Shoulder blades sharp as wings; an unwavering sword tip in callused hands; a clean nape.
It was the back Gyeon Jioh had stood facing more times than any other.
You’re not alone.
Don’t worry about your back—leave it to me.
Promises Baek Dohyun had said again and again, then said again, and then proved, over and over. Jioh’s lower eyelids trembled.
‘…What the—Gyeon Jioh, get a grip. You’re not about to cry here, are you?’
She had wondered if he might never come back.
The last time she’d seen Baek Dohyun, he’d left saying he had a “problem” to solve alone—and now Jioh knew exactly what that problem had been.
It was Gyeon Jioh herself who had wrecked that regressor’s memories.
She had used Baek Dohyun to satisfy the conditions of the [Clock], and in the end she died by his hand.
And because she hated the idea of being left as a bad memory, she erased everything, leaving only the good first impression…
Over the sharp image of Baek Dohyun now, the him from before the regression—collapsed and sobbing—overlapped.
“…You blew past the…