The moonlit night was bright. Strangely enough, not even the sound of crickets could be heard nearby.
The first thing that caught the eye was the neatly styled hair, so immaculate it made the late hour feel irrelevant.
Cha Eui-sung’s gaze lingered for a moment on the flawless hairstyle, not a single strand out of place.
Next came the clothes—pressed and pristine from collar to hem. Oh Se-dan, just like back in his days at the Association, wore a crisp suit with his usual meticulousness.
His dark navy jacket shimmered with an oddly ethereal glow under the moonlight.
“Good evening.”
Cha Eui-sung forced down his nerves and returned the greeting in a casual tone.
A well-chiseled face curved into a faint smile, as if genuinely pleased.
Even that hollow smile, like a well-worn mask, hadn’t changed a bit. Cha Eui-sung slowly took in the man before him, a strange feeling welling up inside.
For someone who had just raced from Seoul to this rural place, he looked too composed. Something about his presence made Eui-sung’s throat hum with tension.
He suddenly remembered their first meeting. Back then, he hadn’t carried this kind of weight in Oh Se-dan’s eyes.
“Come in.”
No pointless questions like Who are you? or Do you know what time it is? were uttered.
Both of them had already anticipated this meeting. No point putting on a false show—such tactics only worked on people who still cared about appearances.
The Oh Se-dan Cha Eui-sung knew wasn’t someone easily manipulated. That’s precisely why he had risen so far at a young age, why even with the special perks of an Awakened rank and Regression, he’d barely managed to edge him out.
Once again, Cha Eui-sung was struck by just how difficult this man was to deal with.
Well, I didn’t exactly think he’d show up unannounced like this.
He figured the guy would call at some ungodly hour to stir up trouble, not pay a surprise visit—especially not without even a hint of threat.
But what could he do? Apparently, the little prank had left quite the impression. He’d already come all this way.
In truth, he’d been waiting for him.
Cha Eui-sung scratched the back of his neck and turned around. His hair was a mess, his clothes casual and wrinkled—he looked every bit like someone who’d just rolled out of bed, utterly unguarded as he turned his back.
He strolled leisurely across the yard, and behind him, he could hear the soft click of the gate closing and the faint rustle of footsteps trying to stay quiet.
A chill crept down his spine, but instead of tensing, he deliberately relaxed his shoulders.
Showing nerves around someone like this was no different from volunteering to be prey.
“You’re pretty early.”
Now that he was here, even 3 a.m. felt less like a late night and more like the beginning of a new day—one that left no room for returning to sleep.
Oh Se-dan, picking up on the dry quip, let out a perfunctory chuckle and took a step forward. A bold one.
The space between them closed by half a pace.
Cha Eui-sung instinctively felt his hair stand on end but barely managed to suppress the reaction.
Damn it.
Pretending to be calm might prove harder than he thought.
Please, he hoped, don’t notice this tension. Let me hold my ground in this quiet conversation laced with hidden blades.
The mix of interest and wariness made the corner of his mouth twitch.
Click. A faint sound accompanied the sudden illumination of the living room.
Tacky wallpaper and old furniture came into view all at once.
There was nothing special about the place—it was a modest, lived-in home. The kind that felt right at home in a rural village like Cheongseri.
The house had been almost sterile before, untouched and lifeless, but ever since Moon Tae-young started visiting, it had begun to feel like someone actually lived here.
Dust-covered furnishings had seen human hands again. Even the spots the owner never sat in had grown reasonably clean.
He hadn’t wanted to make Moon Tae-young stay in a place that felt like some abandoned motel. So he’d tried, in his own way, to tidy up.
“Yaaawn. Have a seat there.”
Cha Eui-sung made a big show of yawning as he gestured to the dining table.
He acted as if having a heavyweight like Oh Se-dan in his home wasn’t even worth blinking over.
When he opened the fridge, bits of leftover vegetables and meat peeked through their containers.
Leftovers from dinner with Moon Tae-young—oddly, it made the fridge feel pleasantly domestic.
A few months ago, the place would’ve looked unmistakably empty. And that would’ve been far more suspicious.
“Juice? Coffee?”
“Water’s fine.”
“Figures. I only have instant mix anyway. You strike me as the short-black type.”
At the sudden call-out of a preference he’d never mentioned aloud, a flicker of something crossed Oh Se-dan’s expression.
Less How did you know that? and more Why would you say that out loud?
Because I want to look impressive, that’s why.
Cha Eui-sung was puffing up his fur—doing everything he could to make himself seem bigger.
He didn’t know whether it was working or if it was completely transparent, but at the very least, he didn’t want to come off as someone clueless, someone easily taken advantage of.
Oh Se-dan wasn’t the type to relax just because an opponent seemed weak. Undermining himself wouldn’t do him any good.
This was a meeting he’d dreaded and anticipated ever since the Regression. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as laughable.
Drip—
In the stillness of the house, the sound of water being poured echoed clearly. Soon, two glasses of water were placed on the table.
“I’m having juice. Sugar lifts my mood.”
Chatting brightly about something no one had asked, Cha Eui-sung plopped down across from him.
Only then did he bother to smooth down his messy hair. He took a gulp of orange juice.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
The question came after a long pause, and Oh Se-dan responded with a soft smile. He was openly surveying the house, matching the mood of the conversation without reserve.
Cha Eui-sung, meanwhile, mentally logged every spot those eyes touched—
The living room wall. The TV shelf. The trash can next to the sink. The bathroom entrance. The clutter atop the dining table.
He was probably checking inside the fridge, inspecting the cups. Cha Eui-sung didn’t know what information he might’ve gathered, but he could guess that the man had quickly discerned that he didn’t come with hostile intent.
“I figured I’d take the liberty, since you called me here.”
“No need for formalities. Having someone like you visit is an honor.”
“Still, I trust you understand—this place isn’t exactly a sanctuary.”
“And what makes you think that?”
Like two people fencing with words, their conversation danced with veiled barbs—until Oh Se-dan stopped replying and simply took a drink of water.
As if certain there was nothing mixed into it. As if completely unconcerned. As if he saw no need to explain the basis for that confidence.
Now that’s something I’d really like to know.
Even in his second life, Cha Eui-sung’s home was still quiet, still devoid of warmth. Even with furniture filling the rooms, it felt cold. He had an eye for decor, sure, but no talent or interest in maintaining it.
Once again, it was hard to tell what had tipped Oh Se-dan off.
He would’ve liked to know what to fix for next time. Pity.
“Anyway, I’m glad we could finally meet. I suppose I should introduce myself—”
“Let’s skip that. We both know who we’re dealing with. Neither of us are the type to waste time.”
Cha Eui-sung cut him off mid-sentence. Still, Oh Se-dan’s smile didn’t fade.
It was… what was the word—alert. Keenly aware.
He’d already noticed it. That this brown-haired man in front of him not only planned things the way he did, but spoke with the same rhythm. The same cadence.
Well, of course. I copied everything from you, after all.
Cha Eui-sung intertwined his fingers and leaned back comfortably, a dry thought flitting through his mind—he wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or self-deprecation.
The calm face. The confident demeanor. The sharp intuition and quick wit. All traits Oh Se-dan admired.
He often divided people into two categories: those useful to his life, and those who weren’t.
Tap. Tap. His index finger drummed lightly on the glass table.
Fuck. So even that little habit of thinking while tapping your finger—that came from him too, huh.
Cha Eui-sung folded his hand just before he could slap his thigh in frustration, letting out a small smile to chase away his irritation.
“No need for me to explain why I’m here. You already know.”
“And I suspect you also know why I know.”
“Honestly, I was a little surprised. Wasn’t the reaction I expected.”
“Likewise. Who’d have guessed today would start so early.”
As the conversation volleyed back and forth with practiced ease, Oh Se-dan’s sharp, intelligent features stood out even more.
Watching his familiar expression, Cha Eui-sung almost let a smirk slip.
Yep. That’s a look that says ‘I’m intrigued.’
It meant he’d once again found value in him—had seen something worth his interest.
He’d picked up on it with just that short exchange. That this wasn’t about threats or begging—this was an equal offer.
And that Cha Eui-sung believed he’d accept it without question.
Even though I’m technically a criminal here.
It wasn’t the arrogant delusion of someone who couldn’t tell shit from sugar. It was the confidence of someone who recognized one of his own.
And Oh Se-dan, apparently, had no trouble reading that.
Of course he’s different.
You don’t meet people like this every day. People who can grasp what you mean without you ever needing to say it.
They were unicorns.
Wait, weren’t unicorns said to gore people to death with their horns?
He wasn’t sure if he should be thrilled or terrified.
There was a reason things always got icy and tense when the two of them clashed back in the Association.
In any case, he hadn’t been wrong to follow Oh Se-dan once. Hadn’t been wrong to hold him up as a success story worth aspiring to.
For once, Cha Eui-sung gave some grudging credit to his younger self, who hadn’t known jack shit but still had good instincts.
“I like it.”
“…Sorry?”
That moment, Oh Se-dan spoke with an unexpectedly gentle tone.
‘Like it’? There’s no way.
There’s no way a guy like him would feel positively about someone interfering with his work.
If he was going to spout empty flattery, he could’ve at least put more effort into it.
Cha Eui-sung clicked his tongue inwardly and met his gaze—then, for the first time, his own calm expression faltered slightly.
Huh?
The smile on Oh Se-dan’s face had deepened.
It wasn’t a throwaway line after all.
There was something deliberate, even calculating, in that unfamiliar show of approval.
