Thud. Cha Eui-sung felt like his question had pierced straight through the man’s heart.
Almost on cue, a pained shriek erupted from the TV.
It was a pretty chilling scream, but thanks to the protagonist-centric editing, the revenge scene came off as nothing but satisfying.
Moon Tae-young didn’t show much of a reaction. He just kept his eyes fixed on the flashing screen.
I hit a nerve, huh? What’s he gonna say now, something like “I don’t know”?
Even amid the strange tension, Cha Eui-sung’s “Moon Tae-young Dialogue Predictor” was running smoothly.
“I don’t know.”
And sure enough, the answer came back just as expected.
“I’m going to pay it all back. With compound interest, no less.”
Cha Eui-sung pressed on, tossing out an unsolicited opinion. Fittingly, the TV screen carried on with the relentless pursuit of vengeance.
“I mean, you’ve gotta destroy something, right? After they wrecked your life like that.”
His words were chilling, yet his tone was oddly calm. There was even a faint smile tugging at his lips.
But inside, his thoughts were far from neat and tidy.
I should be the one saying “I don’t know.”
Despite the confidence in his voice, Cha Eui-sung had always felt a bit unsure when it came to the whole concept of revenge.
Who exactly am I supposed to take revenge on?
He often muttered to himself with dramatic, B-movie villain flair—“I’ll make them pay,” “Just wait and see”—but ironically, he couldn’t actually name a single target.
It wasn’t because he was some magnanimous saint who could brush off petty grudges. No, it was because there were too many people who’d thrown his life into ruin.
At least early in this Regression, I was planning to slit your throat.
It wasn’t until his second death that he gained a clear goal: the Demon King. That lasted right up until the moment the System went haywire.
Once his objective shifted to stopping the world’s destruction, the flames of vengeance that had just begun to burn fizzled out.
In their place, as always, came resentment and regret—a gnawing obsession with the life he should’ve had.
A vow to achieve a life so untouchable no one could ever ignore it again, even if it meant grinding others down to get there.
“Even if revenge drags the rest of your life down with it?”
Moon Tae-young dropped the question without warning. His fingers, which had been idly playing with his hair, came to a stop.
“After something like that, he’d probably get life in prison at the very least. He’ll regret it.”
It was a startlingly rational judgment. Ridiculous, coming from someone who literally used to be the Demon King, talking about the real world like he was some kind of expert.
Cha Eui-sung clenched his jaw, pressing the back of his head against the couch.
Ugh. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong.
Unless the world suddenly went into an empathy overload, anyone pulling off that kind of revenge in reality would end up with their name scratched out and a star hanging by it.
If only that bastard would just drop the whole revenge thing and help stop the apocalypse instead—then everyone could live happily ever after.
But the problem was that Moon Tae-young still had that deadly grudge simmering inside him.
Unchecked emotions like that didn’t just fade. They spiraled, built up, and eventually exploded.
If it were me… I’d rather drag everyone down with me than be the only one left out of happiness.
And the guy in question? Moon Tae-young was someone who couldn’t let go of revenge. He’d been building his tower below the surface this whole time. Talking about “the rest of his life” was pointless—his current existence was barely more than a hollow shell.
There were signs he was already moving. Whatever might’ve happened in that “Faded Photograph Fragment” scenario, in this iteration, the Jo Tae-jong Public Execution Express was likely already on track.
“Yeah. Even so. If it happened because I didn’t have power… then once I do have power, I should be able to pay them back a little, don’t you think?”
It was just a test—he was playing a role—but for some reason, his heart was pounding. Cha Eui-sung thought his own voice sounded dry and scratchy.
At some point, Moon Tae-young had lowered his hand and was now slowly rubbing the line where his neck met the back of his head.
“Even if revenge means losing something precious?”
“Look at him. He’s already lost his house and most of his family. What difference does it make if he loses one more thing? Honestly, I think it’s more cathartic to reduce the bastard’s ‘10’ down to a ‘0.’ At least for me and Kate, it looks that way.”
He nodded toward the TV just as the main actor swung a fire axe.
CRACK! WHUMP! Just watching the scene made the violence sleeping under his skin stir awake.
“And besides, there’s always a way to take care of things without getting caught.”
“Is that so?”
“You don’t even know if I ate the last bit of that porridge or threw it away, do you? Only I kn—ow!”
Apparently, that example was just annoying enough for Moon Tae-young to give his hair a sharp yank. Cha Eui-sung let out a playful chuckle and swatted the man’s hand away.
“Kidding. I ate all of it. I kept reheating it so much that the bottom got scorched.”
“You didn’t burn it all up and toss it, did you?”
“I was worried you wouldn’t even smell me burning.”
Cha Eui-sung tilted his head and buried his face against Moon Tae-young’s body. Thump, thump. The rhythm of his heartbeat felt strangely different—almost ticklish.
As Moon Tae-young wrapped his arms around the head nestled against him, the sensation of fingers threading through his hair was oddly intimate.
Cha Eui-sung took in a deep breath of his scent and gently shifted the conversation back to the core of it.
“Anyway… what I’m saying is, if something ever happens that pushes you to take revenge, I’ll help you. No matter what.”
Words no one had ever said to him before. A line aimed directly at Moon Tae-young’s secrets.
After saying it, curiosity bubbled up. What would he think after hearing that? Would he be startled? Confused? Even if he thought Eui-sung couldn’t possibly know his situation… would some part of him be shaken?
A soft chuckle escaped, but his chest turned cold. Not calm—cold. A piercing, icy sensation jabbed beneath his ribs.
“That won’t happen.”
He shut it down calmly, almost too neatly—enough to make Eui-sung want to laugh for real.
If he truly didn’t want to reveal anything…
Then you should’ve just said you didn’t have a grudge, Tae-young. You know I know.
As Eui-sung’s head slowly shifted against him, Moon Tae-young quickly reined in the turmoil in his eyes. Naturally, Eui-sung leaned back to rest on his lap and gazed up at him.
Under that looming shadow, Moon Tae-young’s serious eyes gleamed with a clear, focused light.
“I want to let it go. My revenge… probably isn’t something I can follow through with anymore.”
The intent behind the words may have been different, but not a single syllable was a lie. It rang out between the dramatic sound effects of the movie. It was genuine in its own way—no matter how deeply you searched his eyes, you wouldn’t find anything suspicious.
Yet Moon Tae-young’s brow twitched as if stabbed by a sharp blade. He wiped the expression away in a blink, but there was no way Cha Eui-sung hadn’t noticed.
Pop!
[SAVIOR GAUGE]
■■■■■■■■■■
■■□□□□□□□□
58%
After all, Cha Eui-sung was seeing far more than just some Demon King.
Ah… He liked being above Moon Tae-young like this. Hiding behind misunderstandings and feigned ignorance from everyone else, but only he could look directly into that hidden core. That gave him peace.
Especially since Moon Tae-young was the type to go cold and stand on the opposite side at the first sign of suspicion—boyfriend or not. So this slightly dazed, off-guard version of him was easier to deal with.
Here. Take your comfort payment. Eui-sung reached out and looped his arms around Moon Tae-young’s neck, slowly lifting himself up.
He pressed his lips to his before he could pull away, holding him firm—no escape from this messy conversation.
“There’s nothing I need to take revenge for.”
“Sure, sure. But if there were.”
“There isn’t.”
Even if he tried to firmly correct himself after the fact, their lips were so close it just tickled. Cha Eui-sung’s eyes curved into a playful grin, and he planted a few featherlight kisses on Moon Tae-young’s lips.
“You always get like this when there’s a movie on.”
“I don’t have a fetish for this kind of thing.”
If you looked at it logically, the only person capable of really helping Moon Tae-young wasn’t some guilt-ridden civilian doctor, nor some ex-lover who might not even be alive anymore. It was him—the survival-obsessed lunatic himself.
In the end, it was all for the Demon King. The moment he thought that, he caught sight of something unnervingly sharp near the edge of Moon Tae-young’s glasses.
Huh?
This wasn’t like the fleeting glimpses from before. Even after blinking, that expression didn’t fade.
A strange feeling began to seep into him—like the space beneath the magnetic field that usually shrouded Moon Tae-young had let him in.
Narrowed eyes, eyelids, lashes, a sharply defined nose bridge, and perfect shadows trailing down.
In the rippling energy, the strands of his hair catching the fluorescent light seemed just the slightest bit pale.
Cha Eui-sung twitched his brow, then suddenly pinched his cheek.
“What is it?”
Moon Tae-young’s cheek tensed under the pressure as if telling him to back off. When Cha Eui-sung pulled his hand away, a deep dimple lingered in its place for a moment.
And with that, thud—his heart dropped.
What… is this?
He could see. Piece by piece, only the parts he focused on were coming into clearer definition. He was starting to really perceive him.
Why now…?
Could it be that after the Savior Gauge passed a certain threshold, the Demon King’s cognitive distortion weakened? If so, would he eventually be able to see Moon Tae-young’s face completely?
No… that didn’t seem quite right. It’s not like this was some game where you cleared missions and the character lost clothing one layer at a time.
Eyesight… senses… senses?
Just as confusion set in, Cha Eui-sung remembered the details of a newly acquired skill.
—Amplifies and supplements an already existing sixth sense, so long as it does not defy the authority granted to [Demon King].
Suddenly, scattered fragments of information clicked into a new hypothesis.
Ah.
Moon Tae-young’s appearance wasn’t exactly being hidden behind something.
Rather, some mechanism was interfering with the observer’s cognition—obscuring the truth of his appearance and making it impossible to recognize what he truly looked like.
Who knew when exactly he Awakened, but if this was the face he’d always had since birth… why did every single photograph show an ordinary version of him?
All the orphanage records, ID files, graduation albums—every official document over decades.
Cha Eui-sung had always figured that lunatic Demon King had manipulated them all somehow.
But what if… what if his cognitive distortion was so powerful, so miraculous, that it even affected photographs, preventing people from recognizing his real face?
Wouldn’t that be less a “skill” and more of a divine authority—something bestowed by a higher force?
Just like the description of the skill Cha Eui-sung had recently obtained…
