Regression was a chance. A cheat key for a brand new life. Thanks to the path he had come from being erased, Cha Eui-sung could throw away everything he didn’t like and leave it all behind. Now, all he had to do was let those things slowly decompose, buried in a past no one could ever dig up again. Who would’ve thought some of it would turn out to be rot-proof garbage?
“Feeling any better now?”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
Evening. For what felt like the umpteenth time, Cha Eui-sung was being asked the same question. He grumbled and dodged the hand reaching for his forehead, but the other person clearly didn’t believe him.
“You said you were fine earlier too.”
“Because I was fine then.”
“For someone who’s fine, you sure looked like you’d just been drained by a vampire, you know?”
“……”
Honestly, it was an exaggeration—but he had nothing to say in response, so he pressed his lips together. Whether he liked it or not, he hadn’t exactly been in great shape. And it was all because of Kim Jeong-baek. His anxious expression beside him must’ve tipped Moon Tae-young off. As soon as Sports Day ended, Moon had walked straight over to Cha Eui-sung.
Sure, Eui-sung kept a perfectly calm face while sitting there, but there was no dodging the trained gaze of an Awakened who had approached assuming something was wrong.
In the end, Cha Eui-sung made up a stomachache as an excuse and got dragged off the field by him.
“Geez, no wonder he wasn’t eating anything all day.”
“If you weren’t feeling well, you should’ve said something instead of stubbornly sitting there all day.”
As they walked home, voices flitted in from every direction—surprisingly enough, tinged with concern. No matter how brusque the tone, the sincerity behind it left him feeling weirdly disoriented… And now, here he was, stuck with Moon Tae-young endlessly checking his condition.
Even just now, while he’d spaced out for a moment thinking about earlier, Moon Tae-young had managed to sneak a hand to his forehead to check for a fever.
Like hell I’ve got one.
He’d just let his expression slip for a second, and now this. Cha Eui-sung sighed and leaned his head into the other’s hand—then casually reached over and ran his fingers along Tae-young’s solid arm.
“Don’t get worked up. You’re not even feeling well.”
“You think this counts as getting worked up?”
“……”
“Hmph.”
Even as Moon Tae-young scoffed and pressed a firm spot on his arm, there was nothing under his fingers. As expected, there wasn’t some kind of chip implanted. Even back when he’d seen him stark naked, there hadn’t been any visible markings on his arms. And remembering that the spot where a chip is inserted usually develops a distinct kind of subdermal bruising that’s nearly permanent—it confirmed that the scene shown in the Faded Photograph Fragment had to be from after the revenge had already taken place.
“There’s really nothing wrong. If I were sick, I’d have just ditched and gone home.”
“……”
“Don’t give me that look. You always cross your arms and glare like that whenever something rubs you the wrong way.”
It’s not like you’re sticking your chest out to impress me or anything.
Gathering thoughts that would’ve earned him a good slap if he’d said them aloud, Cha Eui-sung sprawled comfortably across someone else’s bean bag. If he’d really looked that bad, he should’ve just been taken home—so why drag him here of all places?
His head felt like it was about to explode and he’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but instead he’d ended up inside Moon Tae-young’s space. Thanks to that, whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, there hadn’t been much room for his mood to completely crash…
“You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”
“Hmm… maybe.”
“Just rest.”
When the large hand that had been gently brushing through his hair finally lifted away, Cha Eui-sung quietly closed his eyes. He sat reclined, almost lying down, and steadied his breathing like he might fall asleep. Moon Tae-young kept glancing over at him from time to time. Then, through the mental fog, a memory pushed its way to the surface.
That ominous number flashing across his phone screen.
The movements of a dangerous figure who had been closing in steadily, now baring his fangs right in front of him.
Oh Se-dan.
Even trying to calm down, his breath trembled faintly. It had definitely been Oh Se-dan who called him earlier. And not through his work phone—he’d used a personal number.
Cha Eui-sung wasn’t sure what the man was thinking or what he was after, but one thing was clear: whatever Oh Se-dan did from here on out would serve his own interests more than the Hunter Association’s. It was only after seeing that number that Cha Eui-sung suddenly realized—he’d forgotten nearly half of Oh Se-dan’s achievements.
That must piss him off more than a little. Unless he’s cooked up something big under my name already.
Regardless of the man’s record or recent output, the fact remained that there was no one in the Association right now who could take his place. Still, his noticeably poor performance lately probably didn’t sit well with someone as calculating as him. The future was unpredictable, after all. Even in this second life alone, someone like Cha Eui-sung had barged into his world. And even if he didn’t exist, the Association’s growing reputation would keep drawing in all kinds of new personalities.
That meant what Oh Se-dan wanted most right now was a secure, irreplaceable position within the Association. And to get that, he needed tangible accomplishments.
‘So he’s planning to use me… to make something happen.
The only slight relief in all this was that if Oh Se-dan had come this close, he must’ve already figured out that Cha Eui-sung—this ghost of a man—wasn’t just clever but dangerously shrewd. An S-rank, sharp-minded, eerily similar in methodology, and clearly someone willing to take initiative and cause trouble. There’s no way a guy like Oh Se-dan would be stupid enough to let another shark into the same tank. One apex predator was enough for the Hunter Association.
“Whew… smells amazing. What is it?”
“Cream stew. I made it earlier this morning.”
“This morning? You were probably busy.”
“I figured after Sports Day, you might want to come over.”
So, for now, he was safe. The reason Cha Eui-sung had managed to regain some composure after his panic was because this line of reasoning had zipped through his head like a flash of lightning. Back when he’d been walking here, leaning on Moon Tae-young, his cornered brain had kicked into high gear.
There’s no way Oh Se-dan will drag me to the Awakening Evaluation Center. And I won’t be taken in by the Association before I finish my revenge, either.
A conclusion that had practically popped out of nowhere. Sometimes, a well-honed instinct skipped all the steps and just served you the answer. Like answering 6 x 9? instantly with 54, without even consciously thinking about multiplication.
That was how, even with his head on the verge of splitting, Cha Eui-sung had ended up at Moon Tae-young’s house. Even in the middle of his mental chaos, he’d forced himself to put on a calm face again. Even with all the trouble weighing on him, here he was, lying in a bean bag and breathing in the aroma of cream stew. His dual-core memory—gifted by his Skill—bringing everything to mind at once, even making him curiously deliberate on Moon Tae-young’s past.
Most of all, there’s no way Oh Se-dan would apply pressure without leaving a single breath of room.
Even a cornered rat bites back. And he was an S-rank, not some helpless prey. Oh Se-dan wasn’t in any danger himself—so there was no reason he’d want to antagonize someone like Eui-sung right now.
More importantly, Eui-sung had that item. He let out a thoughtful hmm, took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned his head.
“Just wait a little longer.”
The soft rustling of the bean bag made Moon Tae-young glance over. His glasses, spotless and gleaming like they didn’t even have lenses, caught Eui-sung’s eye.
Why the hell did he polish them so thoroughly? I’m just gonna get them smudged again anyway.
“What are we doing after dinner?”
Cha Eui-sung asked in a slightly husky voice, picturing this Demon King cooking from dawn just because he figured he’d come over. It sent a strange, sharp flutter through his chest.
“Hmm. I thought we’d just hang out.”
“Doing what?”
“…Looking at your condition, maybe just a bit of recovery time.”
Pff. Eui-sung frowned and turned on the TV. The cheap monitor he’d brought over flickered to life, playing a Hunter current affairs program filled with static. It was a channel specifically for Hunters. The last time they’d watched something together, it was some totally dull variety show on a general channel.
Moon Tae-young, that bastard—acting like he didn’t care about TV, but clearly watching all kinds of stuff when he’s alone. Even someone swearing vengeance can’t resist dopamine.
“I turn it on sometimes.”
The reply came flying in before Eui-sung had even asked. Like the guy could read his mind. He must’ve picked up on it just from the way he was looking.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your eyes looked suspicious.”
“Why do you turn it on?”
“It’s not bad, having some sound in the house.”
As he finished speaking, Moon Tae-young pulled out a deep bowl. The steam rising from it made it obvious the bowl was filled to the brim with stew.
Cha Eui-sung quietly watched him and mulled over what he’d said. A man who’d always seemed to prefer being alone… now filling his space with the sound of people.
“You get lonely when I’m not around?”
“No wonder I’ve been wanting to make milder food lately.”
“Does it feel like the house is empty when I’m gone?”
“Maybe I saw this coming.”
It was practically a yes. The roundabout answer made his chest start to tingle again.
That stubborn mouth refusing to ever say things directly—what the hell was he supposed to do when the Demon King looked this damn cute?
Cha Eui-sung completely forgot about Oh Se-dan and all the worries tied to his past memories. His lips melted into a soft, gooey smile.
Goddamn it. No matter how he looked at it, this was a disease.
As the delicious smell of stew wafted up, Cha Eui-sung pressed his cheeks hard to firm up his face muscles.
“Bring it on.”
“You really planning to let me rest?”
“Let me know if it’s not enough.”
“There might be other things I’ll be short on.”
