Blink.
When he opened his eyes, he was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Simple ceiling light. Clean white-toned wallpaper. Soft, natural light streaming in.
Glancing around the room, which looked nothing like the one with the ugly floral patterns he remembered, Cha Eui-sung shut his eyes again without moving a muscle.
Fuck. What a goddamn dream. It had been a while since he’d had one that shitty. He hadn’t expected those long-buried memories to resurface like this.
His brain was already at max capacity—why couldn’t it just erase shit like that? Just his luck.
His life back when he was F-rank was so pathetic and miserable that even a small taste of it was enough to drag his mood straight into the gutter.
No matter how hard he tried to forget, the way those memories suddenly came rushing back felt like stepping on a wad of chewed gum with bare feet.
That indescribable emotion swirling in his head made him feel like he was sinking deep underwater.
If he retraced his past, this wasn’t the first time Cha Eui-sung had come down to Cheongseri. It was during the most pitiful and naive period of his life—a time when he harbored feelings he no longer understood and had come here in hiding. All he’d had back then were his mother’s ashes, which he couldn’t bring himself to scatter at sea, and a mountain of debt left behind after years of caring for her.
Still, he’d Awakened, even if it was just to F-rank, and become a Hunter. He hadn’t expected a rosy future, but he’d at least dared to dream of a decent one…
But with stats like his, he couldn’t participate in combat, and as a Porter not included in raid parties, he received zero support from the Hunter Association. Everything—from equipment adapted to dungeon conditions to weapons for emergencies—cost money.
No one, not even third-tier lenders, would take him in. The ones who did were illegal loan sharks who specifically targeted low-rank Awakened.
What a dumbass…
Looking back now, he should’ve just bounced around construction sites and scraped together enough to start repaying his debt. Or filed for bankruptcy and tried to get government aid.
But his mother, who had died after a long illness, and the high school he’d barely managed to graduate—none of it had taught him how to survive in this world.
Then came the injury in the dungeon. He was out of work for three months, and when he finally got back on his feet, his life had turned into a living hell.
“You didn’t even manage the principal, and now you’re behind on the interest too. Isn’t that right?”
F-rank was such a gray zone. They had just enough strength and quirky skills to be classified as Awakened, but not enough to be functional Hunters. That meant no support, no recognition.
In other words, able-bodied people with oddball skills were left standing in a legal blind spot.
And in that situation—carrying debt with no guardian and a face that stood out for all the wrong reasons—his appearance didn’t exactly work in his favor.
He struggled for years before finally hitting rock bottom, and in the end, his last resort was to run away in the middle of the night.
“Mom said she lived in the countryside when she was little. If you keep heading down this way, there’s a place called Cheongseri…”
If only he’d chosen to hide in a city with more strangers, things might’ve been easier. What the hell had he expected, coming all the way out here?
All he could do in his late mother’s hometown—seen for the first time in his life—was crawl into a decrepit house on the outskirts of the village and hide, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
“It’s so hot… I’m so thirsty…”
When the midsummer sun scorched the air, he’d lean his head against the crumbling walls, trying to cool off any way he could. If he heard someone walking by outside, he’d give up even that and curl up in the corner, holding his breath.
Why were summer days so endlessly long…?
Each morning brought a brutal heatwave and a fresh wave of terror. To distract himself from the agony, he’d spend hours lying flat, lost in imagination.
What if his mother hadn’t lost her entire family when she was a child? What if she’d had some relatives left—people he could call family? What if she’d grown up in that same village her whole life?
Then maybe… just maybe, he might have been born in Cheongseri too.
He knew it was absurd. But even so, he clung to those pitiful daydreams for a long time.
Because that was all he had. A connection so faint and fragile it couldn’t even be called a tie—flimsier than a spider’s web—and yet, it was the only thing that linked him to the world.
Still, no amount of wishful thinking could numb the pain of heat and hunger. The bread and snacks he’d brought were long gone, eaten bit by bit. When night finally fell, he’d sneak outside and gnaw on whatever half-grown crops he could find.
It felt like the world was hell-bent on pushing him to the edge. And even as he gasped for air in that suffocating heat, he still found himself thinking—I want to live.
But the escape didn’t last long.
The loan sharks tracked him to Cheongseri and, without much trouble, found the abandoned house and dragged him out.
A commotion followed, and a few villagers asked what was going on, but once they figured it out, they didn’t intervene. After all, he was just some sketchy debtor who’d snuck into their town. If someone had stepped in to help, Cha Eui-sung probably would’ve been the one more confused.
And yet… everything about it felt so cruel. On the way back to Seoul, he cried the entire time.
His voice gave out, unable to produce a sound, but the tears never stopped. It felt like he cried out every tear he’d ever have in this lifetime.
…Looking back on it now, it was such an endlessly stupid and pathetic moment.
“Tsk.”
Maybe it was because of last night, but damn if that wasn’t one filthy dream. Cha Eui-sung clicked his tongue and pressed against his temple.
Only after shaking off the unpleasant residue did the events of dawn resurface in his mind. He tried to remember when he’d passed out, and like a film reel clicking into motion, the memories of what happened in the early hours started flickering through his head.
“Medicine? I don’t really feel that bad…”
“Just take it. Don’t make me hear you regret it later.”
Hmm… right. Cha Eui-sung had gone to Moon Tae-young’s house to get treatment for the stab wound. He figured there was no way the guy would feed him anything suspicious now, so he swallowed the medicine without much thought. And from that point, things started getting hazy.
It wasn’t just that the tension left his body—whatever he’d taken felt like some seriously potent sedative. His thoughts slowed, his limbs grew heavy, and soon even speaking became sporadic.
“He told me… to bring him proof…”
“Don’t move.”
“So I ignored him, but… he said he already had something or whatever…”
“Don’t tense your abdomen.”
“I tried to throw him off by saying weird shit…but that bastard suddenly grabbed my hair…”
“…”
He ended up babbling a bit, but he still managed to get his story across—more or less as planned. Honestly, he’d have pulled it off even if he’d been on truth serum, so he didn’t think much of it.
What he was curious about was where Moon Tae-young had managed to get a drug strong enough to knock out an S-rank. Without a serious supplier backing him, even the Black Market wouldn’t have had something like that lying around.
“The bleeding stopped quickly, but you still lost blood. You should rest.”
“…I’ll go home.”
“In that condition?”
“I’m fine now…”
He remembered nodding off as soon as he said that. Normally, he’d have been able to resist the effects of a strong sedative, but pretending to be spaced out must’ve worked too well—his body actually relaxed, and the exhaustion hit him like a truck.
He tried to stay conscious, not wanting to fully pass out, but every time he opened his eyes, the situation had shifted slightly. One moment he was slumped against the wall, his body still blood-soaked. The next, he was sitting on the bed in those same clothes. Then suddenly, he was lying on his back, clutching a blanket.
And now… now he was wide awake, lying in Moon Tae-young’s bed with the drug’s effects completely worn off.
“Ha.”
His mind snapped into focus. He shot up—and there it was: his bare upper body, not a thread on him. At some point, that filthy mess of a torso had been cleaned up spotless.
What the actual fuck…
Sucking in a sharp breath, he yanked back the blanket. Thankfully, his lower half was still clad in the same pants he’d worn yesterday. He let out a relieved sigh and immediately went to look for his phone.
Monday, 11:28 AM.
He listened carefully, but the house was dead silent. That’s when it hit him—Moon Tae-young had left the place and him behind.
Unbelievable. Of all people, he’d passed out cold in the house of the goddamn Demon King. If he took that stuff a second time, he might actually end up dead before he knew it.
He turned his head, still dazed by the absurdity of it all, and spotted some neatly folded clothes on the nightstand. He unfolded them to check the size—they were Moon Tae-young’s. So he’d left them for him to change into?
Cha Eui-sung glanced down at himself. It was a damn sight. His upper body looked smooth and clean, while his pants were caked in dirt and stained with dried blood. At least the socks were off…
And yet Moon Tae-young had put him on the bed like this. That wasn’t comforting—it was just plain embarrassing. He’d have preferred being tossed onto the floor instead. That would’ve sat better with him.
Well, if he’d tried to take my pants off, I’d have woken up swinging.
He twisted slightly and checked his side. Through the translucent waterproof bandage, he could faintly make out the wound, closed up neatly. The treatment was so professional it didn’t seem any different from what he’d get at a hospital—clean, precise work.
Cha Eui-sung quickly changed clothes, gathered his things, and stepped out of the room. Staying any longer in what was presumably Moon Tae-young’s bedroom gave him a weird feeling he couldn’t shake.
In the living room, there wasn’t much to see—just a desk and a PC in an otherwise empty space. There was a sink in what looked like the kitchen, but not a single dish or utensil in sight.
This guy’s a fucking psychopath.
The only things left out were a glass of water and a few pills on the desk—clearly set out for him.
As if.
Just remembering that sedative he’d assumed was a painkiller was enough to make Cha Eui-sung whip his head away in disgust.
[I’ll pay for the bedding. Text me.]
He scribbled the note on a scrap of paper and headed out. He was kind of curious about Moon Tae-young’s lifestyle, but he had a strong hunch that digging around wouldn’t turn up anything useful.
There was no way that guy had left him alone without a backup plan.
More importantly, the person Cha Eui-sung needed to deal with right now was Lee Sang-jo. After things were left like that yesterday, what the hell happened to that bastard? How had Moon Tae-young dealt with him?
