In early autumn, Cha Eui-sung found himself surrounded by every kind of mass media centered around the theme of love.
It wasn’t that he’d suddenly developed an interest in romance. He just thought maybe it could help him raise the gauge.
So he flipped through fiction and anecdotes from real life, looking for anything useful—only to discover that what he gained wasn’t knowledge about relationships.
Do these assholes think love is some kind of master-level cheat code or what?
What he got was a migraine.
Everything had been perfectly normal—until love got involved. Then, somehow, it always turned ridiculous.
The villain in the movie went insane because of love. The protagonist in the novel escaped a miserable death because of love.
People threw away hard-earned money for love. Spared lifelong enemies out of love.
Is their brain melted or something?
Granted, love wasn’t always about romance, so Cha Eui-sung could understand some sacrifices.
After all, he’d spent his entire golden youth working and caregiving, yet he’d never once blamed his mother for it.
Still, this was pushing it. If anything, the real-life stories were even more absurd than the fictional ones.
Maybe humanity had come to some silent social agreement that he hadn’t been informed of— Like how a reckless driver might be forgiven out of pity if their ass looks bruised.
Maybe they’d all just collectively decided to wave away senseless behavior and idiotic decisions as long as the word “love” was slapped on them.
Endless, inefficient efforts and self-destruction dressed up as sacrifice—all of it accepted under the guise of love.
Otherwise, how could so many of these cases exist? It was like some massive conspiracy to churn out the most absurd stories possible.
And yet, it felt like just yesterday that he’d scoffed at all of that…
“Shit.”
Cha Eui-sung pressed his temple hard and grimaced.
There it was again. He’d been thinking about Moon Tae-young and lost track of everything.
He was supposed to be checking the stock market and reading articles to see if there were any lingering effects from the incident… but the Demon King kept flickering through his mind.
He scolded himself not to be an idiot, but that only worked in the moment.
Letting out a sigh, he lowered his gaze and spotted the half-written email on his monitor—one he’d been preparing to send to the Special Materials Oversight Agency to try and manipulate them a bit.
“…seeking your expert opinion regarding signs of deliberate inaction…”
The email had stopped dead at the word “inaction”—태업 (tae-eop).
The syllables just so happened to sound a bit like Tae-young.
And just like that, his mind spiraled: What was Moon Tae-young doing right now? What time would he show up today? Would he come at all? If he did, did Eui-sung have anything to offer him? What did he need to hide or clean up before then?
A never-ending stream of thoughts kept popping up, one after another, in every corner of his brain.
Goddamn it.
Seriously, goddamn it. There was no better way to describe this.
Earlier, he’d looked at the stock for Taehyeong Trading Company and thought of “Tae-young.” Then he saw a hotel staycation ad at the bottom of a news article and remembered last night’s mood.
He’d rubbed his temples and turned on the TV, only to find a segment on premium galbi, which made him wonder what kind of food Moon Tae-young liked.
A soju commercial reminded him of hunter-specific liquors. Then came the memory of Moon Tae-young spouting off that stupid excuse about their age difference as a reason to run away—he couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
While checking his calendar, he remembered the date of the school sports day and even briefly worried about how to acknowledge him in front of other people.
So technically, he was still getting things done. But mentally?
It was scary how much his thoughts revolved around Moon Tae-young.
Did I eat something weird?
Every thought track ended up back at that damn Demon King.
What the hell? Was I brainwashed or something?
Was this the work of an Outer God? Is this what their influence looked like?
Cha Eui-sung covered his forehead with a scowl, but he already knew.
Blaming something else wouldn’t make his brain obey.
Fuck…
Admitting it made his skin crawl, but now he got it—why everyone and their dog kept bringing up love at the drop of a hat.
He was only slightly fond of someone, and even that was enough to hijack his entire day.
No wonder people who claimed they couldn’t live without each other ended up losing their damn minds.
It felt unfair, too. It wasn’t like he genuinely felt “love” for Moon Tae-young.
He’d merely admitted that he probably liked him, swept up by the atmosphere—and now look at this mess.
Well, judging by the numbers, it did seem to skyrocket my gauge…
But to hit 80%, or push past 90% to reach 100%, how much more of his life would he have to fill with that man? It was a terrifying thought.
And even now, his thoughts stubbornly crawled back to Moon Tae-young.
That bastard’s thinking about me too, right? Even when he sees a damn leaf on the street, he thinks of me, right?
If not, he was going to grab him by the collar and shake him until he did.
No one had said anything, but Cha Eui-sung was already seething all on his own.
He gritted his teeth and finished the damn email.
A day packed with tasks passed both astonishingly fast and painfully slow.
As the sky outside began to flush red with sunset, Cha Eui-sung bustled around, tidying up the house.
The emotional turbulence he’d suffered over the System’s cryptic hints now felt laughably pointless.
He’d forgotten all about the crippling embarrassment he’d felt that morning the moment he woke up. Just the thought that Moon Tae-young might be coming over had him feeling oddly giddy as time ticked on.
When everything was finally in order, Cha Eui-sung flopped down on the wooden porch and lay there waiting for him—rolling around, staring up at the sky, not even sure why he was acting like this.
Still got stuff to do, he thought, but none of it stuck.
Just like the day he first Awakened—his hands refused to settle on anything.
“……!”
Then, in the distance, he heard the rapid patter of footsteps. He shot up as if spring-loaded and turned toward the sound.
Instead of opening the front gate, he opened the inner entrance, letting the latch clank.
As if he’d just happened to step out of the house. As if he hadn’t been loitering in the yard waiting for someone.
“Come in.”
Sure, he said it before there was even a knock on the gate, calling out over the wall…
But still—pride. A tiny, pitiful scrap of pride.
A last-ditch excuse not for Moon Tae-young, but for himself.
He convinced himself it wasn’t desperation if the other guy had no clue he’d been waiting.
Creeeak—
The iron gate, already unlocked, opened with a faint metallic whine.
And the first thing he saw through the gap was Moon Tae-young’s eyes.
Maybe he’d stopped by home first—his wrinkled shirt from earlier, still damp with rinse water, had been replaced with more comfortable clothes.
Clunk. Moon Tae-young closed the gate and immediately ran a hand down his face. His fingertips were cold as they brushed against his cheek.
“I came straight here.”
No one had asked, but he offered that up as a greeting—almost like a preemptive excuse.
Cha Eui-sung glanced at his neatly arranged hair, too clean for someone who’d just been running around a field with kids, and couldn’t help but laugh.
His eyes crinkled behind his glasses. All those firm resolutions to stay grounded dissolved like a bounced check.
Almost instinctively, he reached out his arms and pulled him in tight.
So tight there was barely space between them.
A different scent lingered on Moon Tae-young today—a faint perfume, not the usual shampoo or body wash.
“You put something on?”
“Yeah. Had some of the old stuff left.”
The clean, tidy fragrance suited him well. Though, it was a little disappointing how it dulled the scent of his skin.
Cha Eui-sung nuzzled against his neck for a long moment, then let out a soft, languid sigh before releasing him.
Is it even normal to feel this relaxed with the Demon King in your arms?
The warmth fading between them was almost regretful.
“Let’s go in. You’ve seen the place; not much to look at, but still…”
As he grabbed Moon Tae-young’s hand and led him inside, that hand squirmed a bit—then intertwined their fingers.
Something new.
Even after they’d started sort of dating, Moon Tae-young had always kept a bit of distance, but starting yesterday, he’d begun casually closing the gap.
Yeah, 70% feels different, alright.
Not that he hadn’t changed too…
By now, maybe he could finally get Moon Tae-young to talk about the dungeon or revenge.
Maybe not the whole truth, but at least some shallow mention, something on the surface.
Still, even with that hopeful possibility hanging in the air, what Cha Eui-sung cared most about right now… was his own appearance.
Is it time for a haircut? Would it look okay?
Ivory probably would’ve looked better than this, right?
Totally useless, petty worries.
“Wanna eat something?”
“Got anything to cook with?”
“There were some eggs and veggies lying around.”
At Kim Jeong-baek’s place.
“There was some pepper and milk, too.”
Also at Kim Jeong-baek’s.
He didn’t even flinch at the urge to yell What is this, a supermarket?
The Hero works day and night for the sake of humanity—surely some humble Village Resident #1 can donate a few ingredients.
It’s not stealing. It’s borrowing.
“I’m making an omelet. There’s no rice, though.”
As he rattled off the list of borrowed items and pulled each one out, Moon Tae-young, freshly washed, made his way into the kitchen instead of the living room.
“Want me to chop the onions?”
“You could just relax, you know.”
“I like cooking.”
“No, you don’t.”
They exchanged playful banter as Cha Eui-sung handed him a kitchen knife.
Technically, he was handing a blade to a future global terrorist, but somehow, he felt no sense of danger at all.
Even back on the day Moon Tae-young left after boiling that lethal pot of stew, he’d probably been standing right here, hacking up ingredients like this.
The second round of the apocalypse had started with monsters and meteors, not the Demon King going full swordmaster and slicing the world in two.
He’s pretty decent with a knife.
Red and green vegetables were neatly diced on the cutting board.
As Cha Eui-sung whisked the eggs, he tossed out a casual comment.
“Wanna wear an apron? I think it’d look good on you.”
“We don’t have an apron.”
“Yeah. We don’t.”
He chuckled, cracking the joke, and reached for the salt—then froze for a second.
Wait…
He doesn’t even eat at home that often.
Of course he wouldn’t own an apron.
…Right?
