His head cooled instantly.
Maybe it was because he’d already suspected that Moon Tae-young was sneaking in and out of a hidden dungeon. Still, why hadn’t he connected the dots sooner?
Suddenly, the scent of soap—one that only lingered on Moon Tae-young’s hands—floated back into his memory. That persistent fragrance that clung like he’d deliberately washed himself again after showering.
Could even that have something to do with the dungeon? If so, it meant Moon Tae-young must be spending a fair amount of time there.
And just like that, Cha Eui-sung’s train of thought shifted from anxiety to damage control.
Should I drag another guy into this?
Maybe find another idiot like Lee Sang-jo and get him wandering around the clearing.
That way, even if Moon Tae-young noticed something off, he wouldn’t be able to pin it all on just one person.
Cha Eui-sung scanned the Hunter Association staff with a frosty gaze. But… no. None of them looked like suitable scapegoats.
The fact that they were assigned to an S-rank meant, unfortunately, that they were probably all competent and mentally stable.
Regardless of Awakening rank, these were people who hadn’t caused any incidents and were unlikely to commit crimes.
Besides, calm down. Just think. The idea of exposing that chaotic clearing to someone else again? That was stupid beyond belief.
It’s not like Moon Tae-young was some tentacled Outer God who could hypnotize people. So why did Cha Eui-sung’s judgment fall apart every time he thought of him?
The closer he got to Moon Tae-young, the duller his once razor-sharp reason and discernment became.
He looked down at his phone. And then—impulsively—he sent another text.
[Is it easier for you when I’m not around?]
As soon as he hit send, a wave of regret brushed past his mind.
What the hell was he doing texting like this when he had the Hunter Association and Go Yeong-won standing right in front of him?
And the message itself was pathetic. Even if it was meant to be bluff, it reeked of desperation.
For a moment, he actually wanted to snatch the message out of the air mid-flight…
But he didn’t have that kind of power. With a sigh, Cha Eui-sung shoved the phone back into his pocket.
Whether he got a reply or not, either outcome felt like a loss.
He was already struggling to eavesdrop on what was happening across the way, and now he was messing around with this nonsense?
Regret. Embarrassment. Irritation for no reason.
Was it normal to be this emotionally tangled over sending a single text?
Bzzzzt—
Suddenly, his coat pocket vibrated. Startled, Cha Eui-sung clutched it tight before scrambling to pull out his phone.
[Moon Tae-young]
Three unadorned characters appeared on the screen. A wave of panic surged.
Uh…
This was the call he’d been waiting for. He wanted to answer—it felt like he had to.
But taking it here? Not ideal.
The call came so suddenly that it didn’t even occur to him to silence the phone.
In his flustered state, his fingers moved on their own.
Tap.
Before he knew it, the call was connected.
Cha Eui-sung, still in an awkward pose, brought the phone slowly to his ear.
“……”
He glanced toward the end of the alley, lips sealed. No greeting. Just silence.
Thankfully, from the other end, he heard a faint sigh brush against his ear—almost ticklish—like Moon Tae-young was about to speak first.
—Haa…
A voice tinged with resignation, calm and composed.
—You really aren’t coming?
“……”
—Was fencing that disappointing?
As if that could be true. He’d looked up some random trash joke online and sent it without thinking.
And come on—was Moon Tae-young really that childish, upset over that? The man had enough walls to make anyone used to rejection.
Still…
“…No, it’s just…”
Cha Eui-sung murmured, casting a nervous glance around.
And of course—right in front of him stood Go Yeong-won. He never should’ve answered.
Given the circumstances, even if the Demon King or an Outer God had called, hanging up would’ve been the safer option.
But he just couldn’t do it. Moon Tae-young was waiting in silence for his reply.
Somehow, that silence wrapped around him like a rope, tightening, binding him in place.
“It’s not that. I just…”
He still wasn’t sure whether Moon Tae-young knew about the anomaly in the dungeon—or suspected its cause. The voice on the phone had sounded far too ordinary for that.
“It’s just, you know… I’m weird. Haha…”
He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Just wanted to say something and get the call over with.
But the second he heard that stupid excuse out loud, an unwanted thought crept in.
Come to think of it, maybe he really was just a weirdo to Moon Tae-young.
“Do you think I’m weird?”
The question slipped out reflexively. Cha Eui-sung squeezed his eyes shut.
Damn it. Now even his mouth was acting on its own.
His body slipping out of control had become far too familiar—it just made everything feel worse.
Was this a side effect of groveling to boost the Savior Gauge?
He wanted to bash Moon Tae-young’s head in and erase all his memories. But the only skull he could shatter here was his own, pressed against the wall.
Soon enough, Moon Tae-young would probably respond with one of his usual deflective lines—“Hmm,” “Is that so?” “What kind of answer are you hoping for?”—and Cha Eui-sung would just sit there, silently watching his gauge.
He blinked slowly, resigning himself to the consequences of his blunder.
—…Why would you say something like that?
But the reply that came back… was surprisingly gentle.
Cha Eui-sung grimaced, then lowered his voice.
“Well… I don’t know. I just feel like I’m kind of messed up.”
He was a Hero in the 21st century. Had seen things he probably shouldn’t have. He’d regressed twice, and every time he woke up, even his personality shifted. Now he was sitting here, stupidly answering this man’s phone call.
Something he never would’ve imagined doing back in his second life.
—Did something happen?
“No.”
—I can hear the wind. Are you outside?
“Yeah. I stepped out for a bit. Felt suffocating in there.”
Moon Tae-young’s questions were cautious. The slight trailing of his words made it sound like… he was worried.
—Then… I guess you can’t come.
“…Yeah. I guess not.”
As soon as he gave a clear answer, he regretted it.
Even though the conversation had technically ended, Cha Eui-sung couldn’t bring himself to hang up. He kept the phone pressed to his ear.
Moon Tae-young seemed perfectly normal—too normal. Which made Cha Eui-sung’s hope swell again.
Maybe he didn’t know about the anomaly in the clearing dungeon. Or if he did, maybe he didn’t suspect him.
Considering the Bureau of Regulation and the Association were both watching his neighborhood, and an S-rank had even shown up, it probably was the dungeon the System had mentioned.
Maybe that was all it was.
So… is it okay now?
The System wouldn’t pull the same stunt twice.
If he just stayed out of that area from now on, maybe all the mental chaos he’d been dealing with for the past few days would finally settle.
God, I’m getting delusional.
Something’s definitely broken after the regression.
His mood swung wildly.
Unlike the constant misery of his first life or the cold, ruthless focus of his second, this third life—the final one—was a nonstop cycle of confusion and emotional turbulence.
Looking back, things had started shifting when he came to Cheongseri.
If he broke it down even further, it was after he got close to Moon Tae-young.
And even more so after they started pretending to be a couple.
“It’s because of you, Tae-young.”
Cha Eui-sung muttered bitterly without context, blaming him.
He should’ve been smacking some sense into his own foggy brain, but for the first time, he pointed the finger at someone else.
Not like he was asking for anything in return.
It just felt like this kind of immature whining might actually work—for once in his life.
—You’re still mad about the fencing thing, aren’t you?
“I told you, no. Jeez.”
—Is it because I moved the blanket yesterday? I just put it in the washer.
“What do you even think I am?”
Cha Eui-sung almost let out a laugh. He forgot all about the situation he was in.
Surely Moon Tae-young knew none of this was the real reason.
But the fact that he was playing along with the nonsense made things feel… strange.
—You must be tired. Don’t stay out too late—get some rest when you can.
“Tired? Me?”
—You tend to overestimate yourself, Cha Eui-sung.
“Is that right?”
He really saw through him.
It wasn’t just a tendency—he fully believed in himself.
With power, knowledge of the future, and unmatched tenacity, who else could a regressor trust in this godforsaken world if not himself?
And yet… lately, that belief had started to waver.
He wasn’t sure how to hide it, how to deny it and pretend to be normal.
“…Maybe…”
He mumbled something pointless, trying to buy time to compose his thoughts and give a proper response.
But then, right in front of his lowered gaze, a shadow crept in.
Footsteps.
His head snapped up.
A chill ran down his spine.
A large figure stood silently at the entrance of the alley.
He hadn’t heard a thing.
The man glanced down at a license plate lying at his feet. In the darkness, hazel eyes curved ever so slightly.
“Looks like we found our guy.”
Go Yeong-won raised his voice slightly, eyes fixed on Cha Eui-sung.
There were fresh scratches on his face, but his expression was laced with amusement.
Eyes wide, Cha Eui-sung yanked his cap down and quietly ended the call with a soft tap.
Goddamn it.
Had he heard the ringtone?
He’d kept his voice low…
Should’ve never answered Moon Tae-young’s call.
Footsteps approached from outside the alley, drawn by Go Yeong-won’s voice.
Soon, someone joined him, and now three sets of eyes were staring at Cha Eui-sung.
“Sorry, but you’re not allowed to enter the scene of an incident without authorization.”
One of the Hunter Association staff stepped forward, but Go Yeong-won lifted a hand to stop him.
