It was a question he’d brushed off too lightly. What had been on Moon Tae-young’s arm in that moment from the past? Why had his lover burst into tears at the sight of it? They’d been talking about revenge, so maybe—thinking in 20th-century terms—it was some cheesy tattoo like “DON’T FORGET XX.XX.XX.” to commemorate someone’s death.
But come to think of it, that arm—that’s the spot where Awakened criminals get their ID chips implanted.
Shit.
Cha Eui-sung cursed silently, biting down hard on the realization. The timeline he’d sketched out in his mind was starting to unravel in a big way. If his guess was correct, then the Moon Tae-young in the Faded Photograph Fragment… had already done something.
He wasn’t some soft-hearted rookie hesitating to exact revenge. He was a criminal—one who had already caused an incident, been caught, and come back. Someone far from composed.
How many years… How many years did he rot away before getting out?
Cha Eui-sung’s eyes widened as he turned sharply to Kim Jeong-baek. Whatever face he was making must’ve been intense, because Kim Jeong-baek flinched in shock.
Punishments under the Hunter Law for Awakened criminals were never light. Especially not for assault or murder—unless there were exceptional circumstances, they wouldn’t see the outside of a cell until their full sentence was served.
Which meant a massive question had just popped up.
When exactly were the memories he’d been seeing from?
If Moon Tae-young had indeed killed Jo Tae-jong as expected, gotten chipped, and been released, then it would’ve had to be after several years of sitting in prison. As someone who’d been working the field at the Hunter Association, Cha Eui-sung should’ve known such news better than anyone.
And yet… I’ve never heard anything about Jo Tae-jong being dead.
And that wasn’t all. He hadn’t heard a single report of Hunter Association staff being attacked or murdered, either. No matter how deep he dug into his Second Life memories, not once did he hear of the rise of an S-rank criminal.
And once things passed age 32, the world had already gone to hell with the meteor strike. No peaceful, romantic scenes with a lover should’ve existed after that.
Don’t tell me… this isn’t from my Second Life?
Eventually, one conclusion started to settle in his mind: The Faded Photograph Fragment contained memories from a different iteration of Moon Tae-young.
Naturally, that made him recall his First Life—the idiotic, clueless existence from a time when he knew nothing of the world. A life where he’d occasionally watched variety shows but steered clear of the news or any kind of current events.
But even then… the world never actually ended.
Something must have gone wrong, which caused time to rewind. But back then, Cha Eui-sung had never seen a meteor, nor had he witnessed waves of rampaging monsters. He had also never heard a single report about an S-rank criminal. Even if every day had been a grind, there was no way he’d have missed something that major.
So could it be… the memories in the Faded Photograph Fragment were from after his First Life ended? A love story that unfolded after he’d died in a dungeon?
What the actual…
The world ended while he was dead and everyone else got to live happily ever after? Then out of nowhere, he regressed and was handed the role of Hero?
Why the hell would they show me that?
As these impossible hypotheticals spiraled out of control, a sudden fury surged within him. What kind of cosmic joke was this? It wasn’t enough that he’d lived a hard, ordinary life and died a miserable death—now he had to play janitor to someone else’s love story?
No. There had to be a connection. There must still be a link between him and Moon Tae-young. Or perhaps… the memory came from a different timeline he wasn’t aware of.
Wait.
His eyes flashing dangerously, Cha Eui-sung summoned the System window before him. He quickly scrolled through his Skill list. Beneath that damned EX-rank Skill that had become etched into his brain, he spotted the familiar, deeply memorized description.
[Passive] Faded Photograph Fragment
—Restores and reveals the memories of the Demon King░░.
—The weight of the collected memories adds to the Burden on the Laws of Reality.
Restores and reveals the memories of the Demon King.
From that phrasing alone, Cha Eui-sung inferred something critical: He was experiencing memories of Moon Tae-young that had once existed—but had since been erased.
Since Moon Tae-young wasn’t a regressor, it was only natural that there were versions of him that he himself couldn’t remember.
But then a disturbing new question crept into Cha Eui-sung’s mind. What if… this phenomenon wasn’t limited to Moon Tae-young?
What if I had memories that had been erased too? What if the System had left some things out—stories it never told me?
At what point, in which iteration, had he and Moon Tae-young become connected?
“Ha…”
The deeper the speculation dug, the more Cha Eui-sung’s expression cooled. The initial storm of shock had passed, and now he sat like a puppet with its strings severed—still, quiet, and eerily composed. He wanted so badly to reject the entire idea.
But truthfully, the System was that kind of bastard. It never lied, but it also never offered the whole truth. It was the sort of slick operator that manipulated people with the bare minimum of information.
So could it be that he, too, had moments—memories—he couldn’t recall? Somewhere in his Second Life? Or maybe toward the very end of the First?
“Woohoo!”
“She really flipped it at the last second! Relentless, that woman from Jeongeup!”
While the Sports Day proceeded toward its grand finale according to schedule, Cha Eui-sung sat rooted to the spot like a wooden doll. Every time he replayed the shocking realization in his mind, only one thing remained in his field of view: Moon Tae-young, a distant figure across the field.
Tae-young was scanning the field with his usual sharp eyes, but his hands often slipped into his pockets. From time to time, his large hand would twitch inside the loose fabric.
Watching this, Cha Eui-sung felt that strange sensation growing more persistent. Something was… off.
He looks happy.
He murmured the thought involuntarily, and the second he did, he flinched. Goddamn it. That one casual observation suddenly cast everything into perspective.
That’s what was bothering him. The scene before him was just too cheerful, too vibrant— And he wasn’t a part of it.
They were there, basking in warmth and joy, while he stood detached and left behind. And Moon Tae-young… was squarely among them. In a place Cha Eui-sung could no longer reach.
Jesus. Here he was, losing his mind over the apocalypse and regressions, And that bastard was out there, enjoying a sunny schoolyard event.
What made it worse— That sense of isolation didn’t even feel strange.
No, it was familiar. He’d felt this before. Strongly.
As the memory teased the edge of his awareness, a prickly sensation clawed through his brain. He couldn’t remember the details, but the past was definitely scratching at him from behind a fog.
Cha Eui-sung’s eyes narrowed gradually.
Peeeeep—!
Just then, the sharp whistle echoed across the crowded school grounds, signaling the start of the final event.
Fwap!
As the relay runners darted across the field for the last round of the flag game, digging at the ground like scrambling moles, someone approached Moon Tae-young from the side.
Gray-streaked hair. Hooked nose. One of the village folks who’d offered food earlier.
That face…
Cha Eui-sung squinted toward the distance, eyes narrowing, then widening with a jolt. Suddenly, memories he’d shoved deep into the back of his mind came surging forward, and a voice he thought he’d forgotten began to echo, dull and insistent, inside his skull.
“We’re just picking up the bastard who ran off with our money, so mind your business and get back to whatever you were doing, old man.”
“M-Money…?”
“Besides, this little shit’s an Awakened. No future ahead, and who knows what he’ll do. You should be grateful we’re taking him away.”
“…It’s not my concern, but try not to cause a scene, would you?”
A memory from his First Life, resurfacing without warning. The faint sting of fists pounding across his body, pain flashing with every blow.
He’d come to his mother’s hometown, clinging to some vague hope. But all he found was hardship— Dragged from an abandoned house and beaten, stomped on, and hauled off.
And somehow, bizarrely, that scene was now overlapping with the joyous celebration of Cheongseri.
“Ah, come on!”
The crowd watching the relay burst into shouts of frustration— But in his ears, another voice layered on top:
“Ugh, bad vibe for the whole town.”
Cha Eui-sung flinched noticeably where he sat, breaking his statue-like stillness. And with that—
The memories came flooding in.
“What’d he say? What?”
“Shh, don’t pay attention. Let’s just go.”
“Someone’s getting beaten like that—you should call the cops…!”
“They say he skipped town with a debt. You gonna pay it for him? No? Then just leave it.”
How strange. That eerie sense of being severed from the world wrapped around him like a second skin.
Cha Eui-sung heard the hum in his ears—voices swirling in muffled loops—as he slowly shut his half-lidded eyes.
Ah, fuck…
Right.
That face—the one that had nagged at him all day— He’d seen it back then.
Now that he thought about it, that guy had been there.
Tears blurred his vision. There was nothing but dirt beneath him, no place to reach for help. Come to think of it—those people who’d hovered around during that day’s commotion and then disappeared? They were all here now.
And once the dam cracked, the flood came roaring in. One after another, the memories burst forth—
The old man who glanced sideways at his filthy brown hair,
the villagers who turned away as they heard what was happening,
the man now laughing in the distance,
the woman playing rock-paper-scissors with her grandchild,
the elder cheering at the top of his lungs,
the one sharing snacks in the corner.
He’d seen them all before.
The moment he realized that, a cold wave swept across Cha Eui-sung’s chest.
“……”
What the hell. Why the fuck is this only coming back to me now?
Hadn’t he already guessed, even before returning to Cheongseri, that these people might still be here, living on like nothing happened?
His stomach lurched, even though he hadn’t eaten a thing. The nausea surged without warning, and he pressed a trembling hand against his clavicle, trying to steady his breath.
“Boss?”
Just as he was struggling to push back the spiraling chaos in his mind, Kim Jeong-baek called out—not by name, but by his usual title.
Even then, Cha Eui-sung managed to scowl in irritation, as if to say, Watch it, forcing down the pounding of his heart.
He wanted to say something—anything—to keep up the act. To scold him for fussing over nothing.
Fucking hell, I’m losing it over the dumbest shit.
His mental state was shot to hell. Not that this was new—his grip had been slipping for a while. He’d figured another breakdown was coming eventually. He just hadn’t expected it to be now.
“I’m fine. Probably just something I ate earlier not sitting well.”
“But… you didn’t eat. You haven’t eaten anything.”
“Maybe the water’s not sitting well then.”
He shot back casually and wiped his forehead. His palm came away soaked in cold sweat.
With a deathly pale face, Cha Eui-sung glanced around and forced a composed expression.
“That’s the last event, right?”
“Huh? Uh… yeah.”
“It’s just a little stomach trouble, so stop sneaking glances and pay attention to the game.”
Fortunately, once he tamped down the storm brewing inside him, his flickering vision slowly came back into focus. Good.
In front of someone like Kim Jeong-baek, he couldn’t afford to look weak— Even if it meant taking a goddamn javelin to the gut, he’d still have to grin and bear it.
But just as he tilted his head and looked up with a mask of calm—
BZZZZT—
His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating at the absolute worst possible moment.
A call…?
Who the hell would be contacting him directly at a time like this?
[010-XXXX-XXXX]
“…Shit.”
Cha Eui-sung exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling as he tried to collect himself. But the moment he read the final digits of the number— His heart, which had just begun to settle, shot back into overdrive.
He knew that number.
Just like Go Yeong-won’s, it was one of those you couldn’t forget even if you tried. No need to save it in your contacts. Just seeing it was enough.
His brown eyes, clouded with disbelief, swept across the field.
Under the scorching sun, defying the cool breeze that whispered around them, Moon Tae-young stood with his glossy black hair fluttering, a silver whistle between his lips.
Piiiii—!
The sharp whistle signaling the end of Sports Day sliced through the air.
And as it rang out, Cha Eui-sung felt a cold tingle at the back of his neck. He looked out across the raucous field.
Fucking hell.
The past he’d crawled through was all converging here merging into one chaotic, surreal mess.
