Paradox of a Fractured Mirror

A specific passage from the original novel, which I had read a lifetime ago, suddenly surfaced in my mind.

‘A storm of fire raged across the battlefield. And at the absolute epicenter of that tempest, he stood.’

Kallios was… quite literally, a tempest. When I channeled the flame, it merely coiled around its spot, acting defensively to incinerate whatever dared to approach. But at the tip of Kallios’s blade, the fire rampaged with a wild, feral consciousness of its own, ruthlessly consuming the enemy.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The trajectory of his swinging blade was mesmerizingly beautiful. The sheer ruthlessness with which it utterly eradicated every single adversary in its path was razor-sharp. Grandiose modifiers like ruler of flame, god, elemental… briefly flashed through my mind before dissolving.

“Kaian!”

He called out to me. Even in a dire situation like this, the fact that he used my actual name instead of the title ‘brother’ that he had uttered for over a decade struck me as mildly amusing. However, what erupted from my throat wasn’t a laugh, but a violent cough mixed with thick blood. I hurriedly bent my head forward, vomiting up the coagulated blood that had welled up from my throat.

“Stay right there! Do not move!”

Even without Kallios’s frantic command, I had every intention of doing exactly that. I could no longer move a single step. The moment I unleashed the fourth arrow, the wound in my abdomen—which Lamierre had desperately sealed by pouring his remaining mana into it—burst wide open, spilling blood anew. By the time I discharged roughly the seventh arrow, a sharp pain began to blossom inside my chest, right where my heart resided. It wasn’t a sensation of nausea, but pure, agonizing pain. My core should have become sufficiently reinforced after being layered with Kallios’s own… this is strange.

At any rate, far from moving, it wouldn’t be surprising in the slightest if I collapsed right now and lost consciousness.

“Provide support…!”

The desperate shout of a knight echoed through the air. I merely shifted my gaze to locate the source of the voice. A knight, wearing a heavily dented helmet askew to one side, cursed violently. “D*mn it!” He firmly readjusted his grip around his fractured sword. It was a flawless piercing stance, but the remaining fragment of his blade was far too short to deliver a finishing blow to the monster looming before him.

I raised the bow once more, which I had briefly lowered.

“Brother!”

Ah, so he calls me brother this time.

I offered a silent smile as I aggressively drew upon the dragon blood coursing through my veins.

“I have arrived, so now…”

Crack.

The sound of something incredibly solid shattering deep inside my chest was, in all likelihood, nothing more than an auditory hallucination.

The exact moment the knight lunged forward with a spring-like motion, I completely released the heavily drawn bowstring.

I never heard the sound of the arrow slicing through the air.

The resounding, fractured noise of my heart splitting open was simply too deafening. The sudden, agonizing pain that assaulted my consciousness instantly choked the breath right out of my lungs. Even so, it was considerably less painful compared to the time Arjen had ruthlessly rummaged through my insides to extract the demonic energy. Back then, I had actively wished to drop dead on the spot, but right now, it didn’t feel as though I were going to die. No, I am certainly not going to die here.

Therefore… let us exchange our proper reunion greetings after I wake up from a deep sleep.

“…not as if …lying down like…”

A voice drifted into my awareness, heavily fragmented and detached. It was a deeply familiar voice. I desperately wanted to sleep a little longer, but once my mind consciously registered the speech of another person, my groggy consciousness began to clear up rapidly, defying my actual desires.

“It is time to wake up.”

Someone’s hand pressed gently against my forehead. My brow furrowed slightly at the sensation of fingers brushing my bangs aside before relaxing. Forcing my heavy eyelids open with immense effort, I let out a long sigh.

“Oh? He’s awake.”

“Yeah, I’m awake…”

My throat was completely parched and restricted, a testament to how long I must have been asleep. Clearing my throat with a dry cough, I blinked my eyes repeatedly. A pristine, white plaster ceiling came into view, illuminated by the cool light emitting from a long, rectangular LED fluorescent fixture.

“I am practically dying of pain here! How long do you expect me to wait? If I drop dead because of this, are you going to take responsibility?!”

“Oh my, sir. Judging by the sheer volume of your voice, you look perfectly fit to live another hundred years!”

The boisterous voice of a man who sounded thoroughly intoxicated, coupled with the sharp, snapping retort of a woman, echoed from a short distance away. The hand that had been resting on my forehead disappeared. I shifted my head slightly to identify the owner of the hand. A dark-complexioned guy wearing glasses… was grinning from ear to ear for some inexplicable reason.

“Did you sleep well?”

Instead of offering a verbal response, I raised my hand to cover and press down on my eyes. He immediately grabbed my hand, pulling it back down to rest over my stomach.

“You’re clearly not fully awake yet. Keep your arm still. The blood will backflow.”

It was only after hearing his warning that I realized an IV drip was connected to the back of my hand.

What is this? Am I dreaming?

For a mere dream, the distinct, pungent odor of disinfectant unique to hospitals was far too vivid. Even the voice of the middle-aged man throwing a tantrum over his minor injuries somewhere nearby felt remarkably authentic.

“Kyung-ah.”

“Yes?”

“Where exactly are we?”

The screeching sound of a chair dragging across the floor, followed by the crisp rustling of thin bedsheets, echoed in sequence. I idly stroked the surface of my stomach. Thanks to spending countless nights working overtime without moving an inch while thoroughly abusing the corporate credit card on late-night snacks, the abdominal fat I felt was soft and flabby. It was unmistakably my own body, yet it felt entirely alien.

I was supposed to be gaunt and emaciated, possessing a stomach with a fist-sized hole gouged into it.

“Did you honestly think this would be heaven? With your terrible personality, senior, you could never make it to heaven.”

Kyung’s words were laced with clear amusement.

“We are at a hospital. Do you not remember?”

“…”

“I was genuinely frightened, you know. Someone who was actively cursing the company suddenly cut off the call, so when I dialed back, a complete stranger answered, saying, ‘Uh, this person just collapsed right now!'”

Kyung, who delivered a fairly accurate vocal mimicry of the stranger, let out a deep, resounding sigh. Staring blankly up at the white ceiling while absorbing his words, I questioned quietly.

“So… I am alive?”

“Pardon?”

“Weren’t we involved in an accident?”

Kyung pushed my forehead lightly with an utterly dumbfounded expression. This punk, acting so insolently toward his senior.

“What do you mean, an accident? They said you simply fainted entirely on your own without hitting anything.”

I pushed my torso up from the mattress. While I felt somewhat sluggish since I had just awoken from a deep slumber, my limbs functioned perfectly well. I inspected the back of my hand where the IV needle was inserted. A rugged, moderately tanned hand with blunt knuckles—weathered from constantly roaming around outdoor sites—moved precisely according to my volition.

“My taxi fare alone came out to twenty thousand won. That is the price of an entire chicken.”

“I want to eat fried chicken.”

Muttering aloud along the casual stream of my consciousness, I lifted my head. Poking his head out past the privacy curtain, Kyung shouted, “He’s awake over here!” before turning his gaze back to me.

“I didn’t die?”

“Are you insane?”

As if he had just heard the most preposterous statement imaginable, Kyung snapped back instantly.

“I guess so.”

“Good grief.”

Clicking his tongue, Kyung let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped heavily. Brushing my eyes, I sighed and stared directly at his face.

It was a face I had slowly, meticulously forgotten over the span of ten long years. Monolid eyes, a sharp, prominent nose that I had complimented a few times half-jokingly, and lips with naturally upturned corners that made him appear as though he were constantly smiling even when expressionless. A complexion moderately tanned from his love for outdoor activities, and the lensless, thick-rimmed glasses he used to flaunt, claiming they made him look like a highly intellectual man.

When I raised my free hand that wasn’t tethered to the IV, Kyung habitually nudged his head beneath my palm. I could feel the coarse, stiff texture of his hair, thoroughly damaged from his frequent dyeing habits.

After delivering a few casual pats, I lowered my hand. Kyung roughly adjusted his messy hair before checking the fluid bottle suspended from the IV pole.

“You aren’t experiencing pain anywhere, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we can just remove this and head out. Let’s go grab some chicken.”

“Sure.”

In the middle of our brief exchange, a nurse stepped forward and pulled the curtain open with a sharp shhhk sound. Approaching the bedside, she gently grasped my wrist. “Do not rub the area, simply keep it pressed down,” she instructed while skillfully extracting the IV line and securing a cotton ball over the puncture site.

“Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

“Uh… I am not entirely sure.”

In place of my thoroughly dazed self, Kyung engaged in a prolonged conversation with the nurse.

After settling the medical expenses, we finally stepped outside the hospital exit. Kyung extended my smartphone and a business card toward me.

“The phone turned out to be completely fine. As for the business card, it belongs to the truck driver. I made sure to grab it for you.”

I accepted the smartphone, which was heavily scuffed from rough, careless handling. The moment I pressed the home button with my thumb, the screen illuminated brightly, displaying the current time and date: AM 03:14, 2019/11/16 (Sat). Utilizing my fingerprint to unlock the device, I noticed a string of missed calls and checked the log.

Outgoing PM 11:26 ‘Kyung-i’, Missed PM 11:48 ‘Kyung-i’, Incoming PM 11:48 ‘Kyung-i’. Incoming AM 00:14 ‘Kyung-i’. It was littered entirely with Kyung’s name. I slipped the phone deep into my pocket.

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t be exhausted?”

Kyung slipped his lensless glasses into his pocket and locked his arm firmly around mine.

“So let’s eat quickly and go get some sleep. Okay?”

Stating that he had already picked out a suitable spot, he dragged me along by the arm. I scanned the surroundings, which were blanketed in darkness save for the glowing neon sign of the hospital emergency room.

Is this… a dream?

Or was the ten-year journey I had just experienced the actual dream?

Kyung hailed a passing taxi, sliding neatly into the passenger seat before frantically urging me to hurry up. Opening the rear door and cramping my body into the back seat, I continuously rubbed my eyes before giving my cheek a sharp pinch. The distinct sensation of my thin skin being pulled, alongside the acute pain that followed the pressure, felt undeniably real. Yet, I couldn’t be certain. I had experienced incredibly vivid dreams in the past as well.

“Ah, right. Senior.”

Kyung, who had just relayed his home address to the taxi driver, turned back to address me. I released my grip on my pinched cheek.

“I actually checked out that thing you mentioned.”

“Huh?”

“You know, that web novel. The one where you claimed a protagonist who looks exactly like me appears.”

My eyes locked with Kyung’s through the rearview mirror.

“Do you perhaps secretly harbor a grudge against me, senior?”

What on earth was he talking about a novel for, and what was the meaning behind asking if I hated him?

Regardless of which reality was the dream, meeting Kyung right now was—from my personal perspective—a reunion happening after ten long years. This implied that I couldn’t possibly recall every single trivial conversation we had shared a decade ago. As I remained silent without offering a response, Kyung’s brow furrowed slightly before relaxing as he spoke.

“That guy is completely pitiful. Do you genuinely wish for me to end up like that?”

“…”

“He loses his family, loses his friends, and every single person he chooses to invest his heart into ends up dropping dead. Ah, please take a left turn up ahead, driver. Taking that route is significantly faster during the early morning hours. Yes, that road right there.”

Leaning heavily against the backrest, I idly scratched the back of my hand. The medical tape secured over the cotton ball caught against my fingernail and peeled away slightly. Pressing it back down firmly, I murmured, “Lamierre?”

“Ah. Yeah. That guy.”

Did I… truly tell him that he resembled Lamierre? What on earth was the past version of myself from ten years ago thinking when he uttered such a comment? Maintaining a perfectly composed facial expression, I frantically combed through my faded memories.

While I had indeed read ‘Empire of the Dragon’ consistently, it was by no means a novel one would casually discuss or actively recommend to another person. The reason was simply because the protagonist, Lamierre Weber, endured far too much suffering. Unlike the vast majority of modern fantasy web novels, ‘Empire of the Dragon’ was entirely devoid of instant gratification or easy victories. The stronger Lamierre became, the more crushing the hardships heaped upon his shoulders grew.

However, since the kid right in front of me had clearly heard it, I must have spoken those words at some point. Hmm. Why on earth did I think Kyung and Lamierre resembled one another, to the point of explicitly verbalizing it?

“Yeah. I absolutely detest you.”

For the time being, I utilized a joke to buy myself another turn.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Why? I actually quite like you, senior.”

The expression on his face as he delivered that line with an intensely wronged look was incredibly amusing. A soft chuckle escaped my lips.

Suddenly, a realization surfaced.

“That’s exactly why I dislike you.”

“Wow…”

“Because you refuse to give up. Both Lamierre and you.”

The Lamierre Weber of ‘Empire of the Dragon’ never, under any circumstances, abandoned hope, even when faced with situations where an ordinary person—someone exactly like me—would have long since thrown their hands up in resignation. Granted, if the protagonist were to abandon everything and die, the novel would simply reach its conclusion, so it was a structural necessity. However, even during moments where someone with my extensive background in fantasy web novels would think, ‘Shouldn’t he stumble at least once here, only to recover later through some miraculous serendipity?’, he stubbornly chose the path of taking yet another step forward.

I could never live my life the way Lamierre did, but I suppose I believed Kyung was the type of person who would live exactly like that.

…Though I couldn’t say for certain.

Instead of pressing the conversation any further, Kyung pulled out his smartphone and began tapping away at the screen. I extracted my own phone from my pocket as well. Bzzzt. Along with a vibration, a messaging notification illuminated the black screen.

[Sibling 1: Working overtime today too?]

What on earth was this sibling label, and what was the meaning behind this incredibly low-effort contact name? As I was unlocking the screen, the device vibrated once more.

[Sibling 2: Brother when are you coming home]

“Kyung-ah.”

“Yes?”

“What exactly are Sibling 1 and Sibling 2 supposed to be?”

Kyung replied, his fingers still actively tapping against his screen.

“They are truly overbearing, honestly. They claim they aren’t even asleep yet.”

That wasn’t the fundamental answer I was looking for, but for the time being… they sent the messages because they were awake, right?