It's The New Mentor—the man who became Jacques's mentor in the dream where he was "Rod." Now, he's standing right in front of Jacques, no longer part of the apocalyptic world of the bunker.
If Jacques weren't engulfed in jealousy and rage, he might have tried to understand how this dream-being managed to show up in his reality. But in his current state, all he can do is lunge forward, trying to attack him.
But his fist goes through air.
The New Mentor is a phantom. Instead of hitting him, Jacques strikes the small cabinet beside the door, injuring his head.
Throbbing pain pulses in his skull, but Jacques rises again, stubbornly. He throws himself at the figure a second time—again, nothing. He loses his balance and slips, his body crashing into the glass veranda. A crack splinters across the window.
Tears streak down his face—raw, desperate betrayal burning behind his eyes.
As he raises his head, he sees it: the bed. And with it, memories return.
That bed—the place where Ethan once looked at him like he was his entire world.
It was real. Jacques can feel it in his chest. He still remembers Ethan's breath on his skin. It wasn't a delusion or hallucination. It was real. He was someone important—someone Jacques couldn't remember before.
What they had wasn't shallow. It was something deep.
Because the mind can forget, but the soul always remembers.
But now, Ethan has thrown it all away for someone else.
Jacques can only cry and weep.
Pathetic.
His heart still burns for Ethan… even after being replaced.
Ridiculous.
He truly thought their bond would last forever—that they'd been together across timelines. And now, just like that, Ethan found someone new.
"Don't you have Charles?"
The words echo inside him. And Ethan was right, wasn't he? Jacques has to choose. One or the other.
"Are you done yet?" The New Mentor speaks. His voice is sharp as ice, firm as thunder.
"Why? Why did he leave me?! This is betrayal! I need to sever him from my soul so that when we meet again, I won't remember him!" Jacques shouts in rage.
But The New Mentor mocks him in a whiny voice, "My puny little heart got hurt because he rejected me. He was supposed to choose me."
"Shut up!!" Jacques yells, knowing punches won't land on a phantom.
But the mockery doesn't stop—it only gets worse.
"Because I need him to do everything for me... because we have a past-life bond that's stronger than time… why didn't he choose me? Boo-hooo…"
"Shut up!! Shut up!!" Jacques screams. "Am I wrong for loving him?!"
He cringes at himself for saying that, but he doesn't care about the shame right now—what matters more is understanding all of this. And if he is wrong, then he wants to know why.
"It's not about your feelings." The Mentor crouches in front of Jacques. With a low hissing sound that could send shivers through even the bravest heart, he says,
"If you want it, you gotta go get it."
Jacques clenches his fists.
He's right.
If he wants it, he has to go and get it.
The world isn't going to care about what we want; it's brutal and merciless. We have to fight and prove that we're worthy of that wish.
He has to make it clear what he wants—how he feels. No more sitting pretty, waiting to be chosen.
He has to fight for what he wants. That's how winning is done.
—
Jacques wakes up in shock, finding himself sleeping by the veranda door. The sky has turned grey, and a strong wind is blowing—rain is coming soon.
Apparently, there was no Aldo. No dinner. It never happened.But when he moves, he notices a blanket draped over his body. Ethan must have put it on him before he left.
Jacques stands and looks at the wall where Ethan's schedule hangs.
Wednesday.Ethan's class ends at 4 p.m.That's less than an hour from now.
Jacques hurries toward the door, but in his rush, he stubs his toe on a small round table.
"Fuck! Ouch! Ff—"Then he realizes—his phone and wallet are lying on the table.
Ethan must've found them in the diner, left behind by the riders who robbed him.
Jacques knows he should reach out to Charles, let him know he's leaving.
But instead, he searches for Ethan's school on GPS and rides his way there.
The door is locked.
"Fuck!"
Jacques looks at the veranda. It's wide open. He climbs down toward the parking lot where the motorcycle—stolen from the riders—is waiting.
He starts it up and follows the map to Ethan's school.
He won't let anyone else drive Ethan home.
It has to be him!
He arrived just in time, two minutes before 4 p.m. The medical school was right next to a hospital and only had two doors. Somehow, Jacques chose a gate that felt familiar to him. As soon as he saw the gate, he knew this was where he should wait.
It was as if the flashbacks weren't hallucinations after all. Ten minutes after Jacques arrived, Ethan walked out of the gate, followed by Aldo, who leaned into him, trying to get close.
It burned Jacques.
He left his motorcycle and, with a clenched jaw, Jacques approached them. I'm not letting you win this time! My only regret is not throwing you out of the veranda in that dream!
As Jacques got closer, Ethan noticed first. He startled, stopped walking, and his eyes widened behind his round eyeglasses.
"J-Jacques?" He almost dropped the books he was carrying.
Withouth saying anything, Jacques rushes between Aldo and Ethan, pushing Aldo away, and he growls at Aldo like a guardian dog.
Of course it confuses Aldo big time, "what did I do? Who is this kid?"
"From today on, I'll be the one to drive you anywhere you want," Jacques said, lifting his chin, filled with mixed anger and ambition while pushing Ethan away from Aldo.
"Oh, but I—"
Without giving Ethan a chance to speak, Jacques grabbed his hand and pulled him toward his motorcycle.
"Jacques," Ethan called.
It was as if he didn't hear anything. Jacques kept dragging Ethan to his motorcycle.
"Jacques, seriously, listen to me," Ethan tried to call out, but Jacques handed him a helmet.
"What are you waiting for? Get on," Jacques said, already sitting on his motorcycle and starting it up.
"I—bring my own motorcycle," Ethan said, showing him the key.
And so, they drove back to Ethan's flat together.
Jacques looked bitterly to Ethan's motorcycle. It was a simple, ordinary motorcycle that's easy to drive and the speed is around 40kmh. At least nobody do something to him while I wasn't there.
"Would you mind if I stop by the supermarket? I need to restock my groceries," Ethan says lightly.
And they stop at the supermarket.
The whole time, Jacques just walks like a ghost, tailing Ethan, because Ethan pushes his own trolley, calculates his spending all by himself, even asking, "Any food you're craving but can't eat?"
Jacques answers, "Rica with ham and pig belly."
Ethan, instead of getting mad like most Chungwa would when someone puts meat in their traditional food, smirks cutely at Jacques, knowing he's trying to provoke him. Instead of wrapping bread, he buys burger buns—followed by a few ounces of pork belly.
Normally, that expression would drive Jacques mad—Ethan looked damn cute when he did it. But Jacques's mind was busy in an internal heated discussion: This is bad! Why is he suddenly so self-sufficient? He doesn't need me to protect him, drive him, or pay for him. Where is my place, then, if he's this independent now?!
"Want some snacks?" Ethan asked carefully, pulling his trolley. "Maybe they can melt that tension in your brain from whatever you're thinking about so intensely?"
Jacques gently pushed Ethan aside and took his trolley. "Let me do it."
"I can do it myself, Jacques," Ethan said, refusing to let go.
"Seriously, I can't just keep walking behind you like a fish poo while you buy me snacks and ask what I want to eat—you're not my mom!" Jacques snapped.
"Fine!" Ethan let go of the trolley and stared at Jacques for a few seconds, wondering why he was being so serious—and random.
"You know, just because I want to feed you doesn't mean you've become a kid again. It doesn't mean I see you as a child," Ethan said carefully as they headed toward the self-checkout.
"Of course I'm not a child. Why would I think that? You can feed me all you want—but let me take care of things for you," Jacques muttered as they started scanning barcodes at the checkout.
"Don't lie. It's obvious your ego got bruised the moment I expressed some care, and you called me 'Mommy,'" Ethan said, calling him out.
"You are a mom—always taking care of kids who aren't even yours," Jacques muttered bitterly. Then, quieter, as if something surfaced from somewhere deep: "Even when you got cancer, you'd still think of them."
Ethan froze for a second, then let out a short, offended breath. "Ooohhh… So you do remember."
"Remember what?" Jacques is about to pay the groceries but he doesn't have a debit card, he still underage. And this supermarket only accept cashless payment.
"The times before… when we were married and lived in the orphanage—" Ethan quickly pulled out his debit card to pay for the groceries before Jacques do something to pay for his stuffs.
Jacques froze, shocked. "Wait… what?" he muttered.
"Oh—you weren't talking about that—" Ethan flustered, realizing he'd said something he wasn't supposed to.
"We had that life?" Jacques chased after the words, but Ethan was already rushing away from the supermarket with his groceries.
"Ethan! Let me carry those!"