“By the way, something’s strange.”
“…What is?”
After that earlier exchange, Sihyeon’s trust in him had dropped to zero. He stared at Luce, who was stroking his chin. Having only seen his crazy side until now, it felt strange seeing him look serious. Making such an impression in just a few dozen minutes was a talent in itself.
“Hm.”
Letting out a low hum, Luce crossed one leg over the other and spoke.
“No matter how I think about it, it seems like you’re the cause.”
“…Me?”
“The cause of what?”
Dawoon’s voice overlapped with Sihyeon’s question. It seemed she had finally torn her gaze away from glaring at the back of his head hard enough to make it sting. The prickling sensation vanished.
“How long do you think I’ve been working as an Awakened?”
“No idea.”
“Ten years.”
“……”
Then he’s been active since the beginning.
Irregulars had first appeared ten years ago, so the timeline matched. Sihyeon raised his trust in him by about one point, thinking he was more of a veteran than expected. Tilting his head slightly, Luce looked at the young Quadruple.
A Quadruple that had appeared for the first time in ten years.
Maybe that’s why—
“In all my years as an Awakened, I’ve never seen this many Irregulars appear in such a short time unless it was during a Rift. But this time, within a short span, we got a Kraken, Sirens, and even a sea disaster.”
“And you think I’m the cause of that?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you crazy?”
At Luce’s words, Dawoon snapped from the side. As if wondering why she was choosing to create bad blood instead of making a useful connection, Sihyeon glanced at her. He hadn’t thought much of it, so her anger felt strange.
Turning his head slightly, he saw Dawoon with her eyebrows raised sharply. Sihyeon reached out and pushed her back as she stepped forward. Her gaze, which had been fixed on Luce, shifted back to Sihyeon.
“You’re calmer than I expected.”
At Luce’s comment, Sihyeon shrugged.
I mean, when you live long enough, you might transmigrate into a novel and even meet the original owner of your body. Compared to that, being the reason Irregulars appear wasn’t even that shocking anymore.
And more importantly—
“It’s not confirmed yet, is it?”
“That’s true. But I have a suspicion.”
“What is it?”
“The Titan took you and disappeared, right? Three years ago, it flipped an entire island. It’s not the kind of thing that’d be satisfied with just grabbing a single human.”
His tone was certain.
Sihyeon met his golden-green eyes, then shifted his gaze slightly. The way he stared felt like it pierced straight through him.
“You talk like you know it really well.”
Heh. At Sihyeon’s remark, Luce scoffed. The sound felt oddly familiar—after a moment, Sihyeon was reminded of Hamin.
“What do you think the standard for becoming an S-class is?”
“Achievements, I guess.”
“Solo suppression of a Catastrophe-level Irregular. That standard was first established three years ago. Before that, there was no concept of S-class. What do you think that means?”
So he’s the first S-class.
Through the long-winded explanation that felt suspiciously like self-praise, Sihyeon found the answer Luce wanted. Most likely, this man was the one who had driven the Titan back into the sea three years ago.
Then a thought struck him, and he tilted his head.
“But you said ‘suppression.’ I saw the Titan today—so you didn’t kill it?”
Catastrophe-level Irregulars usually existed as single entities. In other words, there weren’t multiple of them. If he had truly “suppressed” it three years ago, then the one Sihyeon saw today shouldn’t exist.
At the question, Luce’s brow twitched.
“I lost it back then. Still, I drove it back into the sea when no one else could even touch it.”
“So you couldn’t kill it?”
At Sihyeon’s retort, Luce frowned. He didn’t like the way this brat talked back after being spared. Saying the kid didn’t seem to value his life, Sihyeon muttered a small rebuttal. In the end, Luce—who had a soft spot for Sihyeon—was the one who backed down.
“I was weaker back then, so I lost it. It never showed up again after that. And I’m a busy man—I can’t just go around searching for something that doesn’t appear. So I figured I’d kill it next time we met… and then I finally did.”
Trailing off, Luce left his sentence hanging. Sihyeon blinked.
Did he lose it again?
That’s what it sounded like. He wondered what the reason was this time. Was Luce still weaker than it? Or had the Titan grown stronger?
Whatever it was, judging by his expression, Sihyeon felt like he should at least offer some consolation.
As he was thinking about what to say, Luce frowned slightly and spoke.
“You got taken.”
…Me?
So that’s why.
The “cause” he mentioned earlier wasn’t about Irregulars appearing—it was this. Sihyeon closed his mouth, abandoning the idea of comforting him. If he said the wrong thing, he might get something like ‘Do you have a death wish?’ thrown at him.
“You looked weak as hell, getting grabbed by a Titan. I couldn’t just drop full-force lightning on it. So I hit it a few times to make it let go, and this cute little Quadruple was on the verge of dying. By the time I got you to safety, the Titan’s presence had disappeared again. At this point, there’s something you should say.”
“No matter how you look at it, you’re S-class.”
“Exactly.”
Is he simple… or just generous?
Maybe both.
Looking at the man who claimed he lost the Titan because of him, Sihyeon thought: he saved me, and now he’s saying I made him lose the Titan too. At this rate, am I about to owe him another debt?
Quickly changing the subject, Sihyeon spoke.
“So today’s case is just a special situation.”
“Yeah.”
“And you think it might be because I’m a Quadruple.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘you’ like that? Call me Luce-ssi.”
“Ah, yes, Luce-ssi.”
Recalling where the so-called “land of courtesy” was, Sihyeon corrected himself. Though, judging by this, maybe the man was more petty than he seemed.
As he waited for an answer, a voice suddenly came from behind.
“Is there really a connection between being a Quadruple and Irregular appearances?”
It was Haru.
Only then did Sihyeon remember the others, who had been so quiet they’d faded into the background. After drying his hair and draping a blanket over him, they had apparently just stood there the entire time, listening.
Sihyeon turned his gaze to Haru. As if sensing it immediately, Haru looked at him—then his expression darkened. He even bit his lip.
What’s with him now?
All he did was fall into the ocean once, but everyone seemed different. Starting with Dawoon, who kept getting angry, to Haeun, who was unusually silent, to Seowoo and Hamin, who looked dissatisfied—and even Haru, with his dark expression.
The only one unchanged was Geonwoo.
Thinking that, Sihyeon looked at Geonwoo, who was standing beside Haeun. Their eyes met, and Geonwoo clenched his fist.
“……”
Sihyeon looked away and turned back to Luce.
Honestly, it was more comfortable looking at him than them.
“The connection between Quadruples and Irregular appearances?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“…What?”
At Luce’s completely confident answer, Haru asked again in disbelief. Luce simply shrugged and idly bounced his crossed foot. His black shoe moved up and down in its own rhythm. Unlike the flustered kids, he remained perfectly calm.
“I’ve only just met a Quadruple—how would I know that much? I’m just making a hypothesis. Like, maybe a Quadruple influences Irregular appearances. That’s why I tried to take you to IRS.”
You said you’d protect me.
Distrust filled Sihyeon’s eyes. The single point of trust he’d given him earlier dropped straight into the negatives. So all that talk about protecting him—it was just a tactic to study a Quadruple.
As Sihyeon stared at him with narrowed eyes, Luce laughed.
“Of course, if you came with me, I’d treat you very well. In exchange, you’d just have to deal with some Irregulars. That’s why I said I’d protect you.”
Forget calling him simple.
Even after ten years in the Awakened world, it seemed he had quite the scheming side. Thinking he’d done well to refuse, Sihyeon wrapped up the conversation.
In the end, nothing was certain—but it was possible the Titan’s appearance had something to do with him.
Suddenly, he remembered the nightmare he had before coming on this school trip—the one that had turned out to be a prophetic dream. Thinking of it now, it became harder to dismiss Luce’s hypothesis entirely.
Maybe that dream was connected to this too.
In an instant, his thoughts grew tangled.
There were suspicions, but nothing concrete. He didn’t have enough information to be sure of anything. Letting out a low groan, Sihyeon muttered.
“Ugh…”
“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”
“…Huh?”
The moment he groaned, Haru grabbed his shoulders and asked urgently, eyes wide. It was an overreaction to his frustration. As Sihyeon reassured him with an awkward expression, Haru frowned, still unconvinced.
“Are you really okay?”
“Hyung, I’m really fine.”
“But… What if there are aftereffects or something?”
Good grief.
Haru, unable to let go of his worry, pressed anxiously. Sihyeon rubbed his forehead. Looking around, he saw that the other Class A students had expressions no different from Haru’s.
Even Lee Hamin was frowning.
No wonder they all looked strange.
It seemed they were deeply shaken by the fact that he had fallen into the ocean and nearly died. But he had survived, and after using healing, he wasn’t in pain anywhere. He was moving just fine—talking just fine.
Looking at the many pairs of eyes, each reflecting their own emotions, Sihyeon spoke.
“I’m really okay.”
His tone was calm—too calm. And because of that, their expressions darkened even more.
That backfired. What do I have to do to make them believe me?
As Sihyeon grew frustrated, laughter rang out behind him. Luce was laughing so hard he seemed about to lose his breath, clearly finding the situation amusing.
Ignoring the utterly untrustworthy Triple, Sihyeon frowned and stood up.
Among Class A, the one most sensitive to Sihyeon’s movements was Haru.
Even though he had only stood up, Haru tried to stop him. Reassuring him, Sihyeon walked toward the railing.
He just needed to show them—he was fine, he could move around normally, nothing was wrong.
That was the plan.
“I’m really fi—”
His words cut off abruptly.
Instead, Sihyeon gasped, sucking in a sharp breath, and shut his mouth.
The dark sea, still under the early dawn sky, reflected in his blue eyes. His ocean-like pupils trembled violently, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.
Gasping, he clutched his throat, choking.
The Class A students rushed toward him.
His heart pounded violently. There was no way he didn’t recognize this familiar sensation. His vision spun.
I’m screwed.
Right before collapsing, Sihyeon muttered as he saw their pale faces coming into view.
