There was no such thing as Seo Heemin’s personality existing within Heemin. If his consciousness had been lurking somewhere inside this body, Heemin would have noticed it long ago.
And yet, strangely enough, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Seo Heemin—that hypersensitive, razor-sharp, emotionally volatile soul, the one who had spent his life pushing Cha Iheon away until he ultimately took his own life—no longer existed in this world.
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Still, Heemin deliberately lied. If he failed to win over Cha Iheon properly, he might end up stuck in this world for a year, maybe even two, helplessly drifting toward the inevitable ending.
He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, and pretending to be Seo Heemin would be an exhausting act. It would be much easier to live boldly as a separate personality. Not to mention, it would be far more beneficial for his keyword-replacement project.
Things were going smoother than he had expected. He had gained an unexpected advantage. Cha Iheon, on the other hand, did not seem to share that sentiment—his rigid posture and blank expression made that clear.
“Mr. Partner,”
“Yes.”
“I understand this may be difficult for you, but you must never deny the existence of this new personality. He is a part of Heemin, after all. To prevent him from falling into an identity crisis, treat him as you always have—as a whole, complete person. Heemin is someone who carries many wounds.”
To Cha Iheon, Seo Heemin was the son of his family’s greatest enemy—a privileged young master, raised within the high walls of overprotection.
To hear that he had suffered, that his very identity had changed—none of it made sense to him. His brows knitted together in open disbelief. His thick, sharply defined eyebrows furrowed into a tense line.
“...Ha.”
Iheon ran his bandaged hand down his face, barely holding back a bitter laugh in front of Eunkyung.
He remained silent for a long moment, his hand covering his face. When he finally lowered it, his gaze locked onto Heemin’s. The corner of his lips twisted, caught somewhere between self-mockery and contempt.
Heemin lifted his head in return, meeting Iheon’s stormy gaze—dark, like a sea churning with a violent tempest. And then, with a bright and unclouded smile, he spoke.
“It’s nice to see you, bro.”
It was the first greeting they exchanged since yesterday.
2. Adjustment
Iheon.
Saying the word aloud didn’t feel as awkward as Heemin had expected.
Back in his original world, whenever his friend treated him to something delicious, he’d playfully hunch his shoulders like a low-ranking gangster and say, "Iheon-nim, thank you! I love you!"
The only difference was that in this world, Cha Iheon wasn’t just a regular college student—he was an actual gang leader. But because they shared the same name, the words came naturally.
“We agreed not to deny it, didn’t we, Mr. Partner?”
When Iheon remained silent, his expression unreadable, Eunkyung gently nudged him.
“Ah.”
He let out a quiet exhale, followed by a short murmur. Then, as if seeking confirmation, he turned to Eunkyung once more.
“You said this personality is also a part of Seo Heemin?”
“Of course. Think of them as different leaves growing from the same branch. That should make it easier to understand.”
“Different... leaves.”
He echoed her words, as if rolling them over in his mind.
Was it just a trick of the light, or was there a hint of intrigue in the pause between his breaths?
The storm in his eyes gradually calmed. The subtle shift in his gaze pierced into Heemin’s chest.
Thump, thump.
For some reason, his heartbeat quickened.
Even though Seo Heemin’s consciousness no longer existed, his body still responded to Iheon. Whether it was out of fear of his violence or something else entirely, Heemin wasn’t sure. The uncertainty left him feeling unsettled.
“...Yeah. Nice to meet you.”
Iheon extended his bandaged hand toward him.
It was a rough, calloused hand, its knuckles starkly pronounced.
Heemin hesitated for a moment, staring at the outstretched palm. He barely let his fingers brush against it, but Iheon suddenly tightened his grip.
A firm, unyielding hold, as if to say—No matter which version of Seo Heemin you are, I will never let you go.
If it had been the original Seo Heemin, he would have been horrified by this obsession.
But Heemin? He was actually relieved.
Despite being a different personality, despite the possibility of Iheon discarding his vengeance and losing interest—nothing had changed.
He had worried, even briefly, that Cha Iheon might become indifferent toward him. But now, he knew that day would never come.
Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he couldn’t say.
In this world, the worst thing that could happen was for the story to stop progressing.
Even if things unfolded like a melodramatic morning soap opera, where a character suddenly received a dissociative identity disorder diagnosis and the entire plot’s coherence crumbled, the most important thing was that the narrative continued.
As long as he kept pushing forward, as long as he led things toward a future where Cha Iheon promised him forever—just like in the author’s other novels—then surely, he would be able to see this story to its end.
That belief took root inside him.
Ignoring the pressure tightening around his hand, Heemin smiled brightly.
His heart was still racing.
Let’s do this. Let’s take this all the way to the end.
After agreeing to undergo sleep therapy once a week, they left the clinic.
Ordinarily, he would have been prescribed medication as well, but Heemin had flatly refused to take any, so for now, they settled on in-person therapy sessions.
It was a rare opportunity for him. Otherwise, life under house arrest would become unbearably monotonous.
Now, at least, he had a legitimate excuse to go outside once a week.
He was thrilled—but unfortunately, he had to suppress his excitement because of Iheon’s perpetually serious expression.
It was a shame he couldn’t openly celebrate.
“Welcome back.”
As they descended into the underground parking lot, Secretary Jung was already waiting, holding the car door open.
“We’re going home,” Iheon ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Iheon had remained silent the entire time they rode down in the elevator. When they reached the car, he motioned for Heemin to get in first.
Sliding into the backseat in Iheon’s place, Heemin stole a glance at him. His side profile was sharp and well-defined as he checked the flood of unread messages on his phone.
Slicked-back pomade-styled hair—neatly maintained, neither too short nor too long—framed his perfectly smooth forehead. The contrast between that clean-cut appearance and the faint scar on his eyebrow, a rugged reminder of past violence, only added to his dangerous allure.
He was devastatingly handsome.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
The more Heemin looked, the more striking he seemed. It was fascinating how similar yet different he was from the friend he had known in the real world. He had never stared at him like this before, but now he noticed—surprisingly long, beautiful eyelashes.
Heemin couldn’t take his eyes off him.
The word seduction floated into his mind.
How could he possibly seduce a man that looked like that?
He had boldly initiated the “Keyword Replacement Project,” but in reality, he had never once been in a relationship. He didn’t know the first thing about seduction.
And this man—Cha Iheon—was someone whose entire being was built on hatred for Seo Heemin.
How the hell am I supposed to know?
Middle school, high school, university—he had always been in co-ed environments. But thanks to being attached at the hip with that bastard Iheon, he had never really had a proper conversation with a girl, let alone flirted with one.
All those romance novels he had read over the years—experiencing love vicariously through fictional characters—turned out to be useless in real life.
Characters like Seo Heemin were always the delicate, tragic uke types. They never took the initiative, always denying, always retreating. They never knew how to approach the seme.
If Heemin tried to act like that, it would only piss Iheon off. That much was obvious.
Maybe the only way was to be direct—physically.
As Heemin sighed to himself, still contemplating his approach, Iheon suddenly turned off his phone screen and snapped his head toward him, his voice laced with irritation.
“If you don’t want to be devoured, stop staring at me.”
“...Are you saying you’re going to devour me?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Heemin’s eyes widened slightly.
He had been thinking the same thing—wondering when, how, and whether it would happen. But he wasn’t ready yet.
Last night, thankfully, things hadn’t escalated. But he had already seen the raw hunger in Iheon’s eyes. He didn’t want to experience that same fear and helplessness again.
There was a world of difference between being forced into his arms and choosing to seduce him.
When Heemin swallowed hard, unable to hide his unease, Iheon’s brows furrowed. His lips parted, and with a sigh laced with impatience, he spoke.
“Why do you think I spent fifty billion won to buy you?”
Because you like me.
The words surged up his throat but never made it past his lips.
Instead, he forced out another answer.
“...Because we were classmates?”
“Wrong.”
Iheon lifted his index finger, gracefully, almost lazily—before pointing directly at Heemin’s lower abdomen.
“So I could shove my cock right here.”
His tone was slow, deliberate. But the words were merciless.
For a brief moment, Heemin felt like he was staring at the same beast from the night before.
Underneath the tailored luxury of his clothing, Iheon was pure, unfiltered menace.
Heemin had no doubt. This man fully intended to claim him.
Iheon’s gaze was colder than the night dew, roaming over him like prey. Then, his lips curled as he spoke again.
“Last night, I let it slide because of what Dr. Hwang said. But tonight? That won’t be happening.”
A smirk played at the edges of his mouth.
“I don’t care if you’re thirty or twenty-one. Age doesn’t matter when it comes to fucking.”
The words dripped with amusement, but his pheromones surged like a tidal wave.
Unlike last night, he hadn’t even touched him.
And yet, Heemin felt as if he were being strangled, his breath stolen from his lungs.
No. This won’t do.
At this rate, he wouldn’t be seducing anything.
He would be nothing more than a plaything, tossed onto the bed at Iheon’s mercy. And if things started that way, there would be no hope of seeing the tenderness hidden beneath his violence.
Standing at a crossroads, Heemin hesitated only briefly before making a decision.
He reached for his final trump card.
A desperate move.
Something he had wanted to avoid using.
But it was his only chance to throw off Iheon’s desire to break him.
“The reason Seo Heemin pushed you away the moment he was classified as a Prime Omega...”
He locked eyes with Iheon.
“...Do you know why?”