“Maybe it’s a good thing you ended up with me.”
The figure approaching him muttered under his breath, his silhouette unnervingly large and imposing. His gaze, devoid of even a hint of killing intent, carried a blankness so chilling it only deepened the oppressive atmosphere.
As Cha Eui-sung tilted his head slightly to the side, the man who had been struggling suddenly stopped resisting. Even in his panicked state, he seemed to understand what that gesture meant.
“Now we can finally have a proper conversation.”
Rrip! With a fluid motion, that long, elegant hand peeled the tape from his skin without the slightest effort.
“Pwah! Cough, kuhuk…! What the hell do you want?! Do you even know who I—”
“…”
“—am…?”
Just as he was about to shout, he locked eyes with those golden-brown irises and trailed off into a whimper. Bathed in the faint light, the edges of Cha Eui-sung’s eyes glowed with an unnaturally radiant gold.
“Of course I do. That’s why you’re sitting here.”
At that calm response, the man’s previously flushed face now turned ghostly pale. He’d dealt with plenty of people in his life and instantly recognized this type—someone you couldn’t reason with.
“What do you want then…?”
“If it’s money, I can pull out cash for you right away—!”
“Hmm… I don’t really want anything from you. No grudges, either. Just live a decent life, all right? That’s the least you can do.”
“What the…”
“That old man protesting last month about the side effects went real quiet, didn’t he? You remember, don’t you, Jang Myeong-tae?”
The pointed jab hit him like a punch to the gut. Jang Myeong-tae gasped, the weight in the air so thick he couldn’t even shout—his eyes just widened in terror.
Where the hell had he been tailed? The guy had claimed it wasn’t personal, but with all the skeletons in Myeong-tae’s closet, he couldn’t afford to take that at face value.
For all he knew, this man could be an Awakened for hire. And that was the worst-case scenario for Jang Myeong-tae.
“And if you bulldoze that shelter to build your research facility, you think it’s gonna stay nice and quiet? A man with your money could’ve paid a fair price instead of snatching someone else’s land like a vulture.”
Things only known to a select few were rolling off those red lips as if he were reciting them from a script.
His polished face—smooth as CG rendering—broke into a crooked smile. Jang Myeong-tae felt like he was trapped in a dream. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.
What stood before him didn’t feel human—it resembled something dangerously beautiful. At least, that’s how it seemed to someone whose sanity was hanging by a thread.
How else could he explain this man’s ability to completely paralyze him with just a stare?
“I’ll let you go soon. This wasn’t supposed to be a kidnapping. But you started yelling and tried to bolt, so I had no choice.”
“Th-then… why bring me here…?”
“Simple. I’ve got one condition. From today onward, stop your dirty dealings and live quietly. Sounds pretty easy, don’t you think, considering your neck was on the line?”
The absurdity of the demand pierced his ears in a voice too smooth to be real.
Stop doing evil? What was this, a line from some justice-wielding hero in a cheesy novel?
Staggered by the unexpected demand, Jang Myeong-tae opened his mouth to protest but was too stunned to utter a word.
The area around his lips burned—probably from where the tape had been ripped off, like it had taken all his facial hair with it.
When that white hand reached toward him, his heart plummeted, and his limbs began trembling uncontrollably.
“O-Okay! I’ll keep quiet! I won’t tell a soul, I’ll live a clean life, I swear, just—just let me go!”
He said whatever came to mind, but it was a complete lie.
The moment he got out of here, he planned to sprint toward the most crowded street until his legs gave out, rush into a police station, and report everything—claim he’d been kidnapped by some psycho.
After that, he’d call his wife and go home under the escort of his bodyguards. He’d give them the guy’s appearance and go into hiding for a while.
Brown hair. Brown eyes. An appearance far too striking to forget—plenty to identify him.
Once the bastard got arrested, he’d just go back to business as usual…
“You can talk, if you’re able.”
But then Cha Eui-sung cut into his thoughts with a gentle voice, as if he could read Myeong-tae’s mind like an open book.
Clatter, clink! A sheathed dagger fell to the floor, slipped from inside Cha Eui-sung’s coat. He ran his hand slowly down the blade, then curled his lips into a smile.
It was probably meant to reassure him—but it had the opposite effect. The blood in Jang Myeong-tae’s body turned cold. That smile… he couldn’t look away from it.
“Since you’re promising to behave, I’ll keep things to just a verse.”
No sooner had he finished the sentence than he pressed his hand—still gripping the tape—firmly over Myeong-tae’s deathly pale face.
Mouth and nose blocked, his breath cut off. An overwhelming dread flooded in—something horrifyingly close to death.
And then—thunk!
The Silent Blade drove deep into Jang Myeong-tae’s torso.
“Nnngh!”
His airway sealed, he couldn’t even scream.
Inside the quiet concrete building, Jang Myeong-tae trembled like a leaf, his chest convulsing.
“Ugh… uhh…”
Cha Eui-sung calmly looked into his dazed, pain-filled eyes and gently released the dagger’s hilt.
A tear rolled from Jang Myeong-tae’s eye. His pupils, soaked and drifting, eventually latched blankly onto one spot.
[The effect of ‘Silent Blade (A)’ has activated.]
All information regarding the wielder is now protected.
—Any attempt to express such information, directly or indirectly, through language, sound, images, etc., is now prohibited.
Blade inserted at least 8cm. Remained embedded for over 30 seconds.
With both conditions met, that cursed system message had probably popped up before Myeong-tae’s eyes.
Reporting this attacker was now impossible.
Cha Eui-sung watched his face sink into despair, then leaned in to whisper by his ear.
“That was just the first verse. Pretty gentle, don’t you think? All I did was shut your mouth.”
“Nngh… mmph…”
“Your ancestors must’ve been looking out for you. If I hadn’t shown up, you would’ve lost control a few weeks back and gone straight into a guardrail.”
As he whispered, tears streamed endlessly from Jang Myeong-tae’s reddened eyes.
Rationality had long since died. Every fiber of his survival instinct screamed that the words were true.
“Make sure to offer a proper ritual. Cook the food yourself, with care. Shouldn’t be too hard. I avoided the arteries, so the bleeding won’t be too bad.”
The chill in his throat made that eerie advice sound like a convincing shamanic solution.
Even in his deranged state, Jang Myeong-tae nodded as hard as he could, eyes locked desperately on those strange, glinting irises.
Every bit of knowledge he’d ever gained—every skill, every piece of street-smart intuition—melted away like spring snow.
It felt like he’d come face-to-face with a top-tier predator. His mind went blank, his instincts on high alert. Nothing could stop this man. Nothing.
His tear-filled eyes lost all will to resist. As Myeong-tae panted heavily, Cha Eui-sung—who-knows-where-he’d-gotten-it—pulled out a first aid kit, then withdrew the dagger from the man’s thigh.
Blood oozed in thick pulses, but a Hunter-grade clotting patch was slapped onto the wound. Only then did Myeong-tae remember he was a B-rank Hunter himself.
And yet, the pressure, the force—he hadn’t even been able to lift a finger to fight back.
Watching the silent figure slip away without a sound, Jang Myeong-tae thought: This guy’s done this kind of thing before. More than once. The only reason I’m still alive… is because killing me would’ve been a hassle.
And even burying the events of today wouldn’t be enough—he wouldn’t be able to touch a hair on the bastard’s head.
***
“It’s nothing serious. Hmm… I do get some stomach issues when I’m stressed, though.”
“Would you say it interferes with your daily life?”
“Not really. It’s just… I feel a bit disconnected.”
“…Disconnected?”
The fifth night had passed. In a room overlooking the city lights, Cha Eui-sung was doing push-ups—his body nearly vertical, as if standing on his hands.
He moved until his muscles screamed, but the surging emotions refused to settle. Was it the bloodshed after such a long time? His already foul mood had swollen to the point of bursting, teetering at the edge.
“There’s a difference between viewing a situation objectively and outright denying it by saying, “That’s not me.””
“To assess things objectively, you’d have to take on a third-person perspective, but…”
“But that was you, Eui-sung. The one who struggled in that moment, who decided to move forward—that was all you.”
Thud! Cha Eui-sung collapsed to the floor, swearing through clenched teeth.
“Corrupt bastard shrink, tampering with diagnoses.”
At first, the guy had carefully tiptoed around anything that might spark resistance. But after a few sessions, he started to circle in on the truth, jabbing at the core bit by bit. That’s when Eui-sung should’ve shut up—should’ve clamped down before the man crossed the line.
And yet, like someone under a spell, he’d let the truth spill from his lips. As if he needed someone to hear it. As if he were desperate to shout it into some bamboo forest, too afraid to confess it directly to Moon Tae-young.
“Goddamn it.”
Lately, there were too many thoughts tangling up his mind, and he was barely hanging onto his sanity. Who would’ve thought he’d grow attached to someone—let alone someone who turned out to be tangled up in this filthy Hero farce from the very beginning?
Cha Eui-sung clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to smash the floor to pieces. Frustration he’d forgotten about came rushing back. Resentment, with nowhere to go, welled up and clouded his vision.
Bzzzzzz—
[Thanks for your work. Let’s meet before you head out.]
And of all times, the message came from Oh Se-dan instead of Moon Tae-young. Anyone contacting him while he was in this headspace would’ve been a problem—but Oh Se-dan was especially aggravating.
Their relationship was complicated enough as it was, and on top of that, the interest Se-dan showed carried a clingy, cloying undertone. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant—coming from someone of Se-dan’s stature—but it did mess with his head.
Clutching his phone tightly, Cha Eui-sung slowly dragged himself upright.
[Sorry. My schedule’s packed.]
He shouldn’t be brushing off business like this. But he couldn’t take any more. The stamina that had once carried him through sleepless nights was finally running out.
All he wanted now was for morning to come. To meet Go Yeong-won, offer a quick thanks, and bolt back to Cheongseri.
Back to where the rabbit—not quite, maybe more like a fox in a bear’s skin—was waiting for him.
Just the thought of Moon Tae-young helped Eui-sung grit his teeth and hold back the rising irritation.
“It’s okay. I… I think I can handle this.”
Why did that voice suddenly echo through his mind?
Cha Eui-sung closed his eyes, trying to trace the faint memory of that tone. The curiosity he’d assumed had withered and died under stress began to rise again—just a little.
How had that damn Demon King from the past intended to survive that situation? Could Moon Tae-young—now in Eui-sung’s grasp—solve this, too?
It was a strange feeling, knowing that most of the anxiety coiling in his chest stemmed from him. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Cha Eui-sung stood by the window, blankly staring out as he remembered the golden glow of that house key.
Clink.
The soft sound of a keychain rang in his ears like a hallucination—and for some reason, an ache throbbed just beneath his sternum.
