Upon hearing that the grandson of a business owner he was acquainted with was in critical condition, Yoo Seok-heon made a formal call of condolence. Monsters did not discriminate when they attacked. It wasn’t at all unusual for victims of air raids to include family members, acquaintances, or people dear to those acquaintances. A short, somber conversation followed with the grieving party.
Yoo Seok-heon stepped into his office and lowered his phone, frowning. There was something unfamiliar on his desk.
As he moved closer, a small box, neatly placed, came into view. Given that this was not a place where just any item could be brought in, Yoo Seok-heon decided it was something he needed to check himself.
He opened the box. Inside was a pair of opaque goggles. He picked them up, a puzzled look on his face.
Beep, beep. With a faint mechanical sound, a blue light blinked from the center of the frame. It seemed the device had activated upon contact with a human body. The light stretched out, projecting multiple images into the air.
Yoo Seok-heon inhaled sharply. The blood drained from his face.
The photos were organized by time, capturing everything from his professional activities to his private moments. Most of them featured Yoo Seok-heon himself. Judging by the distance and angle, these pictures could never have been taken by anyone other than someone extremely close—like a secretary, aide, or family member.
“What the fuck is this…?”
The curse slipped from his mouth, born of confusion and creeping dread. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. As his trembling eyes scanned the images, he froze.
One photo at the bottom did not feature him. The man in the image, who appeared to be dead, was someone he definitely recognized.
Wasn’t that the informant they had sent on an undercover mission?
Yoo Seok-heon hurled the goggles onto the desk. The light blinked out, and the photos vanished all at once. As Joo Cheong-gyeong’s face flashed in his mind, goosebumps rippled across his skin.
There were many who feared Joo Cheong-gyeong’s ability. To be able to take over another’s body—what a profoundly disturbing power. The mere thought that he could control someone at will was enough for people to fear his mental prowess more than physical strength. Many labeled Joo Cheong-gyeong a dangerous entity.
But when he used that ability for rescue missions, public anxiety gradually began to subside. His position shifted to that of a benevolent figure. No matter how threatening his power seemed, few dared to cast out someone using it to help people survive monster attacks—especially in times like these, when assaults were on the rise.
And yet, that revered hero had slipped into his surroundings unnoticed and delivered a silent warning. Don’t go digging carelessly. Ending his life as brutally as the man in the photos would be nothing to him.
That warning wasn’t just aimed at Yoo Seok-heon. It was almost certain that everyone aligned with him had now become potential targets.
Yoo Seok-heon felt the threat press in—but at the same time, he tried to understand why Joo Cheong-gyeong had gone this far.
Was it because he simply couldn’t tolerate anyone crossing the line?
Or was it… because there truly was a secret that could never be revealed?
***
The same day I successfully guided Shim Tae-seong by luring him in, I hadn’t passed out—I had just fallen asleep from exhaustion. And no, it wasn’t because the sex had worn me out. Someone like me, well-seasoned in rough play, wouldn’t have collapsed after something that gentle.
Guiding someone whose energy state was practically catastrophic, and feeling just the right amount of pleasure—enough to melt my body in a satisfying haze—must have been enough to lull me to sleep after just a few rounds. I slept like the dead.
When I opened my eyes, Shim Tae-seong was wiping down my body with a lukewarm, damp towel.
We’d already completed the guiding, so why…? Don’t tell me he was cleaning me like this just to keep from touching me directly.
I was mulling it over with a bitter taste in my mouth when our eyes met.
“Are you awake?”
“…”
“You can sleep more, if you’d like.”
Shim Tae-seong set the towel aside and gently pulled the blanket up over me. I stared at him in silence.
“…Just in case there’s any misunderstanding.”
I finally spoke, my voice hoarse and heavy from sleep.
“I did it because I wanted to.”
Shim Tae-seong paused. His expression made it clear he understood that I hadn’t said that just to stop him from feeling guilty. It looked like he had already come to his own conclusions about me being the one to break him down—despite how easily he could’ve been swept away by even the faintest touch of guiding.
How did he interpret it? Did he think I was trying to reclaim a shred of control by turning the tables on someone who’d constantly overwhelmed me? Or did I look like I was trying to overwrite all the bad memories with tender sex instead of violent?
Either way, it didn’t really matter to me.
“Yes.”
Shim Tae-seong replied as though yielding completely.
“Because you wanted it, Young Master.”
I got the feeling he was giving me the answer I wanted to hear. In other words, judging by his words and actions now, it seemed like he was dead set on not laying a finger on me unless I gave clear consent.
It looked like he was determined to move only in accordance with my will… but considering the fact that Shim Tae-seong was still, fundamentally, a kidnapper, the disconnect was jarring.
His gentleness hit me like a wave, stirring up a surge of vulnerability. I turned over and lay on my side, trembling as I tried to hold back my tears.
Even without eyes in the back of my head, I could see Shim Tae-seong reach out, then hesitate and slowly lower his hand.
A life that seemed the same as before, yet subtly different, continued on in quiet stillness. Shim Tae-seong didn’t ask me anything, nor did he express any desire. But his scrutiny grew more intense. If I reached for a drink because I was thirsty, a glass of water was already waiting. If I lingered in the bathtub for too long, soaking in silence with my muscles completely relaxed, a cautious knock would eventually sound at the door.
His actions hovered somewhere between care and obsession.
Yet even so, there were moments where I glimpsed a flicker of concern—that he might be smothering me, that I might feel overwhelmed.
“…Young Master?”
Normally, when he knocked on the bathroom door, I would slowly get up, rinse off once more, and step out. But today, I remained curled up in the tub without moving an inch, prompting his voice to call for me again from outside.
“Young Master.”
When I still didn’t answer, he must have grown anxious. Shim Tae-seong opened the door and came in. I instantly sensed him approaching, the sound of his steps drawing near as I lifted my head.
His gentle face had stiffened with worry. Kneeling on the tiles, he closely examined my expression.
“Are you alright?”
It would’ve been clear just by looking at me that I was physically fine. I met his gaze directly.
“Bodyguard.”
Then, with a calm voice and a posture that invited him to listen, I spoke.
“I used to be just an ordinary person.”
“……”
“Nothing special… just another regular office worker living day by day.”
It was the story from before I became Cha Eun-soo.
“I never imagined the world inside a casual game I played as a hobby could actually be another reality.”
Shim Tae-seong’s eyes widened.
“No, actually, I guess I did sense something odd. Even though I knew it was a game, it felt like I was living in that world. At the time, I thought I was just addicted to it.”
I blinked slowly, my voice trembling as I let out a small laugh.
“That was the first time we met.”
Shim Tae-seong said nothing. Of course—this was information he would have already known through Jang Hee-gang. Reading the subtle shift in his expression, I muttered softly, loud enough for him to hear. So you knew, too.
“After that, I died and was reborn as Cha Eun-soo. Without any of my memories. Back to a time long before the point where I started playing.”
“…!”
Though Shim Tae-seong now retained his memories from both before and after the system reset the timeline, he likely hadn’t sensed anything unusual at the time. But judging by the brief flash of surprise across his face, he hadn’t expected that I had noticed too. Maybe that’s why everyone had been so desperate to tear me apart. Especially my brother.
“And when I left with you to go meet my brother—”
I shut my eyes tightly, then opened them again, forcing out the memory that still hurt to speak aloud.
“As soon as I lost consciousness, I met an entity called the System—one that belonged to the world I originally lived in. It said it was something akin to… a god in each of the different worlds.”
“…”
“That System gave me back all of my memories. It told me the truth.”
The System of your world had targeted me—targeted my soul, because I carried the spirit of a high-ranking Guide. At first, it created a path through a game, luring me into the role of a player so I could guide you from that position.
But when that method reached its limit, it kidnapped my soul. And it erased all of my memories.
While some parts had been fabricated, most of what it told me was true. I recounted all of it, openly casting myself as a pitiful soul wronged by an inhuman entity. As if the trauma still lingered, I let my shoulders tremble ever so slightly. Shim Tae-seong didn’t dare speak—he was at a loss for words.
“Back then, it told me my original body hadn’t died… that I could still return to it…”
I buried my face into my knees.
“Everything was so hard at that moment, I wanted to go back. That world was peaceful. There were no Espers, no Guides…”
“Young Master.”
Shim Tae-seong couldn’t bring himself to touch me. Instead, he gripped the edge of the bathtub, his knuckles whitening.
