With a teasing smile as if mocking Moon Tae-young’s silence, Cha Eui-sung scooped up a spoonful of steaming white stew and put it in his mouth. The temperature—scalding enough to peel the roof of most people’s mouths—hit him instead as a pleasant warmth. The potatoes crumbled softly on his tongue and slid smoothly down his throat in a comforting thickness.
Hoo… Without realizing it, Cha Eui-sung let out a deep sigh, savoring the warmth.
“How is it? Does it taste okay?”
“It’s delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever had something like this before.”
“There were a lot of leftover ingredients, so I figured I’d use them up.”
“Then I guess you’d better keep overstocking from now on.”
Making pointless, nutritionally empty conversation, he continued spooning the stew into his mouth. The subtle, unaggressive flavor filled his empty stomach with steady satisfaction.
“Maybe I should come by every day. Stock up on groceries, just in case.”
“You barely eat, though.”
“I’ve got plenty to talk about too.”
He added that last part casually, as if testing the waters. Moon Tae-young popped a piece of carrot into his mouth without responding. The silence was the same, but this time, his demeanor leaned more toward go ahead and say it than outright rejection. Even for someone as adept at reading people as Cha Eui-sung, he hadn’t expected to become this attuned to Moon Tae-young.
“I know the plan is in motion. Where should I step in?”
Unable to wait, he asked first, a hint of impatience creeping in. Moon Tae-young’s eyes remained fixed on the bowl as he chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. The vegetables were soft enough to melt after a few chews, yet he lingered over them.
“I’ve been thinking it over for the past few days.”
At last, he spoke. His dark eyes were swirling with complex emotions, but his voice remained calm and composed.
“I don’t think it’s feasible for us to enter the dungeon together.”
“That… I understand.”
“But like you mentioned before, I’d like to ask for your help on the information-gathering side.”
“That works for me.”
He had tried to pitch that he could run dungeons too, but he never actually expected Moon Tae-young to take him along. It wasn’t just any place—it was most likely the so-called “Gateway.” And considering Moon Tae-young had mentioned the Control Tower himself, he probably didn’t intend to let anyone in unless absolutely necessary. Even in the off chance he was invited, Cha Eui-sung had already planned to decline. Ever since experiencing the aftereffects of a “Trace,” he’d been approaching dungeons with heightened caution.
Even that Chain Dungeon, which had no connection to the Outer Gods, left me with a bad experience.
Crunch. The broccoli had more bite than expected. Not a single piece was overcooked, despite having supposedly simmered all night. Knowing Moon Tae-young’s personality, he had probably followed the recipe to the letter. If it said to add certain ingredients just before serving, then even if he’d made the stew a week ago, he wouldn’t have tossed those in until right before Cha Eui-sung arrived.
Balancing rules with flexibility was no small feat—Cha Eui-sung knew that all too well. Moon Tae-young was clearly more mature than others his age. Whether it was his environment that had shaped him this way, or if he’d always been terrifyingly smart and poised by nature… Either way, there was something bitter in that realization—perhaps because it made it impossible to look away from him.
If only Moon Tae-young had joined the Hunter Association.
If, in this second life, he had abandoned his grand, self-destructive plans and willingly joined the system… Then maybe Cha Eui-sung would have wanted him—not just for his high status or prestige, but for him.
He might’ve been content letting Oh Se-dan take the spotlight during critical moments, just so long as he could keep Moon Tae-young within reach. At least for a while. Being near him would’ve dulled that boiling hunger for success, that clawing ambition. It’s a chilling thought, but no matter how he turns it over in his mind, it’s true. Instead of feeding his anxiety with unpredictable emotions, Moon Tae-young somehow eased a different kind of unrest that made up who Cha Eui-sung was.
“I trust you, Moon Tae-young.”
“That’s oddly sentimental.”
“The moment you shared all this with me, I was sure you wouldn’t go through with some insane suicide bombing.”
“……”
“I know you don’t have any plans for the future.”
“You don’t either.”
“But after we get our revenge, at least, we’re going to go back to an ordinary life, without leaving any trace.”
As he drove the point home like a nail, Moon Tae-young’s eyes seemed to flicker. Just for a moment.
“That’s only natural. That’s the whole reason I’m doing this.”
His calm voice was comforting. That soft baritone carried not a single note of falsehood.
Just that one little test had been enough to confirm it—after getting his revenge, Moon Tae-young wouldn’t leave behind a single trace. No one would catch him. No one would ever be able to lock him away, chip his arm, or pull his strings like a puppet.
Maybe in the past, he’d thought differently. But now, he had a lover. He had him.
As that fact settled in his mind, Cha Eui-sung’s chest burned with heat—and yet a flicker of doubt followed. He was only a 75% lover, after all. The one the Gauge was originally fixated on—his past lover—must’ve been a good quarter more precious, more important.
And yet Moon Tae-young had committed a reckless act and become a criminal? That didn’t add up. What the hell had happened to him in the past?
“What if… it wasn’t always so certain?”
Cha Eui-sung stirred the remaining stew idly as if the thought had just occurred to him, then voiced it aloud. The hypothetical was too grim to pass as a fleeting comment. Moon Tae-young’s hand paused mid-motion.
“What if you went somewhere and just let your fists fly? Didn’t care what came next. Let yourself burn with your rage and go down with the flames?”
He cast a sidelong glance—Moon Tae-young’s face was still, expressionless. Was he hiding his guilt? Or was the question so absurd that it didn’t even deserve acknowledgment?
But if he assumed that Moon Tae-young’s past revenge had failed, then the answer to that question was obvious: Yes.
Moon Tae-young had hurt someone. He hadn’t received a life sentence or the death penalty, possibly because there were extenuating circumstances. Or maybe he had received a comparable punishment—but was released early because he was deemed useful. Or perhaps…
He hadn’t been Awakened yet at the time of the crime?
If that were the case, he might’ve completed a prison sentence, gained his freedom, and then awakened. Even with a criminal record and an implant chip in his arm, he’d have been given some degree of autonomy. Just enough to finish his assignments and training… and then finally go looking for his lover.
“We’re going soon, right?”
“Yeah, we have to.”
“Hmph…”
“Sorry. I’m still figuring things out. I’m slow.”
Suddenly, the memory from the skill surfaced—the conversation between the two from long ago. If they were so madly in love yet had to stay apart for a long time, that meant there were restrictions on their living arrangements. Moon Tae-young had likely been forced to stay near Seoul, close to the Bureau of Regulation or the Hunter Association HQ. He would’ve had to report his location regularly, follow all the commands given to him.
The past that had only ever lived in Cha Eui-sung’s imagination was finally beginning to take shape. His hand clenched unconsciously—and he ended up bending his spoon out of shape.
Right in front of Moon Tae-young.
Flustered, Cha Eui-sung tried to press the now-pathetically warped spoon back into shape, like some tragic fool out of a bizarre folk tale.
“…Sorry.”
“What the hell were you thinking about?”
“About you. Being chained up by Hephaestus and dragged away.”
“Why the hell would you… that’s not even—what’re you imagining things for?”
He gave an awkward laugh, and the chilly atmosphere thawed a bit. Moon Tae-young simply shook his head and returned to his meal.
Cha Eui-sung, however, had lost his appetite. He put the spoon down and quietly watched him eat. Imagining what it’d be like to smudge that too-clean pair of glasses with his own fingerprints.
What a joke, that guy too.
It was impossible not to mock Moon Tae-young’s “real” lover. What kind of tragic backstory must they have to be holed up in some remote nowhere, just waiting for Moon Tae-young to show up? This wasn’t some fairy tale with a princess asleep in the woods. If they missed him that much, they could’ve just gotten up and walked to him on those two legs.
What—was there an oil reserve under their basement or something? If not, then what the hell were they doing, claiming to ache for him so badly but not even moving house for his sake?
They’re hiding something shady, clearly.
In any case, freaks had a way of finding each other. Just like him and Moon Tae-young.
***
“You said you wanted to watch TV.”
“Mmm, I am watching.”
“With eyes on the back of your head?”
“Hehe, hahaha.”
Cha Eui-sung didn’t go home that night. Instead, he scrubbed away every trace of dust and sweat in Moon Tae-young’s bathroom, then, with wet hair dripping intermittently, climbed onto his lap.
Holding him like this felt absurdly good. His arms wrapped tightly around him—and best of all, from this angle, he could look down at him.
Hoo…
As a languid sense of release spread through his limbs, Cha Eui-sung exhaled slowly. Embracing him, being embraced by him—it was a strangely satisfying act, almost inexplicably so.
And whenever Moon Tae-young’s lips brushed against his neck or collarbone like they were now, Cha Eui-sung could forget his worries for a moment, floating just slightly above the weight of reality.
The glasses that usually hid his face were long gone, lying somewhere on the floor, lenses smudged with at least three distinct fingerprints.
“You like me?”
“Would you quit teasing me?”
He joked while gripping his shoulders tight, and in response, the arms wrapped around him tightened as if trying to crush him. The sensation—like he’d never be released unless those arms were cut off—was strangely reassuring.
“I told you. I like you because you’re strong, Tae-young.”
“Stop saying weird stuff like that. You sound like some old man.”
For a second, Moon Tae-young actually made a face, like the idea physically pained him Cha Eui-sung let out a laugh, mentally erasing a few lingering contacts that had been floating around in the back of his mind.
