Oh Se-dan’s schemes were like an intricate web.
A-a, A-b, A-ab, B-ba… They branched out in every direction, interlinked with an organic complexity. Like a game of Go or chess, these were plans that only made sense if you anticipated more than a few moves ahead. Unless you were the one who’d designed them, you couldn’t possibly grasp the overall flow from a handful of fragments.
So on the surface, some people might’ve seemed completely unrelated—but to those involved, they could turn out to be critical obstacles. And as with all things human, a few of those obstacles inevitably became long-term threats to society itself.
In the past, Oh Se-dan had dealt with such people for quite a long time.
Their deaths had gone unnoticed—at least, until Cha Eui-sung went digging and exposed the traps they’d fallen into.
“Jang Myeong-tae. Thirty-eight. A B-rank Hunter and the second son-in-law of Chasung Pharmaceuticals.”
A document slid forward across the table toward Cha Eui-sung, who was sipping his tea. The sheet was so pristine it looked freshly printed, and it gave a light tap to the side of his neat teacup.
“He looks normal enough.”
“He’s someone who followed the elite track and married into a solid household. If there were madness in his eyes, that wouldn’t have been possible.”
Oh Se-dan’s reply came in a flat tone, like he was stating something self-evident.
Well, the types Cha Eui-sung had dealt with in his second life were all like that—polished on the outside, armed with common sense and cultured manners, but behind closed doors they weren’t just cracking pumpkin seeds—they were practically extracting oil from them.
“So, why are you giving me this man’s information?”
Feigning ignorance, he took another sip of tea. Its gentle aroma lingered in his mouth.
Even faced with this obvious act, Oh Se-dan showed no reaction. He simply scanned him with curious eyes.
Cha Eui-sung quietly set down his warm teacup, enjoying the way those eyes stayed fixed on him.
The way Oh Se-dan kept observing him from time to time, not having fully figured him out yet, was oddly amusing.
“In his family, he’s what you’d call a fixer. He’s the one credited with getting Chasung Pharmaceuticals—once a perpetual third-rate company—onto the right track.”
“And yet such an admirable man isn’t the CEO?”
“Well, when problems pop up, someone’s got to clean them up so the royals of the household can live in peace.”
“Unusual. Most families don’t use their own members as janitors.”
Tossing the comment out casually, Cha Eui-sung watched as Oh Se-dan gave a faint chuckle. He silently watched Cha Eui-sung crunch into his mountain veggie salad before continuing, calm and steady:
“He’s not a janitor. He’s a hidden card. And considering that the second daughter—his wife—had firmly declared no interest in succession from the beginning, it’s only natural they’d rely on someone from outside the bloodline.”
Hmm. Cha Eui-sung paused to savor the refreshing flavor and let his thoughts settle.
Right before his regression, Chasung Pharmaceuticals had been a defunct company. From top to bottom, it was so thoroughly unimpressive that aside from a quick mental note during its bankruptcy, it hadn’t even registered as worth remembering.
And yet, here was Oh Se-dan, tangled up in it.
Maybe claiming he knew everything about this man had been hubris.
“The snowball’s getting bigger.”
“Sounds like you’re building a giant snowman.”
“There’s a village at the foot of the mountain, though.”
“And a few of your ice sculptures are along the way, right?”
This Jang Myeong-tae or whoever he was—he clearly didn’t give a damn about how he wrecked people’s lives, yet here he was putting on a faux-concerned expression. Disgusting.
When Cha Eui-sung cut right to the point, Oh Se-dan smiled even wider and reached for the neatly laid chopsticks.
While he calmly chewed his share of the appetizer, Cha Eui-sung glanced through the document he’d been handed.
Right from the first page, a clear record of Jang Myeong-tae’s deeds was laid out.
These aren’t limited to just Chasung Pharma-related incidents.
“As you might’ve guessed, the Association’s involved in some of this. Which means, legally, there’s very little we can touch.”
As he read through the details, things clicked into place fast. From his vantage point of knowing the future, once he tied these events to the upcoming incidents, it became obvious: what had already happened was bad, but what was about to happen would be even worse.
“Well. I did say I don’t take assassination requests.”
“If a man like this suddenly vanished, it’d only attract more attention. All I want is for things to go quiet.”
“Then you’re better suited for the job. Why come to me?”
“You know why. If I make contact, it creates a debt. Or maybe… one side might have to disappear completely.”
In other words, this was the kind of guy too annoying to outright stop or kill through official channels, but not important or dangerous enough to justify Oh Se-dan doing it himself. A guy you’d wish would just vanish poof like magic.
“Use whatever means you’d like. If it really can’t be helped, deal with it however you see fit.”
“And yet it’s still not a contract kill.”
“I never suggested that, did I?”
With a faint feeling of unease, Cha Eui-sung took another bite of his salad. Once again, Oh Se-dan silently watched him chew.
There was no need to dig deeper—Oh Se-dan wouldn’t have picked this man if there weren’t solid reasons. Based on everything from the previous life, Cha Eui-sung had never once dismissed or underestimated Oh Se-dan’s judgment.
The people he’d dealt with secretly must have left their scars on the Association, on society, somehow. They must’ve posed a real threat to Oh Se-dan’s vision of the near future. That’s why Cha Eui-sung had sent him off on that mission in the last round, too—and hadn’t they ended up making the same call in the end?
Still…
The fact that Oh Se-dan had shared all this so openly was surprising in itself.
It wasn’t the act of someone trying to turn him into a pawn. It was a signal—he saw him as a partner.
Of course, he’d probably already set up countermeasures in case Cha Eui-sung bailed and joined the enemy instead. But still, the feeling hit him strangely.
It’s not like he remembered their previous lives. So when had he seen him, and decided he could trust him?
That weirdly intimate vibe—a subtle goodwill that felt too personal—was throwing him off. It was so like Oh Se-dan… and yet not.
“All right. Just don’t complain if I get help from someone.”
“If it’s you, I’m sure you’ll handle it however’s best.”
With that short confirmation, Oh Se-dan cleared his throat softly. The sliding door opened with a quiet shhhk.
Two staff members entered without a sound, swiftly clearing the table before beginning to serve a spread of visually stunning dishes that absolutely looked worth the price.
As Cha Eui-sung watched the plates being set, he glanced at Oh Se-dan out of the corner of his eye.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, something like a spark seemed to pass between them.
***
There’s no shortage of things to do in Seoul.
Just stepping out of your lodging, you’re overwhelmed with places to eat and things to enjoy. It was a far cry from Cheongseri, where even grabbing a meal meant hopping in a car and driving for a while.
Even so, instead of enjoying a rare night out at a bar, Cha Eui-sung had burned all his time meticulously planning his route. He’d contacted Kim Jeong-baek to urgently gather intel on the target, and even went so far as to include a completely unnecessary middleman in the plan.
He must’ve known and allowed it. Probably just wanted to see how far I’d go…
Someone connected to Oh Se-dan—someone who, if things went sideways, would inevitably force Oh Se-dan to step in.
Late at night. The place Cha Eui-sung headed to was an unfamiliar officetel.
He arrived a good twenty minutes earlier than the scheduled time, but there was already a tall figure pacing out front.
“Fancy seeing you again.”
He approached silently and offered a quiet greeting. The man’s previously blank expression brightened in an instant.
His faded-colored hair was oddly neat—perfectly messy, in just the right way to make it look like he hadn’t touched it, when in fact it had taken real effort. Cha Eui-sung could tell at a glance that it was carefully styled to look effortless.
“Go Yeong-won.”
At the sound of his name, the man’s eyes thinned as if smiling. But as the weight of the situation settled in, that smile gradually faded.
As he strode over with those long legs of his, the hem of his coat fluttered behind him like something out of a painting.
“Didn’t think I’d be getting a message like that out of nowhere.”
“And yet you still came to help, didn’t you?”
“Well… after what I heard, I couldn’t exactly sit on my hands.”
When the two finally closed the distance, Go Yeong-won dipped his head slightly in greeting.
Then he pulled a hand from his coat pocket and handed over a PVC zip bag. A sharp wave of his signature cologne hit the air.
Inside the bag, a tiny blue pill—no larger than a pinky nail—glowed faintly in the dark.
“If this isn’t handled properly, I’m gonna be in trouble too. It is an illegal substance, after all.”
“I’ll make sure the mouth that speaks gets shut—so that won’t be a problem.”
“Intense, aren’t you.”
“Tell me about it. I just wanted a quiet life.”
At that, Go Yeong-won gave a bitter smile. It didn’t take much to see that he was in a foul mood.
Cha Eui-sung turned his eyes away from the expression on his face—one that blended guilt with irritation—and slipped the bag into his inner pocket.
Rustle—the soft sound seemed unnaturally loud.
What he’d received was a painkiller made for Hunters, smuggled in from overseas. In other words: high-grade, black-market narcotics banned in Korea.
It was a summon bell—meant to bring Jang Myeong-tae, who supposedly wouldn’t meet with just anyone, straight to his workspace without needing anyone to speak on Cha Eui-sung’s behalf.
The drug’s main distributor was a foreign gang, and Jang Myeong-tae’s younger brother just happened to be acting as a mid-tier handler.
According to the investigation, Jang Myeong-tae wasn’t particularly known for family loyalty—but he did have a pattern of quietly covering up a few crimes out of fear that his family might one day drag him down from his rise.
The most recent cover-up was this drug. The moment he caught wind of it, every hair on his body would stand on end.
“Just to be clear, I don’t have a drug habit.”
While Cha Eui-sung was momentarily lost in thought, a low voice muttered the excuse from in front of him.
“I know. It’s stashed for Hunter Kang San-woo, isn’t it? Regular painkillers don’t really work on him.”
At the casual mention of something that bordered on classified intel, Go Yeong-won’s eyes widened slightly.
“Did Oh Se-dan tell you that too?”
There was a faint anger in his voice—twisted, bitter, the kind of voice someone uses when an outsider starts poking around in things only kin should touch.
Cha Eui-sung turned his head wordlessly, as if to say “Believe what you want.” This kind of misunderstanding was something he was confident Oh Se-dan could clear up himself.
Honestly, he was a bit too busy at the moment—too busy pretending to look cornered, pretending to feel helpless, biting his lip in mock composure.
—Ah. Cha Eui-sung. I wasn’t expecting that. You reached out first?
“…Do you have time?”
—Anytime. What’s going on?
“I need help. I think you owe me a little, now.”
—Hmm? What do you mean…?
“Right after I met with you, someone came up to me like they knew me. Said their name was Oh Se-dan… from the Hunter Association.”
Because Go Yeong-won’s hyper-empathy—his almost divine, agape-like compassion—only activated when dealing with his own kind.
