"No, it's just…"
Yun-jae lowered his head and muttered another small, "Just…"
Do-hee, however, grabbed his hand and tugged it toward her, lifting his head gently.
"The hospital? You want to go out?"
He couldn't bring himself to say it wasn't that, so he simply nodded slightly.
"Then let's stay a little longer."
Do-hee patted their joined hands reassuringly. "Let's get a few more tests done, some more IV fluids… hmm." Her bright voice continued, adding that it might also be a good idea to meet the doctor again and maybe even stay in the hospital for a few more days.
"No, I'm really fine."
"Rejected. Right now, that face of yours isn't trustworthy."
"…My face really looks that bad?"
'It hasn't even been a full day… did I overdo it?'
Do-hee burst into laughter at his shocked expression as he looked in the mirror, as if the crying had never happened. She was so childlike—crying easily, laughing easily. Yun-jae couldn't help but snicker. Had they been closer, he might have teased, "Crying and laughing…" But even thinking that felt absurd—he must have really lost his mind.
"Do you know how scared I was?"
Her words immediately sent Yun-jae's thoughts back to Cha Do-young's death.
Cha Do-hee had called that memory "hell."
He couldn't even imagine how crushed she must have been, how many tears she shed in agony.
"…Don't hurt yourself, Oppa."
Do-hee said softly,
"I can't be without you."
Even if he didn't like the hospital…
"…Please stay a little longer."
At that whispered request, Yun-jae felt his nose sting, even though he wasn't really Cha Do-young. She didn't know, and yet her plea felt so heartfelt. His chest ached.
At the same time, just a slight frown from him seemed to convey everything. Do-hee gently wiped the corner of his eye, not yet wet with tears.
"I've already cried my eyes out. Don't cry, Oppa. If you collapse again, I'll really get mad."
Coming at him with that touch, that warmth… Yun-jae couldn't help but feel even more like crying.
What should he do?
He couldn't imagine rejecting her hand and leaving. He was in serious trouble.
It might be better if he were someone else. Twins are said to be halves of a single soul; what if she noticed? During the few days in the hospital, Yun-jae was constantly on edge around Do-hee.
Yet, perhaps because Yun-jae spoke less and participated cautiously in conversations out of fear of mistakes, he came across as remarkably similar to the original Cha Do-young. Do-hee didn't seem to suspect anything.
Despite his anxieties, Do-hee was endlessly chatty, barely giving him a moment's peace.
Even when he merely listened and nodded at unimportant stories, she flushed with joy. Bursting with excitement, she recounted tale after tale like a little child, making him smile quietly from time to time.
It made sense. After they grew up, Cha Do-young had avoided Do-hee, thinking staying near her would only make him feel inferior and miserable. Yun-jae guessed that Do-hee had probably been quite disappointed by that.
Today, she dashed into the hospital room again, enthusiastically chattering about school events, then quickly turning her attention to crafting a tiny rabbit from an apple as she apologized for something she had wanted to do for a while. Her nimble fingers arranged the little rabbits neatly, and it was genuinely adorable.
Seeing her happy made Yun-jae feel both amused and a little flustered.
"Was Oppa always this pretty?"
Startled, Yun-jae spat out the apple piece in his mouth.
"What?"
"Just… I don't know. Why does it seem even fresher and prettier here in the hospital?"
'Fresh… prettier?'
Back when he was Cheon Yun-jae, towering over 190 cm, he'd never heard such words. Even now, trapped in Cha Do-young's small frame… it tickled unbearably.
"You're the pretty one."
Do-hee giggled her signature laugh again.
"We looked the same, so it was annoying, right?"
Yun-jae forced a small smile, looking down at his frail limbs. The body he now inhabited was fragile in ways the robust, towering Cheon Yun-jae could never have imagined.
He looked so weak, almost as if a tap would break him. No wonder he had been bullied so much.
Sigh.
Soon, he would have to go to school. Even a minor illness required a few days in the hospital, making him feel like he'd landed in another world. Still, a few days of quiet reflection had its merits.
Clearing his mind of confusion, he coldly assessed his situation. There was no clue about how to return to his original body. He didn't even know how he entered this world—how could he know how to leave?
So, for now, he had to adapt to being Cha Do-young. If he wanted to avoid being thrown out bare-handed or locked in a mental ward, he had no choice but to survive in this body.
Could he ever return to Cheon Yun-jae?
The most plausible theory was that once Cha Do-young's role ended—or once the story finished—he might naturally return. The webtoon wasn't going to run forever; every story had an ending.
The problem was that Cha Do-young's "role," his "usefulness" in the story, equaled his death.
'If I die willingly, will they let me go?'
Yun-jae couldn't be sure.
What if his simple comment and the hurt author were the cause of all this?
Even if he followed the story to the letter, would the system truly let him go if it had been intended to send him here with a message like, "Go die," or "If you're so clever, try it yourself"?
He couldn't help leaning toward a "no."
'What if it really ends there?'
What if the original body had already died without him knowing, or if it's alive but his safety was compromised while here, preventing his return?
Then, this place would be all he had. This place would become "real."
Even inserting an IV caused real pain and bleeding.
But death…
In the original, Cha Do-young had thrown himself from a dizzying height. Yun-jae shuddered, imagining that indescribable, dizzying agony.
'I don't want to die.'
Of course, skipping Cha Do-young's death could affect the system's response. Forced terminations might not end with a brief fainting. Who knew what might happen to Yun-jae, Do-hee, or the other protagonists?
But… for now, he wanted to survive. Let others call him cowardly or selfish.
If the outcome was uncertain, he would first choose life. Survive, and then find a way to act.
His desire to survive wasn't unrelated to having spent time with Cha Do-hee here.
["Please stay a little longer."]
["Don't hurt yourself, Oppa."]
["I can't be without you."]
He knew these weren't really directed at him. He understood they were words crafted for Cha Do-young.
But still…
When he shook off his gloom, Do-hee's wide, innocent eyes made him pause.
"Oppa, what's wrong? Dizzy?"
He soothed her hand from reaching for the nurse call. "No, I'm fine. Just thinking about something else."
"Thinking about what?" she asked, tilting her head.
After falling into this completely unknown place, Yun-jae realized one thing above all:
The gentle Cha Do-hee.
She followed him like a little puppy, laughing because she liked her brother.
She hid quietly in the small hospital bathroom at night, whispering on the phone, "I'm so scared that Oppa keeps collapsing," while trying not to wake anyone. Her parents were too busy with overseas work to comfort her, and yet she still worried endlessly.
How could he turn away?
In that fleeting moment, her image burned painfully into his mind.
A twin sister? For Yun-jae, an only child, it was a strange feeling. But because he had become Cha Do-young and experienced her, and felt the fullness of her affection, he wanted to help if he could.
If the story required it, Yun-jae resolved to ensure it could continue without Cha Do-young's death.