♪♬♩♪—
With a jolt, Cha Eui-sung’s eyes flew open. Like a wild beast, he scrambled to grab his phone.
The speed was so brutal, it wouldn’t have been surprising if a monster had suddenly leapt out—it felt like he was still in a dungeon.
“Kim Jeong-baek?”
—Interview’s done. Come on back now.
Had this guy’s voice ever sounded so reassuring?
Cha Eui-sung cleared his throat and deliberately stalled, trying to tamp down his excitement.
“Ahem… So, how’d it go?”
—Nothing major. Both sides clearly screwed up, but luckily the kid who got hit’s totally fine. I just got asked to pass along some advice to the families and left.
“That’s a relief. What about me?”
—Yeah, I brought you up too. Said you’ve had some rough experiences because of your face, and that it takes you a while to open up. They totally got it right away.
“Ha ha.”
His laugh, as if he’d expected that reaction, must’ve come off smug—Jeong-baek muttered something under his breath.
“Nothing unusual about Moon Tae-young, right?”
—Nope, just like when Seo-ryong transferred. Oh, right—Seo-ryong said to tell you sorry about the trouble in class. She got a good scolding from her little uncle, apparently.
“Really? Tell Seo-ryong she did well.”
—I mean, she totally lied, so I don’t know about ‘did well.’ Anyway, I’m hanging up.
Click. Even after the call ended for real, Cha Eui-sung remained on all fours.
Snapping back to himself, he dashed to the bathroom and stared into the mirror.
Still a good-looking face. Smooth skin. His hair was a little wild, but he looked like someone who ate healthy meals three times a day and got deep, restful sleep—his complexion practically glowed.
Tsk. Since everyone already believed those damn rumors, he thought he might as well milk some sympathy out of it. But no—he looked annoyingly healthy.
He considered holding his breath until his eyeballs popped just to look unwell but gave up on that idea. Instead, he grabbed his hair, ruffled it violently until it stuck up in all directions.
Then, he put on a gloomy expression. The reflection staring back was of a scruffy but handsome guy who looked perfectly fine health-wise but seemed weighed down by some quiet family misfortune.
Yeah, that’s the look. A shadowy smile crept across Cha Eui-sung’s face.
It wasn’t Moon Tae-young’s fault that the adults ended up caught in the middle of a kids’ fight, but Eui-sung still hoped the guy walked away with at least a tiny bit of guilt.
Sure, it bruised his pride to think about how much more generous he’d become since the Lee Sang-jo incident—but in the end, it was a net gain.
Just imagining that Savior Gauge ticking up again out of nowhere gave him the motivation he needed.
Jamming his cap low over his face, Cha Eui-sung hummed an old tune and headed for the branch school.
***
Knock knock.
As always, Cha Eui-sung knocked before stepping inside—and immediately locked eyes with Moon Tae-young.
“You’re still here.”
Regardless of the way Tae-young’s eyes widened, Eui-sung coolly took his usual spot on the couch. The old leather gave a sunken creak beneath him, and the tense atmosphere slightly softened.
Sensing the shift, Moon Tae-young adjusted his expression.
“There’s only green tea today.”
“I’ll drink it gratefully.”
They spoke as if nothing had happened. The familiar clink of a spoon stirring in a cup echoed between them. Everything unfolded with the natural ease of flowing water.
Click. Moon Tae-young placed the cup in front of him without a word.
Cha Eui-sung silently watched his hand before lifting his gaze to meet his eyes.
A vaguely awkward air—normal, yet not—lingered between them.
“Are you busy again today?”
Glancing over, he saw the desk was clean. Just a single leather notebook sat there with a pen stuck in its spine. A stark contrast from the usual clutter of documents, origami paper, and craft sticks.
“Do you always leave late? Is that why people say the job’s hard?”
He seemed to be testing the waters again. Moon Tae-young didn’t respond.
“But staying till seven or eight every single day? Even someone clueless like me can tell that’s not normal. Don’t you think so?”
A sigh escaped.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Did I come too late?”
“Do you want to hear the truth?”
“Nope.”
Silence settled again as Moon Tae-young sat down on the couch across from him.
Cha Eui-sung turned his head slightly to avoid his gaze.
“About yesterday… Honestly, I figured I’d feel like crap if I came today, but I came anyway.”
Cutting him off, Eui-sung noticed Tae-young raise an eyebrow before picking up his cup.
There was no sign of a tea bag—it might as well have been plain hot water.
If he pushed any further, the man might finally snap. Timing his next move carefully, Eui-sung cut to the chase.
“I’m sorry for storming out yesterday. I should’ve said something. But honestly, I was embarrassed, so I just bolted.”
“……”
“That’s the only reason I came. I also realized I’ve probably been a pain.”
“I thought you didn’t care about that.”
“What do you take me for?”
Grumbling under his breath, Eui-sung shifted into a more upright position. The tea against his lips was lukewarm and flavorless.
“If I’m not a bother, I’ll keep coming.”
“Wouldn’t you have come anyway, even if I said you were?”
“I do have some awareness, you know.”
It was his way of saying that if he overstepped, he’d back off. One wrong move, and Tae-young wouldn’t hesitate to laugh and shut the door in his face.
Even if it was the furthest corner, he still wanted to remain inside the walls. The way he bit his lip while hinting at that desire made him look almost a little pitiful.
“You are a bother. But it’s manageable.”
Was he finally closing the gap, just like the Savior Gauge suggested?
With no pushback, Moon Tae-young’s quiet approval landed.
Cha Eui-sung averted his gaze with a conflicted look, but a glimmer of relief flickered in his eyes.
He even seemed a little happier now, leaning back until he was half-reclined, clinging to his empty cup like it still held something.
“And I’m not a host.”
“I know.”
“I’ve got some money, sure, but it’s not like I’m some secret heir to a chaebol family. Obviously I’ve never skipped town with debt, either. What else was there…”
“What’s the point of telling me all this?”
“It pisses me off that only I know the truth.”
Grumbling like always, he sneaked a glance at Moon Tae-young. His face was impassive, but the corners of his lips had stretched just a little.
He didn’t look sympathetic or sorry—not even a hint of pity.
So much for earning sympathy… But strangely, it didn’t feel bad.
“Take a break before you go.”
“I’m good. I should go home instead of just sitting around here.”
Cha Eui-sung adjusted his crooked cap and stood.
He’d planned to ride out the damage from the rumors for a while longer, weaponizing his hurt feelings—but the tension drained out of him too easily.
Compared to how just seeing Tae-young used to stir up venom in him, this was a massive change.
No. That’s not it.
When he first met Moon Tae-young—thinking back, even then his resolve had begun to melt away.
He didn’t look anything like a Demon King.
That ordinary figure, surrounded by noisy kids and warm sunlight, was etched into his mind.
It’s not like he actually expected the guy to look like some demon. Even infamous villains just look average once you shave their heads.
Still… back then, something about it had felt off.
His chest twisted with a strange tightness.
Cha Eui-sung reflexively tried to conjure up an image of a meteor showering down—only to lock eyes with Moon Tae-young, who’d come to see him out.
Thud.
Normally, his mind would spiral into memory after memory of death, until a rock cracked his skull and forced it to stop.
But this time, it just stopped on its own.
Those dark, fathomless eyes dragged him back to reality.
“……”
Ah. He made a weird face.
Before he could catch himself, his brows twitched and his mouth parted slightly.
Realizing what he looked like, Cha Eui-sung snapped his head away to avoid the gaze.
What the hell was that…?
It wasn’t like his heart raced or he blinked too fast—he just… lost control of his expression. Right in front of his nemesis, no less.
The decent mood he’d been in instantly turned foul.
Tae-young’s expression had shifted subtly, too, which only made it worse.
A rush of blood surged upward, heating his neck and face.
“I’m leaving.”
He blurted the goodbye unilaterally and stepped out of the room.
The hallway air was cool and dim, but his face refused to cool down.
He’d just walked out normally, yet the absence of a door-closing sound left a weird sense of discomfort.
Dumbass.
He should’ve been training his facial muscles in front of a mirror until he snapped, not lounging around like a lump at home.
Even if he lost his mind completely, he couldn’t afford to show it.
He should’ve learned that, after nearly falling apart—and even after regression.
Redirecting his frustration inward, he stabbed himself with blame until, oddly enough, he felt lighter.
With a long breath, the strange emotion began to settle.
Yeah, maybe he looked pathetic for a second.
But he’d had a decent conversation with Moon Tae-young. And more importantly, he realized the guy might be drawing closer too—not just him making all the effort.
That faint realization brought a flicker of satisfaction.
He quickened his pace—
Wobble—
Suddenly, the world tilted.
What…
Before he could panic, his body leaned sharply to the side.
This is—
He stretched out an arm, but—thud!—a loud crash rang out as his head hit the ground.
His blurred vision slowly faded to black.
…
He tried pushing himself up off the floor a few times—but couldn’t tell if his body had moved or not.
As everything dimmed around him, his gaze drifted off into the distance.
