This was a double update! Make sure you read Chapter 30: Unattainable first~

It started with a couple glances his way, the offenders hurriedly looking away when Sang-hyuk frowned questioningly at them. Since Jae-hwan’s visit, not much had changed. He wasn’t surprised, really, not having expected Jae-hwan to actually do anything, and put his attention back to researching the stolen memories. After putting the idea in Hong-bin’s head, the cyborg had begun to ask more about Sang-hyuk’s childhood, trying to figure out what kind of memories he was missing. It was cute, in a way, and it only fueled him more.

Eventually the secret glances became a constant thing, more and more people whispering as they passed him by, some not even bothering to look away. He couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t talk to anyone other than Won-shik or Joon-myeon unless absolutely necessary, Chan-sik and Seok-jin notwithstanding, so he was sure they didn’t know the real reason why he was basically living in the archives. And he knew he didn’t have the greatest reputation in the lab, still one of the youngest when not counting the interns. So, he wasn’t sure what all the looks were for—

—until he one day saw Yifan finally emerge from the depths of the basement to go straight to Joon-myeon’s office. Sang-hyuk had only seen Yifan one other time, and that had been enough to leave an incredibly harrowing impression; he remembered comforting an uncontrollably sobbing Sung-jae when the door swung open, heavy footsteps echoing against the walls to reveal a dark man staring down at them. Sung-jae had refused to look up so Sang-hyuk had done the best he could to pull his friend into a protective hold, shakily holding the man’s gaze. But the man only reached out to pat Sung-jae’s back, saying in a deep, monotone voice, “you did well”, and just as quick as he appeared, he was gone.

It was only years later that Sang-hyuk found out the real reason for Sung-jae’s crying, Doctor Kim Jong-dae transferring not much later.

It wasn’t long after Yifan met with Joon-myeon that Sang-hyuk was called in, and he felt an almost cool calm wash over him as he stepped into the office that had once filled him was so much fear. Everything appeared the same, the room strikingly clean and void of any clutter, Joon-myeon perched behind his desk like a predator ready to pounce, the chair opposite of him pulled out in wait. It was a tactic that worked extremely well, even Won-shik ting himself whenever he was called in. But when Sang-hyuk opened the door this time, the sight almost made him laugh.

Joon-myeon still leaned back in his chair and stared down at him, his desk clean and purposefully poised. But now Sang-hyuk noticed how some papers stuck out from the neatly placed folder in the corner, no doubt shoved in hurriedly to appear collected. Now, without the fear that had been nearly ingrained, he could see how hard Joon-myeon worked to keep his threatening appearance, and how easily it could all come apart when even the smallest thing went wrong. It was only then he saw Joon-myeon as the very human he was, and that there was honestly nothing different between them save for one having an overwhelming amount of charisma and the ability to set aside their morals.

Sang-hyuk began to wonder what exactly he was afraid of—the man or what he represented.

But despite his sudden realization, Sang-hyuk silently sat in the awaiting seat, keeping his lips pressed together as he waited for the other to speak. Joon-myeon didn’t do anything right away, just watching Sang-hyuk, before finally shifting forward to finger at the carefully placed folder on the desk. “Han Sang-hyuk…sometimes I wonder where everything went wrong. You used to be so good.”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t deny the small swooping feel in his stomach at the words, immediately recognizing the fear tactic.

“You’ve been in my office more times in these past six months than the entire six years you’ve been here combined. Why is that?”

“Did something happen?” Sang-hyuk asked instead, avoiding the question. Joon-myeon’s lip twitched at that, though he continued as if unbothered.

“I heard recently that a certain sponsor, Lee Jae-hwan, visited you a few weeks ago. I wasn’t aware the two of you were close.” Sang-hyuk wasn’t the best when it came to hiding his real intentions behind fancy words, but even he could tell what Joon-myeon was going after. And that meant Jae-hwan hadn’t lied after all.

“I’ve run into him a few times here and there.”

“But he came to visit you.”

“I’m not overly familiar with him.”

Joon-myeon’s eyes snapped up to him, body unnaturally still as his gaze hardened. “Don’t think you can keep secrets, Sang-hyuk. Just because you got a pat on the back doesn’t mean you’re untouchable. Hak-yeon was a sponsor’s son too. Jae-hwan would be no different.”

Sang-hyuk felt his body instinctively stiffen at the mention of Hak-yeon’s name, absolutely loathing the way it sounded on Joon-myeon’s lips. He didn’t need to be reminded; he was already reminded every time he had to run tests with Hak-yeon, was reminded when he thought back to Hak-yeon’s parents’ faces contorted in a mix of shock and grief. He was reminded every time Hak-yeon’s father’s words rang in his head, “Take care of him”. He was already very well aware of what Hak-yeon was, and there was no reason for Joon-myeon to bring that up now.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean something. I don’t know why you’ve brought me here.”

Joon-myeon noticed the way Sang-hyuk’s voice turned cold, looking extremely pleased with himself in a way that had Sang-hyuk realizing he played right into his hand.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, Sang-hyuk. It would be in your best interest to tell the truth.”

Sang-hyuk took a deep breath, doing his best to squash the terror that threatened to take hold of him. No matter how strong he tried to be, deep down he would always be the small fifteen-year-old boy clinging to Won-shik’s sleeve as he was brought into the lion’s den. No amount of bravado or self-realization could truly take that away. He forced his fingers to relax from the death grip they had on his knees, taking another deep breath before speaking calmly, “What is there to lie about? I don’t talk to Lee Jae-hwan outside of the lab, and I hadn’t seen him before then since the demonstration. I don’t know why that would be a problem.”

“There’s no one else here that knows Lee Jae-hwan well enough to spur him to think he actually has a say in anything. If not you, then where the hell did he get big enough balls to try and do this?” When Sang-hyuk did nothing but stare at him in confusion, he scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard. I know you like to stick your head in the sand, but don’t tell me you haven’t heard about what’s been going on.”

“I-I haven’t.” What could he say? That’d he been so caught up in finding out how the memories had been extracted that he hadn’t heard about the most recent gossip? He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to be shocking, Sang-hyuk didn’t even know the names of half the people in this building let alone what they were up to.

Joon-myeon’s face twisted as he opened the folder to peruse the pages in between, a quick glance showing Sang-hyuk the beginning of a proposal, of what he wasn’t sure. After catching a glimpse of the title, he immediately looked back over to see Joon-myeon’s face darken. “Lee Jae-hwan has gotten the bright idea that we should return the cyborgs’ past memories, going on about some nonsense that it would get better results. We normally would just ignore it, but he’s recently been going around and meeting with the other sponsors and somehow convincing them to agree.”

“How-how does that have anything to do with me?” , he hadn’t meant to stutter.

“I heard from one sponsor,” he grabbed the proposal and slapped it down in front of Sang-hyuk, “that the memories might be able to fix T52; she specifically told me T52’s resets might be fixed if we did it. Now, where else would she or any of the other sponsors get that kind of information?”

“I-”

“And then they write this ing thing.” He waited for Sang-hyuk to take the proposal, watching him skim through it. “They know absolutely jack , and yet they go around demanding things whether we can do them or not. They don’t know how the memories were wiped or if it’s even possible, yet somehow they’ve all gotten together and decided we have to do this. So, I’m going to ask one more time, Sang-hyuk; do you have anything to do with this?”

Sang-hyuk’s head was swimming as he tried to understand what he was reading, the proposal littered with so many big words he had no hope of comprehending it. Whatever Jae-hwan did, he must’ve done it well because he saw the names of all ten sponsors, including Hak-yeon’s parents. He looked up to see Joon-myeon still waiting, his hard eyes showing he wasn’t going to drop the subject. He hesitated. “I did mention that T52’s missing memories might be why he’s having a hard time, and I guess I did say that if he had those memories again he might get better. But I never told him to do this.” When Joon-myeon did nothing but raise an eyebrow in disbelief, he broke, blustering, “I wouldn’t do something as stupid as that! I don’t even know how memories work—the only reason I know anything is because you had me wipe X39! How could I put that idea in anyone’s head when I-”

“You’re rambling.”

Sang-hyuk’s mouth snapped shut.

“I already told you, you’re a terrible liar. You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing in the archives? We may not have cameras in there, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You’re not going in there to figure out how to turn the lights on.”

“I-I-”

“The sponsors have never been hands on and always left important decisions to the lab. It honestly doesn’t matter anymore if it’s your fault or not, they’re already expecting this to happen so if we did anything to you, they’d suspect something.” Sang-hyuk swallowed, any leverage he had in the argument gone. Joon-myeon let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair, running a tired hand through his hair. He suddenly looked like he aged fifty years. “But Sang-hyuk, you went through all this trouble—do you even know how to give back their memories?”

Sang-hyuk blinked, having to take a few seconds to think of a response. “I…I was trying to figure it out, but I couldn’t find anything.”

“That’s because we’re not stupid enough to put it in the archives. Then any idiot can stroll back there and find it. There is a way, but it’s never been tested so we have no idea if it actually works or not. None of us, including the higher-ups, are real keen on using it when our number of test subjects is so limited.”

Sang-hyuk’s mouth felt like sandpaper as he offered, “We could try it on T52 first. He’s usually more receptive to these kinds of things than X39, it might work.”

“That’s what Yifan and I were thinking. None of the current batch of volunteers look like they’ll make it through the second test, so we have no back-ups. Using T52 is the best-case scenario. None of us want to mess up X39.”

“We need to let T52 know beforehand, that we’re going to be doing this. He has the right to know.”

“And what are you going to do if it says no? Go to the sponsors and say ‘oops, never mind, T52 actually doesn’t feel like it’? You put yourself in this mess, you’re going to do it.”

“I’ll do it, but he still deserves to know what we’re going to do to him. He shouldn’t be in the dark.”

Joon-myeon shrugged, now looking so tired. Sang-hyuk noticed how gray Joon-myeon’s hair was, blotches of pure white mixed with black. Had Joon-myeon always been this tired? This stressed? He realized he had never paid much attention. “Do whatever makes you sleep better at night. But we will do it. We have to.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, feeling just as drained as he finally allowed himself to sit back in his chair, the knots that had kept his shoulders flush to his ears slowly easing away. He had never expected this outcome when he heard Joon-myeon call him in, not even when he not-so-secretly asked Jae-hwan for help. He had been fully prepared to fight to the death for this. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders to not only get support from the sponsors but from the higher-ups themselves, willingly or not. Now he just had to worry if it would work or not.

Joon-myeon seemed to notice his relief, a rare, fond smile crossing over his face as he shook his head. “You amaze me sometimes, Sang-hyuk. No matter what we throw at you, you somehow manage to keep that crazy optimism.”

Sang-hyuk frowned confusedly. “What optimism? I feel like I’m dying all the time.”

Joon-myeon shook his head. “Most of us don’t start out as callous or immoral as we are now. We’ve all stood in your shoes, and we’ve all seen our fair share of . We’ve had friends disappear and family members threatened.” His voice softened, a wistful look glistening in his eye. “Some of us have even had family taken. This is a hard world to live in, and in order to survive you have to harden yourself so those kinds of things don’t hurt you again.

“Those cyborgs are the reason for a lot of our heartbreak, so it’s hard for us to look at them without feeling some resentment.”

“…Joon-myeon-”

“I know most people are scared of me, but fear can do a lot for you. I never have to worry about someone going against me or disobeying my orders because they’re too scared to do so. I never have to worry about someone getting hurt, or worse, myself, because someone thought they were smarter than the rest of us. But then you came along, and now you’re strutting around thinking you’re the hottest and can fix everything.”

“I’m not-!”

Joon-myeon snorted, smirking good-naturedly. The sight threw Sang-hyuk completely off-kilter. “I never said that was a bad thing. A part of me just admires that no matter how much I tried to scare you into submission, you somehow managed to crawl back and fight for what you think is right. As idiotic as that is, it’s admirable.”

Sang-hyuk lowered his head, face flushed hot from praise he wasn’t sure was meant to be taken well or not. Joon-myeon had never praised him before, and had never spoken to him so genuinely. It was so jarring, yet a small part of him basked in it.

“Just make sure you can keep up with your words. I’d be disappointed if you end up dying because you tried running before you could walk.”

--

It was ironic, how little Sang-hyuk was actually needed for the procedure, Joon-myeon and some of the other higher-ups being the ones to prepare the memories. They weren’t wasting any time to get this done, knowing the sponsors were the ones who had pushed for this, and were already arranging a room for T52 to be brought in. Sang-hyuk was basically useless in that department since he had no idea what was necessary and there was no time to learn, so he was relegated to bringing T52 in and getting him ready.

Sang-hyuk found the cyborg in his room, sliding a simple white t-shirt over his newly replaced torso. T52 paid him no attention as he got himself dressed, a habit he had gotten into since fully taking his self-appointed role of being Hak-yeon’s friend. It was a strange sight to see, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the faint panging in his chest to see the other acting so blasé towards him. It wasn’t that long ago that T52’s whole face lit up at the mere sight of him, clamoring for even a second of his attention. Somewhere along the way Sang-hyuk had taken too many steps back, and now T52 no longer even glanced in his direction.

With every step he took to try and make a difference, the farther he seemed to distance himself from the few people who loved him.

Sang-hyuk tried not to think about that as he waited for T52 to notice him, the cyborg slipping on his specially made slippers before turning to the door—and stopping short at the sight of him. Sang-hyuk slapped on a sweet smile. “Hello, T52.”

T52 glanced from Sang-hyuk to the door, hesitating. “Hello, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk pointed to the bed, keeping his smile in place, “Why don’t you sit down? I need to talk about something with you.”

T52 frowned at the suggestion. “I am going to see Hak-yeon. He is waiting for me.”

“I know he is, but this is important. I’m sure he’ll understand.” When T52 didn’t move, still watching him warily, Sang-hyuk moved forward and purposefully spread his arms out to keep the other from trying to move. T52 instinctively stepped back at his sudden movement, eyes narrowed, and Sang-hyuk tried to pretend that didn’t hurt. “I wouldn’t stop you from seeing Hak-yeon if it wasn’t important, you know that. Please, just sit down.”

T52 stared at him for the longest time, almost as if waiting for Sang-hyuk to snap or change his mind, and eventually lowered his head to allow Sang-hyuk to guide him back to the bed. Sang-hyuk tried to be as gentle as possible, his touches so soft as they brushed over T52’s shoulders, lingering over his arms and finally catching on his hand. He had held hands like this with both T52 and Hong-bin thousands of times, both of them reveling in the feeling of physical contact—T52 coldly pulled his hand back the moment he sat down, his whole body guarded as he continued to stare at Sang-hyuk. Sang-hyuk’s façade broke as his smile faded away, swallowing the lump in this throat as he pulled his hands back into his own lap.

“D-did I do something wrong? You look upset.”

“I do not think it is something you would be able to understand.” Sang-hyuk reeled back at the sheer weight of those words, never having heard something so harsh from any of the cyborgs. He had never seen T52 have such an aggressive demeanor out of nowhere, and he wondered just how much Hak-yeon was affecting him.

“I can try and understand if you let me. I’m always here for you, you know that.”

T52 watched him for a few seconds before unwillingly mirroring Sang-hyuk’s pleading expression, body automatically relaxing. “You say the right words to gain our trust, but when we need you, you disappear. You do not realize how much we are forced to rely on you. We do not know what to do when you are not there.”

“Did I miss one of your tests? I would never let anyone else touch you; if something happened, I can make sure it doesn’t again.”

T52 shook his head, fingers curling into the sheets. “It is not something just your presence would solve. I already said, you would not understand.” Sang-hyuk bit his tongue from saying anything else, already able to tell how distressed the other was becoming. So, as much as it hurt him to drop such a sensitive issue, he decided to change subjects.

“T52…I know you’re angry with me, but I…I need you to listen to me, okay?” He leaned closer to get T52 to look up at him, making sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible. T52 seemed to understand, the frustration that had been b throughout his body fading away. “I always told you that I would do whatever it took to help you and the others, and I never intended to go back on that promise. Sometime soon, I don’t know when, they’re going to try something that could possibly help get rid of your resets for good.”

T52’s eyes widened at that, multiple expressions flickering across his face as he tried to figure out how to express his shock. “My resets; you know a way to stop them?”

Sang-hyuk quickly backpedaled before he promised something he shouldn’t. “I can’t say for sure; it’s never been tested. But, T52, have you ever thought about the time in your life before you were brought into this lab?”

T52 merely blinked. “I never had a life outside of this room. I only ever existed here.” There was no confusion in his words, calm as if stating a fact.

“But you knew Hak-yeon when he was still human, you know that he wasn’t always a cyborg. Surely you have to realize that you weren’t born here. There had been a time when you were a human, with a family and an entire life ahead of you.” Again T52 only blinked, and Sang-hyuk clasped his hands together in a vain attempt to not touch the other, not sure how to come to terms with the fact that T52 had been ed up so badly he didn’t even register that he had to have had a life before this. That there was more to him than just this experiment. Sang-hyuk’s eyes lit up when a sudden idea came to him, scooting his chair closer as he maintained direct eye contact with the confused cyborg.

“T52, you told Hak-yeon to call you Hong-bin, didn’t you?” T52 nodded, face blank. “No one’s ever said that name to you before. If you didn’t have a life before here, where did that name come from?”

“I…I do not know.”

“Where did you hear the name from?”

“I do not know.”

“That’s because it came from your life beforehand. It’s a memory that somehow managed to stay with you, even when you forgot everything else.” Sang-hyuk had absolutely no idea if anything he said was true, but it seemed to work, T52’s gaze starting to show some shades of comprehension. “I convinced them to try and return those memories to you, to let you remember the you from before this whole thing started.”

“…the me from before?”

“Yes, the Hong-bin that probably was some super handsome guy walking around breaking hearts. You remember those stories I used to read to you, right?” T52 nodded shakily, overwhelmed with information and instinctively reaching out to grab Sang-hyuk’s hand. Sang-hyuk wordlessly encased the other’s thin hands in his own, comforting him gently. “You remember how all those princesses were swept off their feet by those dashing princes. I’m sure you were just like that, riding around and making all those sweet princesses fall in love with you.” It was a funny image, the thought of T52 riding around on some white horse and literally sweeping girls off their feet. But the image was enough to bring a semblance of a smile to T52’s face.

“Would I really be able to remember that?”

“We’re going to try. I didn’t want to do it unless I asked you first, you deserve to have a say in if you want this or not.” He the other’s cheek without thinking, though smiled fondly when the other subconsciously leaned into his touch. “Would you want that, T52? Do you want to have your memories back?”

T52 didn’t wait to nod his head, eyes lidded as he focused on their hands. “Yes.”

Sang-hyuk barely had time to take in his answer before the door was opening, him whirling around to see Chan-sik peeking his head in. Sang-hyuk vaguely registered T52 jolting from a reset as he took in the intern standing there. Joon-myeon hadn’t been lying when he said they weren’t wasting any time. The probability that they were planning on doing this whether Sang-hyuk agreed or not was high, and he had an idea they had already been ready to start before even calling him in. He gave a shaky laugh as he tried to ignore the way T52 was crushing his hand.

“Did Joon-myeon send you? People are going to start thinking you’re some fancy messenger.”

Chan-sik was staring at T52 as he answered, his lips nervously. “I-I’m pretty sure everyone already thinks that.”

“Sorry about that. Here, I already know about Joon-myeon, why don’t you help me get T52 ready? He’s coming down from a reset.”

Chan-sik looked thankful to have something to do, running over to his side and swinging one of T52’s limp arms around his shoulders. They both lifted T52 up to his feet, T52’s head lolling back and his weight falling entirely on Sang-hyuk’s side. T52 was nowhere near light, and the both of them struggled to keep him steady, forced to wait until he was able to stand up on his own. It luckily didn’t take too long, T52 registering their positions and quickly pulling himself away, turning to Sang-hyuk for an explanation.

“We’re going to give you back your previous life,” he supplied as cryptically as possible, ignoring Chan-sik’s questioning looks. T52 didn’t seem to fully understand, but he didn’t have the time to explain again, and hoped Joon-myeon would give him the chance before they started. They were able to coax T52 to follow them without much fuss, T52 much more compliant this time. They were a lot of stares coming their way, everyone wanting to get a peek at the cyborg that most weren’t able to see. Some pointed while others openly whispered, and Sang-hyuk put a protective arm around T52’s shoulders, holding him close and daring anyone to try and say anything.

The looks stopped.

Joon-myeon and a few other men he’d never seen before were waiting in the room they’d hastily prepared, a chair already prepped and ready for T52. Chan-sik’s mouth dropped open in surprise, clearly having no idea what they were about to do, and Joon-myeon stepped forward. “Thank you for bringing them here, Gong Chan-sik. You are excused.” Chan-sik wasn’t stupid, and he his heel and ran off with a quick bow. Joon-myeon smirked at his exit before turning to Sang-hyuk. “You can put it in the chair. Baek-hyun and Kyung-soo will get everything else ready.”

Sang-hyuk’s hold on T52’s shoulders tightened when he saw two men begin to approach them. “I-I need to ask him if he wants this—I need his permission.”

Joon-myeon’s face twisted in annoyance. “I thought you already did that.”

“I-I did, but he reset. I need to ask him again.”

Joon-myeon waved him off with a flick of his hand. “If he agreed the first time then it doesn’t matter. I’m not about to sit around and make sure the thing is all nice and comfy.” Sang-hyuk didn’t have a chance to argue when he felt T52 yanked from his grasp, and watched helplessly as the two men strapped T52 down to the chair, one of them putting some kind of clunky helmet over his head. The front piece was clear glass, and Sang-hyuk was able to see T52’s eyes blown wide, trying to grasp what was happening and clearly looking to Sang-hyuk for help.

“You’re scaring him,” Sang-hyuk tried to argue, turning to Joon-myeon when the other two made no move to stop. His eyes widened when he watched the shorter of the two start to stick small suction cups onto T52’s head. “Joon-myeon-”

“, how the hell do you manage to work with this one? So noisy.” the short one mumbled as he continued to push T52’s hair around.

“It’s a skill,” Joon-myeon muttered before jerking Sang-hyuk by the arm, glare harsh. “Sang-hyuk, shut up and behave for once. You’re not helping.”

“Finished,” the shorter one announced, stepping back and wiping his hands over his lab coat, looking unimpressed with it all. “Baek-hyun-”

“I’m already on it,” the other one drawled, ignoring Sang-hyuk’s pleas as he expertly opened T52’s arm and inserted a cable connected to the nearby computer, a few things immediately flashing on the screen. Baek-hyun was already moving to work through organizing the computer, Kyung-soo just as efficient in clearing everything in the room to make sure nothing was close by. No one knew what T52 was going to be like once the procedure was done, and they had to be ready if anything went wrong.

“You didn’t let me ask…” Sang-hyuk whispered, his arm throbbing from where Joon-myeon still held him.

“You’re lucky I let you have time to do it in the first place. I already told you, we don’t know if it’s going to work or not. We don’t want to waste time and let something possibly go wrong because we waited too long. This is all new, and we don’t like surprises.” Baek-hyun called Joon-myeon’s name, and the room fell absolutely silent, everyone turning to stare at the computer with bated breath. Sang-hyuk’s mouth went dry when he saw a loading screen waiting, the cursor hovering over the START button.

Joon-myeon stepped forward. “Go ahe-”

“Wait!” Everyone snapped their heads toward Sang-hyuk, already on edge and looking about ready to commit murder at his sudden interruption. “Let me do it.”

Joon-myeon growled. “Sang-hyuk-”

“T52 trusts me on some level, so no matter what happens there’s a better chance his reaction won’t be too bad if he sees me first. Let me do it.” It took every ounce of him to utter those words with the weight of everyone’s glares on him, and he struggled to not collapse right there. T52 relied on him, trusted him to keep him safe. He had to, even if every second he felt like bursting into flames. “Let me do it.”  

They all exchanged glances before Joon-myeon gave the smallest of nods, and Baek-hyun backed off. No one said a word as Sang-hyuk slowly walked to the computer, his fingers shaking by his side. The sight of the computer waiting for him, the feel of the button’s smooth groove beneath his fingertips; he suddenly was hit with the painful memory of Hong-bin sitting in this exact same position, eyes watching him in resignation. Only this time, T52 didn’t have the luxury of being aware.

Seconds passed, and he could hear a frustrated sigh behind him. “Sang-hyuk-”

He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed down on the button.

Nothing happened right away, the room still so silent that Sang-hyuk immediately opened his eyes, looking down at his hand to see if he really pressed the button or not. When everything seemed right, he looked up at the screen—and blanched when he saw the loading screen had been replaced with a giant countdown. He snapped his head over to T52 when he saw the numbers slowly begin to crawl up, biting his lip when the other didn’t so much as move. He wished there was some indication it was working, a twitch or a grimace or something, but T52 was as still as a statue. Sang-hyuk, desperate for something to do, reached out to hold T52’s hand, to comfort himself more than anything, but felt something grab his arm.

“Don’t touch it,” Kyung-soo said sternly. Sang-hyuk wanted to argue, but Baek-hyun stepped in, voice leaving no room for argument.

“Touching it can disrupt the process. We only have one chance at this to return everything properly.”

Sang-hyuk let out a small whimper at the helplessness he felt in the situation, forced to stand there and just wait, his eyes never looking away from the computer screen. The numbers rose in an infuriatingly slow pace, and while it made sense that it would take time, it only made Sang-hyuk want to scream. He wanted nothing more than to just see T52’s eyes open again and find some reassurance that he would be okay, not knowing what he’d do if anything went wrong. This was what he wanted, what he fought for, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t help but wonder—what if something goes wrong?

He thought of the hundreds of times T52 had happily called out to him, so bubbly and excited. He remembered back to when he’d first arrived, how Won-shik had brought him in to meet T52 properly, saying something about how the cyborg had mentioned ‘the small boy with the pretty eyes’ and wanted to see him again. It had been an awkward couple of meetings at first, T52 unresponsive and Sang-hyuk too scared to say anything. But curiosity ultimately won over his fear, and he started having small conversations with him, eventually telling him the same fairytales Hak-yeon used to read to him. T52 became an entirely different person when he told stories, suddenly full of an innocent intensity as he listened. A strange friendship grew between them after that, one that nobody paid attention to until Sang-hyuk walked in one day and T52 excitedly shouted out, unprompted, “Sang-hyukkie!”

T52 trusted him. Sang-hyuk had never put too much thought into T52 or his wellbeing when compared to Hong-bin or Hak-yeon, and many times forgot about the other completely. That was only compounded with guilt when T52 would greet him with an adoring smile, not a resentful bone in his body. Even when jealousy reared its ugly head at the sight of T52 and Hak-yeon becoming close, closer than either had been to him, T52 still regarded him with respect and trust. Sang-hyuk really didn’t feel like he deserved any of what T52 saw in him, but if there was ever a time to live up to that, it was now.

67%

68%

69%

He felt like time was taunting him, moving so slowly that each time the number would tick up his heart would plummet straight to his stomach, crawling back up just to drop right back down again. What kind of memories would he have? Hong-bin had always been curious, asking questions about himself and the world that seemed to give some insight into what kind of person he could be. But T52 never had that drive, perfectly content with sitting in his room and letting the world pass him by. Both Hong-bin and T52, while similar physically, were completely different, and it was a wonder to see what he would become. 

83%

84%

He jammed his hand into pocket to silently caress the note he’d found, something he’d taken to carrying around with him. What had happened in those missing months that had been erased from the files? What caused Jung Moon-hyuk to take Hong-bin out to the middle of nowhere, permanently separating the cyborgs and forcing his father to have to take multiple trips to check up on him? T52…he’d been an angry, violent person, if the records were true. Would he…would he be like that again if this worked?

91%

92%

But T52 was always so sweet, smiling happily on his best days and quietly withdrawn on his worst. And T52 trusted him; he wouldn’t hurt him, even if he did become angry again.

97%

98%

99%

Sang-hyuk was helping him, surely that would mean something—?

100%

Nobody dared to breathe a sound as Baek-hyun wordlessly moved to check through the computer system, Kyung-soo just as silent as he began to remove the small suction cups from T52’s head. Sang-hyuk was too afraid to move, nearly hiding behind Joon-myeon as he watched them, their hands proficient as they quickly worked to clean up. It was only when Kyung-soo removed the helmet and revealed T52’s sleeping face that they all stopped. This was it.

This was it.

Kyung-soo was the one to do it, taking an audible, deep breath before yanking the cord out, the computer beeping incessantly. But no one paid any attention to that. They all watched T52’s face, searching for any hint that he was still alive, that nothing had gone wrong. It took only a small flutter of eyelashes for Sang-hyuk to shove everyone aside, grabbing a chair and dragging it next to T52’s side, ready to give a friendly face in case he was confused. Joon-myeon tried to stop him, but his words faded when T52 finally opened his eyes fully.

Sang-hyuk inhaled sharply.

Everything was the same, physically, but at the same time it wasn’t. T52 always held himself in the ridiculously proper manner the cyborgs were taught, but this time there was something else behind it besides simple propriety. There was a kind of confidence that pushed back his shoulders, that jutted his chin out so he could meet their gazes despite them all looking down at him. There was a sharpness to his gaze that had never been there before, a calculating look that roved over them in a way that had Sang-hyuk feeling he was being stripped bare. T52 carefully flexed his fingers against the straps that held his wrists, blinking lazily as his lips pulled back in a lazy smirk.

“Well, well,” he said, his tone so cavalier and human that Sang-hyuk found himself transfixed, “if it isn’t little Joon-myeonnie. Haven’t you gotten old.”

Baek-hyun and Kyung-soo both looked at each other tensely while Joon-myeon looked like he swallowed a lemon. Sang-hyuk meanwhile was stuck on the fact that T52 knew Joon-myeon, let alone knew him well enough to call him Joon-myeonnie. His mind was blown.

“I guess it worked,” Joon-myeon said tersely, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.

T52 took his time to look around the room, humming as he stuck out his lower lip thoughtfully, the whole time his smirk never leaving his face. “Looks like nothing’s changed. All that hard work and nothing to show for it.” He snapped his gaze back to them, tilting his head as his grin widened enough to show his teeth, eyes narrowing sharply. “You erased my memories.”

“We had to,” Joon-myeon’s voice was terse, sounding like he was giving a demonstration or speaking to a sponsor. Sang-hyuk finally turned his gaze from T52 to see Joon-myeon’s hands shaking, something the man tried to hide by shoving them in his pockets. He felt like he was missing key information in this exchange, and could do nothing but watch.

“You think I’m an idiot? You got yourselves some fancy tech and couldn’t wait to try it out on something you couldn’t control. You couldn’t control us, and rather than try and put in some ing effort, it was easier to make everything a clean slate. Isn’t that right, Joon-myeonnie?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m your superior-”

“You aren’t .” Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped open at everything coming out of T52’s mouth, never expecting to hear the sweet voice that asked for hugs to be cussing so freely. But there was nothing sweet about T52 now, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes glared daggers that would easily cut everyone in the room if he wasn’t strapped down. Sang-hyuk was suddenly thankful they had taken extra precaution earlier; he was sure none of them expected this kind of response—well, at least he didn’t.

He wondered if Joon-myeon had.

Joon-myeon puffed his chest out. “T52-”

T52’s lazy demeanor dropped instantly, his smirk twisting into a furious snarl, fingers curling into claws. “ off,” he growled, the sheer intensity behind his words causing them all to jump back. Baek-hyun and Kyung-soo turned to Joon-myeon, both looking ready to bolt. Joon-myeon opened his mouth to argue but T52 beat him to it. “Get the out Kim Joon-myeon. All of you get the away from me!” T52 began to violently pull against the bindings on his wrists, glare never leaving Joon-myeon’s face. Sang-hyuk jumped out of his chair when he saw T52’s skin begin to split from where the straps dug in, each pull causing a loud crack to ring throughout the room. Joon-myeon looked ready to stop him when Baek-hyun grabbed his arm, wordlessly shaking his head and pushing him towards the door. Kyung-soo tugged on Sang-hyuk’s arm, ready to follow and hopefully let T52 call down on his own, when they heard behind them, “Not Sang-hyuk.”

Kyung-soo hesitated leaving Sang-hyuk on his own, but when T52 broke one of the bolts holding the strap down, he and the other two were gone.

A shiver ran down Sang-hyuk’s spine when he found himself facing the full brunt of those critical eyes, vaguely hearing the door shut behind him as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Sang-hyuk had no idea what he was supposed to do or say, so caught up by how expressive T52’s face was now, how just a simple pinch of the eyebrows and a wrinkle across his nose was able to convey true frustration, how a fire that burned in his eyes could so easily express his anger. He was the same but it was all suddenly so different.

T52 seemed to realize Sang-hyuk’s inner struggle, taking a moment to try and calm himself down. His voice was much more controlled when he spoke, but there was a depth to it, a lilt that bordered on taunting, that made it so much more. “You’re Han Jae-myun’s son, aren’t you?” Sang-hyuk flinched at the sound of his father’s name, blinking dumbly. “You look just like him.”

What was he supposed to say? This wasn’t the T52 he knew anymore—whatever version of T52 this was, this angry, vicious man, seemed to have erased everything that Sang-hyuk had spent years coming to know. His T52 was gone now, and he stuttered a shaky breath as a heavy pang of loss began to overwhelm him.

T52 frowned at his silence, running his eyes over Sang-hyuk’s face before softening his voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Sang-hyuk started at that, shocked to find his cheeks damp. He hurriedly wiped them with his sleeve, and T52 let out a small laugh. “You look so much younger like this. I don’t think I ever realized how young you were. You’re just a baby.”

“I-I’m twenty-one,” Sang-hyuk hiccupped, cheeks burning when T52 snickered.

“Like I said, a baby. I’m old enough you weren’t even a thought in your daddy’s eye when I first started here.” Sang-hyuk sniffled in indignation, unsure how to handle even T52 finding a reason to . What about him made it fun to make fun of him? T52 eventually took pity on him and looked down at the clasps on his wrists, clicking his tongue. “Would you be able to take these off, Hyuk? I promise I’m not going to hurt you, they’re just really uncomfortable.” Sang-hyuk knew he shouldn’t, the reports of T52’s aggressive tendencies flashing through his mind, but he couldn’t. When T52 looked at him like that, tilted his head and smiled like that, he couldn’t unsee his T52. He undid the clasps and watched as T52 rubbed his wrists, biting his lip nervously.

T52 noticed him staring, sighing with one hand still on his wrist. “You’re the one that convinced them to give my memories back, weren’t you?” Sang-hyuk nodded wordlessly, and T52’s lips pursed. “You were always so optimistic. Didn’t you ever think that there was a reason we were wiped in the first place?”

“I-I did, but I thought they did it without permission. They-they should ask first, shouldn’t they?”

T52’s lip curled affectionately at the question, shaking his head. “Oh sweetheart, how did they manage to find someone as innocent as you?” When Sang-hyuk pulled back, hurt, he added gently, “There’s nothing wrong with that. You were the only one who was thoughtful enough to worry about our wellbeing, and sometimes that consideration was what kept us going.”

“…they always told me I was stupid for thinking that. But I-I couldn’t treat you like that.” Not when that coldness, that complete lack of compassion, reminded him terribly of his father, of the nights where he laid in bed awake wondering what he’d done wrong. T52 nodded as if he understood the real meaning behind his words, resting his elbow on the chair’s armrest to cup his chin in his palm, a gesture so casual and human that it was almost surreal. 

“There’s a time and place for kindness, especially in this type of place. Kindness is a weakness, and weaknesses allow you to be used.” His words were cold, their meaning heavy, and Sang-hyuk found himself shrinking under their weight. T52 suddenly locked eyes with him, the power of his gaze so captivating Sang-hyuk couldn’t look away, so drawn to try and decipher what had really been locked away for so long, to learn all that he could about this man that was full of so much mystery and allure. His voice took a more careful tone as he turned purposefully to look at the wall, his finger tugging down on his lip. “Have they given Taek-woon back his memories too?”

It took a couple seconds for Sang-hyuk to regain enough composure to answer. “Who?”

T52 glanced over at him, just a flick out of the corner of his eye, and the way he held himself was so mesmerizing, so beautiful—he no longer looked like a cyborg held together by the barest of threads. He looked so much more than a mere human as well, a creation fitting of those magazines Hak-yeon used to read, sprawled across covers and seeming to hold all the wonders of the world in the palm of his hand. T52…there really had been so much behind his faulty exterior, so much more than the useless trash they thought him as. A smirk pulled at T52’s finger, the look mischievous as if he knew exactly how he appeared.

“Like what you see, Hyukkie?” When Sang-hyuk did nothing but blink, lost for words yet again, he chuckled, putting his chin back in his hand as he stared at him fondly. Sang-hyuk distinctly felt like he was constantly playing right into T52’s hand, the cyborg always one step ahead of him in whatever game they were playing. If it was even a game at all. He felt so lost. “Sorry, it’s so easy to tease you. I meant X39, have they given him his memories back?”

Finally finding something he knew and could answer, he straightened in his seat. “Not yet. They wanted to do it to you first to…” he paused, realizing what he was about to say and sheepishly meeting T52’s coyish grin, “…to see if it would work or not.”

T52 didn’t seem bothered by that in the slightest, tilting his head without ever looking away. “That makes sense. I was always the expendable one, even before they wiped us. He was always better than me, at least in their eyes. But that was because I wouldn’t put up with their bull, guess that came back to bite me in the , didn’t it?”

T52’s whole demeanor seemed to have changed on a dime, and Sang-hyuk struggled to keep up. “Y-you weren’t expendable, just no one t-tried to help you. You just needed extra help.”

T52’s gaze finally softened. “You don’t need to sugarcoat things. I know much more about this than you think, and I know what they did to me ed me up. Even now, I’m not completely whole; there are parts of me that are still missing. No amount of extra help will fix that.” Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to argue and he quickly cut him off. “I appreciate how much you care for us and try to help, it’s more than anyone else here. But in the end, there is only so much you can do.” He hesitated for a few seconds before asking, “Did they ever tell you our names?”

“You mean like your code names?”

A scoff. “Don’t even come near me with that bull. No, our real names.” A wistful looked passed over the other’s face as he curled his fingers into a fist, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “You always looked sick when I called myself Hong-bin. I remember wondering why.”

“That’s because-”

“My name is Lee Hong-bin.” Sang-hyuk stopped short, disbelief coursing through his body. Hong-bin—wasn’t Hong-bin the one his father brought home? Wasn’t Hong-bin the one Sang-hyuk had spent hours with in his father’s office, trading secrets and telling stories? Wasn’t Hong-bin the one Sang-hyuk had been taking care of for the past six years? That was his Hong-bin—T52, T52 couldn’t be Hong-bin.

“You seem surprised.”

“I-I just, you can’t—you can’t be Hong-bin. H-he said, he said his name was Hong-bin. He’s supposed to be Hong-bin, not you!”

T52 looked confused, and it was with a sickening chill that Sang-hyuk began to realize the truth. “He said his name was Hong-bin?”

“He said his mast—er, Jung Moon-hyuk, called him that. I’ve been calling him that this whole time, that’s why I didn’t like it when Hak-yeon was calling you that. You weren’t…you weren’t supposed to be…”

The mention of Hak-yeon’s name seemed to have completely derailed the conversation, T52—no…Hong-bin, this…this was the real Hong-bin—jolted up in his seat, brow dangerously furrowed. “Hak-yeon, are they going to do this to him?” When Sang-hyuk hesitated, he growled. “Don’t hide things from me, I’m not an idiot. Are they going to do this to Hak-yeon, too?”

“I-I…no. They’ve stopped all experiments on him, including this one. It’s mostly to make sure they don’t mess up anything, since he wasn’t…made the normal way. But they don’t plan on returning anything to him right now.” He would never voice how terrified he was of that happening, of having to face the consequences of what he’d done. He would never tell how scared he was of Hak-yeon having his memories back…and choosing Hong-bin over him.

Hong-bin hummed lowly before dropping his hands to his lap. “Alright. I’ll be nice and cooperate with whatever you s want as long as you don’t touch Hak-yeon. I don’t want anyone going anywhere near him.” When Sang-hyuk blinked confusedly at the condition, Hong-bin added softly, “We’re selfish, aren’t we? Both of us too ashamed to look him in the eye when it was us who put him there.”

Sang-hyuk felt like he wasn’t connected with his body, his own voice sounding so far away, “We have to wait a week to make sure there’s no side effects. If everything goes okay, then they’ll do it.”

“That’s fine. But until then, no one is allowed to do anything else to me.”

“…okay.”

--

A week passed in the blink of an eye, Sang-hyuk barely moving from Hong-bin’s side for even a minute, leaving only when he was forced to go to bed. Hong-bin had been taken back to his room after he and Sang-hyuk made their agreement, Sang-hyuk subsequently being tasked with checking to see how much Hong-bin remembered. With every minute passed between them, Sang-hyuk found himself learning bit by bit what made simple T52 the complex human Hong-bin was meant to be.

At first glance, Hong-bin appeared to not be much different from when he was T52, still quiet and content to sit in his room with few questions of the outside world. Sang-hyuk had tried a couple times asking him if he wondered what it was like outside, and Hong-bin had merely responded that he didn’t care. He did ask about Hak-yeon every now and then, but when he was told that he wasn’t allowed to leave, he quickly gave up. He didn’t reset anymore, though Sang-hyuk observed times when Hong-bin’s eyes seemed to glaze over, face lax and features soft, for a minute or two until he seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly straightened in his seat. They weren’t very long and nowhere near as intense as his resets had been, but they were still concerning, so he made sure to keep note of them.

But Sang-hyuk began to notice the little things that Hong-bin would randomly remember, seemingly insignificant at first, but so important. Like how he used to love to take pictures—of what, he wasn’t sure—and play video games, to which he was visibly disgusted when Sang-hyuk admitted he never played before. He also used to play the guitar. That was one of the bad days, Hong-bin’s mood turning explosive when he discovered the calluses on his fingers were long gone, replaced with smooth, synthetic material. There were little things he still couldn’t remember, like his favorite food or favorite color, but Hong-bin never focused on that very long before he became lost in the memory of his childhood home, describing it to Sang-hyuk in fervor.

Sang-hyuk loved to listen, and reveled in spotting all the little quirks in Hong-bin’s body language that gradually began to appear. How he would turn his shoulders in slightly when listening to Sang-hyuk talk, his lips upturning into the smallest of pouts. How his eyes would widen just a bit when thinking. How he would pull at his hair when confused. Sang-hyuk one time pointed out that Hong-bin’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, meant to be a compliment, and jerked back when Hong-bin snapped at him, offended he would say his skin was wrinkly. Neither of them knew what to do from the sudden outburst, Hong-bin himself not really knowing what he meant, and the two fell into a fit of giggles.

Hong-bin, once he got a better hold of himself and let his impossibly high, yet understandably so, walls down a little, was a wonderful person to talk to. He did have the tendency to become extremely violent if Sang-hyuk got too close too fast, or if someone who wasn’t Sang-hyuk tried to come near him, but the results were good enough that he was given the green light to give Hong—X…X39—his memories back.

Hong-bin watched him languidly from where he was perched on his bed, leaning back against the wall as Sang-hyuk paced back and forth. Sang-hyuk had been given the news that X39 would be brought to the testing lab, and once they were done, they would call him in. Apparently after last time, no one wanted Sang-hyuk to be present when X39 was prepped, though it had been a unanimous decision that Sang-hyuk would be the only one there when X39 was woken up. As much as Joon-myeon had complained about it, Sang-hyuk was sure no one wanted to be in the room when X39 woke up. Hong-bin had been enough for them.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor with the way you’re going,” Hong-bin drawled, snickering when Sang-hyuk stopped abruptly, eyes wide.

“I know, but I can’t help it. What if something goes wrong? What if they hurt him? What if he wakes up before I get there and-?”

“There’s no point getting so worked up,” Hong-bin interrupted before Sang-hyuk could start pacing again. “He’s going to end up the same way regardless.”

“Yeah, but, but what if I could’ve done something if I’d been there? He tries so hard to hide when he’s upset or scared, no one would know and-”

“Oh my god, shut up and get over here.” Sang-hyuk blinked through tears he didn’t even know he’d had to see Hong-bin wave him over. He sniffled helplessly as he waddled over to the side of the bed, letting Hong-bin grab his hand and tug him down onto the bed. Hong-bin’s movements were smooth and controlled as he easily manhandled Sang-hyuk until he was laying his head in his lap, running his fingers gently through Sang-hyuk’s hair. Sang-hyuk would never admit how amazing that felt, his whole body melting and his eyes fluttering closed.

“Such a baby,” Hong-bin chuckled fondly, and Sang-hyuk only had the energy to scrunch his face in disgust. “Your worry is cute, really. I’ve never seen someone actually care about us as much as you. I really do appreciate it, even when I tease you about your stupid face.”

“Why is no one able to just compliment me without making fun of me about something?” Sang-hyuk whined, pressing his face into Hong-bin’s thigh. “Won-shik does that all the time.”

Hong-bin stiffened at the mention of Won-shik’s name, his fingers unknowingly yanking Sang-hyuk’s hair. He was still sensitive about anyone that wasn’t Sang-hyuk, and Sang-hyuk wondered if he would ever become comfortable with anyone else. It would definitely make things more difficult if he never let anyone touch him again.

“I don’t know about this Won-shik,” he spat the name out, his disgust clearly audible, “but you make the funniest faces when I tease you. You try too hard to be mature; you should laugh more.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happy enough to laugh like that,” he muttered honestly, mind suddenly lucid despite Hong-bin’s gentle fingers. “Even when Hak-yeon visited me, I was always so worried about how long we’d get to be together I never let myself be happy.”

“I’m not surprised, Jae-myun was an . Not that that made it right. Everyone deserves to be happy—even I had a pretty great life until I started working here.”

“Too much has happened recently. I don’t know if I can ever be happy. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll just be miserable until I die.” Miserable and afraid.

“Don’t think like that. This place is hell, yeah, but you can’t actually let it your soul dry. You eventually just have to say ‘ it’ and live your life. I’m probably not the best example of this, but it is possible to live a semi-decent life.” He gave Sang-hyuk a quick pat on the back to announce he was done and to get off, and Sang-hyuk grinned as he sat up. “Now, square up those shoulders and get ready. He’s probably going to be really nervous when he wakes up, so you have to be there to support him.”

“Why would he be nervous?”

“He didn’t adjust very well when he became a cyborg, let’s put it that way. He never really did get used to it. I don’t know how he’s been since they separated us, but if he’s anything like how I last remember him, he’ll be pretty scared.”

“He was always so cool and collected…”

“Well, he has no reason to be scared when they erased his memory. He seemed like a pretty mature kid when I met him, so it makes sense. Just don’t be surprised and help him. I’ll kick your if you don’t.”

Sang-hyuk scooted out of harm’s reach, frowning. “Why can’t you just tell me his name? I don’t want to call him his code name when I see him.”

Hong-bin shook his head, ready to tell him for the millionth time to just ask X39 himself, when the door finally opened, this time a nameless intern nervously calling for him. Sang-hyuk was off the bed and by the door in seconds, having to shove his hands in his pockets to stop himself from pushing the intern over and running straight to X39. He did glance back to wave Hong-bin goodbye, sighing sadly when he saw how tense the other was, glare fierce as he watched the intern apprehensively.

Maybe one day.

Joon-myeon was waiting outside the door when Sang-hyuk arrived, clearly displeased with having to wait outside for this. He knew Joon-myeon would more than likely be watching through the cameras, but Sang-hyuk was sure the former would definitely prefer to actually be in the room. This was an extremely important procedure they were doing, one that would greatly affect the direction of the project as a whole, and to only have Sang-hyuk present for it was no doubt infuriating for his boss. Sang-hyuk found he wasn’t able to really care all that much.

“Everything’s done,” Joon-myeon grumbled. “Just unplug him and you know the rest.” Sang-hyuk nodded and went to go inside, ignoring the bitter, “Don’t mess this up.”

No, he instead focused his entire attention on Hong-bin—X39, damn it—and felt his boundless energy from earlier hit him like a truck. X39; he had wondered for years what kind of person X39 could’ve been to have ended up in Jung Moon-hyuk’s basement. For years, he had held his memories of the two of them in his father’s office close to his heart, using them as a reason to keep going, to bring him back. And now…now he had a chance to finally answer all of X39’s questions, to give him back everything he never realized he wanted.

His hands shook as he pulled the cable out, swiftly pulling the helmet off his head, and bounced in his chair as he waited for X39 to open his eyes. He was so worked up on what to say that when X39 did open his eyes, he ended up a loss for words, mouth hanging open uselessly.

X39 took a few moments to reorient himself, blinking confusedly and curling his fingers against the straps, and Sang-hyuk took that time to pull his chair closer, trying to get his attention. He was about to call out to him, a simple hello, when X39’s eyes suddenly shot wide open, gasping frantically as his whole body began to shake. Sang-hyuk jumped to his feet as he tried to figure out what was happening, hurriedly undoing the straps around X39’s wrists when the other started jerking against them desperately.

“C-calm down, please-”

Hong-bin cut him off with a low moan, dropping his head in his hands as his shoulders began to shake, the telltale sound of a muffled sob following after.

“Why…why would you do this…why would you do this to me?” X39’s voice was so small, filled with so much pain and hurt, and Sang-hyuk started panicking himself, his own breathing picking up until he could barely gasp. He wanted to do something, anything, to help, but every attempt to touch X39 only made it worse, the quiet sobs turning into high-pitched wails. Sang-hyuk was crying now as he pled uselessly for X39 to calm down, to listen to him and tell him what’s wrong. Please please please tell him what’s wrong.

“Hong-bin, please,” Sang-hyuk whimpered brokenly, reaching out and putting a hand on X39’s arm, flinching when X39’s head jerked up to stare at him, eyes crystal clear despite how badly his body shook.

“S-Sang-hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk slapped on the biggest smile he could, wiping his tears with his free hand as fast as he could. He had to be brave, to support and help him. That’s what Hong-bin told him to do, said what was best. He had to do it. He had to help. “I-it’s me. I told you, I wouldn’t leave you. I’m right here, Hong-bin.”

Hong-bin whimpered, shaking his head slowly. “No…that-that’s not my name.”

While he’d already known this, Sang-hyuk still felt a chill go down his spine, acutely aware of the tattered note in his pocket, and had a feeling he knew what the other was going to say.

“What…what is your name?”

X39 shook, his hands once again covering his face as he took a long moment to compose himself.

“My name is Jung Taek-woon.”

Hello!

So.........I don't really have words to describe how sorry I am that these last two updates are so late. I can have a hundred different excuses, but in the end it took me almost a year to update this. I'm really sorry, but I want to let you know I haven't given up on this story! This is a double post because I forgot to upload chapter 30, so it's a treat for you guys!

But I'm super excited, because this is part 1/2 of finally going down that I've been hinting at and attempting to foreshadow since starting this darn thing. I feel like I should ask you guys if finally revealing the cyborgs' identities was shocking, but I feel like I dragged it on for so long you guys probably already guessed it haha. I was so excited to write this and just get to the meat of things that I busted this chapter in particular out really fast, though I can't guarantee future chapters will be as quick.

Wrapping up this super long A/N up, I'm just thankful there's still readers out there who enjoy this and want to see this thing to the end with me. I'm going to do my very best to finish this, no matter how long it takes (but hopefully sometime soon. This story is almost done surprisingly!) Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!