“Just one more thing. I need a real answer to this one.”
The quiet fury had settled. For someone like him—who never flared up quickly only to cool down just as fast—it was a rather unexpected shift.
Cha Eui-sung nodded, feeling a ticklish gaze grazing the nape of his neck.
It was suspicious, the way the man had just let go of something that shouldn’t be brushed aside, but since he was offering to let it go, there was no need to push it.
Not that I know how he plans to solve it once he finds out…
He figured if he kept digging, something would come up eventually. Right now, he was too busy trying to smooth over the blunder he’d made in the heat of emotion.
“Go ahead. Ask.”
He forced his voice to sound even more confident, trying not to show how rattled he’d been. As soon as he felt like he’d dodged a bullet, his mind began regaining its usual calm.
It wasn’t until coming here and facing Moon Tae-young again that Cha Eui-sung realized just how terrible he was at emotional confrontations. He’d gotten a hint of it before, when even Kim Jeong-baek—someone he always thought of as inferior when it came to strategy—had offered him advice.
I never had a hard time dealing with people I was planning to use and throw away.
He realized now just how lopsided those ten years of experience had been.
If you wanted to put a positive spin on it, you could say he’d just been too busy to build any relationships outside of work. But really, whether it was his first life or his second, there’d never been anyone he’d gotten this close to.
Sure, plenty of people had approached him—but no one had been like Moon Tae-young. The closest might have been Oh Se-dan, but all he ever learned from her was how to use people and discard them.
While Cha Eui-sung sat there floundering in an unfamiliar emotional domain, Moon Tae-young’s expression grew heavy again, as if weighing how to say what he was about to say.
His lips parted briefly, and he let the words out like a sigh.
With his expression wiped clean, his flawless face looked like it had been carved from marble.
“What happened that day?”
“That day…?”
Shit. Don’t tell me he’s talking about the day I came back to Cheongseri.
He got it immediately, but he stalled for time by asking back. When every second counted and his head was a mess, this was how he bought breathing room—naturally.
Of course, against someone similar, you’d usually just get told to quit stalling and answer already…
Look at those eyes.
Yeah, just like that. Moon Tae-young squinted slightly, staring at him like he wasn’t buying any of it, like he was silently telling him to quit pretending he didn’t understand.
His gaze felt even more cornering than when he’d asked about the whole “Hero” thing. There was no way this guy didn’t understand how serious this was.
Maybe he saw that offhand future plan Cha Eui-sung had thrown out earlier as depending on this moment. If this guy was even slightly suspicious of that kind of situation, it’d be frustrating—but not exactly out of the question.
Staring back at Moon Tae-young’s face as it gradually turned to stone, Cha Eui-sung carefully selected what he could and couldn’t say.
“A… friend? I guess you’d call them that? Anyway, I met someone I know. Got some help from them, so we ended up drinking a bit during the day.”
“A Hunter, I assume. Then?”
It was hard to understand how he could so quickly arrive at that conclusion, even knowing Cha Eui-sung was living off-grid as an unregistered Awakened.
He hadn’t even asked “Was it a Hunter?”—he went straight for “A Hunter, I assume.”
“He’s not usually like that, but lately he’s been weirdly into cologne. Sprays it on like crazy.”
“To the point where your clothes reek of it even after being apart for a while?”
“Not that bad. But we did shake hands. I was grateful, after all.”
“Just a handshake?”
“A hug too, well… I’m not really into physical contact, but we were drinking, and yeah, I was genuinely thankful.”
Saying it out loud made it sound weird. He figured he’d better not mention the part where the guy kept whispering and trying to feed him snacks.
It had been a strictly business meeting—but Moon Tae-young, not knowing the full picture, might not take it that way.
Hell, even he had felt irritated after realizing that the man in the memory handed to him via Skill was Moon Tae-young. The way Moon Tae-young looked and acted in that memory had clashed hard with the image he’d had in his head.
That he’d been the one stuck to Moon Tae-young’s side in that memory? That had been shocking enough—but he’d managed to accept it pretty smoothly, probably because things had been too chaotic at the time.
Honestly? That version of events was better.
The idea of some mysterious “fated lover” guarding Moon Tae-young was far less appealing than the thought that, after all the roundabout paths, it was him—the damn Demon King bastard—who’d end up sticking by his side.
Fuck. I really must like this guy.
Replaying that already-known truth in his head, Cha Eui-sung felt like he was sinking into a swamp.
“…A drink, a hug, and holding hands… Yeah, sure, sounds like nothing.”
Moon Tae-young said, clearly not buying it, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Cha Eui-sung glanced at him, trying to suppress the annoyance bubbling up, but then locked eyes with those narrowed pupils.
Still, it was a relief. Whatever the reason, the interrogation had shifted from that nearly deceitful Hero questioning to a more personal line of inquiry. That, at least, was something he could welcome.
If it had been him on the receiving end, he would’ve tied the guy up and tortured him until he confessed every last detail—then gone out of his way to sabotage whatever path lay ahead of him.
He’s heard something, sure—but clearly doesn’t know the whole story.
That vague suspicion had shifted into a small but firm certainty. If the questioning stopped here, he might just get to tuck away the bait he’d been planning to unravel, piece by piece.
Moon Tae-young might still cast him the occasional suspicious look, but hell, their relationship wasn’t exactly built on trust and rainbows to begin with.
There was that old one-room apartment he used to rent once. The ceiling leaked when it rained, but he still ate, slept, and did his business in it. The leaks made things a bit gloomy on stormy days, sure—but if you just kept the lid shut and carried on, it still functioned as a home.
His relationship with the Demon King wasn’t all that different. As he looked at Moon Tae-young standing on the creaky floorboards, Cha Eui-sung spoke offhandedly.
“We’re not that close. No one out there could hold a candle to you anyway.”
The words carried multiple meanings, and yet for some reason, his ears grew warm. Cha Eui-sung averted his gaze, trying to gather up the swirl of worries and unease floating around in his chest.
“I know it’s not something to just let slide. Not that—what you asked earlier.”
“Yeah.”
“Like I said, I planned to keep it secret all the way. But now that I’ve been found out… I guess one day I’ll confess the rest.”
“And that day’s not today.”
“No. Not today.”
Call it shameless if you want—he had no choice. The two of them were tied by a mission far heavier than feelings. As unfortunate as it was, Cha Eui-sung’s priority wasn’t playing around with love—it was survival.
Still, he was genuinely grateful. Whatever Moon Tae-young had figured out, the mere fact that he’d brought up the word Hero meant he must’ve realized Cha Eui-sung had approached him deliberately.
And for whatever reason, he’d let it go.
He had to know that choosing to bury it, choosing to preserve what had almost gone up in flames, was an act of mercy.
“Still not planning to sit with me?”
“No. I’ve got things to do.”
If he was being honest, maybe it would’ve been better to just fabricate the kind of lie Moon Tae-young wanted to hear and commit to the deception.
Then, if Moon Tae-young started digging, he could have sprinkled in harmless bits of truth here and there, twisting and turning his story to stay one step ahead—just like when he first approached him. Like he’d always done.
But he couldn’t do that. Not now.
Not after things like this.
Cha Eui-sung thought of the key tucked away in the inside pocket of his coat, left off without a second thought. And the crumpled piece of paper he’d picked up by accident last time.
[Someone I Like]
The guy was insane. How the hell do you pick up something that blew away in the wind and keep it like it matters? And then to carefully slide it into his notebook like some kind of treasure…
It was the kind of creepy shit that should’ve sent a chill down his spine. But instead, it felt… oddly welcome. He figured that meant he’d gone just as crazy after two regressions.
He could feel Moon Tae-young’s gaze, stuck in place like he’d been nailed down, staring at him despite claiming to have things to do. And in that moment, the fatigue he’d been putting off for nearly a week finally crawled into his lungs and started pressing down.
There were still things to worry about—plenty, in fact—but damn if he didn’t feel lethargic. Breathing in the faint scent of Moon Tae-young lingering in this ordinary house air, a soft, almost unreasonable satisfaction fluttered against his ribs.
Shit. The second he relaxed, the drowsiness started to hit.
He had a mountain of things to hide. Falling asleep now would be a disaster.
“Well… I should get going.”
“Stay there.”
He couldn’t ignore even that simple request. Cha Eui-sung, feeling the tension in his spine give out, sank deeper into the plush beanbag chair.
“Oh, right. Seo-ryong’s grades dropped a little.”
“Ugh… I knew that naive act of hers would backfire. I’ll get her a tutor this break.”
“Just for grades?”
“She’s moving up to sixth grade soon. If we don’t get ahead of it now, she won’t be able to keep up. She’s smart—might as well throw in essay training and prep her for middle school…”
For a brief moment, clarity returned to his mind. He found himself rambling about a plan even Kim Jeong-baek hadn’t heard.
That kid—who somehow managed to distill even the dumbest texts into clean, efficient reports—would probably do just fine no matter what she was assigned.
And then—just for a second—his consciousness slipped.
Once he started to doze off, his body melted into the chair, and he didn’t even want to get up anymore.
“Actually, the finals haven’t happened yet.”
Somewhere in the haze of fading awareness, a cryptic answer drifted toward him.
Even half-asleep, the satisfied tone in Moon Tae-young’s voice grated on him.
Cha Eui-sung struggled to keep his eyes open, but eventually, the fatigue that had piled up like a fan of cards finally won out, and his head slumped forward.
