“Haah—feels good.”
Cha Eui-sung arrived at Cheongseri feeling light, both in body and mind. It was later than he expected, but after a refreshing shower, the washing machine—which he had set beforehand—started playing its cheerful tune.
He fished through the freshly spun laundry, inspecting each piece to check for any lingering red stains, when he heard a presence just outside the door.
He’s here.
Grinning, he tossed the damp clothes wherever and opened the door. As expected, it was Moon Tae-young.
“You’re here earlier than I thought. Why are you just standing out here? You could’ve knocked.”
“You seemed busy,” Moon Tae-young replied.
How long had he been standing there? Had he heard the water running? Cha Eui-sung ran a hand through his wet hair, then stepped aside to let him in. Moon Tae-young responded with a faint, awkward tug at the corner of his mouth—a stiff sort of smile.
Once inside, his guest glanced around quickly. His eyes flinched, just slightly, at the garish wallpaper and well-worn furnishings.
What’s he so surprised about?
Maybe the place really was too shabby for someone like him. Could it be that this ugly wallpaper was actually exclusive to this house? That unsettling suspicion crept in. It was nothing major, but it kept nagging at him.
“Well then, pardon the intrusion.”
“Nothing to pardon. Just sit wherever. It’s something I picked up in town, so it’s cooled a bit, but not cold. Should still be fine.”
Moon Tae-young’s eyes briefly paused on Cha Eui-sung’s clothes. Maybe it was because his shirt had gotten damp from his hair, but suddenly, Cha Eui-sung felt self-conscious. The plain white T-shirt he was wearing seemed extra baggy and worn.
He gave it a few brisk shakes to smooth it out, then pulled out a chair and sat across from Moon Tae-young.
On the wide plate were two whole chickens, a generous heap of dried fruit, and beside them, two bottles of dark, heavy-looking liquor.
“I prepped a little something special for today,” Cha Eui-sung said with a grin. He flicked one of the bottles with the back of his hand. It was pitch-black and suspiciously unmarked—no label or branding of any kind.
“This is…”
It was probably his first time seeing something like it, but Moon Tae-young seemed to recognize it anyway. His brows furrowed.
Of course. It had to be Hunter-only bootleg liquor. Nothing else would look this shady. Homemade brews were usually stored in clear glass containers, and commercial alcohol was easy to get anywhere, as long as you were of age.
The look in Moon Tae-young’s eyes, behind his glasses, stabbed at Cha Eui-sung like a silent accusation—like he was done pretending not to notice.
“Nothing like booze for a day like this, right?”
Ignoring the scrutiny, Cha Eui-sung gave a shameless smile and tore off the wax seal. A sharp, rich aroma instantly spread through the cramped room.
He poured the dark brown liquid into a cup already filled with ice.
“Oh, and by the way—this one’s not for sale. It doesn’t even have a listed price. I paid ten thousand won per bottle. Fair game, yeah?”
Since it wasn’t something you could look up a market value for—and was illegal anyway—who was going to question the price? It wasn’t like either of them was going to blab about it.
“Do we really have to drink?”
“If you’re not comfortable, you can just have soda. Honestly, I only went through the trouble because I wanted a drink.”
Smiling reassuringly, Cha Eui-sung lifted his cup and took a sip.
Moon Tae-young grimaced, as if watching his own actions reflected in someone else.
Gulp.
The burning, fragrant liquor slid down his throat. A pleasant tremor ran through his entire body.
“Haah…”
He exhaled slowly, almost unconsciously.
It’s been so long.
During his Second Life, he’d barely touched alcohol. He hated the feeling of being foggy-headed, so he’d only ever had a sip here and there, just for the taste.
His mind always had to stay sharp. If any opportunity came up—even on a weekend—he had to rush out and seize it.
But now that he’d returned once again, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.
If he’d known that living like an ascetic monk and racking up achievements every day would all get wiped out anyway, he’d have just said “screw it” and enjoyed himself.
This strong drink, reawakened after so long, amplified the sense of liberation he was already feeling.
“People say alcohol isn’t great, but come on—who the hell lives every moment of all 365 days completely sober? Right?”
He had already downed half his cup in an instant. With a cheeky smile, he sought agreement.
Moon Tae-young’s expression relaxed just a little. Maybe he appreciated the effort to engage him in conversation, because his demeanor shifted—just a bit more cooperative now.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally reached out.
Clink—
His Adam’s apple moved with a low, deliberate swallow.
Cha Eui-sung set his own glass down and quietly watched Moon Tae-young drink.
“There’s a strange aroma to it. Doesn’t smell like grain.”
“Well, Hunter booze isn’t made with just alcohol.”
“It’s pretty strong, too.”
“If you’re feeling unsure, just taste it and stop there. I get it—you might be scared of what could happen if you get drunk in front of me.”
Cha Eui-sung spoke with a smirk and a look that said he totally understood, deliberately pushing his buttons. Moon Tae-young scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching in disbelief.
By now, he had probably figured out that Cha Eui-sung hadn’t spiked the food or pulled any shady tricks with the house.
With a soft clink of ice, Moon Tae-young took another sip. And he didn’t just sip—the level in his glass dropped noticeably, as if to make a point.
Quite a bit of time passed.
Yet aside from some low-key probing, the two still hadn’t had much of a real conversation.
The chicken they’d used as a pretext for drinking was barely touched. Only a few pieces of dried fruit had disappeared from the platter.
The alcohol, though? One and a half bottles had already vanished.
Cha Eui-sung’s face had grown visibly heavy-lidded, his eyelids drooping more by the minute.
The liquor was good—very good—but really, it had turned into something of a drinking contest after his earlier provocation.
Compared to him… Moon Tae-young looked pretty damn sober. At some point, the rhythm of matching each other shot-for-shot had subtly shifted, and now only Cha Eui-sung was steadily getting drunk.
…Or at least that’s what he’d think, right?
Cha Eui-sung leaned back in his chair, slowly chewing on a dried cranberry, eyes relaxed. His flushed cheeks and reddened lips made him look drunk as hell, but his mind was sharp.
You think I’d actually let myself get wasted with this bastard sitting in front of me? Not a chance.
This kind of Hunter-grade bootleg liquor was practically poison—specifically brewed to mess with your head. Which was why, naturally, there was an antidote for it. He’d taken it well before Moon Tae-young even arrived.
Faking drunkenness? He’d done it more than enough times before.
He exaggerated every deep sigh, kept fidgeting with his ears and hair like someone embarrassed by their own clumsiness, and let his body subtly lean forward more and more.
He even made sure his eye movements gave away that he was still thinking, like someone whose drunken mind couldn’t keep their poker face straight.
Apparently, Moon Tae-young had bought it. He’d started tracking Cha Eui-sung’s refilled and emptied glass more closely.
“Hmph. This is actually the first time I’ve ever drunk with someone else like this.”
Cha Eui-sung said it in a voice overly clean and crisp—like he was trying to prove he wasn’t as drunk as he looked.
Moon Tae-young, who’d been nodding along absently, froze for a second.
First time?
He stared at Cha Eui-sung curiously, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“Now that I think about it… how old are you, exactly?”
“Uh, me? Twenty-two.”
“Twenty… two.”
Since aging slowed drastically the moment you Awakened, it was hard to guess anyone’s age based on looks.
Take Kim Jeong-baek, for example—he should’ve had a face full of wrinkles based on his lifestyle and age, but his A-rank Awakening had kept him looking like a damn peach.
Moon Tae-young had probably assumed Cha Eui-sung was older than he actually was. And as soon as the “twenty-two” came out, his previously neutral expression shifted.
Is he annoyed that I’m younger and talking to him like we’re equals? What, like some crusty old boomer?
If that was the case, it was honestly unfair.
Cha Eui-sung had gone through two regressions—this was his third life. Add up all the time he’d lived, and he had Moon Tae-young beat by a mile.
So while he couldn’t exactly say it out loud… he was the older one here. And that look in Moon Tae-young’s eyes was pissing him off.
“What does age have to do with anything, really?”
“When did you Awaken?”
“Not long ago. What about you, Moon Tae-young?”
Good call playing drunk.
Moon Tae-young was finally starting to ask personal questions.
Normally, they’d just snap at each other—no way would they trade this kind of info. But with the alcohol flowing, the questions started slipping out across the table.
“Who knows. Don’t really remember exactly.”
“Huh?”
“One day I just… was Awakened. Whether you believe that or not.”
Wow. If you weren’t planning to answer seriously, then just say nothing. Why bother spewing half-assed lies?
Cha Eui-sung remembered everything—the exact moment he first Awakened as an F-rank, and then again upon his death, when he Reawakened.
Every Hunter remembered it. When you Awakened, the taste and smell of the world, the colors and sensations—everything changed.
How could anyone forget something like that?
Cha Eui-sung’s face twisted with thinly veiled irritation.
Moon Tae-young suddenly smiled. Not his usual polite smirk, but a genuine curve that even reached the corners of his eyes.
Apparently something about this was amusing to him.
“I’ve got a question. I feel like if I ask now, you’ll actually answer it.”
“What is it?”
“Kim Seo-ryong. She’s not really your niece, is she?”
The flicker of excitement on Cha Eui-sung’s face dimmed slightly.
But even under Moon Tae-young’s curious gaze, filtered through clear glasses, he stayed calm.
“That’s right. Never tried to hide it.”
“Most people wouldn’t move to some remote countryside just to look after someone else’s niece.”
“…”
Instead of answering, Cha Eui-sung drained what was left in his glass.
He tapped his fingers on the table with his left hand, like someone hesitating.
Finally, he licked his lips and spoke again.
“Yeah, that’d be unusual. But… to me, they really are like family.”
“You’re close, huh.”
“They’re the closest thing I have to family, actually. I’ve got no parents, no siblings.”
Cha Eui-sung smiled as he said it.
Moon Tae-young’s eyes widened slightly.
Clink—
As if to fill the silence, the ice in the now-empty glass collapsed inward.
