That guy could hardly be involved in anything serious with Oh Se-dan. At most, he probably just got a few more menial tasks tossed his way because Kim Nocha’s department happened to be tangentially involved.
Still, by hanging around some shady establishment and letting the drunk talk a bit more than he should’ve, Cha Eui-sung learned that Oh Se-dan was scheming something involving Unregistered Awakened.
Was he doing that this time around too?
Kim Nocha, completely wasted, had a tendency to blabber all kinds of crap while putting on airs. Bragging that he got to be involved in Oh Se-dan’s secret project because of his status was one such gem.
But even so, the fact that Oh Se-dan—who had been moving exactly the same way as he did in the previous timeline—was already starting to veer off course, that was definitely worth noting.
Maybe I’ve been snatching too much ahead of time…
So what? He’d intercepted most incidents before they even started and cleaned up the aftermath flawlessly.
He’d managed to shift some of the power that had been heavily leaning toward the Hunter Association back toward the Bureau of Regulation and private companies. For now, he planned to lay low and stick close to Moon Tae-young.
“I finally figured out the magic wand, too.”
With a flick of his gaze, his eyes landed on a small bag. A satisfied smile spread across Cha Eui-sung’s face as he thought of The Silent Blade snugly housed in its newly tailored scabbard.
Regardless of the size of the wound, the blade would pierce in at least 8 cm. It would stay embedded in the target’s body for at least thirty seconds.
It hadn’t taken long to identify the activation condition for its B-rank curse. When he mentioned that he didn’t like getting splashed with blood, the dummy had, quite helpfully, cooperated.
And so it became his own little showstopper—Cha Eui-sung’s personal magic wand that made everyone gasp the moment he poofed it into play.
Riding that high, he’d handed over a generous consolation payment and soaked in a divine half-body bath. That was today.
Now, sprawled across the bed, Cha Eui-sung checked his last remaining appointment.
[Jeong Seong-hyu Clinic Appointment Notice – Cha Eui-sung: Scheduled for 20XX, XX/XX at 3:50 PM. Please notify us in advance for any changes.]
Was it really worth waiting a whole year just for a single consultation? Even someone who’d regressed couldn’t see one step ahead in life—who knows when some unavoidable situation might come up?
Thankfully, people with a bit of a name had ways of pulling strings through mutual connections.
“An acquaintance of mine wants to consult Dr. Jeong Seong-hyu, but getting an appointment’s a nightmare. I wouldn’t ask for a time that doesn’t exist, but if there’s a cancellation, could you move them up a bit?”
The network of someone likely to be reelected had its advantages. With a casual message sent off, it hadn’t even been a full month before Cha Eui-sung managed to snatch up a freshly vacated cancellation slot.
I wonder what kind of guy he is.
With the meeting coming up, curiosity struck him. A corrupt doctor in cahoots with the Association—was he more selfish and sociopathic than most?
Therapy wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Even in his Second Life, he’d tried it a few times. But not once did he find it satisfying.
No, he’d even doubted whether it had any use at all. He had far too much to hide, never enough time, and didn’t even think working himself to death was particularly wrong.
When a therapist once said, “You don’t need to say anything. Just think of it as a break—relax and unwind a bit,” it had made Cha Eui-sung even more uncomfortable.
He’d already lived a thoroughly stupid life in his First Life, wasting decades of prime years—time that could’ve been used so much more effectively—on low-efficiency labor.
No therapist would ever understand why he couldn’t stop.
It was during his third session that he rejected even the careful suggestion to “consider coming a few more times.”
If not for that S-rank lunatic obsessed with his own kind, he never would’ve experienced such things in the first place.
Hoo… I bet Moon Tae-young’s drawing multiplication fairies in a PowerPoint right now.
Maybe it was the unpleasant memories, but Cha Eui-sung’s attention suddenly turned toward Moon Tae-young.
The image of the consultation room—with its striking beige recliner—gradually faded from his mind, replaced by the silhouette of someone always typing or cutting things.
Having only caught glimpses of him, Cha Eui-sung had assumed until fairly recently that Moon Tae-young must be a stiff, no-nonsense teacher.
But later, through Kim Jeong-baek, he found out that Mr. Moon was surprisingly attentive and proactive.
What’s he working so hard for?
Looking back, it must’ve been late summer. At the time, Cha Eui-sung was still ignoring everyone in town, and Kim Jeong-baek had made a fuss about going to some sort of mock school performance.
With only about five students enrolled at the branch school, what kind of performance could they possibly hold?
On top of that, there were volunteer activities, field trips… For such a small, unimpressive place, they ran a ridiculous number of events.
In hindsight, that meant Moon Tae-young had been organizing all of it. He’d even made frequent home visits, from what Cha Eui-sung had heard.
That made him wonder—how could someone so busy have time to plan revenge?
He felt a little annoyed, if he were being honest.
And he only gives me one-word answers.
To be fair, the guy was kind enough to hand over his own clothes to a complete stranger who seemed dangerous. Still, something about it just rubbed him the wrong way. Something.
Poof! He turned over and buried his face in a big pillow, letting his mind drift to thoughts of Moon Tae-young. If he leaned into his body like this, he’d probably feel firm yet soft in all the right ways.
Ah. He’d probably smell like him, too. The clothes he’d washed and dried, the bath products he used, the soap he picked out, his natural scent, his body heat… all blending together into that subtle fragrance that came from everything he touched.
Cha Eui-sung had a purpose for meeting the Demon King, but after observing Moon Tae-young for over a month, he had to admit—the guy was actually, on average, a pretty decent human being.
If he’d existed in his Second Life, maybe Cha Eui-sung would’ve even pushed back some work to spend time with him.
Of course, back then, Moon Tae-young had probably been happily entangled with some mystery lover… Still, if he weren’t the Demon King, they might’ve at least been friends.
As those pointless thoughts dragged on, his phone suddenly buzzed with a vibration.
As if he hadn’t been annoyed a moment ago, Cha Eui-sung rolled to his side, cracked open one eye, and checked the message.
[Is it really that comfortable?]
[Come and find out.]
Dodging the question.
Dry, half-hearted, yet laced with expectation—just two short lines.
Honestly, it was ridiculous, but part of him genuinely wanted to go back to Cheongseri, if only to hear what nonsense Moon Tae-young would say next.
***
“Do I really have to fill this out?”
Cha Eui-sung grimaced as he looked down at the paper in his hands. It was a lengthy assessment filled with dozens of questions demanding constant self-reflection and emotional introspection.
He wasn’t even seriously interested in getting therapy—he was just curious about the doctor who happened to be connected to Moon Tae-young’s backstory. Was all this hassle really necessary?
Unsurprisingly, the answer was yes.
With a hardened expression, Cha Eui-sung turned away.
Confidence… yeah, I’ve got that. I… really believe in myself. I shouldn’t say I’m too sensitive to other people’s reactions. I should say… I want to help others, right?
Conjuring up the image he wanted to project, he quickly scribbled through the sheet. He was done in less than five minutes and handed it over at the front desk with a straight face.
They probably knew at a glance that he’d half-assed it, but not reacting at all—that’s what made this such a renowned hospital.
After quite a long wait, his name was finally called. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a consultation room done in warm brown tones.
The plants placed throughout the room were perfectly maintained, not a wilted leaf in sight, and the faint fragrance in the air offered a subtle sense of calm.
Overall, the room gave off a strong sense of stability. In the center of it, rising from a large wooden desk, was the infamous doctor, Jeong Seong-hyu.
He was clearly well into middle age, but his hair was thick and jet-black—a definite genetic blessing. Since he wasn’t an Awakened, that smooth, firm skin must’ve been courtesy of modern medicine.
Whether he practiced it or was naturally that way, he had a smiley, approachable face. His eyes curved in a way that gave off a perpetual friendliness—and those kinds of eyes brought back a few unpleasant memories.
“Hello.”
“Yes, hello.”
His gesture guiding Eui-sung to his seat was warm and welcoming. With his level of fame, Eui-sung had expected some pomp or formality, but this demeanor explained the glowing reputation.
After some superficial small talk about the weather and general pleasantries, Jeong Seong-hyu finally asked what had brought him in, prompting Cha Eui-sung to dive into the topic he’d prepared.
“I dream a lot. Enough that I wake up feeling awful. It’s starting to interfere with my daily life.”
“Dreams? According to your assessment, you noted difficulty sleeping deeply. How’s your overall sleep cycle?”
“It’s a little short, but I sleep like most people. I wake up when it’s light out, and I usually don’t nap during the day.”
“Once you fall asleep, how long do you usually—”
“I’ve lived quite a while now, but I only started dreaming recently.”
Cutting him off mid-sentence, as if the duration of sleep didn’t matter, Cha Eui-sung spoke flatly. Jeong Seong-hyu simply nodded without pushing further.
He was clearly jotting something down in the chart now. Interestingly, he used a keyboard that made almost no typing sound.
“What are the dreams usually about?”
“Hmm… is there a pattern? Other than being unpleasant, they’re all different. Sometimes I’m in dark places, sometimes in bright ones, sometimes in a hospital. But they’re all places I’ve been to before.”
“A hospital?”
“My mother went to the hospital a lot.”
Ah, I see. That kind of generic filler comment came with another nod. He was pretending to understand—but did he even realize that the “dark place” might’ve been the inside of a dungeon?
“What are you usually doing in those dreams?”
“That also… depends. I just do whatever someone might typically do in those places. But none of them are exactly happy memories.”
“So they’re all based on things that actually happened?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
With so much to keep hidden, there wasn’t much he could actually say. As his answers became more curt, Jeong Seong-hyu smoothly shifted direction.
“It might be a form of sleep disturbance. You mentioned the dreams started fairly recently—when did the unpleasant dreams begin?”
“You mean… from the moment I started remembering them?”
“Pardon?”
“I might’ve been having them for a while and just forgotten. You never know.”
“Ah, then just tell me from the moment you became aware of them.”
“Mm… this summer.”
“Was there any change in your environment at that time? Or any health issues?”
The questions were digging deeper now. Cha Eui-sung paused, suddenly unsure.
How much should he say? Where should he draw the line?
He still didn’t know what kind of person Jeong Seong-hyu was. He was trying to figure out how to steer the conversation toward the Jo Tae-jong incident without it seeming unnatural.
After a brief hesitation, he replied.
“I moved. To a pretty remote countryside.”
As he spoke, the memory of his first impression of Cheongseri flashed through his mind.
Strangely, it wasn’t the scorching stronghold of the Demon King that came to mind, but rather the gloomy town he’d arrived at while hiding in his First Life.
