RB - 53

Chapter 53: The Same Face, Completely Different Fates

Could two fish-shaped pancakes made from the same mold look this identical? But how?

Seo-yeon, still seated, began to scoot backward slowly. Suddenly, crash! A ceramic pot behind her toppled over and shattered. In her panic, she cut her palm deeply. Blood dripped steadily, but Seo-yeon was too shaken to feel the pain.

With a pale face, she waved her hand frantically—a gesture of rejection, signaling him to stay back.

“Ughhh...”

But the man emitted an eerie groan and moved closer. Seo-yeon pushed hard against his chest. Her wound reopened, but fear far outweighed the pain.

“You’re hurt, Your Majesty is hurt! No blood, no pain!”

The man with Shin Jung-hyuk’s face gazed at her with tearful eyes. There was no trace of malice in his gaze. This was the key difference between him and Jung-hyuk.

Jung-hyuk exuded ease, cruelty, sharpness, and intimidation. But the man before her now had pure, childlike eyes that shimmered with innocence. His sobs were clear and untainted, like those of an unspoiled child. Seo-yeon could guess now—he hadn’t leaned over the railing to jump but simply to watch the rain.

As her fear subsided, it was replaced by intense curiosity. Who was this man? Summoning her courage, Seo-yeon asked,

“...Who are you?”

The man wiped the abrasion on his hand against his hospital gown and smiled brightly. Seo-yeon quickly began piecing things together in her mind.

It felt as though anesthesia had been poured over her neural pathways, leaving her heavy and sluggish, but there was no other explanation. Such identical features, physique, and voice couldn’t be achieved through plastic surgery. That left only one answer: blood relation.

When the man didn’t respond, Seo-yeon changed her question.

“What’s your... name? Tell me your name.”

Raindrops trickled down his high nose bridge. His gaze was distant, like the night sky, and sorrowful, like falling rain. Overwhelmed by his pitiful appearance, Seo-yeon flinched and looked away. Just then, he answered.

“I’m Joon-hyuk, Shin Joon-hyuk.”

Shin Joon-hyuk, Shin Jung-hyuk, Shin Jin-hyuk. With that, the final piece of the difficult puzzle clicked into place. Seo-yeon trembled, feeling as though she’d opened Pandora’s box. Whether from the rain washing away her body heat or not, she felt a deep chill throughout her body.

---

A while later, Seo-yeon returned to her room, drenched to the bone. She was somewhat surprised to find the duty station and hallway still deserted, but it made sense. All the medical staff in the VIP ward were out searching for the missing Shin Joon-hyuk.

After a quick shower, Seo-yeon collapsed onto her bed without drying her hair. Though she closed her eyes, the image of the man—Shin Joon-hyuk—remained etched in her mind like a carving.

Before she could ask anything more, he had heard the beeping sound of an electronic clock and cried, “No plastic surgery! I hate it, it’s scary!” Even in his distress, Shin Joon-hyuk had left an enigmatic parting remark: “Let’s meet again. Come see me, Your Majesty.”

Seo-yeon traced the outline of her face with her fingers and muttered,

“Do I look like I’ve had plastic surgery? Is he telling me not to get surgery in the future…? Haa, what’s with this ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense? I’m losing my mind.”

She sent a brief text message to Jung-hyuk and forced herself to close her eyes. She feared her brain might overload and explode if she didn’t fall asleep soon.

—Who is Shin Joon-hyuk? I think I just met him.

There was no reply from Jung-hyuk.

---

At the same time, in the farthest corner of the VIP ward, in a small room labeled “Supply Room,” anger filled the air. The nurses were growing increasingly frustrated and overwhelmed by Shin Joon-hyuk.

“If you run away one more time, it’ll be chains next time. Chains! Do you understand?”

Joon-hyuk bowed his head deeply, trembling as he quietly allowed himself to be tied to the bed. His expression was as innocent as a child’s, but beneath it lay palpable terror and despair.

The nurse clicked their tongue in exasperation, treating him like an unruly large dog they couldn’t control.

Recently, Professor Sung had issued baffling prescriptions. Despite Joon-hyuk behaving well, the professor ordered excessive doses of sedatives. The more medication he received, the harder he became to manage, turning almost feral, unable to comprehend simple commands. With immense strength, he had already broken free and escaped several times.

Looking down at Joon-hyuk, whose limbs were now restrained, the nurse remarked,

“You’re strong. How did you even break free and escape?”

After administering another dose of tranquilizer, the nurse picked up their phone.

“Yes, Head Nurse. He’s fallen asleep after the injection. I don’t think we need to report this to Professor Sung. We’ll all have to write apologies anyway, so let’s just keep it quiet.”

The nurse clicked their tongue once more as they looked at the sleeping Joon-hyuk. It was a clear mistake to let their guard down, knowing how he acted like a madman whenever it rained. The entire medical staff had scoured the hospital grounds secretly, certain he’d gone outside. Yet, despite their exhaustive search, this ghost-like Joon-hyuk had somehow returned to his bed unnoticed, drenched like a drowned rat.

Still, it was a stroke of luck. If the search had been delayed any longer, Professor Sung—known for his terrifying wrath—would have likely driven the responsible nurses to their deaths.

“It’s fortunate he’s in Boston right now. I hope he stays there a little longer this time.”

The nurse swallowed their bitter frustration and slammed the supply room door shut. In the darkness, Joon-hyuk’s labored breathing sounded like a baby’s whimper. Then, ever so slightly, he opened his eyes and began to hum faintly.

“When Mother goes to gather oysters in the island’s shadow... the baby is left alone... to watch the house...”

---

Hours later, Seo-yeon woke abruptly from a shallow sleep, sensing a faint presence. She fumbled along the wall in the darkened room and flicked on the light switch.

Almost simultaneously, the sudden brightness flooded her eyes, and a piercing scream erupted.

Shin Jung-hyuk was sitting by her bedside. The harsh light fell vertically on his crown.

“What the hell are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

In that instant, Jung-hyuk’s sharp gaze darted toward Seo-yeon. She flinched as she observed his expression. His voice came out hoarse and strained.

“...You saw Shin Joon-hyuk? Here? That’s impossible.”

Seo-yeon blinked rapidly.

“Are you twins? Is he your older brother or younger brother?”

“Answer me. Did you really see Shin Joon-hyuk in this hospital?”

Jung-hyuk’s voice trembled like a moan. It was clear he had no idea his twin brother was here. Seo-yeon approached him and pressed firmly on his shoulder to calm him.

A sharp pain shot through her palm—her makeshift bandage must have come undone.

“Ouch.”

Jung-hyuk instantly grabbed her wrist. Seeing the fresh blood seeping through the bandage, his eyes widened in fury.

“Did Shin Joon-hyuk do this? Did that bastard hurt you?”

The murderous intent in Jung-hyuk’s voice was so palpable that Seo-yeon reflexively shook her head and protested.

“What nonsense! I tripped and hurt myself. Don’t go accusing people without reason.”

Now things were becoming clearer. Jung-hyuk clearly viewed his twin brother, Shin Joon-hyuk, as an extremely dangerous individual. Yet, the Joon-hyuk Seo-yeon had encountered was gentle, with kind eyes and a docile demeanor. Uneasy questions swirled in her mind like a whirlpool.

“Shin Jung-hyuk, our conversation feels off. You said it was impossible for Shin Joon-hyuk to be here, but I definitely saw him.”

Seo-yeon recalled how, during their parting, she had managed to snap a photo of Joon-hyuk’s face with her phone. After showing it to Jung-hyuk, he let out a hollow laugh and rubbed his face dry.

“...Shin Joon-hyuk is my twin brother. He was diagnosed with autism as a child and later developed schizoaffective disorder. His violent tendencies make it dangerous for him to live among ordinary people. That’s why he’s currently being treated at Taesung Hospital’s Boston foundation.”

“Well, the latter part of what you just said is definitely wrong. Your brother isn’t in Boston—he’s here, in this hospital, in Korea, with me.”

Seo-yeon looked at Jung-hyuk with pity. Everyone has family issues, but she never imagined the seemingly perfect chaebol heir carried such tragedy.

She thought about how heavy the cross Jung-hyuk bore must be, similar to her own struggles growing up in an orphanage. But then she scolded herself for finding relative comfort in someone else’s pain and shook her head fiercely.

“And Shin Jung-hyuk, the first part of what you said also seems off. I don’t know about autism or schizoaffective disorder, but I didn’t sense any extreme violence from him. On the contrary, he seemed childishly pure. When he saw I was hurt, he nearly cried, worrying about me.”

Jung-hyuk raised his head, his sharp jawline coming into view. His emotions hardened like a finely honed blade, encasing his face in an impenetrable armor.