“Hunter-nim, wait, I—I’m still—ugh!”
The end of the first round.
Whenever he recalled that moment, it felt so vivid that even his senses seemed to regress to that very instant. Inside a dungeon thick with the stench of death. The moment the accident occurred, the Hunters bolted without hesitation.
“I—huff—I’m still in here, huff—!”
There was so much he wanted to shout, but with an F-rank’s stamina, even that wasn’t allowed. Only broken cries escaped him in ragged bursts.
And just like that, everyone left him behind. In a dark, damp, and perilous dungeon, he was abandoned.
He couldn’t even scream out loud. He scrambled, clawed at the ground, desperate to survive.
No—that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to die alone, so he dragged himself along, groveling.
He just kept repeating the same thing over and over in his mind.
Don’t leave me behind. Take me with you.
Save me. I don’t want to die—I came here because I wanted to live.
Even though he knew exactly what kind of future awaited him, what passed through Cha Eui-sung’s mind in that moment was, ironically, a hope tainted with fear.
The fantasy that maybe, just maybe, if the Hunters had managed to escape, they’d notice someone was missing.
That if he hid and held on, if he could just barely keep breathing as he ran—then maybe a rescue team would come.
The rescue team will come for me. I might actually survive this. I’ll make it.
I want to live.
“I want to live.”
Blink.
He opened his eyes to see the sky, now tinged red.
As he calmed his trembling body, a faint disgust began to creep in.
How long had it been since he’d shed that damn F-rank title, only to find himself ruminating on these filthy memories all night long?
“Slipped again, fuck.”
It was a memory that rarely surfaced, even right after he’d regressed to the second round. The only reason it was bubbling up now—no matter how he looked at it—was because he had it too easy.
Back in round two, true rest and proper sleep were luxuries he almost never had.
Back then, he’d pass out for two or three hours, wake up, train, work, scheme. Letting his mind wander for even a short time would cause the tasks to pile up like compounding interest. A night spent doing nothing—this was his first time since round three. In other words, nearly a decade.
Raising his arm to shield his eyes, his frayed nerves finally began to settle. Cha Eui-sung slowly retraced the steps that had led him to this backwoods countryside.
“Because… I didn’t want to work myself to death again, like in round two.”
Hmm… then isn’t it fine to slack off a little?
The empty time he’d never had back then was finally his to grasp. Technically, his current mission was to save the world. But in reality, it was about keeping tabs on one man.
Observing why he wanted to bring about the end of the world, and somehow filling the Savior Gauge so he could live out the rest of his life in peace.
That much was easy. He’d handled far worse without a break. He could probably get it done while lounging around like a grasshopper.
“…Might as well rest some more. Then go find the Demon King.”
To do that, he’d first have to learn how to kill time in this spacious, peaceful lull.
Cha Eui-sung gazed up at the sky for a long while before slowly rising to his feet. He entered the bathroom, which felt oddly unapproachable, and turned on the water over his head.
Cold water burst from the yellowed plastic showerhead, washing away his thoughts along with it.
***
In the afternoon, the branch school exuded a tranquility aged by time.
Cha Eui-sung quietly watched as the students poured out in a rush. Only when the playground emptied out completely did he step inside the building.
A tall man was walking down the first-floor hallway, sunlight filtering in through the glass windows.
“Mm, hello.”
The sudden greeting made the familiar man turn his head. Moon Tae-young. He held a file folder in his left hand and still wore the same oversized dragonfly-eyes glasses.
Behind those lenses were features so balanced, so precisely sculpted, that it was almost absurd how ordinary they looked at first glance.
Oddly enough, though, his appearance no longer struck Cha Eui-sung as vividly as when they first met.
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment Moon Tae-young’s face stiffened—before quickly returning to normal.
He tapped the file folder a couple of times with his fingers, then asked quietly.
“…What brings you here?”
‘Look at that. His eyes aren’t smiling.’
Cha Eui-sung had mastered the art of reading people’s expressions. He caught it—this guy had nearly hardened his face before quickly shifting back. Just what was he so wary about?
“Haha, nice to meet you. You’re one of the teachers here, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I had a few questions about transferring schools, so I stopped by.”
Transfer… Moon Tae-young let the word trail off as he gave him a once-over from head to toe.
“Well, actually, my nephew’s eleven years old. Looks like he’s going to be moving to this area.”
Anticipating that reaction, Cha Eui-sung lifted the corners of his lips and smoothly tossed out the lie.
Sure, the transfer process would go through the official system eventually, but he played the part of someone wanting to check out the school in advance, glancing around like an inquisitive guardian.
And just like that, he became the doting uncle. A concerned adult wanting to see where his beloved nephew would be adapting and spending his days.
As expected, the suspicion in Moon Tae-young’s dark eyes eased slightly the moment he shifted from being a strange man to a guardian.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around the neighborhood.”
“I just moved here too. It’s my mother’s hometown.”
Once he gave a backstory, Moon Tae-young’s demeanor softened further. Cha Eui-sung wore the kindest, most trustworthy expression he could muster—one that screamed he wasn’t some shady guy who barged into an elementary school, but a soon-to-be parent with actual ties to the village.
“Phew. Eleven, huh… So you’re planning to settle in this village? Just so you know, this isn’t a regular elementary school—it’s a branch, and we conduct combined classes.”
Of course it worked. Even back at the Hunter Association, whenever he put on a pitiful act, everyone believed him—S-rank or not. If he pretended to be sad, even with dry, itchy eyes, people thought he was on the verge of tears.
“If you’re looking for a consultation about the transfer, shall we talk inside?”
Moon Tae-young gestured forward with his palm. Cha Eui-sung smiled pleasantly and followed.
They soon stepped into a room that looked like a repurposed principal’s office.
Stacks of black folders teetered on an old desk. A few cabinet drawers were slightly ajar, stuffed with yellowing paper documents.
“This is Cheongse Branch School. I’m Moon Tae-young, the teacher here. Because we have so few students, I’m the only one stationed, and I also act as the interim principal.”
“Principal… Ah, I’m Cha Eui-sung. Like I mentioned earlier, I moved here recently. Been looking around for a few days now—it’s surprising that even a branch school still operates in a place like this.”
“Well… honestly, Cheongse Branch is in the process of being shut down. After this year, we don’t plan on accepting any more students.”
As he sat down on the sofa, there was a soft clink—someone set a chilled drink in front of him. A shadow passed briefly before Moon Tae-young took the seat across from him.
“We only have students from fourth grade and up. We’re doing our best to make sure they can at least graduate.”
“Ah, then…”
“Since your nephew would be entering fifth grade, a transfer is technically possible. I wouldn’t exactly recommend it, but if you’re moving here, there really aren’t many options.”
Of course. That’s exactly why he’d made his imaginary nephew eleven.
Up close, Moon Tae-young had surprisingly long eyelashes. His eyebrows arched smoothly and cleanly. His forehead was perfectly smooth, and his slightly tousled hair from the afternoon had a vivid black luster.
Whatever tricks he used, the guy clearly had classic, striking features. If his looks ever came fully into view, it’d cause a major commotion in a rural place like this.
As he studied the man’s features beyond the glasses, Moon Tae-young, who had been glancing at a monitor, suddenly locked eyes with him.
Ah. Cha Eui-sung quickly averted his gaze.
“All the families that had planned to enroll their kids ended up moving away. The school was supposed to close a while ago, but due to requests from the remaining parents, we decided to stay open until those students graduate.”
“Looks like you won’t be heading back up any time soon.”
“…Sorry? Ah, it’s fine.”
Apparently, he hadn’t just ended up at any branch school—he was thrown into one on the brink of closure, somewhere no one wanted to be. He was supposed to be here only temporarily, but even that short stint had been extended.
The title “acting principal” might sound impressive for someone his age, but the reality was that this was a place people avoided so much, the authorities didn’t even bother assigning additional teachers—a glorified exile post.
‘A Demon King dumped in a dead-end job…’
Moon Tae-young continued calmly explaining various things, yet he still didn’t seem to match that strange title. If anything, he leaned more toward the side of good. And at his young age, he appeared competent and responsible.
Could it be that, at this point in time, he hadn’t awakened as the Demon King yet?
It was a real possibility. This was ten years ago, after all. If someone like him had been dropped as the only teacher into a village where you had to drive just to reach a hospital… even Cha Eui-sung might not have become a Demon King, but at least a demon.
‘Just imagining it pisses me off.’
As these thoughts swirled in his head, analyzing Moon Tae-young—
…?
Something felt off. A nagging sense of unease wrapped around the back of his neck. The sensation that he’d overlooked something important, something he couldn’t place.
In his experience, this wasn’t just a matter of being out of sorts—this meant he was actually forgetting something. And not just anything—something crucial to this very situation.
What had he missed? What part of this was triggering his subconscious?
He casually glanced around, trying not to show his wariness, and for a split second, he forgot that Moon Tae-young was sitting right in front of him. He quickly returned his gaze, only to find him watching with one eyebrow slightly raised.
His heart sank with a thud.
‘…That expression.’
As he looked at Moon Tae-young’s face, a wave of déjà vu pierced through his temple.
That expression… he’d seen it before.
Right. Just the day before, in front of the school gate, when he’d fallen and Moon Tae-young had reached out to help him up.
The face that had asked, Are you alright? now overlapped seamlessly with the man sitting before him.
The realization hit fast.
‘Now that I think about it, when that bastard helped me up yesterday… did I properly hold back my strength…?’
