A Rest That Isn’t Rest (4)
“Done eating? Let’s go.”
I stood up after seeing Yul finish his last bite with perfect neatness.
“Where are we going now?”
“Where else? We’re going to rest for the day.”
I even answered his question kindly, but he just looked confused.
“Where?”
“At my house.”
Yul visibly panicked.
“I’ll get a hotel.”
“No need. There are two rooms—just come.”
“It’s just a clone anyway…”
“Exactly. You need somewhere to lay it down while the real you eats.”
“I can just dissolve it and make a new one tomorrow.”
“Then you’ll have to fly all the way back here again?”
I had no idea why he was being so stiff about it.
I turned away, waving my hand dismissively to show I wasn’t up for more fuss. A hotel room for a clone—really? When he returned to his real body, it’d be no different from a doll.
“Should I bring something?”
“Just come.”
For someone with no manners most of the time, he was acting weirdly polite now.
But Yul still insisted on stopping by a bakery on the way to buy a roll cake.
“Not strawberry—get mocha.”
“It’s not for you.”
“Mom likes mocha better too.”
“…Alright.”
He looked a bit doubtful, but he followed my suggestion. He couldn’t exactly argue that he knew my mom’s tastes better than I did.
I’d already noticed back in the village—he’s surprisingly soft when it comes to adults.
“You really are Korean.”
“You’re insulting me, aren’t you?”
“No, you just… really seem Korean.”
I couldn’t tell what his standards were. He’d bump shoulders with random guys smoking on the street without a care, yet here he was, meek as a lamb.
I led Yul home.
Even though it had been a long time, my body remembered the way instinctively.
‘Yeah… this feels weird.’
It was the first time I’d come back since I returned to the past. The day I first came back, I wanted to run here right away, but…
‘I was too busy saving Min Hajun.’
One urgent task after another had pushed it down the list, and when things finally slowed down, hesitation kept me from coming.
I’d made excuses—finding Yul, gathering mana—all of them valid, but still excuses.
‘If someone asked why I hesitated, I wouldn’t have an answer.’
Even I couldn’t explain it.
For more than five years, I’d lived with the thought that I’d pay any price to see my mother alive again—even if it meant dying myself.
Everything I’d done—clearing gates, surviving countless hardships—had all been for her. That had never changed.
But when I finally thought of actually going to her… I was scared.
Yes—terrified.
Was this how a petty thief felt holding a treasure too great to bear?
The moment I opened the chest, I was afraid the treasure inside would vanish—or worse, that it had been empty all along.
Or maybe I’d turn into a fool, clutching the jewel and unable to move.
I wanted to see her and yet never confirm it. I’d walked this path hundreds of times in my imagination, but still—
“What’s wrong?”
When I stopped walking inside the apartment complex, Yul looked at me curiously.
“It’s nothing.”
I had no intention of explaining. Even if my palms were sweating cold, I didn’t want to show it. Thank God Yul was here.
‘This is why I insisted he come with me.’
I didn’t trust myself to walk in alone.
I clenched my trembling hand.
“Let’s go.”
I said it bravely, though I wasn’t sure if I was even walking properly anymore. Every step felt like the final one toward a cliff’s edge.
Then, I felt warmth on my hand.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but… it’s okay.”
Yul didn’t even turn his head as he spoke. From this angle, I couldn’t see his face—only the large hand enveloping mine.
And somehow, that was enough to loosen the tension in my shoulders. I realized then that my hand was ice-cold.
He didn’t ask anything, didn’t move too quickly. His quiet, indifferent kind of consideration was oddly comforting.
“Thanks.”
He waited until my trembling stopped, until I was breathing normally again—until I looked like myself.
“Why did you take so long!”
The moment I opened the familiar front door, a voice I’d missed so much greeted me. Even after all that mental preparation, it still felt unreal.
“I was showing my friend around the neighborhood.”
“Oh, this is your friend?”
Mom came to the doorway barefoot, pinched my arm lightly, and whispered in my ear,
“You didn’t tell me your friend was a boy…!”
“He’s not a boy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
While Mom and I whispered, Yul stood quietly to the side, lowered his hood, and offered the cake.
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh my, oh my! I didn’t know my Yooha had such a handsome friend!”
“Mom…!”
“Come in, come in! You must be tired from the trip.”
“Thank you. Excuse me, then.”
We took off our shoes and stepped inside. Everything smelled just as I remembered.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You still need a late-night snack! I made braised short ribs since you said you were coming.”
Yul’s polite demeanor felt strange—and so did Mom’s cheerful fussing.
Reality was finally starting to sink in.
“You made short ribs? I told you to rest.”
“How could I just rest? You haven’t been home in ages.”
Before the regression, I hadn’t been the most affectionate daughter—so it probably had been months since I last visited. I couldn’t even remember clearly.
“Unpack here. You and Yooha can share a room.”
Mom said, offering my room to Yul. But neither of us had anything to unpack anyway. After hanging our coats, we headed to the kitchen—where the table was already overflowing with food.
“You did all this by yourself?”
“I bought a few things from the deli. Don’t worry—just eat. Sit, sit.”
“I told you we already ate.”
It looked like she could host a village feast.
Short ribs, japchae, salad, spicy pork stir-fry, rolled omelets… The dishes were all over the place, but every one of them was something I liked.
“Thank you for the meal,” Yul said first, sitting down. I followed, steadying my complicated emotions.
I was already full, but the food still tasted so good it made me want to cry.
Late that night, Yul’s real body awoke on a cold floor. A low ceiling filled his vision.
Grrrgle.
His stomach growled miserably, and he clicked his tongue.
“Pathetic.”
He sat up from the worn pillow and opened the refrigerator without turning on the light. The faint hum of the motor filled the silence.
Of course, it was nearly empty—just some leftover instant rice and a shriveled apple. His dull eyes didn’t change; he hadn’t expected more.
He rarely thought about wanting to eat, but tonight, he felt a hollow ache inside.
The memory of warm food and a noisy living room returned vividly. The kind of meal made with care couldn’t be compared to anything store-bought.
Honestly, Yul couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten food like that.
The living room with the TV on, people slicing apples together, a fresh toothbrush waiting in the cup…
He took the dried apple, closed the fridge, and slid down to the floor, leaning against it. He bit into it without peeling. It was sour—too sour.
The clone’s experiences were always so real. That realism was why he kept their synchronization high—but tonight, the aftertaste was bitter.
Before, it had given him vicarious satisfaction. Tonight, it only emphasized the distance between his life and hers.
He put the half-eaten apple down. The cold air of the room bit at his skin. A faint draft came through the window.
He knew he had to take care of his real body to stay alive. Nobody knew that better than him. But he always did the bare minimum—
Eating to not die, cleaning to stay alive, moving just enough to keep his muscles from atrophying.
For a body that couldn’t step outside, that was the best he could manage.
Yul ran a hand roughly through his hair. It was long and tangled—unlike the neat ponytail his clone wore. But he didn’t feel like brushing it. That apathy extended beyond his hair.
He lowered his hand and stared at his palm. He couldn’t help thinking of that woman who’d become so deeply entangled with him.
Always proud, never backing down, reckless and hot-tempered to the point of being unbearable.
It had been a long time since he’d met someone whose temper matched his own.
And seeing that kind of person falter—
He could still feel the coldness of her hand against his palm.
A few hours ago, Yooha… she probably hadn’t even realized it, but she’d looked seconds away from collapsing. Unsteady breathing, trembling, pale face.
“So the one she wants to protect is her mom, huh,” he muttered.
It had been such a transparent reaction.
Her desperate eyes that day, her determination today.
He could understand it, though. If he’d ever had that kind of family, that kind of home, he would’ve fought just as hard to protect it.
He swallowed a sigh and stood up. There were things to do before sunrise if he wanted his clone to function all day tomorrow.
His body, unused for hours, swayed slightly. Managing his real form was always a hassle—and it always made him feel disgusting.
Honestly, he just… didn’t want to wake up at all.
