The stir-fried vegetables had gone cold and tasted downright awful. He popped a whole pile of bell peppers into his mouth and chewed. The bitterness spread across his tongue, tightening the root of it so much it was nauseating. Probably just nerves killing his appetite. Still, Cha Eui-sung forced himself to finish every last bite.
It was the first time Moon Tae-young had personally brought up revenge—the topic he’d always kept sealed behind silence. From the moment they’d become friends, to when they became something more, and finally comrades who shared a clandestine, grand cause, it had taken endless effort and resolve. So for a day like this, it was only right to treat it like a small celebration. Even if there were chunks of tire in the dish Tae-young had cooked himself, Eui-sung would’ve chewed through it without complaint.
“Here, put this on.”
He took the shorts Moon Tae-young handed him and headed into the bathroom. Normally, he would’ve hurried home before it got any later.
“Want to stay the night?”
“…Yeah, okay.”
“Try smiling a little brighter, will you?”
He couldn’t bring himself to leave Moon Tae-young, not when he’d finally cracked and spoken of dungeons and revenge, letting himself get swept up in it all. If he left him alone now, he knew Tae-young would spiral—caught in his own thoughts all night long. Was it the right thing to lay everything out like that? Would it have been better to keep his distance and pull back? Just imagining a text like that from Tae-young in the morning made the back of his neck go cold. The bond they had built had come such a long way. The thought of all that progress unraveling made it impossible to move.
[SAVIOR GAUGE]
■■■■■■■■■■
■■■■■□□□□□
75%
Just one conversation and it jumped up by 5%. It felt good—too good. Which only made him suspicious.
It was a problem if the gauge didn’t rise at all. It was also a problem if it rose too easily. He couldn’t simply be happy about it anymore. There were too many layers of unease piling up.
So many things had clawed at Cha Eui-sung. By now, he was all scar tissue—so sensitive that even the slightest jab would make him flinch.
Whoooosh—
He closed his eyes under the warm cascade of water.
Why was he feeling so uneasy now? When did everything start falling apart beyond repair?
Was it when he heard that strange warning sound at Incheon148? No, that was just a warning—scary, sure, but harmless in the end.
Maybe when he saw the hallucination of the No-Named in the Chain Dungeon? But even then, the System had helped him escape. He’d even come back with a Chain Crystal. So that wasn’t it either.
No, everything started to go off the rails after the Outer God made a scene at the vacant lot. That’s when Moon Tae-young’s anxiety spiked, Go Yeong-won showed up, and even Oh Se-dan’s investigations started creeping closer. How did it all go so wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have gone there in the first place?
No—that’s where the System pushed me to go in the first place. Eui-sung rubbed his warm face, thinking. It probably hadn’t been the wrong path. But even the System couldn’t have predicted the Outer God would throw a tantrum and risk that kind of penalty.
Suddenly, he recalled the black message window that had sparked to life before his eyes. A chill crept down his spine so sharp it made his scalp prickle. Even under the hot water, his body was trembling.
“Haa…”
If he’d done something serious enough to warrant a visit from something higher than the System—that lunatic—then the Outer God must’ve been hit with a hell of a penalty.
And yet, after all that, Moon Tae-young still seemed completely unaware of anything involving the Demon King or the Hero.
So it’s not that the Outer God didn’t tell him… maybe he literally couldn’t.
Maybe that was it. Maybe the Outer God was now so bound up in restrictions that he couldn’t even give a simple heads-up.
None of it made sense. This is the same System that pulls every dirty trick in the book just to save a little energy, even dressing itself up in a cringey King cosplay. Even after seeing all that, the Outer God still approached him directly? Was he really that dumb? But if he was, then why was the System struggling to handle him? It’s been gnawing at Eui-sung.
Maybe the Outer God just snapped when the System’s lackey started cozying up to his chosen proxy…
The Outer God only has one person he can contact directly. Just one.
And yet, instead of the Demon King, he kept fixating on someone else’s Hero.
When Eui-sung remembered that awful line the System had thrown at him, goosebumps pricked all over.
So it’s not that he freaked out because I messed with the Demon King… It’s that I was his real target all along.
The System did use the word “obsession.” As shitty as its tone is, it never adds unnecessary fluff. If it said “obsession,” it meant it.
Looking back, it wasn’t even the first time some bizarre presence—presumably the Outer God—had come for him.
He saw it. The thing that had tried to lead him somewhere. The being with the oceanic pupils that consumed everything. The one that appeared in his hallucination in the Chain Dungeon.
Thinking about it again, it was clear now. Even if he hadn’t gone to that vacant lot, the disaster would’ve found him regardless.
What the hell do you want from me, you squid-faced freak?
Controlling the Demon King like a lackey is one thing—but what business could you possibly have with the Hero?
And if your only means of attacking this world is through your proxy, then how the hell are you managing a Demon King who refuses to play nice?
“Hm.”
As he scrubbed shampoo into his hair, a whiff of Moon Tae-young’s scent hit him. That familiar smell broke through the storm of tangled thoughts, if only briefly.
No matter what kind of bullshit the Outer God tried to pull, his chosen proxy was slowly, steadily falling deeper into his orbit.
He was probably waiting patiently outside right now. Waiting for him to finish up and fall into his arms.
It was wild. How could he feel this anxious… and this giddy at the same time? Like something short-circuited in his brain.
Cha Eui-sung rinsed the soap out of his hair and let out a long, weary sigh.
***
Tick. Tock. Somewhere, a clock was ticking. But he didn’t remember ever seeing a clock in this house. Ah—come to think of it, Moon Tae-young did occasionally wear a wristwatch. Maybe he’d taken it off and left it somewhere in the room. The sound was oddly clear in his ears.
With his mind still hazy, Cha Eui-sung shifted his head. A warm body was pressed against his. A pleasant scent lingered at the tip of his nose—same bath products as his. The subtle, heat-soaked smell of skin.
“Mmh…” He let out a satisfied hum and squirmed slightly. A firm arm wrapped around his back and pulled him in closer.
Eui-sung curled up, burrowing deeper into the broad embrace. The touch was soft and comforting, and he felt warmth trickle from the top of his head all the way down.
Ah. He must’ve woken up. In Moon Tae-young’s house. On his bed. With him.
Last night had been strangely calm and quiet—so much so that it made how clingy they were now feel almost ridiculous. They hadn’t even done anything. Tae-young had simply held him close, breathing softly beside him. And yet, that alone had made it nearly impossible for Eui-sung to fall asleep.
He must’ve blacked out at some point… and this was how he woke up. He was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep facing away, but now—
When did he end up holding me like this?
Did it happen while they were sleeping? Or had Tae-young woken up, pulled him in, and then drifted off again?
Either way, it felt too intimate. Strangely close. It was making his skin crawl in a way he couldn’t define.
And yet, Cha Eui-sung folded his long body even tighter, pressing up against Moon Tae-young. Not because he liked him that much. But because… it didn’t feel bad.
Everything about it felt bizarrely peaceful. Maybe Tae-young really was the type who looked his best when he was asleep.
Then, a memory flickered— The one he’d seen in the Faded Photograph Fragment. Two lovers lying side by side, teasing each other on the same bed.
He’d probably done this all the time with his ex. Thinking about that— An unexplainable mixture of smug satisfaction and irrational jealousy bubbled up inside him.
Then, slowly, his mind began to drift. And sleep returned once more.
***
Blurry vision. Shapeless forms came together and unraveled, repeating the cycle until the world began to take shape. Eventually, his view sharpened, and an old yet spotless yard emerged before his eyes.
Someone was standing there—a man he knew all too well. Black hair. Dark eyes. Tall, strikingly handsome. Moon Tae-young. It was Moon Tae-young…
All at once, Cha Eui-sung realized what was happening. It wasn’t quite a dream—the moment was too abrupt, and Moon Tae-young’s image far too vivid. That eerie sense of déjà vu… Faded Photograph Fragment. The skill had activated again.
He had no idea what triggered it this time, nor what situation he’d been in when it activated. All he could do was watch the scene unfold, mind hazy and detached.
“No, I’m not doing that shit!”
A voice shouted—sharp and unwavering. Though the words echoed and blurred too much to pinpoint clearly, Eui-sung could guess who it belonged to.
Someone who would be here.
Now he noticed— A tree stood on one side of the yard, obscuring part of the figure. Moon Tae-young’s ex. He was the one shouting in anger.
“…Fuck.”
“Are you insane? Have you lost your mind?”
“Right now, it seems like the best option.”
“I said NO!”
The cry was loud enough to make his head throb—more of a panic attack than an argument.
A pale hand stretched out from behind the tree and grabbed Moon Tae-young’s shoulder.
“Don’t say that crap. I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear it.”
The hand clutching his shoulder was drained of color, each knuckle stark white. That trembling arm, shaking so desperately, looked like it might break. Then, the breaths started to hitch, sobs leaking into the voice.
“Don’t do this. Please. I’m sorry, okay? I… I was wrong…”
“I’m not doing this to blame you.”
“I—I… hic… Please…”
“This is… the best way I can think of right now.”
“Hhhnn… AAAAGH!”
The voice broke into sobs, then sobs into full-blown wailing. It wasn’t just crying—it was a raw, ragged scream soaked in unbearable emotion.
Despair. Regret. Self-loathing. Terror, spreading like wildfire.
Thud.
The figure collapsed behind the tree.
Moon Tae-young knelt down and pulled him into an embrace, but the other man’s sobs didn’t stop. It wasn’t just grief—it was devastation, ripping through his chest so fiercely it sounded like he couldn’t even breathe.
That cry pierced so deep, it made Cha Eui-sung’s mind ache, like something was physically squeezing his brain from the inside.
