The water in the villa's pool was crystal clear, reflecting the high, pale sun of an afternoon that felt too perfect to last. Ivan stood at the edge, his silhouette sharp and powerful. He was a man who had everything—the bloodline of Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk, a global empire at his fingertips, and most importantly, Till.
Till was his anchor. His obsession. The boy who had haunted the periphery of his college years had become the man who occupied his bed and his soul. Ivan lived to see Till's silver hair damp from the pool, to hear his breath hitch when Ivan pulled him close.
"Till, wait for me," Ivan called out, his voice rich with a possessive warmth. He stepped forward, his mind already on the feeling of submerging underwater with Till, holding him where the world couldn't reach them.
But the tile was slick. A stray splash, a momentary lapse. Ivan's foot slid.
The sound of his skull hitting the marble floor was a sickening, dull thud—a sound that would haunt Till's nightmares for years to come.
"Ivan! Ivan, look at me! Wake up!"
Till was on the ground in a heartbeat, cradling Ivan's limp body. His training from his years in the intelligence sector—a life he had left behind to be by Ivan's side—kicked in. He was unnervingly calm on the outside, checking the pulse, stabilizing the neck, calling the paramedics with a voice that didn't tremble. But inside, his heart was a frantic, trapped bird, battering against his ribs.
He had seen death before. He had handled cold skin and lifeless eyes. But as he patted Ivan's handsome cheek, begging for a flicker of those dark eyes, Till felt a void opening up beneath him.
Three hours passed in the sterile silence of the VIP wing. Ivan lay under white sheets, his face as still as a marble statue. Till sat by the bed, staring at the man he loved. He imagined what Ivan would say when he woke up.
"Till, were you worried? I'm sorry. I like that you're only thinking of me, but don't cry." Ivan always spoke with that arrogant, loving confidence, his green-toned eyes shimmering with a hidden tenderness.
Then, the monitor spiked. Ivan's hand twitched. His eyes fluttered open.
"Ivan?" Till breathed, leaning forward, his eyes moist with unshed tears. "How do you feel? Do you recognize me?"
Ivan blinked, squinting against the harsh LED lights. He looked at Till—really looked at him—but there was no warmth. There was no recognition. There was only a cold, sharp edge of suspicion.
"Who are you?" Ivan's voice was hoarse. "Are you... Sua's friend? From the university?"
The words were a physical blow. Till froze. The syllabic rhythm of Ivan's voice was flat, devoid of the affection that usually colored his name. This was the voice Ivan used for strangers. For people he didn't care about.
"Ivan... what are you saying?"
"Why am I here?" Ivan struggled to sit up, hisining hand clutching his head. "I remember... I was at the college. I was walking with Sua and Mizi. We were talking about the graduation ceremony."
Till felt the world tilt. Ivan's memory had stopped six years ago. It had stopped at a time when Till was just a face in the crowd—a boy Ivan hadn't yet learned to love.
"Ivan," Till said, his voice cracking before he forced it into a steady line. "You graduated a long time ago. It's the year 2026. You're the CEO of the family company."
"What? Are you lying to me?" Ivan's eyes flashed with a familiar, dangerous fire. He reached out, his fingers locking around Till's collar, yanking him forward. "Who are you? Answer me now!"
Till stared into those dark eyes, seeing the rage of a twenty-one-year-old Alpha who felt cornered. He remembered the doctor's warning: Severe shock could cause permanent damage. He needs to adjust slowly.
"I am your assistant," Till lied, the words burning his throat. "My name is Till. We met after you took over the business. You hired me because I knew your sister, Sua."
Ivan's grip loosened, his hand dropping. He looked at the wall calendar, his eyes widening as the date sank in. "Six years... I've lost six years?"
"Yes," Till whispered.
"And my parents?" Ivan asked, his voice suddenly small. "Dokja and Joonghyuk? Are they...?"
"They are well. Your father is sixty now. They were just here, but I sent them to rest. They'll be back soon."
Ivan leaned back, looking exhausted. His gaze drifted over Till's frame—tracing the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. Even without his memories, something in Ivan's biology seemed to react. He looked confused, his brow furrowing.
"I feel... empty," Ivan muttered. "Like I've forgotten something vital. My chest ached the moment I saw you. Why are you the one here? Why not my family?"
"I handle your private affairs," Till said, turning away to hide the tears welling in his eyes. "I'm the one you trust the most with your schedule."
"Hmm." Ivan watched him. "I'm a picky man, Till. If I've kept you around for six years... I must have touched you before. Have we slept together?"
Till's heart stopped. He kept his back turned, gripping the edge of the medical tray. "You are my boss, Mr. Ivan. Please don't say such things."
"Right," Ivan sighed. "Forget I asked. You're just Sua's friend. My head is just spinning."
The heavy oak doors of the VIP suite swung open with a rhythmic, measured weight. Even without looking up, Till felt the shift in the room's pressure. Kim Dokja entered first, his white coat fluttering slightly, a soft but unreadable expression on his face. Behind him, like a shadow carved from stone, stood Yoo Joonghyuk.
Ivan, still propped up against the pillows with that "twenty-one-year-old" confusion clouding his sharp features, stiffened.
"Father? Dad?"
Dokja stepped toward the bed, his hand reaching out to ruffle Ivan's hair before pausing, noticing the way Ivan flinched ever so slightly. Dokja's eyes flickered toward Till—a silent, piercing communication between them.
"The doctor gave us the rundown," Dokja said, his voice calm, though the slight tremor in his fingers betrayed him. "Retrograde amnesia. Six years, Ivan? You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
"I don't understand," Ivan muttered, looking between the two older men. Joonghyuk remained at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His gaze was terrifyingly intense, scanning Ivan as if he could see the literal fractures in his son's memory.
"You look pathetic," Joonghyuk said bluntly.
"Joonghyuk-ah, not now," Dokja sighed, though there was no real heat in the reprimand. He turned his attention back to the chart at the end of the bed. "Physically, the CT scans are clear. The hematoma is receding. But the neurological side... that's trickier. Your brain has effectively 'reset' to your university settings to protect itself from the shock of the impact."
"And what happens to the company?" Ivan asked, his CEO instincts fighting through the haze. "If I'm... like this?"
"The company is fine," Joonghyuk grunted. "You've spent six years turning it into a fortress. It can survive a few weeks of your incompetence."
"What your father means," Dokja corrected smoothly, "is that you are on mandatory medical leave. No phones, no board meetings, and absolutely no stress. Your health is the priority. If you force the memories back too hard, you risk permanent cognitive decline. Do you understand, Ivan?"
Ivan looked down at his hands, his jaw tight. "And him?" He gestured toward Till, who was standing like a ghost in the corner. "He says he's my assistant. Sua's friend."
The silence that followed was deafening. Dokja's gaze landed on Till, seeing the way the silver-haired man was biting his lip, his knuckles white. Dokja, who had spent a lifetime navigating lies and hidden truths, understood immediately what Till was doing. He saw the "assistant" lie for what it was: a desperate shield.
Joonghyuk opened his mouth to speak—likely to growl something about Till being a fool for lying—but Dokja stepped on his foot with practiced precision.
"Till is... essential," Dokja said carefully, his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "If he says he's your assistant, then follow his lead. He knows your life better than we do at this point. Trust him, Ivan. Your life depends on it."
Joonghyuk let out a huff of air, his eyes narrowing at Till. "Don't let him get soft," the elder swordsman warned. "Memory loss is no excuse for losing his edge. Keep him on a strict recovery regimen. If his condition worsens, I'm taking him back to the main estate."
Till bowed his head low. "I understand, Mr. Yoo. I won't let anything happen to him."
"Good," Dokja said, patting Ivan's leg. "We'll leave you to rest. We have to deal with the press—apparently, the 'Prince of the Empire' tripping over a puddle is front-page news. We'll be back tomorrow."
As the parents turned to leave, Joonghyuk paused at the door. He looked back at Ivan, then at Till, a rare, flickering moment of recognition passing through his dark eyes—a memory of his own long journeys and the people he had fought to remember.
"Ivan," Joonghyuk called out.
"Yes, Dad?"
"Stop looking at the walls. Look at what's in front of you. Your instincts are better than your brain."
With that cryptic parting shot, the doors closed, leaving Till and a very bewildered Ivan alone in the sterile silence once more.
The heavy doors of the VIP suite swung open again, and this time the atmosphere shifted from the cold, stifling weight of the "parents" to something more familiar, yet equally painful for Till to witness.
Sua walked in first, her expression a mix of fierce concern and sharp observation. Behind her, Mizi followed, her pink hair a bright contrast to the sterile white of the hospital.
"Ivan!" Sua didn't hesitate, stepping right to the bedside. "The nurses said you were awake. Do you know who I am?"
Ivan's face, which had been tight and suspicious while looking at Till, suddenly softened into a look of genuine relief. "Sua. Of course I know you. You're my sister." He glanced at the girl behind her. "And Mizi. You two were... at the library with me? Before the accident?"
Mizi bit her lip, looking toward Till, who was standing in the shadows of the corner like a ghost. "Ivan... that was six years ago."
Ivan's grip on the bedsheets tightened. "Six years. Everyone keeps saying that." He looked at Sua, his eyes searching hers for the truth he didn't want to accept. "Is it true? Am I really... the CEO? Is Dad actually sixty?"
"It's true," Sua said, her voice softening as she sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out and took his hand, noting how cold it felt. "You've built a massive life, Ivan. You're powerful. You're brilliant. But you're also..." She glanced at Till again. "...you've changed a lot."
"I don't feel brilliant," Ivan muttered, his gaze drifting back to Till. "I feel like I'm in a room full of actors. Especially him. He says he's my assistant, Sua. Is he?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Sua looked at Till—the man she knew was her brother's entire world, the man who had been the subject of every obsessive phone call for years. She saw the way Till was staring at the floor, his shoulders rigid, silently begging her to keep the lie.
"Till is... the person who runs your life," Sua said carefully, her eyes narrowing at her brother. "He knows your secrets. He knows your schedule. He's the only one who can handle you when you're being difficult."
"He's Sua's friend from university, right?" Ivan asked, his voice low. "I remember seeing him in the halls. Gray hair. Always looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. I didn't think we were... close."
Mizi let out a small, nervous laugh. "You were always watching him, Ivan. Even back then. You just don't remember the part where you finally caught up to him."
Ivan's eyes flashed—a spark of the "Alpha" he had become in those missing six years. He looked at Till with a predatory curiosity that made the air in the room feel thin. "Caught up to him? What does that mean?"
"It means you're lucky to have him," Sua interrupted, standing up. She walked over to Till and placed a hand on his arm, a silent gesture of support that Ivan didn't miss. "Till has been working himself to death since your accident. Don't give him a hard time just because your brain is a mess."
"I'm not giving him a hard time," Ivan hissed, his gaze locked on Till's pale face. "I'm trying to figure out why my heart starts racing every time he moves. If he's just an assistant, why am I so... restless?"
Till finally looked up, his eyes glassy but his expression forced into a mask of professional neutrality. "It's likely the medication, Mr. Ivan. I've already spoken to the doctors. Once we get you home to the penthouse, you'll feel more grounded."
"The penthouse," Ivan repeated, the word sounded foreign. "Do you live there too?"
"I have my own quarters," Till lied smoothly, though the word 'quarters' felt like a knife in his throat. "I'll be there to ensure your recovery goes according to the medical plan."
As the visit wound down, Sua pulled Till aside near the door while Mizi kept Ivan distracted by showing him photos on her phone—photos of their "future" lives that Ivan stared at with profound disbelief.
"How long are you going to keep this up, Till?" Sua whispered, her voice sharp with worry. "He's looking at you like he's starving, even without his memories. You can't scrub six years of obsession out of a man like Ivan."
"The doctors said no shocks," Till whispered back, his voice breaking. "If I tell him I'm his lover—if I tell him he belongs to me—and he doesn't feel it... I can't handle that, Sua. I'd rather be his assistant than a stranger he's forced to love."
Sua sighed, looking back at her brother, who was currently watching Till's every move instead of listening to whatever Mizi was saying.
"He's already falling for you all over again," Sua said sadly. "You're just making it harder for both of you."
When the girls finally left, the room fell into a suffocating silence. Ivan lay back against the pillows, his dark eyes never leaving Till.
"Till," Ivan called out softly.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come closer."
Till hesitated, then walked to the side of the bed. Ivan reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from Till's wrist, as if testing an invisible barrier.
"Sua and Mizi... they look happy. They look like they belong together," Ivan murmured. "But when they look at us... they look like they're attending a funeral. Why is that, Till?"
Till didn't answer. He couldn't. He just adjusted the IV drip with trembling hands and prayed for the strength to survive the night.
When Ivan was discharged, Till had to move fast. He went to their shared penthouse and worked like a ghost, haunting his own home.
He packed away the matching rings. He hid the photographs of them kissing in the rain, the ones Ivan had insisted on framing. He moved his clothes into the guest room and scrubbed the scent of their intimacy from the master suite as best he could.
When Ivan walked in, he looked around the luxurious space with a detached curiosity.
"It's a nice place," Ivan remarked. "But it feels cold. Like no one lives here."
"You spend most of your time at the office," Till said, standing by the door.
Ivan walked into the kitchen, his hand lingering on the counter. He suddenly turned to Till. "You're staying here tonight?"
"Only to help you settle in, sir."
Ivan walked toward him, his presence overwhelming. Even without the memory of their love, Ivan's instincts were predatory. He trapped Till against the doorframe, leaning in until their noses almost touched.
"Why are you crying, Till? You've been crying since the hospital."
"I'm just... relieved you're okay," Till whispered.
"You're a bad liar," Ivan hissed. He reached out, his thumb brushing over Till's lower lip. "Your body is shaking. Your heart is beating so loud I can hear it. An assistant doesn't look at his boss like his world is ending."
Till couldn't take it anymore. The distance, the coldness, the lie—it was a poison. He pushed Ivan's hand away and fled to the guest room, locking the door behind him. He collapsed against the wood, sobbing into his hands.
The next morning, Till was in the living room, clearing out a box of mementos he had forgotten in the hallway—a collection of ticket stubs and dried flowers from their dates.
He didn't hear Ivan come up behind him.
"What's in the box, Till?"
Till jumped, dropping a small velvet case. It popped open, revealing the black diamond ring Ivan had given him a year ago.
Ivan picked it up. He stared at it for a long time. Then, he looked at the box, seeing a photo that had slipped out—a picture of Ivan and Till, tangled in each other's arms, looking at the camera with eyes full of pure, unfiltered devotion.
"You scoundrel," Ivan whispered.
Till froze. "Ivan, I can explain—"
"You lied to me!" Ivan's voice exploded, the raw Alpha command in his tone shaking the room. He grabbed Till, pinning him against the wall, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and hurt. "You told me we were nothing! You told me you were just an employee!"
"The doctor said—!"
"To hell with the doctor!" Ivan roared. "I spent three days feeling like half of my soul was missing! I spent three days looking at you and wanting to tear my own heart out because I didn't know why I wanted to touch you so badly! Did you think I was that weak? Did you think I wouldn't know my own partner?"
"I didn't want to hurt you," Till sobbed, his hands clutching Ivan's wrists. "I didn't want you to wake up and hate me because you didn't remember loving me!"
"I could never hate you," Ivan growled. He crushed his lips against Till's, a desperate, punishing kiss that tasted of salt and years of unspoken longing.
It was a collision of past and present. Ivan didn't have the memories yet, but his body knew. His hands knew the curve of Till's waist; his mouth knew the rhythm of Till's sighs.
"I remember the way you look at me," Ivan whispered against Till's skin, his voice breaking. "Even when I didn't know your name, I still remember you but Why didn't you say anything and instead cleaned up the traces of what we went through together?"
"That whole thing is because of Ivan..."
BANG! Ivan punched the wall hard.
"What? Because of me? Don't lie! The me of today, with my amnesia, is no longer necessary for you, right?" – His dark eyes blazed with anger, piercing straight through Till.
Then Ivan devoured till's lips, as if to prevent him from explaining. Till wanted to say something and wanted to push Ivan away from his shoulder. He wanted to explain, but Ivan held him tightly, his tongue exploring the roof of his mouth. It wasn't until Till, bewildered by the unexpected kiss, was almost breathless, that their lips finally parted.
"Wait a minute, Ivan..."
Till was about to speak, but Ivan kissed him again roughly, as if he didn't want to hear. He bit his lip as if wanting to devour it, chasing after and entwining his tongue with Till's, almost causing Till to collapse from his weak legs. One hand gripping Till's cheek tightly, the other supporting his back, Ivan kissed him relentlessly, biting and tearing at Till's lips, like someone consumed by an uncontrollable desire.
"Um... stop... Iv..."
"I am Ivan, and that other one is iv, right? You called him that nickname?"
After a long separation, Till unconsciously called him Iv in that kiss . Ivan gave him a sharp, dagger-like look, then hugged Till tightly, burying his face in his shoulder, his voice weakening.
"...Why shouldn't I be allowed? Didn't you like this face?"
Till struggled to breathe, gently pushing Ivan away, looked into his eyes, and said clearly, word by word:
"I… like you. Both the current Ivan and the Iv of the past six years. Whether you remember me or not, my love for you will remain unchanged."
"Then why…?"
Ivan's voice weakened. Till could hear the reproach in his heart. "Then why did you keep our relationship a secret?"
He didn't want to see that anxious and desperate look on his face again.
Till pulled Xinlu's hand and placed it on his chest. He could feel his heart pounding, a little fast. If he could rip out his heart and show it to Ivan, he would gladly do so. Just so Ivan wouldn't feel so insecure anymore. Till longed to convey his feelings through every beat of his heart.
"I love you so much, I'm afraid of losing you forever, that's why I did this. The doctor said that if you suddenly receive too much stimulation, you could suffer brain damage and permanent memory loss..."
"So what?"
"…Huh?"
"Even with amnesia, I would still love till in the end. Just like I do now."
"Ah... my head hurts so much. My head feels like it's going to explode because of till. Every expression or word of you makes me so tense, my heart aches. And when you are not around, I feel incredibly insecure. My head feels like it's going to split open, it's unbearable."
Ivan's hands trembled as he spoke, almost sobbing. Till felt like it was all a dream. It was hard to believe this adorable person still loved him despite losing his memory. Till blinked a few times, then felt relieved to realize it was reality. He gently licked away the tears that had welled up in Ivan's eyes, like a kitten licking its fur. Hmm, how strange. Why were those tears so sweet?
"It's too sweet."
"Till, don't go anywhere. You won't leave me, will you?"
"Yes. How could I leave someone so lovely...?"
Till gently took Ivan's pitifully trembling hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand. He whispered in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be by your side, Ivan."
"…Here I am, constantly worried about till to the point my lips are dry and I'm restless to death. And yet you lied and said I didn't have a boyfriend. You scoundrel!"
"I'm sorry. From now on, I won't make you feel insecure anymore."
"Then, prove it."
"…"
"Prove how much you love me."
Ivan looked at Till with a pitiful expression, his eyes glistening with tears. Anxiety was still evident on his face. Was it true that Till wasn't tired of him and didn't want to leave him? Was it true that Till didn't want to lie and pretend he didn't know him? These terrible thoughts swirled in his head. Before his unstable lover, who looked like a worried young man in his early twenties, Till wanted to say that wasn't true, that he loved him more than anyone else in the world. Because his lover was so anxious, Till willingly unbuttoned his shirt and gently placed a kiss on Ivan's lips.
"Don't worry anymore. I'll give myself completely to you."
The moment the kiss was exchanged as a sign of permission, Ivan instantly transformed into a ferocious beast, as if he had never cried or thrown a tantrum, and lunged at Till.
"You're responsible for what you said."
"I know, let's go inside..."
"Ha, aah… Ivan…"
"Till, you're so charming..."
Ivan was biting and sucking on till's full nipples while one hand massaged the other. His other hand roughly poked at Till's anus, as if reproaching the tight little hole for neglecting him for a few days. He could feel Ivan's naughty fingers scratching inside the fleshy walls that were receiving him. Till wrapped his arms around Ivan's back, hugging him tightly and moaning incessantly. They had clearly made love before, but now they felt like strangers, which only intensified his excitement. After feeling enough loosening down below, Ivan hastily pulled his penis out of his pants and thrust it in. As if he had no time left, he roughly repeated the thrusting motion. Till's penis was erect and rubbed against Ivan's lower abdomen mercilessly. The bedroom was filled with wet sounds and heavy breathing.
"Ah... That's amazing! How can it be so wonderful!?"
"I only have you, Till. Please don't go. Please love me very much."
Ivan gasped for breath, thrusting her hips and pleading with him. Till bit his lip, whispering a reply.
"Y-yes… I love you too, Ivan… I won't go anywhere. I'll stay by your side…!!"
He was willing to say these words until Till's little lover felt satisfied. Because he was certain he would love him, no matter what he became. Please don't worry or feel insecure.
"Just look at me. Be even more greedy for me… Look closely at who the man above you is right now."
"….Ivan… Ivan… I love you…"
"...Do you like it?"
"Y-yes, I like it... Haa... I think I... Ah...!!"
Ivan thrust his entire penis into the anal cavity, almost all the way in with one thrust. He felt the inside of Till's flesh convulse as he reached climax, but he didn't stop, continuing to thrust as if trying to squeeze his testicles inside him as well.
"Ivan... no... that... wait...!" – Till sobbed, digging his fingernails into Ivan's shoulder.
"It's okay, Till. Just hug me."
Till hugged Ivan tightly, closing his eyes as if about to push herself beyond his limits. Semen, along with a clear fluid, splattered everywhere like a fountain.
He only now realized that Ivan – who was just over twenty and full of energy – wouldn't be able to resist till's temptation, and Ivan had restrained himself greatly, considering till's physical condition and age. He passed out, not even remembering how many times he had ejaculated; he climaxed without ejaculating.
"Did you sleep well, till?"
Till opened his eyes. Seeing Ivan's gentle face calling his name, he knew it was the person he had longed for.
"Ah, you're back."
He felt a deep sense of relief, almost to the point of tears, but at the same time, he also felt a touch of regret at having to say goodbye to the past ivan, his lovely and vibrant lover in his twenties. Till's eyes curved into a smile.
"Ivan, I miss you so much."
…But why does his gaze seem so dangerous?
"You said you really missed me? Yet last night you were moaning so intensely under that guy. You ejaculated several times. I guess you like rough sex, huh?"
"Ah, no..."
"Now that we're back together, you have to love me even more."
Finally, Till was sobbing uncontrollably from early morning under Ivan's body. Ivan wouldn't let go until he heard him say, "I love you more now than I did six years ago."
Till had to do it three times in bed and once more in the bathroom under the pretext of showering together, while repeatedly saying countless times that he loved Ivan the most in the world right now, before he was finally freed.
His whole body felt like it was about to fall apart. Till lay there exhausted, listlessly, intending to count how many times he had "climaxed" yesterday and today, but then stopped. Just the final thrusts alone, delivered mercilessly, must have been several times already... His stamina wasn't bad to begin with, but Ivan's stamina was inhuman.
"Mr. Till swims so often, yet his body is so weak. He probably needs to take some supplements."
After Ivan's comment, Till immediately refused: "Do I have to check the effectiveness of the supplement after taking it? It's just a supplement, no need."
Till and Ivan shared a gentle kiss, then Till leaned back, relaxing his tired body in Ivan's arms. He didn't want to move a finger. Although he desperately wanted to fall asleep immediately, he wanted to feel Ivan regaining his memories, so he reached out and touched his cheek. The cheek was pale and soft. Long eyelashes drooped like curtains, and his eyes sparkled like stars. There was nothing about him that wasn't adorable. It was wonderful that this man loved him… Till wished this moment would last forever.
"If you were to lose your memory..."
"I don't want to imagine that. How could till forget about me?"
"Don't worry. Even if I lose my memory, I'll fall in love with you soon."
"…Me too. Even with my amnesia, I still yearn, still desperately want to have you right in front of me. The longing is relentless, driving me crazy with restlessness. In the past and present, I've never been so infatuated with anyone that I've lost my mind like this."
"I know."
Till reached behind Ivan's back, gently stroking him as if comforting a child. He hoped that any lingering anxieties within him would be washed away like the waves.
"I was really uneasy. You acted as if you were just an ordinary assistant, with no personal relationship whatsoever."
"…I'm sorry. Even though it was for your sake, it made you feel uneasy."
"Don't apologize... Just hold me tight."
"Yes. I love you."
"I love you too, Till."
The two embraced tightly, whispering words of love until Till drifted off to sleep.