Chapter 03
I frowned. Wasn’t this basically a scam? They said it was a Christianity-based religion—so that would obviously include Protestantism and Catholicism, as well as Anglicanism and Eastern Orthodoxy. Just by wearing this title, the number of people who would believe everything I said would skyrocket. Roughly speaking, almost half the world could end up on my side.
Is that even right?
Wait—doesn’t that mean I could sell fake medicine if I wanted to?
Is this really legit? How am I even supposed to know if it actually works?
The moment I decided to try applying it, a brief system window popped up, informing me that the title had been activated.
I slowly walked out of the bathroom.
At some point, the spacious hospital room had filled with people.
Still frowning, I instinctively observed them. Medical staff in white coats were mixed in with people wearing black suits.
“…My God. It’s real.”
Someone muttered under their breath the instant they saw me come out of the bathroom. Saying it loud enough for me to hear was kind of cheap. Ignoring their stares, I said nothing and walked straight toward the bed. The crowd parted neatly, like the sea splitting before Moses.
As soon as I sat down on the bed, the doctors in white coats approached me.
“We’ll draw blood for testing. Please state your name, age, and gender.”
“Kyle Youngseo Yoon Alfail. Twenty-eight. Male.”
Answering briefly, I swept my gaze over the room. Anyone allowed into this ward had to be connected to Alfail Pharmaceuticals. It was worth memorizing their faces.
Fortunately, the “memories” the system had given me as a reward seemed to be real. The moment I looked at them, their names came to mind without effort. They were all executives of Alfail Pharmaceuticals.
“Blood test results will be out within three hours. Your blood pressure is normal for now. The morgue storage temperature is cryogenic, so you were in a cold environment for quite some time. Do you have any areas with poor circulation or numbness?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We’ll need to test your motor functions as well…”
“I can walk. I think I can run too. Just my left wrist.”
“Ah.”
The moment I held out my wrist, the medical staff wrapped it in bandages with practiced speed. The treatment was impressively fast.
I found myself oddly impressed. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since I’d been in a hospital. They’re good at this.
“We’re planning further detailed examinations, including MRI and MRA. Since you were confirmed to have experienced cardiac arrest, these tests are especially necessary. We ask for your cooperation, even if it’s inconvenient…”
“But I feel fine. Do I really need all that? And what about discharge?”
I cut them off and asked. They exchanged glances, clearly flustered. Their expressions made sense—someone who had died and even been sent to the morgue had come back to life.
And then—
“The cause of death was massive blood loss—no, I mean, not cause of death, but rather, we should—”
“Kyle.”
Someone called my name from among the men in black suits, interrupting the explanation.
“Let’s just run every test we can.”
Blond hair, blue eyes, and a build that was clearly over 190 centimeters. He was the kind of handsome man people would turn to look at twice. The moment I saw him, a name surfaced in my mind.
Keith Alfail.
The eldest of the Alfail family’s adopted sons.
“I—I still can’t believe it, even seeing it with my own eyes. You’re really alive.”
Beside him, a tall, skinny Black man whispered with a face that looked like he might faint. My gaze naturally shifted to him as well, and once again, a name surfaced effortlessly.
Ian Alfail. The third adopted son of the Alfail family.
So—Keith and Ian Alfail.
My eyes narrowed instinctively as I glared at them.
They looked like they were worried about me, but honestly, none of their behavior seemed sincere. That was because the moment I saw them, the memories sleeping inside this body resurfaced.
First—Keith Alfail.
As the eldest son of the Alfail family, he had always been openly compared to Yoon Youngseo. Despite his impressive looks, his actual abilities weren’t anything extraordinary. He was always the “main character,” though. Handsome, athletically gifted—he’d been a quarterback in American football, excelled in skiing and polo, and even stood out in water polo. He entered a prestigious university as a sports special admit, but this industry wasn’t one where athletic skill alone meant anything.
Keith Alfail had barely managed to graduate from Harvard Business School through connections. His entire life was built on networks and favors.
Of course he would be conscious of Kyle—of Yoon Youngseo.
From a young age, he had tormented Youngseo relentlessly. And in a particularly cowardly way—he never did it himself. He always had other people do it for him.
For example, someone like Ian Alfail standing right next to him.
Ian Alfail, the youngest of the Alfail family, was a tall, skinny Black man with fairly good looks. He had the worst head for academics, so he’d been eliminated early from the succession race. Instead, he’d gone into other Alfail family businesses—advanced materials chemistry and fashion—preparing ventures of his own.
He kept his distance from Youngseo, but toward Keith—the eldest and de facto power holder of the family—he was practically submissive. He played the role of personal guard dog, erasing anything that displeased Keith. And his primary target was always Yoon Youngseo.
Whenever Keith showed even a hint of disapproval toward me, Ian would act on it.
Because of those two, Youngseo had lost a lot. Reports. Thesis abstracts. Even a potential engagement—someone Youngseo had almost been engaged to—was taken by Ian Alfail. That woman and Ian were probably engaged by now.
In other words, those two had blocked Youngseo’s path at every turn.
And yet, according to Youngseo’s memories, he hadn’t even spoken properly with them in recent years. The last real conversation had been two years ago—when Ian had spewed abuse, telling him that since he was doing well with his fiancée, Youngseo should know his place and disappear.
And now they were saying, “Let’s run every test we can.”
Who would believe that?
I stared at them for a moment before letting out a soft, deflating snort.
“I’ll get tested if it’s actually necessary. Mind your own business.”
“What?”
“By the way, black suits suit you. Were you planning to hold my funeral right away, just to make sure I was really dead?”
At my words, Ian flinched. Looks like I’d hit the mark.
“That’s too bad. I didn’t die.”
Twisting my lips into a sneer, I scanned the group in black suits and spotted the PR director in charge of media relations.
“You.”
I pointed at him. The man who had been watching me from between the others visibly startled.
“Y–Yes?”
“What exactly are you doing here?”
“Pardon?”
“Go issue a correction immediately. Announce that Kyle is alive. Get it out first.”
“Uh…”
The man hesitated, fidgeting in place.
Just from the look of it, he wasn’t on my side—no, not on Youngseo’s side. If the media guidelines had been favorable to Youngseo, they wouldn’t have rushed out headlines about Keith Alfail seizing power the moment Youngseo died.
I planned to purge all of Keith Alfail’s lackeys from the Alfail Pharmaceutical board—but that man, in particular, was priority number one. He needed to be removed as soon as possible.
“Oh. And make sure to add one line. ‘Kyle, who awakened from a coma, stated that it was not a suicide, but an accident.’”
The moment I spoke, the room erupted in murmurs.
“What?”
“What does that mean?”
“Why do you keep asking? Do you not understand, or do you not want to understand? Or are you just pretending you don’t know? It’s been almost eight hours since the report went out. Do you want urban legend–level horror stories circulating the city, like ‘The Secret of the Adopted Son Who Committed Suicide in the Alfail Family’?”
“!”
“Then don’t. At least make an effort to protect the stock price.”
I didn’t know a thing about management, but I used to broker crimes and set up crime scenes. In incidents like this, the number one thing that had to be controlled was rumors and witnesses. In this case, it was the media.
With my arms crossed, I stared straight at them. Only then did the PR director finally pull out his phone. Looks like he’d finally understood.
Then—
Without breaking eye contact with the board members watching me, I continued.
“And from this point on, this is off the record.”
I felt all eyes turn back to me. The moment our gazes met, I dropped a bomb.
“It wasn’t an accident. And I didn’t try to kill myself. You know that. Someone tried to kill me.”
They all flinched at once.
I widened my eyes, determined not to miss a single reaction as I watched them.
The culprit could be among the people standing right in front of me.
“…Wait. You’re saying you didn’t harm yourself?”
Keith finally managed to speak. I snorted.
“Think about it logically. Why would I even come to that hotel?”
I glared at them, a crooked smile forming on my face. The memories left in this body told me exactly what I needed to say.
“The day after New Year’s, I had an important negotiation scheduled. If I handled that successfully, I could prove that I was ready to take control of management. And you think someone like that would kill himself? Why?”
“We wouldn’t know. Maybe you felt excessive pressure—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ian.”
I cut him off sharply. Ian snapped his mouth shut. Keeping my eyes fixed on him alone, I continued.
“If pressure alone was enough to make me do something like that, I’d have died every time you people bullied me. That’s not it.”
“Then—then should we call the police?”
Someone suddenly spoke up.
Who the hell said that?
I couldn’t suppress the surge of disbelief rising inside me.
“The police, my ass…”
Turning my head, I found the person who’d suggested it.
To my surprise, it was the same man I’d first seen in the morgue—the one who’d been bawling into a phone until the moment I went into the bathroom.
Earlier, I hadn’t known who he was. But now, with Youngseo’s memories, I recognized him immediately.
Oliver Denson. My chief secretary.
That was a relief. He was almost certainly not the one who’d tried to kill Kyle. Someone this scatterbrained couldn’t have pulled off an assassination.
If it had been anyone else, I’d have cursed them out—but since it was him, I decided to explain.
I let out a deep sigh before speaking.
“Call the police—and then what?”
“Pardon?”
“Put it on a police report—and then what?”
