“Operations, management, research, education, events, PR, external relations, public affairs, international stuff, and so on… There are a ton of executives with overlapping duties, huh? Feels like some disorganized Tang Dynasty army.”
“Is that so?”
“The Association’s voice only got this loud recently. Maybe ten years ago? Before that, anyone who seemed to have influence got dragged in and slapped with a title. You needed connections to get any attention.”
“Public awareness has definitely shifted since then.”
“Still, after the organizational restructuring, honorary titles were separated out… It’s not so easy to become an executive anymore.”
“…”
“You have to make room from the top.”
“…”
“Let’s just finish eating, shall we?”
It might’ve sounded like a detached remark, but despite the wariness and rejection the man had shown him, Cha Eui-sung felt understanding more than resentment.
If someone you trained and used to order around suddenly starts being seen as a “better replacement,” of course you’d feel threatened.
The only thing he regretted was not managing his expression better that day.
He should’ve ignored that obvious message—“I’m blocking your promotion, so if you don’t want to get screwed, change your path.”—with a cool smile.
Why hadn’t he? He’d mastered the art of pretending to stay composed with a smile long ago.
But of all times, it had to be right after he’d overheard Oh Se-dan’s conversation the previous day. Since then, his facial muscles had simply refused to cooperate.
“So, it’s all wrapped up?”
“Yes. The Porters were just delayed trying to pack up more Cheongseok. Uh… What should we report to the Bureau of Regulation?”
“Use Entry Manual 5-17 for this year. Items 3 and 4. File a complaint first—say the explanations and examples were lacking. If they reply, settle it in a way that keeps it from escalating.”
“Got it. Still, thank goodness ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made it out of the dungeon early. He almost got stranded.”
“He’ll handle himself. He’s S-rank.”
“Still, he’s someone you care about. If something happened—”
“When did I ever care about anyone?”
“…Sorry?”
“…”
“Oh—was I wrong? It just seemed like you always brought him along, so…”
“So if an S-rank volunteers to tag along, I’m supposed to say no? Tell him he’s not allowed?”
“Well… when you put it that way, yeah.”
It had been nothing, really.
Sure, things got tense once the topic turned to him, but it was exactly what he’d expected.
There’s no way someone like Oh Se-dan would ever favor another S-rank in the same fishbowl.
To him, Cha Eui-sung was nothing more than a strange, efficient tool he’d been told to use from higher up.
And yet, for some reason, he’d briefly lost his composure.
At that moment—when Oh Se-dan tested and warned him—he let the blade he’d been swallowing show, just for an instant.
Get the fuck out of my way.
No way that man had missed the flicker of expression that crossed his face.
From that day on, his relationship with Oh Se-dan had shifted noticeably.
This time… how will it go?
Staring at the ceiling, Cha Eui-sung sank into thought.
It’s not like he was going around volunteering to learn from the Association or stirring up trouble, so there was no reason for Oh Se-dan to stay hostile toward him now.
But now, he was an Unregistered Awakened. A high-tier one, at that—exactly the kind the Hunter Association had no choice but to deal with aggressively.
If Oh Se-dan spotted him and chose to engage, Cha Eui-sung would be the only one at a disadvantage.
Absurd. Frustratingly annoying. Worrisome.
And yet, fascinating.
Seeing a rival he thought he’d never encounter again stirred a strange curiosity in him—even as the stress gnawed at his nerves.
Of course, the moment he remembered how damn hard it was to take that guy down in the previous round, all that interest dried up fast.
Could I pull the same move and get rid of him again?
The simplest method came to mind right away, but there was no telling if Oh Se-dan would fall for the same trick twice, even if he had the same weakness.
Rubbing his temple in frustration, Cha Eui-sung thought back to the latest rumors he’d heard about the man.
Apparently, Oh Se-dan had launched some kind of grand-scale project—something he hadn’t done in the previous timeline.
Bzzzzzt—
He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when the vibration of his phone broke the silence.
At the same time, his wandering thoughts—memories of the past—melted away like cotton candy in the rain.
Who is it?
The question rose out of habit.
But realistically, there were only a few people who texted this number: Kim Jeong-baek, Seo-ryong, a horde of spam message wizards, and Moon Tae-young.
Fumbling, he turned on the screen and checked the message.
[So, what should we do today?]
Of course. It was from Moon Tae-young.
Leaving out the most crucial part—what exactly they were supposed to “do”—was exactly his style.
[I’ll come to you. Call me when it’s convenient.]
Cha Eui-sung immediately got the gist and sent a reply.
He didn’t have any food left at home anyway.
After dropping that emotional bombshell earlier that morning, showing up again and raiding the fridge would probably make Kim Jeong-baek go pale and gag.
More than anything…
Even though he’d only lived here for half a year, it was far too easy to let his guard down in this place.
He didn’t want to turn into a brain-dead puppy the moment he saw that guy again.
So for the time being, he figured he’d avoid meeting him at this house.
Look at me—suffering because of you, punk…
No doubt the old geezers were still alive and well, so life hadn’t been smooth sailing.
Probably worked himself to death, addicted to the grind until the very end.
No matter how much he tried to convince himself it had been sour grapes, how could he not miss the second life where he got rid of Oh Se-dan and swallowed up the Association?
That bastard… If he’d just shown up and asked for money, he’d have handed over a few billion without hesitation.
Even if he’d demanded Jo Tae-jong, Cha Eui-sung would’ve found a way to drag the guy out and offer up his head.
Did he really have to reset everything?
He started to resent Moon Tae-young again—but what struck him most was that it wasn’t boiling hatred or rage.
Just this quiet, sobering ache.
That’s what it meant to live in a society where benefits and gains circled back around.
Resources were finite, and people couldn’t always act rationally and profit-minded. Everyone had a season where a few screws came loose.
Like a natural cycle divinely arranged by God—
Right before his thoughts spiraled too far, Cha Eui-sung stopped himself.
At this point, the only thing that could be called a “god” was the System.
And that just made him feel worse
***
Cheongseri was truly a compact village.
Not that it was small in terms of land—it wasn’t exactly cozy. But the population density was abysmal, practically a cliff drop per square meter.
Even in a town that tiny, there were always folks who managed to stir up gossip on a regular basis…
A few years back, the grandson of some man who’d fallen for a cult pushing the “Hunter Angel Theory” had been the prime source of amusement.
Apparently, every weekend, he’d come down to his grandfather’s place and go around preaching that Awakened were messengers sent by heaven to help humanity through turbulent times.
I know that bunch.
He recognized the cult—The Church of the Lord’s Sheep, Day of Judgment and Angelic Descent. Nicknamed the Judgment Society.
It was one of those mushrooming sects that had popped up after the System appeared, and they’d actually grown quite large. He remembered avoiding them like the plague—they used massive comment brigades online to milk profits while staying just shy of actual entanglement.
After that, the town’s attention shifted to a young teacher newly assigned to the branch school… but because Moon Tae-young came across as so bland and spotless, nothing ever stuck to him.
Then came the near all-out brawl over irrigation with a neighboring village.
There hadn’t been any physical violence, but they kept storming into each other’s towns, shouting and escalating until the police had to show up practically every day.
Eventually, it was resolved when everyone gathered during the county festival and forced some kind of reconciliation—but apparently, bad blood still lingered on that side.
After all that drama and a long lull, he had shown up—Cha Eui-sung himself.
The heir to every juicy scandal, the new Master of Gossip.
Thanks to the parents of that Hansol—or was it Chansol?—kid, the malicious rumors had been kept in check, but at best, his reputation was that of a wandering loafer.
If he was going to stand next to Moon Tae-young with his head held high, he’d need to polish that image.
And events like the field day—where all the socially active, well-connected folks gathered—were rare, so if he wanted to avoid having to work overtime on this, he’d need to get maximum impact out of that one day.
“I’m not participating in any events. Just managing it is enough of a headache.”
Chhhiiiik—! The oily sizzle of vegetables frying in a pan echoed loudly.
Moon Tae-young gave a casual stir with the cooking chopsticks before continuing.
“There are small prizes for each game. All stuff from the community center, but… it gets chaotic without a moderator.”
“They fight? Grown adults, at a kids’ field day?”
“Not that bad. It’s just… since it’s a competition, people get a little emotional.”
Cha Eui-sung shook his head as the savory scent of stir-fry reached his nose.
The more he heard about Cheongse Branch School’s field day, the more chaotic it sounded.
The fact that a bunch of adults barged into a children’s event was one thing, but competing seriously just for the chance to win some small prizes?
Still… he’s talking now.
That was at least a small win.
Sure, it was almost a roundabout “stay away” disguised as gossip, but the fact that this stone-faced Demon King was now opening up about himself? That was a meaningful step.
Not that it’s going to stop me from going.
Whatever situation he was trying to keep hidden, Cha Eui-sung had to see it for himself.
He’d even warned Seo-ryong not to tell this guy he was coming.
“All done.”
Click. The dish must’ve been finished—shredded vegetable stir-fry landed on the fold-out table.
With the bell peppers, it looked like a knockoff version of chili pepper stir-fry, but the smell was legit.
“Time to get up.”
“I don’t think I can move.”
“Then I’ll shove you into the storage room with the bean bag.”
“You gonna carry me in it?”
They traded their usual pointless banter like it was a yearly ritual, and then Moon Tae-young sighed and reached out his hand.
With one firm pull, Cha Eui-sung let out a lazy grin as he finally hauled himself up.
“Thanks for the food.”
Crunch. Crunch. The vegetables gave a satisfying crisp as he chewed. It was a solid stir-fry, though surprisingly average in flavor.
Savoring that blandly salty and slightly bitter taste, Cha Eui-sung stared quietly at Moon Tae-young.
Maybe it was all the mental prep he’d done before coming, but even as he saw right through the man in flashes, his mind stayed relatively clear.
Sure, he found himself watching how that sharp jaw clenched every time he chewed, or how his temples tensed with each bite—
Sure, he felt the urge to reach out and flick the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—
But he wasn’t getting swept up in the moment like a fool.
Which meant… maybe it was time to reap the rewards of that 70% Savior Gauge.
Still poking at the mountain of vegetables on his plate—no rice, no bread, just greens—Cha Eui-sung casually brought up a question.
“By the way, Tae-young, what do you usually do in your free time?”
