When he was young, his textbooks had taught him that Korea was a country with four distinct seasons. But even though the first day of autumn had already passed, the lukewarm air showed no signs of cooling.
Winter would probably sneak up again just like that. High-ranking Awakened didn’t really care about temperature, so if you weren’t paying attention, you could miss the changing of the seasons entirely.
Maybe that’s why. At some point, Cha Eui-sung had started sensing the passage of time by how long the daylight lasted. When night suddenly started falling early, that’s when people began pulling out their heavier clothes.
“You don’t pay attention to anything around you, yet you still somehow manage to keep perfectly in step with the seasons, huh?”
“Huh?”
“Do you search stuff like that online? ‘What to wear depending on the temperature,’ that kind of thing.”
“Stop talking nonsense and be careful. Cut back on taking requests from outsiders for the time being, too.”
It was the season for Awakened crackdowns again. Around this time, the already tedious dungeon entry protocols and item distribution procedures became even more restrictive, giving both the Hunter Association and the Bureau of Regulation a hellish workload.
Fortunately, he wasn’t being worked to the bone by either side at the moment. Cha Eui-sung stood up and cracked his joints, looking refreshed and satisfied.
“Seo-ryong. Doesn’t it seem like your teacher’s going to be late again today?”
“Yup. I told Chansol-oppa that if he threw clay at me one more time, I wouldn’t be going home until night.”
She seemed completely smitten with the toy doctor set he’d picked up at the kids’ store. Kim Seo-ryong hadn’t taken her eyes off the thing once.
To think he could get such a great reaction without doing anything fancy. You couldn’t get more efficient and cost-effective than this.
If only Moon Tae-young were twenty years younger, he might’ve been easier to deal with too. With a futile wish, Cha Eui-sung pressed his wide-brimmed hat down low and stepped outside.
This makes ten days, doesn’t it?
Ten days had passed since he’d turned Lee Sang-jo into a flamingo and dealt with the aftermath. He’d left Cheongseri almost immediately and spent close to a week in Seoul. After returning, he’d holed up for about three days.
During all that time, Moon Tae-young had only reached out once—and even that was an indirect greeting relayed through Seo-ryong. No calls, no questions, nothing before or after.
With a few days to reflect on it, he realized that in its own way, that was a gesture of consideration. A roundabout message telling him: I won’t pressure you, so report in when you’re ready.
Moon Tae-young knew. That Cha Eui-sung would pick up on that without needing it spelled out.
So he’s got me pegged pretty well, huh.
It was oddly amusing—this certainty shared between two people who didn’t even know each other’s deepest secrets. As if they’d already built a strange, mutual understanding while filling about a third of their Savior Gauge.
He must’ve told himself a hundred times that it would’ve been easier if Moon Tae-young hadn’t discovered he was an Awakened. But when moments like this came up, it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant.
Maybe that’s why everything involving Moon Tae-young came with mixed emotions. One second he wanted to punch the guy, and the next, he kinda liked him. Sometimes it was enjoyable, other times deeply uncomfortable. That’s how it had been ever since he came down to Cheongseri.
This round of Regression really was messed up from the System on down. With a long sigh, Cha Eui-sung started walking again.
***
The branch school, long past dinnertime, looked quiet and still even from a distance.
Knock knock.
A short, sharp knock—distinct enough to identify the person by sound alone—echoed through the door. Inside, came the faint rustle of turning papers.
“Yes.”
The curt response, as if giving permission to enter without bothering to check, wasn’t like him. Normally, he’d block the entrance and insist on opening the door himself.
“You look busy.”
Meeting Moon Tae-young for the first time since the incident, Cha Eui-sung found him the same as ever—utterly normal. Like someone entirely detached from the world of the Bureau of Regulation or murder, Tae-young calmly flipped papers and typed on his keyboard.
“I’m here to pay for the blankets.”
The moment he casually mentioned compensation, Tae-young’s eyes flicked sharply toward him from the monitor. As if he’d been waiting, he shut the file folder and stood.
“It’s been a while. Have a seat.”
At least his greeting was normal.
Click. A small bottle of apple juice landed on the tea table. Following the long arm that placed it there, Cha Eui-sung found Moon Tae-young’s expressionless face—somehow more prominent than usual.
Sitting across from each other with the table in between, the two men silently stared at one another.
It was Cha Eui-sung who broke the silence first.
“I’ve spent the past few days watching nothing but TV. Didn’t skip a single channel that had the news.”
“Yeah.”
“Kept refreshing portal sites nonstop. I think I read every article with the word ‘Bureau of Regulation’ in it.”
“……”
“Honestly, I felt relieved. I lost count of how many times I worried about what I’d do if shady people were crawling all over my neighborhood. But there was nothing. Clean. No strange activity around here, nothing weird outside my place, nothing on the news.”
Finishing his thought, Eui-sung twisted open the juice cap with a crisp pop and took a few gulps. Tae-young, who’d been staring solely at his lips, took the chance to respond.
It came out like a rehearsed line—a bureaucratic consolation spoken with machine-like precision.
“You must’ve gone through a lot, getting caught up in such a bizarre situation. But since everything’s been resolved, there’s nothing more to worry about.”
Exactly what he expected. It didn’t move him one bit. Clinking the juice bottle against the table, Cha Eui-sung gave a flat reply.
“It wasn’t unintentional. That’s why I got hurt.”
“…Sorry?”
“I mean, I don’t like you that much, Moon Tae-young, but I still didn’t want to just let you get taken.”
His bluntness was uncharacteristic. Tae-young’s composed face briefly showed discomfort.
“I know it was reckless, but I feel like we’re in the same boat now.”
“There is no boat.”
“I’ve been watching you for months. You should know better than to say something that obviously won’t work on me.”
“What’s the point of dredging up something that’s already over?”
“‘Dredging up’? That gives me too much credit. I’m not that interested in you. I’m just asking for a breakdown of what happened.”
“……”
“Not knowing makes me more anxious.”
Still rubbing the juice label between his fingers, Eui-sung slowly turned his gaze forward. Under a certain angle of light, his eyes glinted with a curious golden hue.
Tae-young, unable to read him, studied his face in silence—then finally sighed in defeat.
“…Guess I don’t have a choice.”
A reaction he’d half-expected.
In a world that should’ve remained still, this had been a wave that should never have formed.
One day, Lee Sang-jo somehow discovered Moon Tae-young’s status as an Awakened through means no one could understand.
Lee wasn’t just out to catch Unregistered Awakened—he wanted to go after Awakened criminals too. It seemed he had hoped to slap all sorts of charges on Tae-young to boost his personal record.
But the plan didn’t go smoothly. And as if that weren’t bad enough, Cha Eui-sung got involved and threw everything off. Growing desperate, Lee tried to take a hostage to restrain Tae-young.
Unfortunately for him, Cha Eui-sung was also a high-ranking Awakened. Surprise!—and Lee Sang-jo’s leg vanished.
Thus unfolded the bloody incident in peaceful, quiet Cheongseri. At least, that’s how Moon Tae-young told it.
“By the time I went back, he was already dead. I couldn’t let both of us get dragged in, so I took care of it.”
Doesn’t it strike you as weird that you treated the survivor before doing anything about the corpse?
“I gave you a sedative with calming properties. You seemed… pretty shaken.”
Says who? I was perfectly calm—and you’re the only “witness.”
Eui-sung bit his lip rather than argue, but Tae-young’s gaze immediately pierced him. He shook his head slightly, as if to caution him—then suddenly paused.
“Ah. Sorry. It’s a habit…”
This bastard almost got smug with me.
Eui-sung gave a half-hearted gesture of “it’s fine” and pressed his palm over his eyes.
“Anyway… thanks. Must’ve been hard to explain all that.”
“No, I should’ve said something sooner. But watching you struggle to fall asleep that night… I figured I’d wait until you asked.”
“Right, it was tough… Huh?”
Eui-sung had been nodding along—then snapped his eyes wide open.
Tough? Who? Me?
He’d seen way worse. A single leg flying off wasn’t enough to rattle him.
But just as he was about to frown and refute it, Tae-young finished his sentence in a low voice.
“It’s not the kind of experience you forget easily… But you’re a rational man, Cha Eui-sung.”
That gentle mix of advice and warning left Eui-sung with only one possible reply.
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I fell asleep early that night.”
And just like that, the timing to press further passed him by.
Only after Cha Eui-sung locked in that final line did the tension finally drain from Tae-young’s eyes. The taut air between them also seemed to relax.
Maybe some of his nerves had finally settled. Tae-young turned his head slowly, gazing out the window with a trace of guilt in his eyes.
“Cha Eui-sung.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I should’ve said that first.”
The unexpected sincerity in that quiet thanks surprised him.
It must’ve been unsettling for Moon Tae-young too—seeing someone dive in to save him like that. Regardless of whether it had helped, he was grateful for the hand that had reached out.
Tae-young stared at him for a while, then abruptly shifted his eyes to his watch, almost as if embarrassed.
“If you don’t mind… I have some more work to take care of.”
Even though it was a clear dismissal, for some reason, it felt like he could get away with staying a little longer. Relaxing his stiff back, Eui-sung sank deep into the sofa.
“You really do seem busy. Seo-ryong said you’re here late most nights these days.”
“I probably will be for a while.”
“……”
“There’s a sudden flood of tasks I’d been putting off.”
“……”
“This place is old, and it’s been understaffed for years. A lot of the records haven’t even been digitized.”
“……”
“How much do you want to know?”
“Haha.”
When Eui-sung’s bright brown eyes curved in amusement, Tae-young no longer seemed to mind the presence of an uninvited guest.
“Just go about your work. Don’t worry about me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“……”
“……”
“But they seriously expect you to do all that alone?”
“……”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“……”
