Speak of the devil.
Startled, they both step back simultaneously.
Wooju lifts his gaze to meet Yunho’s, his pale blue eyes wide and dazzling. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but the struggle to vocalize it is clear. His mouth trembles as cold sweat trickles down from beneath his permed bangs. Yunho waits to hear his voice, but Wooju simply looks away.
The last time they touched or even looked at each other the way they did just now was before he went to prison. Yunho still remembers the last thing he said to the boy back at the lantern bridge before he somehow traveled here...
“ I never want to hear your voice or see your face again.”
If he truly meant those words, why does he feel uneasy now? Yunho makes a fist, just as he does anytime Wooju crosses his mind like this.
Then he stalks away without another word to spare.
Class hasn’t started yet. Mrs. Kim must be running late. Maybe she’s chit-chatting with another teacher again. Or maybe she tripped on the stairs and fell unconscious. Nobody in the room seems to care. Everyone is either laughing about something, talking about their summer vacation, swearing at each other, fighting over whatever silly things high school students do, doodling out of boredom, or playing League of Legends on their phones.
It’s Yunho against twenty-five other students. Any minute now, he’ll run out of patience and end up shouting at everyone to shut their mouths, but for now, Yunho manages to relax against his new seat in the front row.
With a deep sigh, Yunho crosses out practically everything on his to-do list. He doesn’t feel like doing any of it anymore. So why is he even here?
As he glides his eyes around the classroom, Yunho searches for answers. For Wooju.
Wooju is nowhere to be seen, but the classroom is suffocating him with a familiar commotion. Sangheon and Taehwan are yelling in each other’s faces. Yunho doesn’t know why or how the fight started. No one had been paying attention until now. Misunderstandings between friends are common occurrences, especially in high school. It’s okay to brush them off. They don’t usually last long.
Right?
Wrong.
The heated argument seems to be escalating rapidly, and textbooks are now being thrown about.
Taehwan pushes Sangheon onto the ground, grabbing everyone else’s attention.
“Did you just push me?” Sangheon rages as he gets back on his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching. He seems different from the awkward boy who has started following Yunho around in a desperate effort to save his grades, yet so similar to the original troublemaker Min Sangheon.
Yunho instantly recalls a comparable incident from the past. One that nearly killed a student and resulted in Sangheon’s expulsion from school, which also led to Sangheon going off the grid and probably becoming a gangster somewhere out there. It’s going to be today.
Taehwan holds his head high with confidence. “Why? You think I can’t? I’m the fucking king of this school! I can do whatever the hell I want, Sangheon.”
“You, a king?” Sangheon derides before throwing a fist at Taehwan’s face, forcing the so-called king to fall back in shock. “I suggest you wake up.”
Yunho stands, masking his panic with a stoic expression, observing but not moving.
Hana, the class president, fearlessly weaves between Sangheon and Taehwan, her short arms spread on both sides. The rest of the class gathers together to watch the fight as if it were a circus show, pulling their cell phones out of their bags and pockets to record the scene.
“Stop it, you two.” Hana pivots her head from one guy to the other, her braids swaying in motion as she speaks with an authoritative tone. “This is not a playground!”
“Taehwan started it!” Sangheon retorts.
Taehwan lets out a small, twisted laugh, then he springs up to his feet and wipes the blood off his lips.
Hana and Sangheon begin arguing about right and wrong. They don’t notice the danger looming behind them. Their obliviousness enhances Taehwan’s luck as the redhead picks up a straight-backed wooden chair and screams, running toward Sangheon like a wild boar.
Hana puts herself between them, and Yunho lurches just in time to shield her. Alas, he’s not quick enough to keep the chair from striking his bare arm.
Gasps fill the room as Yunho grimaces in pain, but he doesn’t let it faze him. Instead, he seizes the chair from Taehwan’s grip and throws it against a wall.
“What are you doing? Get out of my way, you son of a bitch!” Taehwan snarls.
Yunho whirls, facing Sangheon and Hana again, his breathing labored. Hana stares back at him, blinking.
“Hana.” It was her. Ten years ago, Hana got seriously hurt after being struck on the head with a chair. The only difference back then was that Sangheon had been the one holding the weapon so tight in his hand as if he really had it in him to kill, and Hana had been shielding Taehwan, not Sangheon. Did he just change the past?
“Hey, Ri Yunho! Are you deaf?” Taehwan explodes, grasping Yunho by the shoulder. “What’s the use of being a top student when you can’t even hear?”
Yunho clicks his tongue. He picks Taehwan’s hand up from his shoulder and turns to face him.
“You,” Yunho deadpans. “What’s the use of being rich when you don’t have a brain? Can’t you tell? I’m just not interested in listening to you whine, is all.”
“Ah,” Taehwan says simply, snickering under his breath as if to keep his rage at bay.
Yunho assumes Taehwan will back off just like last time. He doesn’t anticipate Taehwan retaliating. So he shuns the vengeful enemy in front of him, then turns and grabs Hana by her wrist.
“Are you okay?” Yunho asks her, his pulse pounding in his ears. For a short moment, he sees Wooju in Hana. Maybe it’s because their eyes have the same shape—big and round, with a touch of innocence that is so hard to resist.
Wooju, are you okay? is what he really wants to say.
I never had the chance to tell you... but the truth is, I was really scared that something bad was happening to you. I was worried because you weren’t answering my calls the night you framed me. I could tell something was wrong when you took me out that day. I could tell you were faking a smile the whole time. I could tell you were hurting, and I denied it. Why didn’t you just tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Me? Aren’t I your best friend? Then why? Why didn’t you tell me that I was hurting you so much that you decided to frame me for giving you the bruises on your body? Why did you lie that we were fine, even when we weren’t? What did I ever do wrong, Wooju?
It’s been two years.
Yunho can still remember the feelings he left behind. The words left unsaid. But he doesn’t even realize how much time has elapsed or how much the danger has escalated until it’s too late.
Behind him, Taehwan draws out a box cutter from a desk drawer and strides in his direction.
Taehwan aims the blade at his back. The redhead doesn’t stop, and Yunho doesn’t turn.
Until a scream shatters everyone’s eardrums.
Yunho freezes.
The cacophony of terror encircling the compact space helps Yunho regain clarity over the situation.
He turns around—but what he witnesses in front of him grips him with fear.
It’s Jo Wooju.
Wooju is blocking a cutter with his bare hand, and it’s oozing blood. So much blood.
Wooju’s blood . . .
Yunho suppresses a groan as he feels a sudden, sharp pain slithering into his head.
A memory.
And more.
White flashes. Fire. A knife. Blood. Pain. Fireflies in the air. Someone smiling. He’s remembering something else.
Something he’d once forgotten.
“Wooju!”
What is it? What did I forget?