A dry, cool breeze drifted in through the window. On a bed with crumpled sheets, someone lay on their side with eyes closed.
It was a tall man. His sleek black hair swayed gently in the flow of air. His chest and shoulders, rising and falling with each breath, looked like a wall dividing the bed.
Only the upper part of his face peeked out from the bundle of blankets he was hugging. His eyebrows, neat and sharply defined around a clean brow line, stood out more than anything else.
“Mmnn…”
A sound like a faint mumble slipped out, and the man pulled the blanket bundle tighter into his chest. The soft fabric squirmed slightly, followed by a quiet giggle.
The man buried his face into the blanket. The laughter stopped, and an arm emerged from within, wrapping around his back.
And then—his vision began to blur. The scene slowly faded into an afterimage.
***
“Ugh!”
Cha Eui-sung jerked upright and gagged. His vision spun, and he braced himself against the bed with one arm, gasping for breath.
“Ghhk…”
A hot surge rushed up his throat without warning. He tried to lean his head off the side of the bed, but his trembling body refused to cooperate.
Splat. In the end, bright red blood spilled all over the blankets. Even after that, his stomach wouldn’t settle. With his chest heaving violently, Cha Eui-sung ended up spewing another wave of blood.
“Fuck, goddamn it…”
A groan laced with irritation slipped out. His breathing was ragged, and a dull throb pressed down on his skull so hard that he couldn’t even lift his head.
Curling up weakly, he huddled in on himself and silently waited for the pain to pass.
Thump. Thump. Thump…
How much time had passed? Only after the unusually long bout of headaches faded did he begin to hear his own heartbeat again. That was when the metallic tang started to creep back into his mouth, and the blurry haze clouding his vision finally began to clear.
When he finally opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting in the middle of a bed soaked in blood.
The sight was so grim, he couldn’t even muster a single word.
“Ah.”
Was the System going to do the laundry for him now?
He felt like he was going to lose his mind.
Cha Eui-sung, freshly showered after that glorious start to the morning, sat on the couch while shaking the water out of his damp hair.
Starting the day by coughing up blood wasn’t just disorienting—it was so invigorating he felt like dragging someone else down with him straight to the afterlife.
The blood-drenched bedding still sat in the bedroom. Just thinking about it exhausted him, like he had a pile of overdue work waiting.
He could understand tossing his clothes in the wash—but that thing? When the hell was he supposed to clean and dry that? If he’d pissed the bed instead, at least he could’ve hauled it into town and found a laundromat.
“And it shows me that fucked-up memory on top of everything!”
Faded Photograph Fragment. When he first got this suspicious skill, his biggest worry had been collapsing in front of enemies mid-fight.
But ever since coming down to Cheongseri, where combat situations were practically nonexistent, he’d just accepted the occasional dizziness as a fair trade for some bonus gauge. They’d more or less reached an uneasy truce.
Now, though, he had a new problem. This damned skill didn’t care about time, place, or even the state of his laundry. It would just randomly activate whenever it wanted, following whatever incomprehensible System logic it pleased—like a broken sprinkler spraying blood everywhere for no reason.
Worse yet, the time he spent numb afterward was getting longer. The symptoms were growing more severe by the day. Only now did he understand what “Burden” really meant.
The more often Faded Photograph Fragment activated, the greater the price Cha Eui-sung had to pay.
“My body… feels fine though.”
Sure, once the imposed combat-locked state ended—as if it were some kind of penalty—his body always returned to normal. Strength surged back into his limbs, and his vision was so sharp, he could probably count the legs on a fly mid-air.
Honestly, he felt like he could digest rebar if he swallowed it. It made the whole vomiting-blood episode feel downright theatrical.
“Still… at least I didn’t hear any voices this time. Geez.”
Instead, he saw something.
Until now, the skill had only given him fragmented bits of dialogue. But for the first time, it painted a clear visual scene.
He was starting to understand why the skill had such a name. It wasn’t his own memory—it was someone else’s, seen through the eyes of a third party. And the owner of that memory was probably… the man with black hair.
Cha Eui-sung was sampling someone else’s memories, one fragment at a time.
Should I be pissed off… or just curious?
It was both, really—but right now, the irritation won out. His appetite was gone, his chores had increased, and now he had to deal with this annoying mystery on top of it all.
Besides, what the hell was he supposed to do with the memory he just saw? What was he gonna do—drag his bed over and dump Moon Tae-young on it?
What bullshit. Seriously.
Cha Eui-sung slumped back onto the couch and downed his third glass of water. No matter how much he drank, the taste of blood still clung to his mouth.
What a damn fantastic morning.
***
“Help! Help!”
“Please, let me clear it this time…”
—Beeeeww—splat!
“…Ah.”
—Ding-dong. Unlock the key to claim the treasure. How many IQ points do you have?
“Ugh, another ad.”
“…Aren’t you leaving?”
These past few days, Cha Eui-sung had been dropping by the branch school regularly. Every afternoon, he’d show up, sip on the green tea or juice Moon Tae-young handed him, and slip out without a word before Tae-young’s shift ended.
Suspicious of this seemingly meaningless behavior, Moon Tae-young had initially shot him wary looks, wondering what game he was playing. But by the second day, he’d started more or less ignoring him.
Because it became clear that Cha Eui-sung had no ulterior motives. Once, such a response would’ve been unimaginable.
“Did they always make teachers handle data digitization themselves?”
“No. A request came in for a few records, but the scan failed, so I’m typing them up manually.”
“That’s quite a lot. Need a hand?”
“No.”
“I’m good at typing, you know.”
“I said I’m fine.”
It all began the day he heard what had happened. Pretending to feel unstable, like he didn’t want to be left alone in an empty house, Cha Eui-sung lingered by his side for a long time. The same man who used to be dead set on waging a battle of wills was now just sitting there in a daze, not doing anything except listening to the click of the keyboard.
For someone like Moon Tae-young—whose character wasn’t completely wrecked—it would’ve felt wrong to just kick him out.
After spending a few hours like that, his visit the next day didn’t seem quite so abrupt. Tae-young, who had let things slide once already, ended up sharing his afternoons with him from then on—albeit with a constantly uncomfortable expression.
Yeah. To sum it up, he’d missed his chance to seriously kick the guy out.
“I still haven’t paid you back for the bedding.”
“…”
“Or the clothes. I haven’t even washed them yet.”
“…”
“And I should ask how Seo-ryong’s doing in school.”
“Cha Eui-sung. You don’t need to make up a reason every time you talk to me.”
That last comment from Moon Tae-young had only made things worse. Because Cha Eui-sung actually took it literally—and started showing up without saying anything at all.
At first, it was weird for maybe a day. He stayed quiet, kept a respectful distance, only made small talk now and then.
But then, at some point, he pulled out a new device, and that was when things started to slip. Sitting where he was, he gradually slouched back and began watching videos.
When their eyes met while he was half-lying down like that, Cha Eui-sung looked up with a face that said: Yeah, I knew it was annoying. I just didn’t stop myself.
Out of guilt, he hadn’t bothered muting the sound—but it was clear he’d gone too far.
“Is the volume too loud? Want me to lower it?”
“…”
“I’ll turn it off.”
Still, Moon Tae-young had clearly grown more tolerant since the Lee Sang-jo incident. Compared to before, it was obvious that cracks had begun forming in his walls.
That thank-you from the other day hadn’t been just a polite gesture—it had been a sign that he was willing to partially drop his guard and let someone into his orbit.
Pop!
[SAVIOR GAUGE]
■■■■■■□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□
30%
Even just thinking about the sound that had rung in his ear on the way back confirmed it.
Now that he’d finally hit the big 30%, Cha Eui-sung was starting to feel certain about where their relationship stood.
You like me at least a little now, don’t you?
He didn’t seem to be worrying about when to drop the hammer anymore, even when Cha Eui-sung casually infringed on his personal space. If anything, the more time they spent together, the more they got used to tolerating each other’s annoying habits.
Good. They say distance makes the heart grow colder, so maybe the opposite wasn’t entirely impossible.
There was a reason Cha Eui-sung—who wasn’t exactly living a life of leisure—kept showing up like some idle loafer just to kill time.
And it’s working pretty damn well.
Still, sitting around for hours staring blankly at a phone wasn’t exactly good for mental health. Especially for someone like him who wasn’t used to letting time slip by meaninglessly.
Eventually, Cha Eui-sung started alternating between pretending to game and actually working on his tablet PC. Boldly managing stocks and records right next to Moon Tae-young, he would sometimes feel a ticklish sensation near his cheek.
When he turned to check, their eyes would meet.
And every time, Moon Tae-young would silently look away like nothing had happened.
Apparently, Cha Eui-sung wasn’t the only one doing inexplicable things.
Just stare if you want, make yourself at home.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t like the guy had many chances to build this kind of relationship in the first place. Given how he’d deliberately blurred the lines around his own personality, it was rare for anyone to show genuine interest in him. And even if someone did, they probably didn’t share anything as chaotic and binding as what he had with Cha Eui-sung.
So to him, Moon Tae-young’s awkward behavior felt more amusing than off-putting. Yeah, might as well get your fill—it’s not like you’ll find a face like this just anywhere.
Sure, they say all S-ranks are easy on the eyes, but Cha Eui-sung stood out even among them. And he hadn’t come in looking like this by accident—he’d washed, polished, and dressed himself to the nines. Even the surface alone was enough to make people like him.
“You know what?”
“No.”
“Lately, you haven’t been calling me that guy anymore.”
“…”
With a bright smile and a glance back at his newsfeed, Cha Eui-sung quietly basked in the sensation of someone’s gaze following him.
