forget me not | v
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader
AU: non-idol | supernatural
Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party?
Word Count: 7.5K (i have to stop with these long chapters, im sorry)
Warnings: infidelity, i think one swear word, punching, slut shaming (kinda), implications of smut
Fic Masterlist
a/n: i guess forget me not fridays are a thing now because i posted last friday too. i'd also like to thank insomnia for letting me churn out two fics in one week, though this chapter is kind of filler
Yunho wandered through the bustling marketplace, weaving between vendors hawking their wares—colorful silks, handmade pottery, baskets of freshly picked fruits. The chatter of townsfolk filled the air, their voices rising and falling in a way that brought the village square to life.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed an elderly woman struggling with a large bundle in her arms. As she shifted the weight of the cloth-wrapped package, her grip faltered, and before she could stop it, the bundle slipped from her arms. Rice cakes and other delicacies tumbled to the ground, scattering across the dusty ground. People walked by, barely noticing her plight, but Yunho, instinctively, hurried over.
“Granny, are you okay?” He asked softly, kneeling to gather the scattered rice cakes. The old woman looked up, her eyes kind but weary, framed by deep lines etched by time. She smiled gratefully, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the fallen cakes.
“Thank you, dear. My old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. Yunho gathered the last of her rice cakes, placing them back in her cloth bundle and tying it securely before handing it to her.
She looked up at him with a warm, toothy grin, the deep wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with gratitude. “You have a good heart,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for him. “I’d like to give you something in return.”
Yunho blinked, unsure of what to expect, but the anticipation settled in his chest. The woman’s frail hands moved slowly, carefully reaching into the folds of her worn hanbok. From its depths, she withdrew a small spool of red thread, delicate and faintly shimmering in the sunlight.
Her gnarled fingers trembled slightly as she snipped a small length of the thread, the gesture deliberate, as if she had done this many times before. She placed the cord gently in Yunho’s hand.
“This is no ordinary thread,” she said in a low, almost mystical tone. “Those bound by this are connected by fate, their souls intertwined across time—no matter the distance, no matter the lives they live. You should only tie this to someone important to you.”
The thread shimmered faintly, its vibrant red hue standing out against the earthy tones of the village. Yunho could almost feel a pulse of energy coursing through it.
"I must be on my way now," she said, her voice soft as her eyes lingered on Yunho momentarily. "Thank you again for your help."
The elderly woman bundled her cloth together, adjusting it over her shoulder before standing upright. Her hunched figure vanished into the sea of bustling villagers, as if she had never existed at all.
"Yunho!" you shouted, breathless and laughing as you reached him. You grabbed his hand, tugging him along excitedly. “Come on, we’re gonna go play by the river!”
"Y/N, look what I got!" he exclaimed, holding up the delicate, shimmering red cord. “Some granny gave it to me! She said it’s special, but I have to be careful who I tie it to. Only someone really important.”
You tilted your head, curious as you eyed the thread. “Like your mom?” you asked, as if it was the most obvious choice.
Yunho hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “No, not my mom. Maybe... Gunho?”
You nodded thoughtfully, swinging your arms as you looked up at Yunho. “Yeah, Gunho’s pretty important. He’s your brother, after all.”
For a moment, the two of you stood there, thinking about the people in Yunho’s life—those who mattered most. Family, friends, the people who had shaped him in his premature life. But as the silence stretched, Yunho found his gaze shifting, not to the thread or the crowd, but to you.
Without thinking much of it, Yunho suddenly grabbed your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. The moment he touched you, the warmth from the thread pulsed between his fingers, almost like it had its own heartbeat. He blinked, surprised at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. Instead, something in him clicked into place—something that told him this felt right.
“Y/N, you’re my friend,” he said softly, his voice more serious now. “I think...I think you’re important. Because you’re kind and you share your snacks with everyone.”
You blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone, but you smiled at him anyway, that carefree, trusting smile that Yunho had grown so used to. “Okay,” you replied, holding out your wrist without hesitation.
Yunho’s fingers trembled slightly as he began to loop it around your wrist. It was a simple act, childlike in its innocence, but as the thread touched your skin, it felt like something much deeper was happening.
“There,” Yunho said with a small smile, stepping back and letting your wrist go. His heart still beat a little faster than usual, but he tried to act like nothing had changed. “Now you’ve got your special thread.”
You looked down at it, your expression soft, eyes wide with wonder. “Do you think it’s really magic?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost reverent.
Yunho shrugged, trying to play it cool, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice light, but his heart told him otherwise. “But I hope so.”
“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”
Yunho’s eyes met yours, the weight of your question lingering, heavy and fragile. He saw the confusion on your face, the struggle to grasp something intangible, and it tugged at his heart. There were many things he wanted to say, truths tangled in past memories you no longer held.
He took a deep breath, gathering his emotions, steadying himself as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began softly. “I don't even know where to start. But…” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching for yours.
“I’m probably the only person who knows you can never finish a book.”
He let out a soft, affectionate chuckle despite the puzzled look on your face. “You always get distracted by a new one, even though you swear you’ll go back and finish the first one eventually.”
The words kept coming, each one a memory, each one a reminder of the person you were—the person you still were, even if you didn’t know it.
“Or how you’ve tried to convert me into being a Lions fan because you’re convinced blue suits me better than red. And when you’re really excited about something, your eyes look like they’re about to fall out of your face.”
His lips curled into a small, wistful smile, the kind that carried a hint of nostalgia. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours.
“But know that to me, you’re everything.”
Yunho’s confession wasn’t a grand declaration or a desperate plea. It was simple, honest, and yet it carried all the weight of his heart. He wasn’t asking you to recall the memories you had sacrificed. He was offering you a glimpse into the life, into the person you had been, and still were, to him.
His words pushed against the walls you had built around yourself. It was strange—your mind felt blank, yet your heart ached with a familiar longing. And in that moment, something clicked.
It was the trust Yunho had in you—the unshakable belief that whatever had connected you two before still lived deep inside, even if you couldn’t see it right now.
“I’m holding you to that,” you said, voice steady but softer than before. The promise hung in the air between you, binding you both to something larger than words or memory. “No matter what you have to tell me, I’d want to hear it from you. And before I forget…”
You snapped your fingers and the air shimmered for a brief moment before the toy puppy Wooyoung had swiped from Yunho appeared. Its small, floppy ears were folded in a way that suggests it's seen better days.
"Thought you might want this back," you chuckled, offering it to him. But before Yunho could take it, you waved your hand over the toy, casting a subtle protection spell. The air around it swirled with magic before sinking into the fabric, leaving a faint warmth behind. "You might need it."
Yunho’s mind drifted back to that day at the beach when you won the toy. You were excited, nuzzling it, saying you’d always have a version of him, no matter what happened. Now, as he held the same toy in his hands, Yunho felt as though he was holding a piece of you—keeping you close, even when you weren’t there.
He reached out, and as his fingers closed around the toy, they brushed against yours, sending a spark through the air between you—subtle, yet unmistakable.
“Thank you,” Yunho said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. His gaze flickered from the toy to your face, and there was a softness in his expression that tugged at something inside of you–a tenderness you couldn’t deny.
"Take care of yourself," you murmured, the words simple but weighted with everything you couldn’t say out loud. It wasn’t just a casual goodbye; it carried the quiet hope that he would return. Yunho gave a soft, bittersweet smile, his hand lingering for a moment longer before he finally let go.
⋆
The drive back to Seoul felt endless and suffocating. The hum of the engine was the only thing keeping Yunho tethered to reality, but even that felt distant, drowned out by the steady thrum of anxiety rising in his chest. He glanced at his phone, resting in the cup holder, the screen dim but waiting. He'd tried calling Haewon three times already, and each time, it had gone straight to voicemail.
With a heavy sigh, Yunho ran a hand through his hair as he merged onto another stretch of highway. His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder, the screen dark but expectant. He’d already tried calling Haewon three times. Each attempt had been met with the same result: straight to voicemail.
No response. No explanation. Just silence.
Yunho’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pulled up in front of Haewon’s apartment building. He stared through the windshield, his eyes tracing the outline of the structure he’d seen a hundred times before. Tonight, though, something felt different.
His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder. The black screen stared back at him, a reminder of his unanswered calls. He’d already tried three times, each one sending him straight to voicemail—no explanation, no apology, just the cold, automated message. Yunho’s hand hovered over the phone again, thumb brushing against the screen, contemplating a fourth attempt. But the voice in his head—the same one that had been growing louder for weeks—stopped him. No more calls.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached her door. Yunho’s heart raced as he lifted his hand, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. With a firm rap, he knocked, the sound reverberating in the hallway. He waited, heart thumping harder than it should’ve been. No answer.
He knocked again, louder this time, straining to listen for any movement inside.
Nothing.
Yunho hesitated for a moment before punching the code into the keypad. The familiar sequence of beeps sounded too loud in the quiet of the hallway, and when the lock clicked open, the sound was almost mocking. He stepped inside, the apartment dark except for the faint light spilling from the bedroom down the hallway.
“Haewon?” he called out, his voice low but steady. No response.
His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he made his way down the hall toward the light from the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could hear faint voices—soft, intimate and too close for comfort. His heart sank.
For a split second, everything felt surreal, like Yunho was standing outside his own body, watching the scene unfold from a distance. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just stood there, taking it all in.
Sungjae, shirtless, lounging in her bed with the same smugness he always wore, looked far too comfortable in a place he had no business being. Beside him, wrapped in the sheets, was Haewon. Her eyes widened in horror, the laughter between them dying instantly as the realization hit—Yunho was there.
“Yunho, I—this isn’t what it looks like.”
But it was exactly what it looked like. Yunho didn’t need an explanation. For a moment, he simply stared at them, his face unreadable, emotion caught somewhere between anger, hurt, and a strange sense of vindication. He had known something wasn’t right. He had felt it in the way she’d distanced herself, and the way Sungjae was too eager to insert himself into their lives.
Rage surged through him, his vision narrowing to just Sungjae’s face, that arrogant, guilty expression that only fueled Yunho’s anger. Before he could think, he was closing the distance in two swift strides, throwing a punch that connected solidly with Sungjae’s jaw. Sungjae’s head snapped to the side, his body tumbling back onto the bed with a groan.
A rush of catharsis hit Yunho at that moment—a wave of release so powerful it nearly knocked him off balance. This wasn’t just about Sungjae or Haewon. It was for something far deeper, something that had been festering in the darkest corners of Yunho’s mind for far too long.
It was for you.
For the night Sungjae had humiliated you, reducing you to nothing with his cruel words, his casual disdain. Yunho stood there uselessly, too afraid of the consequences if he had stepped in and stopped it. He’d failed you then, and that failure had eaten at him ever since. He’d replayed that moment over and over, imagining all the ways he should have intervened and how he should have defended you.
But he hadn’t. And it had destroyed a part of him, leaving behind a guilt that haunted him every time he saw Sungjae, every time he looked at Haewon and knew she had allowed it to happen, too.
Yet, fate had given him another chance.
“What the fuck?!” Sungjae yelped, reeling back from the contact. His hand shot to his jaw, fingers trembling as he wiped at the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Yunho, but there was no apology in his expression.
“Yunho, listen to me!” Haewon shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. She scrambled off the bed, the sheet slipping down her shoulders as she moved toward him. But Yunho didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat, voice low and venomous.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared down at Sungjae. His knuckles were still curled tightly, blood rushing in his ears as Haewon pleaded with him, but her voice faded into the background. There was nothing left to discuss.
It was over. He could walk away.
“Yunho, please,” Haewon begged, rushing to follow him as he moved toward the door, but his steps didn’t falter. “I swear! It didn’t mean anything!”
From the corner of his eye, Yunho caught sight of Sungjae standing awkwardly in the doorway of Haewon’s bedroom, shirtless and disheveled, a hand still massaging his sore jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, to either justify or defend himself, but the words died in his throat.
Yunho’s fingers hovered over the door handle, his gaze dropping to the engagement ring still clinging to his finger. The metal felt cold, unfamiliar—like it no longer belonged to him.
“Do you remember when I asked why you always made excuses for him?” His voice cracked slightly, but he swallowed the emotion. “Why you always chose him over me?”
Haewon’s sobs quieted as she stared up at him, her tear-streaked face full of desperation. She shook her head, mouthing silent words, but nothing came out. They had danced around this conversation for so long, pretending things were fine, making excuses, but now those lies were suffocating her, and there was nothing left to cover the truth.
“I thought I was just insecure,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But I was right, wasn’t I?” His eyes locked with hers, and Haewon flinched as though the truth physically hurt.
“Yunho, please—”
He cut her off, his voice sharper now. “Every single time you chose him over me, this was it. This was what it led to.”
“I kept thinking you’d come around,” he interjected coldly. “That I was wrong to doubt you. That maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there. But I wasn’t. You knew exactly what you were doing, Haewon, and you just didn’t care enough to stop.”
“We were having problems!” Haewon’s voice broke through the heavy silence, her words frantic, desperate, as if she could somehow justify what had just happened.
Yunho’s jaw tightened, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he met her gaze, his eyes cold. “We were having problems, and you thought cheating was going to fix it?”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After everything, she was still looking for an excuse, a way to shift the blame onto their relationship as if that could make what she had done less of a betrayal.
With quiet resolve, Yunho slipped the ring off his finger. He placed it carefully on the small table by the door, the soft clink as it met the wood cutting through the heaviness of the room. That simple sound echoed with the finality of his decision, a quiet symbol of everything that had been broken between them.
“It’s over. I’m going to call my parents,” he continued, his tone steady, though his chest felt tight with the weight of what came next. “And contact everyone we sent invitations to, to let them know the wedding is off. You should call yours too.”
With one last look, he turned the knob and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.
“Yunho!” His mother’s voice was warm and cheerful, just as it always was. It hit him harder than expected, that sense of home, of comfort, and for a moment, he almost couldn’t speak.
“Hey mom,” Yunho said, his voice more fragile than he intended. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I, um…are dad and Gunho also there?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, and he could feel her shift into a more serious tone, the way she always did when she sensed something was wrong.
“Yunho, what’s going on?”
Yunho leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing down at a photo tossed in the trash.It was a candid shot of him and Haewon having a picnic at a cherry blossom festival. His chest tightened as he stared at the discarded image.
He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “It’s about the wedding,” he began, and already he could hear the concern creeping into his mother’s voice. “It’s off. The engagement is over.”
For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. He could hear her breathing, hear the sharp intake of breath that made his heart sink, fearing her disappointment. But when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, kind, and full of the empathy that strengthened his resolve.
“Oh. Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” She sounded heartbroken, but not for herself, not for the canceled plans or the expectations. She was heartbroken for him. “Are you okay?”
“I…I will be,” he whispered, his grip on the counter becoming firmer as he tried to steady himself.
In the background, he heard his father, who had clearly been listening in, exhale what sounded like a sigh of relief, almost as though a tension had finally lifted from the air. And then, there it was—Gunho, chiming in with his usual bluntness.
“I knew there was something off about her,” Gunho muttered, almost under his breath, but loud enough for Yunho to hear.
Yunho let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he turned away from the counter. “She was cheating on me, Gunho,” he called out, no longer wanting to skirt around the truth any longer.
There was a beat of silence before Gunho let out a triumphant, “I knew it! I knew it!” He pumped his arms into the air, feeling vindicated by his gut feeling, as if he had been proven right all along.
His mother shot him a warning glance, and though Yunho couldn’t see it, he could imagine the look she gave his brother. The kind of look that only moms could give, one that silenced even the loudest of siblings.
“Gunho, that’s enough,” she warned gently, but firmly. “This isn’t the time.”
Gunho raised his hands in defense, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, just…you know, I’m glad you’re out of that mess.”
“I’m just glad you’re going to be okay,” his dad said, his voice filled with the unwavering support he always offered. “Your mom and I are here for you, no matter what. Don’t worry about the wedding or the guests. Just take care of yourself, okay?”
A small, grateful smile tugged at Yunho’s lips. “Thanks, Dad. I still plan on calling everyone and let them know. It’s only fair that they hear it from me. I appreciate it. Really.”
“Take your time,” his mom added, her voice full of the love he’d grown up with. “We’re here if you need anything.”
“I know,” he said, feeling a little lighter for the first time in weeks. “I love you guys.”
“We love you too, Yunho.”
Yunho retreated into his room and sprawled across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The chaos of the evening with Haewon’s betrayal was already starting to blur. For the first time in what felt like ages, he wasn’t drowning in a sea of overwhelming emotions.
He reached for the plush, his fingers gently brushing over its soft fur. You had imbued it with a protection spell, one that hummed quietly with your magic like a heartbeat under his touch. As Yunho clutched the toy to his chest, a quiet sense of calm began to settle over him. The tension in his muscles began to ease, the ache in his heart dulled just enough to breathe a little easier. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—something so simple, so comforting.
Something from you.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he held the plush tighter. His thoughts drifted, and in that quiet moment, he imagined you there, sitting beside him like you had so many times before.
“Yunho,” you called softly, pulling him from his sleep. The mattress dipped as you settled beside him, running your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, his hand reached out, fingers instinctively finding the curve of your waist. His touch brushed lightly against your skin, as if his hands had never forgotten the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly into his grasp.
You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his. His breath caught, the warmth of your presence enveloping him as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His large hands gently but firmly guided you beneath him, as if this was the way things had always been, and always should be. Every inch of his body craved to be closer to you, yet the peace of the moment kept the need slow and steady.
His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheek. The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, filled with a peace he hadn’t known in years. He rested his forehead against yours, the steady rise and fall of your chest in perfect rhythm with his. Everything he’d ever wanted to say was right here, in the way you fit so perfectly against him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Yunho felt whole.
As the dream began to blur at the edges, a weight suddenly pressed against his chest. At first, he tried to ignore it, clinging to the last traces of you. But the weight grew heavier, pulling him out of the dream’s gentle haze. His brows furrowed in confusion as your image began to fade, replaced by...something unwelcome.
His eyes fluttered open, and instead of your face, he was greeted by the smug, all-too-familiar stare of Wooyoung. The black cat sat perched on his chest, tail flicking lazily, like he hadn’t just ruined the most peaceful moment Yunho had experienced in months.
What the...?
"Wooyoung?!" Yunho’s voice shot up an octave as he realized who, or rather what, was perched on him. “How did you get in here!?”
Wooyoung yawned lazily, like waking up on top of Yunho was the most natural thing in the world. He stretched, paws extending directly onto Yunho’s face, effectively muffling any further protests.
"I have my ways," the cat replied with a casual yawn, stretching lazily on Yunho’s chest. “It was getting boring without you around back in Gwangju."
Yunho glared up at the talking cat, trying and failing to push him off. "It’s only been a day! You broke into my apartment because you were bored?"
“You’re my favorite human to torment,” Wooyoung purred, stretching languidly as if Yunho hadn’t just accused him of trespassing. “Besides,” he added, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “you’ve got my master pacing around like some lovesick heroine.”
You were waiting for him? The image of you, lingering in the emporium, checking the door every time it creaked, hoping it would be him made his heart ache in the best possible way. His gaze dropped to his lap, cheeks burning as he tried to shake off the feeling. It was too much to handle at once, but he couldn’t help the excitement that bloomed in his chest at the thought of seeing you again.
Yunho shifted awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware of Wooyoung’s smug expression as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced over, Haewon’s name lighting up the screen for what felt like the hundredth time since last night. His jaw clenched, tension creeping into his posture, but he made no move to pick it up.
"You gonna get that?" Wooyoung asked from his spot on the bed, his voice filled with an annoying amount of curiosity.
Yunho groaned, rubbing his temples. "No."
The phone buzzed again, this time with a text notification. And then another.
Wooyoung tilted his head, watching as Yunho stared at the phone like it was something toxic. "She's been calling and texting a lot, you know."
"I know." Yunho sat up in bed, running a hand through his tousled hair, the weight of last night’s events sinking in.
“I mean, considering you caught her cheating, it’s kinda impressive she’s so persistent. She’s either really guilty or really shameless. My money’s on the latter."
“Not helping. And how did you know?”
Wooyoung stretched lazily, as though the weight of Yunho’s glare slid right off him. “I’m a magical being, I know everything,” he purred, rolling around in the sheets like he owned them. “So, what’re your plans for today?”
Yunho stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence stretching out between them. What were his plans? Quit his job, contact more people to tell them the wedding is off, and then find the emporium.
“I’m turning in my letter of resignation,” Yunho said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The weight of the admission hit him immediately, but along with it came a sense of relief, a flicker of light in the fog that had clouded his thoughts for so long. “I still have people to call to tell them the wedding is off.”
It was one thing to end things with Haewon, to walk away from their relationship, but the reality of breaking the news to everyone—their friends and colleagues—was a whole different kind of burden.
“Well, great! Where do we start?” Wooyoung chirped, his bright eyes gleaming with interest. Of course, Wooyoung would treat this like an exciting adventure. To him, everything was an opportunity for chaos and meddling.
Yunho groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his hands rubbing over his face as he tried to summon the energy to tackle the day. “No, you’re not going to help,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind his palms.
Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed mischievously as he sat up straight, clearly ready to argue. “Why not? I can use my magic to impersonate you and call people while you’re at work. What’s the password to your email?”
Yunho shot him a glare. “Absolutely not.”
“Just think how easy it’d be! I could save you hours of awkward conversations!”
⋆
Yunho stood outside the towering glass building of KQ Bank, his heart pounding in his chest. He had worked here right out of college, climbing the corporate ladder, meeting expectations, playing his part in one of the largest financial firms in Seoul. But as he held the sealed envelope in his hand, he realized that none of it mattered anymore.
Taking a deep breath, Yunho adjusted his tie and walked through the revolving doors, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors of the lobby. The interior was as imposing as the outside—high ceilings, spotless glass walls, and cold, corporate lighting that gave everything a sharp edge.
The elevator doors slid open, and Yunho stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. His boss’s office. He leaned back against the wall, watching the numbers climb, and tried to settle his racing thoughts. The familiar ding of each floor was oddly comforting, a small rhythm in the chaos of his mind.
His hand tightened around the envelope as he approached the door, the crisp paper crumpling slightly under his grip. With a deep breath, he knocked twice, his knuckles tapping softly against the glass.
“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.
Yunho opened the door and stepped into the room, immediately met by the sight of his boss, Mr. Park, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. Mr. Park’s sharp eyes locked onto Yunho the moment he entered, their intensity making his stomach twist.
He had always admired Mr. Park’s work ethic, his drive, and the way he commanded respect without uttering a single word. Yet now, as he stood there with the envelope weighing heavily in his hand, he felt a strange sense of detachment from the man who had once been a mentor.
“Yunho,” Mr. Park said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. Is everything alright?”
Yunho swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as a lump formed in his throat. He crossed the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that absorbed the tension in the air. With a steady hand, he extended the envelope toward Mr. Park, feeling the weight of it shift as he passed it over.
“What’s this?” Mr. Park asked, his tone shifting from curiosity to mild concern as he took the envelope and slid it open. He unfolded the letter inside, his eyes scanning the words, and Yunho could almost feel the moment his boss realized what it was.
Mr. Park looked up, his expression unreadable, the sharp lines of his face revealing nothing. “Your resignation?” he asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of disbelief.
“Yes, sir. I’m stepping down.”
Mr. Park leaned back in his chair, the weight of the letter resting on the desk between them. He crossed his arms, his fingers drumming lightly against his bicep as he studied Yunho with an intensity that made him squirm.
“I have to say, this is unexpected,” he said finally, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been with us for years. Why now?”
“I know this may seem sudden, and I can understand if you’re disappointed. But I truly believe this is the right step for me,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve given everything I have to this role, and while I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had here, I’ve made the decision to step away.”
Mr. Park’s brow furrowed, concern flickering across his features. “Yunho, if you’re burnt out, we can talk about a sabbatical or time off. There’s no need to make any rash decisions.”
“I appreciate that,” Yunho replied, his voice steady despite the emotional turmoil brewing within. He felt a genuine gratitude toward Mr. Park for his concern, knowing that such care wasn’t common in their world. “But I need to pursue a path that feels right for me, professionally. And I…believe that’s outside of finance.”
For a moment Mr. Park was silent, studying Yunho with a kind of thoughtful intensity. Then, he nodded slowly, the leather of his chair creaking as he shifted slightly forward.
"It takes courage to step away from something stable and familiar," Mr. Park said, a hint of admiration in his voice as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a rare talent, and you will be missed. Just remember, the door is always open for you.”
The usual sounds of the office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, distant conversations—seemed to fade, leaving a stillness between them. It was as though the world outside the glass walls had quieted, recognizing the significance of this farewell.
Yunho’s hands clasped together briefly, before bowing deeply. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "For everything."
Yunho stood outside the park, his eyes squinting against the late afternoon sun as shadows crept along the pavement. The past few days had been a blur—his resignation from work, the finality of ending his engagement. Yet, despite everything, the weight of it hadn’t fully sunk in.
The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children. Haewon sat on a bench, her shoulders slightly hunched, and her once-vibrant smile dulled by the truth that had unraveled between them. Guilt seemed to cling to her, casting a shadow over her usual brightness.
With a deep breath, Yunho approached, the gravel crunching under his shoes. She noticed him and stood up from her seat on the bench, each step bringing her closer to something she’d been dreading.
“Yunho,” she said softly, rising to meet him. Her voice wavered with uncertainty, as if she couldn’t quite believe this moment had finally arrived.
“Haewon,” he replied, his tone flat but steady. He sat next to her, the distance between them feeling greater than ever. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of everything they had left unsaid looming over them.
“I’m glad you agreed to meet,” Haewon finally broke the silence, though her voice trembled with doubt. She dropped her gaze, to her hands. “I... I told my parents the engagement was off. I came clean to them about the affair and they were upset…disappointed.”
“And what about you?” he asked, the words sharper than intended. “Are you upset?”
She was surprised by the bite in his words, but Yunho didn’t care. He wasn’t here to comfort her. “I never meant for it to happen like this,” she stammered, her voice weaker than before. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Yunho—”
“But you did,” he cut in, his tone icy but devoid of malice.
Haewon blinked, tears welling in her eyes, but Yunho wasn’t moved. He had been drowning in his own misery for too long to feel pity now. Finally, after a long pause, Haewon whispered, “I did love you, Yunho. With all my heart.” Her voice wavered as the tears spilled over.
“But... but you were drifting away, and I—I didn’t know how to reach you anymore. I didn’t know how to get you back.”
“You cheated on me, and I’m supposed to believe it was because I wasn’t present enough? Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’m not excusing what I did. I know I was wrong, Yunho. But things changed between us, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was lonely, and...and Sungjae—”
“You had a choice,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me you were unhappy, that things were falling apart. But instead, you chose to betray me. You chose him.”
Haewon’s lip quivered, her eyes widening in shock as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, to offer an excuse or an apology, but Yunho wasn’t done.
“How long?”
She dropped her gaze to the ground, as though it could shield her from the truth she could no longer hide. Her fingers twisted together nervously in her lap, her breath shaky as the silence stretched out painfully. But Yunho’s patience had run dry.
“Haewon,” he said, his voice cold, barely restrained as he forced her name through clenched teeth. “Tell me the truth. How. Long?”
Haewon’s shoulders slumped as the fight left her. She took a deep breath, her voice barely audible as she replied.
“It started after Y/N disappeared.”
Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to process her words. Three years. For three years, the person he thought he was building a future with, the supposed love of his life, had been betraying him. The revelation was heavy, crushing the air in his lungs.
“How could you do this to me for that long and say nothing?”
Haewon wiped at her tears furiously, her face crumpling under the weight of his accusation. “I was grieving!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation.
“You shut me out, Yunho. You were so distant after Y/N disappeared. I didn’t know how to reach you, I didn’t know what to do, so yes, I made a mistake, but I—”
“Don’t use Y/N as an excuse! This is on you. You didn’t just make a mistake, Haewon. You made a choice. For three years, you had an affair with someone you know I had no trust in!” he gritted.
She sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. But Yunho wasn’t moved by her tears. Not this time. Not after everything he’d just learned.
“I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” Haewon whispered between sobs, her voice fragile and broken. “I wanted to end it, but I just didn’t know how!”
“With Sungjae?” Yunho’s voice was sharp, almost demanding. He had known for some time now—maybe longer than he was willing to admit—that she wasn’t just caught between them. “Or with me?” he pressed, his gaze piercing as he awaited her response.
Haewon shook her head, her tears falling freely now. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words that had been lodged deep in her throat for so long.
“With you,” she finally admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. I thought if I stayed long enough, maybe it would work.”
For so long, Yunho had tried to keep everything together—tried to forgive, tried to understand—but this was different. This was too much. He had always been the one who tried to fix things. The one who swallowed his hurt, who believed that if he worked hard enough, they could still have a future together. He had convinced himself that they were building something, even when it felt like they were falling apart. But now? Now, the truth was staring him in the face, ugly and undeniable.
He looked at Haewon, the woman he had once loved so deeply, and now she stood before him confessing that she had been ready to walk away long before he even knew.
“You should’ve just told me,” Yunho replied, his voice devoid of emotion, flat and distant, like the warmth had drained out of him entirely. “I would’ve let you go.”
He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t angry in the way he had been moments before. Instead, there was a hollowness to his voice—a weariness that came from realizing that everything he had fought for was already gone.
“We’ve both changed too much to go back to how things were,” he sighed, rising slowly from the bench, the wood creaking under the shift of his weight. His movements mechanical, as he slipped his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground for a moment before straightening his shoulders.
Haewon’s lips parted as if to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. Deep down, she knew he was right. They had both changed, in ways neither of them could have foreseen. And no matter how much she wished she could turn back time, she couldn’t undo what she had done. She couldn’t undo the choices she had made.
“I’m sorry,” Haewon whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Yunho met her gaze, his expression softening for just a moment. “I know,” he said quietly. “But sorry doesn’t change anything.”
He glanced down at her one last time, his face unreadable, though Haewon could feel the weight of his emotions passing between them–the sadness, the loss, the undeniable reality that whatever they had shared was gone.
“Take care of yourself, Haewon.”
⋆
Wooyoung stretched out on Seonghwa’s leather sofa, lazily draping one arm over his eyes as he peered through the gaps between his fingers. He watched as Seonghwa toyed with the envelope in his hands, a thin smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t the reaction Wooyoung had expected from the Lord of Death, especially given Yunho’s departure from his team.
“You took Yunho quitting pretty well,” Wooyoung quipped, rolling onto his side, his voice carrying that familiar edge of playful malice. "Or is this your way of hiding the hurt? A cold, dark void where your heart should be?"
Seonghwa’s eyes flickered over to Wooyoung, unamused, before sighing deeply and setting the envelope on his desk. “He was sincere and honest about it. I couldn’t object to it, not when he came to me like that.” His tone was as even as ever, but there was something beneath it, something almost resigned.
“Is the Lord of Death becoming…soft!?” Wooyoung gasped in mock horror. He threw his hands up dramatically, making a show of his supposed shock.
“Aren’t you a familiar overstepping your duties?” His lips twitched in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair.
“You really lit a fire under Yunho’s ass, didn’t you? Always the instigator, always pushing people to their breaking points.” Seonghwa finally remarked, setting the envelope down on the mahogany table beside him.
Wooyoung chuckled, his voice light but laced with something darker beneath the surface. “What can I say? The guy needed a push.”
“A push? I’m surprised Yunho hasn’t pushed you off a cliff by now.”
Wooyoung grinned wider, all teeth and mischief. “Oh, please. He wouldn’t dare. Besides,” he added, “he wouldn’t break Y/N’s heart. I’m her beloved familiar, after all.”
“Her beloved familiar,” Seonghwa scoffed, lips curling into a small, contemplative smirk. “You seem a little too invested in all of this for being just a mere companion, don’t you think?”
“I’m waiting to see what happens next,” he replied coolly, shrugging.
“You mean whether or not she regains her memories,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with something ominous.
“Well, of course, that’s part of it,” he said, his voice lighter, though there was an undercurrent of unease. “It’s not every day someone erases the memory of their own soulmate, after all. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious how it’ll all play out.”
Wooyoung stood up, his hands sliding into his pockets as he wandered over to the window, staring out at Seoul’s sprawling skyline. The usual mischief in his expression dimmed as the sunlight cast long shadows across the room, and for a moment, he let himself drop the playful facade.
“I believe in them,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a somber edge. “Despite everything, they deserve a chance. Yunho has spent so much time trying to fill a void he doesn’t understand.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Seonghwa.
“And Y/N... even without her memories, she’s always felt like something’s missing. She may not remember him, but part of her knows.”
Seonghwa, leaning back in his chair, remained silent, watching Wooyoung with a measured gaze. He didn’t speak, but his curiosity was evident, as if he was carefully considering the words Wooyoung was stringing together.
"They're soulmates. That kind of bond doesn’t break easily. After all they've experienced over countless lifetimes, they owe it to themselves to find their way back to each other."
Wooyoung smiled, more to himself than to anyone else, the faintest trace of hope in his expression. “Maybe this time, they’ll get it right.”
<< iv | vi >>
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Why the hell is JJK 270 called Dream's End?
JJK 270 being titled Dream’s End is so fudging ominous. That’s some Umineko type beat. I’m not sure if I should even judge this chapter as presented because of this. In fact, I'm holding off on posting the other analysis I had for today since I no longer am certain of what JJK 268–270 are.
There's two lines of thought I have:
1) Gege suffering from burnout and bad working conditions plus rushing has caused the writing to decline.
2) Gege still has a hidden ace saved for the final chapter and the weird writing is deliberate.
I'm going to humor Option 2, but only because the title of this chapter is called Dream's End.
(The most 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Using TCB scans and leaks. Click images for captions/citations.)
[Small Update: Follow-up Discussion on why everyone feels OOC.]
Preface
"Without love it cannot be seen."
This is a phrase and philosophy I have borrowed from Umineko since I've started these JJK yapfests. It essentially boils down to 'discard your negative biases and try to examine things in good faith.'
JJK 268 & 269 have fudging tested that for me. I've been giving Gege and the characters a pretty hard time with the caveat of knowing how exploitative the manga industry is. I initially rejected the idea that these chapters were to be taken at anything other than face-value because of this. In fact, I cited the JJK 268 chapter title of Finale as a reason I've accepted things as is.
And with that same logic, I'm now doing the opposite... So hear me out! I've got some pretty good reasons to be doing this.
What's wrong with JJK 268–270?
There's a lot of things in these chapters that are fundamentally inconsistent with what's been established in throughout the manga. If we use Option 1 to explain these contradictions, these are last second retcons because Gege forgor.
Option 2? We're about to have the rug pulled the hell out from under us because the last 3 chapters have been delusions.
What first tipped me off to something possibly being wrong on purpose was the fate of the incarnated culling game players in JJK 270. Not too long ago it was established that the souls of non-sorcerers in vessels were unsavable.
The souls are suppressed in a way that distorts them permanently or their consciousness is outright destroyed. They were gambling on Megumi's survival due to him being a sorcerer and Sukuna's incarnation method being unique. 99% of them will die and those who survive will likely be vegetables, so why is there a sudden gamble on their survival in JJK 270?
It's such a neat and fine bow to tie this mess up that goes directly against existing lore. It's so ideal that it has me suspicious.
Brain damage from sorcery on non-sorcerers has been established as extremely taxing. I think about Gojo's Unlimited Void (UV) the most when it comes to this. Non-sorcerers were hit by it for 0.2 seconds and required medical intervention for 2 months to fully heal from it. Sukuna, the absolute strongest, tanked some of it and it affected him for the rest of the battle. ...And then we have Megumi who was under it for about 6 minutes and seems to have very little problems from it.
This is bizarre. Someone who underwent the month long bath and UV without Reverse Curse Technique (RCT) should be struggling to even stand after waking up. Sukuna had RCT and the Gojo brain damage still took him out. This screams of inconsistent writing unless...this is a deliberate hint that something is amiss.
I want to draw attention to the panel Megumi's UV damage is addressed. Just about everyone has been seemingly waiting around in the same spot for him to wake up. It's a bit weird given that sorcerers don't usually do that. They usually get a move on asap. And after the destruction of Shinjuku and the Culling Game Players still running about, why would they take a breather to discuss their plans that worked?
But that's not what started bothering me about that panel after reading JJK 270. It's that characters who aren't in the room, start appearing without warning. Look who is behind Maki and to the left. It's Kusakabe. And to her and Yuta's right? Inumaki. So why is it that Hakari, Kiara, and Ino are in Kusakabe's place while Todo spawns where Inumaki is? (And Yuta is facing the wrong direction too.)
That's pretty fudging weird right? You can chalk it up to Gege forgor but it doesn't stop there. Higuruma enters the discussion in a way that causes Yuji to pause.
Why is Yuji surprised to see him? (And where the fudge did he come from?) Shouldn't he know of his survival by now? And why is he in a cast? Higuruma had learned RCT and fully restored his arms before leaving the battlefield. If he's conscious, then he should be able to heal himself fully no problems.
And that got me thinking... Why is Yuji still missing his fingers?
It was established that he kept his fingers unhealed to help with Yuta's plan. This means that if he won, he has no need to keep them missing. Yuji has fully regenerated missing chunks of his face, including his eye, and stomach. He has RCT just like Higuruma. But it doesn't end there either. Yuji's number of fingers on his left hand keeps changing.
4 fingers, 3 fingers, dubious amount of fingers, 5 fingers. Once again, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but JJK 270 came out and the same problem started happening with Megumi's scars.
The same mistake is made within the same set of panels and very big page. That's weird.
ONCE AGAIN, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but when these errors occur, like with Yuta mistakenly having his ring on in JJK 251, Gege will note the mistake outright. Gege has made no such comments for Yuji's fingers or the scars. This many “errors” in row when Gege has otherwise been careful with these features could indicate it really is on purpose. (Kind of like Sukuna's everchanging mask. The thing was just moving around and pulsing. That was deliberate not inconsistency.)
What does this mean?
I think it means what we are seeing isn't reality. After all, the most common way to tell if you're dreaming is being unable to count the number of fingers on your hands. Another way to tell is the distortion of faces.
Readers have noticed that something is wrong. The weird timeskips, the lack of lasting consequences, design inconsistencies, characters behaving like similes of themselves, death and pain being glossed over like it's nothing. It all feels so off. But it's still close enough to the original to be somewhat believable. ...Is that not what it's like to dream and not know you are dreaming?
Why is it that the chapter titled Dream's End ends with the hunt for a curse user whose ability is to distort the perception of reality?
Dreams and Delusions in JJK
We already know Gege weaves Buddhist symbolism and ideas heavily into JJK. I'm not an expert in Buddhism at all, so there's a lot of it that goes over my head. I decided to look into if dreams are significant in Buddhism and boy howdy are they. Quoted directly from the source:
"Dreams can be a message from a Bodhisattva, an ancestor, or a god, The intent of the dream may be to test the dreamer’s resolve: is he non-retreating (avaivartika) from Bodhi (enlightenment) even when sleeping? The purpose of the dream visit may be to communicate information vital to the dreamer’s well-being. The Buddha himself had five dreams of catastrophes, falling stars and worlds in collision just before his enlightenment. The dreams were sent to him not by a benevolent Dharma-protector, but by an malevolent sorcerer, intent on disrupting the Buddha’s samadhi and preventing his awakening."
In summary, (correct me if I'm wrong) dreams appear to be seen as another state of being just as valuable and impermanent as reality.
There's also this other bit I'll quote directly.
"The most common use of dreams in the literature of the Mahayana, or “Northern School” of Buddhism in China, Tibet, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam is to see dreams as a simile for sunyata, (emptiness) the hollow core at the heart of all component dharmas (things). For example, in the well-known Vajra (Diamond) Sutra, the Buddha taught that:
“All conditioned dharmas, are like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow, like a dewdrop, like a lightening flash; you should contemplate them thus.”"
That's starting to sound like what Yuji's Domain does, right? He projects memories that did happen and mixes them with delusions and dreams. Sukuna and Megumi both experience this in full.
It's incredibly suspicious that it hasn't been named yet. Yuji is the son of Kenjaku who has a domain based on the Womb Sutra/Realm...which is paired with the aforementioned Diamond Realm to encompass the entire Dharma. It's very likely this is what Yuji's domain is—a realm of dreams and reality combined as one.
Unreality Runs in the Family
When Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" as the Culling Games begin, Kenjaku explains her situation with this:
What follows is a sequence that cannot be described as a dream. It seems to be a blend of reality and hallucinations. But that's not anything strange, Sukuna does it too with Kashimo in reverse.
As you can see, both the positions of the characters and even the backgrounds change suddenly from reality to ??? and from sequence to sequence. It's all incredibly dream like.
Another strange thing about this space is Kenjaku creating it as a part of an escape route Binding Vow. You know, the kind Sukuna uses for Malevolent Shrine.
What I want to draw attention to here is this reality-dream state somewhat requires consent (in the loosest possible definition) to appear. The person entering this state has to desire it themself. We see this with Jogo and Gojo who are mutually interested in having a relationship of somekind with Sukuna. (Same with Kashimo.)
(It's also very hard to tell if they are dead or still in the process of dying during this.)
This is where the delusions Yuji projects differ. They are forced onto others when he is near death or severely injured, seemingly as a defense mechanism.
And would you look at that...the syntax is identical for Todo and Choso's Brother Yuji Delusions. "At that moment, a memory was born inside X's brain...of a past event that never happened." It's kind of like how Yuji replaces Gojo in Megumi's memory to reach him. It's also very strange that Sukuna, Choso, and Jogo go "What is this?" to this in-between space.
My point here is that Yuji having access to this space has been hinted at since the start of this manga and that it was inherited it by blood. (Totally Not Kenjaku showing up with Takaba Mr. Reality Warping CT in JJK 270 supports my case too I think.)
What does this mean for JJK 268–270?
The battle ended in JJK 268. Of that I'm certain. What I no longer know is if anyone survived.
A common complaint about Sukuna's death is his lack of an afterlife scene. Everything ended so abruptly. And then Megumi wakes up.
It's so jarring in out of place. ...But that's how all scenes involving the space between dreams and reality begin. Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" once and then again. Most of us have experienced those kind of dreams right? (They made a whole movie about it called Inception which is based on the movie Paprika.)
There's one other thing I need to draw attention to. Yuji's Domain shattered after Sukuna cast Domain Expansion (DE).
When a sorcerer withdraws their domain voluntarily, it does not shatter. Gojo has demonstrated this for us in quite clearly.
When a domain is broken by force, it will shatter and shards will scatter. When a domain is withdrawn, no shards are left behind. Yuta uses these facts as a part of his plan. In JJK 252, it's revealed by Kusakabe that Yuta shatters his own domain on purpose to trick Sukuna into thinking he won.
What this means is that some kind of violent action needs to be taken to shatter a domain. Yuji's domain is massive and his attacks only targeted Sukuna. What could've shattered his domain all at once? He's not had the time to practice shattering parts of it like Yuta.
Gojo has shown us what a uniform domain shattering looks like—it happens when Malevolent Shrine activates. (Please note that the sfx used for Sukuna breaking Gojo's domain is カシャア. It's the same one used for Yuji's domain shattering.)
I'm proposing that we've been in unreality since the end of JJK 266. Sukuna and Yuji are both severely injured, on the verge of death, and have a connection with each other. These are all conditions that trigger the space between dreams and reality.
And I must remind you that Yuji first triggers this event with Todo after a severe head injury. Right before Sukuna casts his domain, they do this to each other.
Everything that has come after has been perfect for Yuji to a unbelievable degree. Everyone whose death was uncertain is alive and the living are getting exactly what they wanted. The effort behind it and the logistics are all missing. And yes a rushed ending can explain that, but that too can be part of the ruse.
Another massive complaint is that mourning has not occurred. Not for Gojo or Choso despite how much Yuji cherished them. It's like they're being willfully forgotten by the cast despite being crucial to their success in Shinjuku. It feels out of character, especially since Yuji is of the few that showed concern for them no matter what.
But if this is a delusion on the brink of death designed to bring happiness, why would Yuji think of the dead? He's always been so avoidant with it. When his grandpa is dying and trying to talk about his parents, Yuji tells him to shut up. When Nanami dies, he thinks of him then and then never again directly leading up to his talk with Sukuna. When Megumi tries to discuss Nobara's fate, Yuji ends the conversation as quickly as possible.
The only people in this world are the ones who may or may not be dead. He saw Yuta in Gojo's corpse. The only way that can happen is if Gojo is dead. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. Choso burned away before his eyes. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. He went through some of Megumi's memories and saw Tsumiki's corpse. Yuji has no choice but to believe it.
And since Tsumiki is the only person Yuji wasn't close with, she's the only death that has been outright acknowledged. But not for too long! That would make Megumi sad.
Another complaint is that Sukuna really didn't kill anyone in the final battle outside of those two and Kashimo. The dudebros call it Disney Kaisen. But the fairytale-like idea that everyone is ok? Todo was the one who put that idea in Yuji's head.
And Yuji has always been one to fall to story-like logic when things look like they're finally wrapping up.
"And then everything will be just fine." (Yuji before the worst possible outcome for both him and Megumi happens.)
This is similar to the line Gakuganji uses in JJK 270. "Everything is fine." This line is the whole reason I sat down and wrote this all out without stopping. I know Gakuganji. He'd never say that. This man has been in a state of worry over Jujutsu Society since his first appearance. He doesn't even fully believe in Gojo's cause as someone who values tradition. He's a stickler for details and will do everything in his power to ensure stability. For him to toss Sukuna and Tengen's remains in a shrine and call it a day? Who is that? He's changed but not that much.
And so I compared the raws.
It is very much the same 大丈夫 (Daijoubu). These are Yuji's words.
What I'm proposing is that JJK 267–270 are Yuji's delusions of the happiest possible ending. It's a picture perfect little end where all the trauma and death has no effect on the living and people move on like nothing happened. I don't know if this means he's dead or if Megumi's dead or if they're all dead. But what I'm seeing now? I don't think it's real.
Reexamining JJK 269
CW: Brief discussion of suicide.
Even if this turns out to be a part of the smokescreen, I'm always going to hate JJK 269. But I do want to give it some grace under the assumption this chapter titled Examination (which can also be translated as Reflection) is about Yuji's guilt. Both him and Megumi's tbh. I think their feelings for each other and their situations are driving these delusions. That's one thing about this space that's real—the feelings behind them.
Yuji has a lot of guilt surrounding his existence after ingesting Sukuna, Megumi does too. Straight up Yuji has been seeking death over it since JJK 9.
He struggles to forgive himself for being the centerpiece to violence he had little to no control over. The only thing that upsets him more than that is knowing that his death will break Megumi's heart. He doesn't want Megumi to feel any guilt for it whatsoever.
The kicker is, Megumi already knows Yuji is planning to die. And he wants to do everything to rid him of that guilt. Up until they connect inside of Yuji's domain, they were unaware they shared the same goal for each other.
And that's what JJK 269 is. It's a very cold and harsh breakdown that allows them to forgive themselves. Blame is passed around and ultimately pinned on a combination of Gojo and Kenjaku. (It's really weird Sukuna isn't blamed either, but that's not the point of this for now.)
Kusakabe's comment is especially harsh. Telling Yuji point blank he should've died and that both sides on the issue were valid? He may have believed that to an extent, but he made a point of not telling it to his face. Why have a whole chapter discussing how kind he is only to turn around and do this?
If this is all a delusion, a manifestation of Yuji's guilt and trying to absolve himself of it for Megumi's sake, that makes sense. This version of Kusakabe is what Yuji feels guilt over the most—Everyone's lives being better if he died.
In the same breath Kusakabe tells them to solely blame the adults. It's very reminiscent of Nanami telling Yuji that being a child is not a sin.
It should also be noted that every single time Megumi tries to apologize for being possessed, he's stopped. Maki tears into Yuta without checking in on him, but she asks if Megumi is ok and tells him to not blame himself. JJK 270 is full of this too. He tries to apologize to Tsumiki at her grave and Shoko tells him not to sweat it. He tries to apologize to Hana and she hits on him instead.
This delusion is crafted out of love. It allows Megumi to live in a world where he can move on from the guilt surrounding his possession and saving Yuji. It's all Yuji has ever wanted for him. And now that Yuji knows Megumi wants him to forgive himself, he has no choice but to do that too.
It's a perfect ending for Megumi that's too good to be true.
It must be a dream...
There's another thing I can't reconcile about JJK 269 unless it's a delusion—Todo's explanation for Yuta's plan. It's another one of those glaring contradictions.
In JJK 269 Todo claims Boogie Woogie can't target Maki. But in JJK 259? Todo makes plans with Mei Mei knowing that it works with her.
Either Todo lied...or Yuji never fully knew the plan and that Boogie Woogie could target Maki. Otherwise she would be dead. Her surviving Sukuna's flames would be impossible.
I've already talked about how Yuji believing those who may or may not be dead are alive is Todo's doing. He's always been the one to save Yuji from his breakdowns. But let's talk about his speech in Shibuya.
"Looking for meaning or logic in death...can at times defile the memories of those we've lost!"
Everyone who has read these past 3 chapters has really felt the defiling of Gojo's memory. And it was all in service to a strange logic that helped them cope with all this death. Acknowledging how massive Gojo's sacrifice was would riddle both Yuji and Megumi with immense guilt, so it's best to ignore it for Megumi's sake. (And perhaps that's why Yuji replaces Gojo in that memory.)
"What have you been entrusted with? You don't need to answer right now. However... Until you find your answer, never stop moving."
In a way, JJK 269 is an answer to the question Todo proposed. Yuji was entrusted with saving Megumi. Saving Megumi requires Megumi and Yuji forgiving themselves. And Yuji won't stop moving until it's done. All these time jumps and rushed developments are Yuji moving Megumi forward. He's getting that happy ending even if it's to the detriment of everything else.
What about Sukuna?
When Sukuna respects his opponents and they have a connection, he gives others these dreams before they pass. He's been very impressed by Megumi since JJK 9. It's not out of the ballpark for him to allow Megumi to die satisfied in the way Gojo did. Yuji also seems to understand that Sukuna was manipulated by others just as much as he was. I think that's why Sukuna is spared of the blame for the most part.
I don't think Sukuna won. He's probably dead. But he did warn Yuji not to underestimate him. I think the worst absolute last fudge you to Yuji he could give is this happy ending dream before ripping it all away as he dies.
In Conclusion...
I'm not sure that we're going to get that happy ending. Reggie Star warned us not too long ago.
"...it all comes down to a sorcerer's lies."
Reggie is a lot like Sukuna here, outwitted by modern sorcerers and dying to someone he loathes. Sukuna is good at tricking people. He let Gojo think he won before tearing it all away. Yuta did the exact same thing to him. Or did he?
"Can you do me a favor? After all, you've killed me. Let fate toy with you, become a clown, then die."
If the last 3 chapters are delusions...Megumi will be playing the part of a clown.
Gege said the manga would end with either 1/4 or 3/4 of Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Gojo surviving. This of course, could be changed throughout its development, but Gege said the manga is ending in its original vision. There's a real chance that it's only Yuji or Nobara surviving.
Remember, Gege is a troll first and foremost. Somehow Gojo was revived, but in the worst way possible (Yujo). Somehow Gojo did tell Megumi about Toji, but in the worst way possible (dead man's final letter).
Gege also said this about the final chapter:
"I am working hard to create a final chapter that will (hopefully) satisfy as many people as possible who have supported Jujutsu Kaisen. So everyone, please bear with me!"
I can't think of a better way to appease everyone than by making the last 3 chapters nothing more than dream.
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