I Accidentally Saved The Male Lead’s Brother Chapter 164

It wasn’t just the bulgogi. In the few hours since returning from school, everything in Eunha’s house felt strangely unfamiliar yet deeply nostalgic.

The bubbling sound of stew on the stove, the faint scent of fabric softener lingering on clothes, her mother’s voice, the cozy warmth of the house, and even the faint sweetness of rice on her tongue—all these ordinary things suddenly felt precious.

“Nothing happened at school, right?”

“No, nothing.”

Eunha wiped her eyes with a tissue and replied nonchalantly.

For a moment, she thought of the foreign man, but she pushed the thought aside, filling her mouth with another large bite of rice.

Throughout the entire dinner, tears inexplicably welled up.

Her mother repeatedly asked if something was wrong, but Eunha stubbornly shook her head and continued eating until the meal was finished.

***

Eunha saw the man again around 9 p.m. that evening as she was walking home with snacks from the convenience store.

He was standing by the entrance of her apartment building.

Though it was dark and his head was lowered, she instantly recognized him as the man she had seen earlier that day.

She had only met him once, but his broad shoulders and tall figure were unmistakable.

Holding the convenience store bag tightly, she stood a few steps away, observing him.

Did he follow me here? Is he a stalker? Should I call the police?

Alarms blared in her head, but instead of calling for help, Eunha approached him. For some inexplicable reason, she was certain he wouldn’t harm her.

The warm autumn sunlight from earlier had given way to a chilly night breeze. The man was still wearing the same thin shirt he had on during the day.

Cautiously, she asked,

“Aren’t you cold?”

The man finally looked up. His previously expressionless face brightened with joy the moment he saw her.

His sharp eyes softened, and his tightly closed lips curved into a gentle smile.

Wow, he’s even more handsome when he smiles.

Eunha found herself staring at his face, entranced, before snapping out of it and clearing her throat.

“Anyway, it’s pretty chilly. You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here like this. You should go home.”

“Wait.”

The man straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall and approached her. He extended a hand toward her but then quickly pulled it back, clasping it behind his back.

“Can we talk? Just for a moment?”

Eunha checked her phone. It was 9:12 p.m.—not exactly an ideal time for a chat with a suspicious stranger.

Sensing her hesitation, the man quickly added,
“It won’t take long.”

His eyes held a desperate, pleading look, reminding her of a forlorn puppy. Despite herself, she nodded.
“Alright.”

The man’s face lit up again.

“But only for a moment. And we stay right here. We’re not going anywhere else.”

“Understood.”

Yet, despite his earlier urgency, the man said nothing.

He simply stared at her as though memorizing every detail. His gaze roamed over her eyes, lips, and hands—not in a predatory way, but more like someone checking for injuries. His expression was oddly clinical yet deeply focused.

Wherever his eyes lingered, Eunha felt an almost burning heat. Hugging her convenience store bag tighter, she broke the silence.
“If you don’t have anything to say…”

She was about to excuse herself when he finally spoke.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”

It was a strange question.
“Hurt? No, I’m fine.”

“Headaches? Dizziness? Spitting up blood?”

Eunha couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m perfectly healthy. I haven’t been sleeping much because of my assignments, but I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about, Carl—”

Her voice cut off abruptly as she realized the name that had just slipped out.

The man’s eyes widened in shock.
“You… remember me?”

He stepped closer, and Eunha instinctively tried to step back, but before she could, he reached out and gently took her hand.

His hands were rough, covered in calluses, yet his touch was soft and careful.

“Do you remember me, Charlotte?”

“I’m not Charlotte. Don’t call me that.”

Her reply was sharp, harsher than she had intended.

“Charlotte…”

The man winced, his expression pained.

He looks better when he’s smiling, Eunha thought, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his cheek.

At that moment, a flood of images flashed through her mind, like a movie playing on fast-forward.

A man cradling a golden-haired child, his face filled with relief.

The same man shyly offering a blue diamond ring.

Another scene of him standing in a snowy clearing, tears streaming down his face.

In that brief instant, Eunha saw the full spectrum of his emotions—joy, sorrow, love, despair.

And seeing it all left her shaken.

Just as when he had called her “Charlotte,” an inexplicable unease washed over her. She couldn’t stand there any longer.
“If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m leaving.”

She pulled her hand free and stepped toward the apartment entrance.

“Theo is crying, waiting for you.”

The words stopped her in her tracks as if her feet had been glued to the ground.

Theo.

It was a foreign name, yet the moment she heard it, an image popped into her head—a little boy with golden hair and round blue eyes.

A child whose cheeks puffed up with joy whenever he smiled, and whose plump belly made him look like a honey jar.

—Sister! Teo got a potato!

She could almost see him now, running toward her with muddy hands, proudly holding a potato bigger than his tiny fists.

“I… I…”

But Eunha couldn’t bring herself to look back. She was gripped by the fear that if she turned around, everything she cherished in her current life would be taken away.

Instead, she ran inside, leaving the man behind.

Though she didn’t look back, she could picture his expression perfectly.

He would be clenching his jaw tightly, his fists balled at his sides. His eyes and brows would be drawn together, giving the impression of anger.

But Eunha somehow knew that wasn’t anger—it was the face of someone holding back tears.

****

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Her mother entered her room with a plate of neatly sliced apples.

Eunha, who had been staring blankly at her computer monitor, shook her head automatically.
“Nope.”

“Always saying no. Is your project that stressful?”

“Yeah. One of my teammates isn’t responding.”

It was half true. The unresponsive team member was real, but Eunha had almost completely forgotten about them.

Her mind was consumed by the man she had met earlier—and by the face of the child that appeared when he said “Theo.”

“That’s so frustrating. Why would anyone make our lovely daughter’s life harder? Don’t stress too much. Here, eat this.”

Her mother handed her a fork with a slice of apple. Eunha stared at it for a moment before asking impulsively,

“Mom, what would you do if I suddenly disappeared?”

Her mother froze.

“What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, what if something happened to me—an accident or something?”

Her mother gasped and smacked her lightly on the back.

“Don’t say things like that! You’ll jinx yourself!”

“But still—”

“No ‘but still’!”

Her mother swatted her back again, then told her to focus on her project before leaving the room.

Just before closing the door, she muttered softly,
“If something happened to you, I couldn’t go on living. So don’t even think about it. Forget the stupid project if it’s too much, but don’t scare me like that.”

“Okay.”

Left alone, Eunha stared at the apple in her hand, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s not like I wanted to have an accident, Mom.”

After talking to the man—Carcel, she corrected herself—her memories were slowly returning.

The accident on her way home from class. Waking up in another world as Charlotte.

Finding a bloodied Theo wandering alone. Meeting Carcel, who had come searching for the boy. The dangers they faced together, and the shadow of Lionel Wisner.

And finally, the last scene she had seen before falling asleep.

But the memories were interwoven with the reality of her life here—her mother in the kitchen, the warmth of their home. Both were so vivid that she couldn’t determine what was real and what was a dream.

Perhaps Carcel and Theo had been a dream. Maybe she had imagined it after reading too many novels.

Yet the image of Carcel was far too vivid, his presence too real to dismiss as a mere fantasy.

And the emotions she felt for him—aching and tearful—were impossible to write off as a dream.

She didn’t know how she had ended up back in Korea or why Carcel had followed her.

But one thing was clear: she had to choose between the life of Eunha and the life of Charlotte.

Both worlds were sweet and precious, and she couldn’t bear to give either up.

Wiping her tears, Eunha glanced out the window.

Someone was still standing by the apartment entrance.

It’s Carcel.

Her chest tightened at the thought. She wanted to see him, to run into his arms and tell him how much she loved him.

As soon as she pictured his sorrowful expression, Eunha could no longer hold herself back. She bolted out of her room.