It was the heart of winter. A round of snow had fallen on Cheongseri. Though there hadn’t been enough precipitation for the snow to pile up and sink their feet into, the world had turned white enough.
“If it had snowed a little more, we wouldn’t have to go to school. Right, Seo-ryong?”
At Kim Jeong-baek’s joke, Seo-ryong simply nodded without a word. She didn’t bother replying out loud. Honestly, she didn’t mind going.
“More bulgogi.”
“Hey, I told you not to just pick out the meat.”
“The onions are burnt.”
“Huh? Burnt? Where? You should’ve told me sooner!”
Before transferring here, Seo-ryong hadn’t had many friends. Up until a few years ago, she’d wolf down her school lunches and get called a beggar. With her frizzy hair always down, people called her a vagrant—or worse, a ghost.
It wasn’t until Kim Jeong-baek, who used to drop by now and then with toys, got involved properly that Seo-ryong learned she needed to brush and tie up her hair. She learned how to wash up and dress neatly.
After that, she got along with everyone by reading the room, but the first impression had already stuck—and it never faded among the parents. So when Kim Jeong-baek sighed and brought up the idea of transferring schools, Seo-ryong immediately nodded. Even then, half a year passed without a word. Then one day, he brought it up again.
“So, uh… this boss I know said he needs a niece. He’s not a bad guy—okay, yeah, he’s weird, but not dangerous or anything…”
Kim Jeong-baek had sharp instincts. He could handle anything smoothly, and people said he’d survive even if war broke out. Whenever Seo-ryong heard adults say that, she always thought she and her uncle were alike.
Besides, Kim Jeong-baek had only ever done good things for her, so there was no reason to feel uneasy. After a few conversations among the grown-ups, Seo-ryong arrived in Cheongseri, just as she’d hoped.
And as expected, she liked living with her uncle. Going to school wasn’t so bad either. As long as she got her studies out of the way, there were a million ways to have fun.
Now that it had snowed, she could build snowmen the size of her fists and stomp around in the fresh snow. Humming a tune, Seo-ryong finished her meal while Kim Jeong-baek scrambled around in a rush.
As she drank some water, a question popped into her head.
“By the way, why isn’t the little uncle coming these days?”
Kim Jeong-baek, who was busy picking out the charred onions, briefly looked startled. He paused to think, then muttered in a slow, drawn-out voice.
“Well… he must be busy with something. That’s just how he is. Only shows up when he needs something.”
“So he doesn’t need us right now?”
“No? I’m dying over here ‘cause he’s holed up in his room working all the time. Asking me to do goddamn investigations overseas and—wait, ‘goddamn’ is a bad word, right? So don’t say it, okay?”
Kim Jeong-baek replied casually, but Seo-ryong could feel a flicker of instability in the tail end of his words.
Come to think of it, he had muttered not long ago, “Your teacher and the boss must’ve had one hell of a fight.”
Seo-ryong recalled the message reports from the past few days. The guy hadn’t usually responded, but after her last report, he’d been replying every single time with “Good job.”
Maybe that was why.
“Don’t go acting like you know something. That guy’s got a damn fragile ego…”
Seo-ryong would follow Kim Jeong-baek’s advice to the letter, of course. Still, to her, that fake uncle wasn’t a bad or dangerous person.
If anything, he was one of the few real adults who treated her as an equal—as long as she did what she was told.
Kim Jeong-baek had said, “That guy’s weird as hell, lumping kids and adults together like they’re on the same level,” but Seo-ryong liked it that way.
At the very least, he never looked down on her.
“Still, this is weird. That guy usually pops up the second someone even says his name—like some kind of tiger.”
Having picked out all the onions, Kim Jeong-baek mumbled as he resumed eating—almost like triggering a flag.
He really did have great instincts. The moment he finished speaking, Seo-ryong started brushing her tangled hair.
Not long after—
Ding-dong!
It was a quiet morning, the kind when no one was supposed to drop by. The doorbell rang loud and clear through the house.
***
“Did things settle down after your trip to Seoul?”
That was the first thing Kim Jeong-baek said when they saw each other for the first time in nearly two weeks.
Cha Eui-sung paused in the middle of taking off his shoes and glanced over. There was unease in his eyes.
“I patched it up well enough, so don’t worry and move.”
He’d already told him to stay put and trust that he’d keep the fallout away from them, but Kim Jeong-baek was still full of worry.
Well, he couldn’t blame him. After all, it was Cha Eui-sung who’d drilled into him the importance of being wary of the Association and Oh Se-dan—almost like they were horror stories.
With a sluggish look on his face, Eui-sung took off his shoes and stepped inside.
Seo-ryong was getting ready for school. She gave a polite bow, and Eui-sung responded with a slight nod.
“Seo-ryong. Your performance bonus.”
The moment he pulled out a top-up card for the game store from his inner pocket, her little face lit up instantly.
Sigh.
Then, completely unlike his usual self, Cha Eui-sung sank deep into the sofa.
His neck was stiff, and his whole back ached. His head had been pounding since the day before, and he constantly felt drained.
These days, he had to collapse like this wherever he went just to feel somewhat human again.
“…Have you even slept?”
“Who knows.”
“No wonder you messaged me at four in the damn morning. You’ve got insomnia or something?”
He ignored the voice beside him and shut his eyes. It was true that he’d been getting a couple hours of sleep here and there, but the last few nights had been rough—he couldn’t manage even that.
Whenever he lay down, his head would fill with pointless thoughts. And on the rare nights when he did drift off for ten minutes, he’d jolt awake with a sharp chill, like something terrible had happened somewhere he wasn’t.
It felt like someone had hammered a tendon through his brain—no matter what he did, it wouldn’t snap.
“Anyway, I’m here because I need you to verify these.”
Eui-sung opened his eyes into a squint and handed over a tablet PC. The screen was filled with the “reward” Oh Se-dan had sent.
“Don’t think she gave me fakes, but you never know. She’s the type to mess with something unimportant just to see if I catch on.”
As he explained, Kim Jeong-baek made a face like he was already sick of it, then took the tablet. He seemed to understand why Eui-sung hadn’t sent anything by email or even over the phone—he didn’t want a leak. Silently, Jeong-baek scrolled through the pages.
“Whatever you’re up to, I’m not interested. But seeing you like this does make me nervous.”
Eui-sung shut his eyes again at the subtle warning, only to hear more muttering.
He’d even double-checked his clothes before coming out to make sure he didn’t look too ragged. Not that it helped—he still looked worn out.
Well, yeah…
Even during the chaos of his Second Life, he’d never had trouble sleeping like this. Even he had to admit he was clearly overdoing it now.
Eui-sung let out a long sigh, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in his head.
He’d been sleepless for five nights straight.
The first two nights were because his mind was too busy. After Moon Tae-young had left, he’d racked his brain and dug through every clue to figure out what state the man was in.
Maybe he’d heard something from an Outer God. Or maybe he was just pissed because someone else’s cologne had rubbed off on him.
If it were the latter, all he had to do was run over and explain himself. Say he’d just come back from meeting someone for work, and that lunatic had practically bathed in cologne so the smell stuck to him. Then put on a sad little face and say, “Did you seriously doubt me because of that?” That would solve everything.
But Cha Eui-sung couldn’t be sure what had happened between Moon Tae-young and the Outer God. Of course he couldn’t. Wasn’t it the same back when he’d tampered with that dungeon in the empty lot?
The reason he’d backed off back then was because he knew Tae-young wasn’t the type to fall for a clumsy lie.
If he did something that stupid while Tae-young already knew the truth, then both their relationship—and the Savior Gauge—would be wrecked.
But still… wasn’t that reaction kind of mild?
Yeah, those cold, expressionless eyes and that clinical smile had made his chest twist—but that was it. Other than tearing off a door handle, Tae-young hadn’t done anything.
If their roles had been reversed, Cha Eui-sung wouldn’t have let things slide like that.
If someone approached him and he realized they were the Hero trying to test him, he’d have broken a leg on the spot, disarmed them, and demanded every last reason for the approach.
Then he’d probably spiral into betrayal and rage. Fucking world. Once it all crumbles, Jo Tae-jong, the Hero, and this goddamn System can all disappear. Let’s all die together.
Bang.
Just imagining it sent a chill through him—even for someone like Cha Eui-sung. That was nuclear-button-level fury. The exact kind of outcome an Outer God would want.
Compared to that, Moon Tae-young was pretty damn composed.
Sure, he’d always been a quiet guy. And quiet ones were usually the scariest when they got mad.
Either he didn’t know a thing about the Demon King and Hero situation… or he didn’t know everything. That was the conclusion Cha Eui-sung had come to on the morning of the third day.
After that, he just kept doing what he was supposed to do—waiting. Waiting for Moon Tae-young to calm down. For the sting of betrayal and the heat of emotion to fade just enough so they could talk.
Even so, he couldn’t shake the restlessness. He felt like a sewer rat crawling out of his skin.
Hell, he’d even sent a text early that morning.
[You up?]
And if he was up, then what?
He had no idea what that was—some midnight-ex energy of an ex-boyfriend, maybe? But his fingers moved before his brain caught up.
Of course, there was no reply. He was this close to showing up at Moon Tae-young’s place just to check if the guy had blocked him.
Naturally, he leaned on Seo-ryong’s text reports too.
[Teacher was acting normal. After the final exams, he told us to make mistake notebooks. Chansol oppa whined about it, and Teacher said if we want to go to middle school, we have to try harder, and only gave the sixth graders more homework. But Min-hee said she thinks he’s getting home late. She went out for dinner yesterday, and on the way back, she saw the school lights still on.]
That rambling message made him feel ridiculously relieved.
The moment he knew Tae-young was okay, he exhaled in relief—and then, for some reason, anger bubbled up.
It was pathetic and pitiful, but thinking this is just because of the Gauge helped him stay sane.
Even now, collapsed on someone else’s sofa, he was checking his phone every five minutes.
Cha Eui-sung raised a hand and pressed it against his face. The warmth over his closed eyes dulled the fatigue, just a bit.
It almost felt like Moon Tae-young’s hand was resting on his face. That thought made his chest churn.
Damn it. He felt sick. Eui-sung finally opened his eyes and lifted his head.
Across from him, Kim Jeong-baek was watching with a strange look on his face, tablet still in hand.
“Why the hell are you grimacing and smiling at the same time? That’s creepy as hell.”
Shit.
Cha Eui-sung forced himself upright, trying to pull order from the foggy mess in his head.
