RG 108

I hadn’t expected much, but I ended up gaining quite a lot from this conversation with Ryu Seonghyeon.

First of all… I had no idea Ryu Seonghyeon thought of me that way. It probably had something to do with me fainting during the Gwanghwamun incident.

‘Well, I guess from the outside, it must’ve looked like I passed out after healing others nonstop.’

Considering how Kwon Taehyeok later explained at the hospital that it was due to energy backlash, that made it pretty clear. In other words, to Ryu Seonghyeon, Cha Seohu must’ve seemed like a Support Hunter who pushed himself too far to heal the injured. On top of that, he’s only a B-class who also takes care of his little brother—an unfortunate but sympathetic situation. To someone kind like him, it made sense that Cha Seohu would come across as a good person—even if he was still someone hard to fully trust.

‘Well, that works out for me.’

In any case, Ryu Seonghyeon is one of the “main characters” designated by the system, and since I’ll be involved with him often, it’s definitely better if he doesn’t see me in a bad light.

And secondly, I was pretty surprised by how Ryu Seonghyeon sees Cover’s personality. Unlike with Cha Seohu, he believes Cover will speak cold, hard truths.

They’re both the same person, so why such a difference?

‘Is it the attitude?’

There were a few times, while I was acting as Cover, when I turned down Ryu Seonghyeon’s requests. And unlike Cha Seohu, who shows his flustered reactions clearly, Cover has his face hidden, which makes him seem more detached.

From all those interactions, it looks like Ryu Seonghyeon came to his own conclusion—that Cover is someone who lacks empathy. Damn it.

“Well then, I’ll go see the guildmaster now.”

“Okay. Sorry for holding you up like this.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Even though my reply came out a bit stiff with lingering bitterness, the conversation with Ryu Seonghyeon hadn’t even lasted fifteen minutes. As we left the meeting room together, he gave me a faint smile, as if he’d expected that. “To be honest, I’m still curious what you came here to talk to the guildmaster about…”

“…That’s really not something I can share.”

“Alright.” He chuckled softly, looking a lot more relaxed than before.

He really did just want to know the truth. Seeing that made me reflect on my own actions.

Back in the hospital room, when Ryu Seonghyeon asked me that question, my first thought had been: “I can’t hurt him.” No matter what the truth was, I deliberately chose an answer that wouldn’t hurt him. And he picked up on that intention.

It was a pointless move in the end. I know perfectly well that he’s not the kind of narrow-minded person who’d be hurt over something like that. While I was silently regretting it, a sudden realization hit me.

‘Wait. Could it be… I just wasn’t confident I could handle seeing Brother Seonghyeon disappointed in me?’

It felt like I’d been struck in the back of the head, my vision momentarily shaken.

“…”

…I don’t know. But I couldn’t say “no” with confidence.

I always remind myself not to overthink things when dealing with Ryu Seonghyeon, but it’s easier said than done.

In the end, it was my mistake. Even though he knew I was lying, Ryu Seonghyeon continued treating me kindly and still saw me as a good person. That alone was impressive.

“See you next time,” I swallowed a sigh and added that farewell. 

Ryu Seonghyeon gave me a strange look as he replied, “Hmm, sure.”

What was that?

Was I just imagining it?

I turned away from him, who had so easily accepted my goodbye. After all, the real purpose of today wasn’t Ryu Seonghyeon—it was the fake Song Ji-un. I stopped beating myself up and headed toward the office.

Knock, knock.

Before entering, I gave a light knock on the closed door.

Judging by the energy inside, the fake Song Ji-un was definitely there. I kept my guard up and waited. Soon, I heard a familiar voice from within.

“Come in.”

There was a hint of a smile in the invitation. I didn’t like his attitude at all, but I held it in and opened the door.

Creak. The hinge gave a soft groan as the door opened, revealing the familiar office from before. As I turned my gaze, I spotted him—relaxed on the sofa.

The fake Song Ji-un, who locked eyes with me, gave a slow smile. The discomfort spiked even further.

‘If only I knew where the real Song Ji-un was, I would never have met with this bastard.’

Such was my fate. Grumbling inwardly, I closed the door. The fake politely gestured to the seat across from him. “Have a seat. Oh, and just so you know—I switched from polite to casual speech because of the soundproofing. The moment you closed the door, I made sure our conversation wouldn’t leak outside. Like last time.”

“Don’t care.”

Use casual speech or not, whatever.

“Yeah?” The fake raised his shoulders in mock surprise. Don’t make gestures like that with Song Ji-un’s face. It’s seriously irritating.

“I don’t care how you talk, but what we say next better not get out.”

The moment I sat on the opposite sofa, the fake began speaking. “I watched the competition. Thanks to that, the Circle Guild’s name is now known to the public. We’ve had a flood of inquiries from Hunters wanting to join—nothing like before.”

“…”

“I personally don’t mind if we keep operating as a small guild, but you probably think differently. Since you can’t take care of them yourself, I assume you want the Circle to build up its strength and stabilize on its own.”

“Cut the nonsense,” I cut him off as he started veering into strange tangents again. “You said you’d answer any question if I won the competition. That came from your own mouth.”

“Hmm.”

“Song Ji-un’s location. Answer me. With proof.”

The system was important, but Song Ji-un’s safety mattered more. Hearing my demand, the fake looked puzzled. “Ah, that first? Why?”

“Don’t dodge the question—”

“I’m genuinely curious. I explained it to you last time, didn’t I? Song Ji-un is fine. He’s not in any danger. So it’s just a little odd that’s what you’re asking first,” the fake muttered to himself, blinking with an expression that said he couldn’t understand.

“Cut the bullshit and just answer the damn question.”

“Aren’t there more urgent things you should be asking first? Like, why you returned to the past, for example… or—” He paused, fingers brushing his lips before continuing. “—the seed planted inside that young human.”

“…!”

This time, I couldn’t keep a straight face. Young human… a seed. He was clearly talking about Cha Sahyeon.

‘He knows not just about my identity or regression, but even about the Seed of Calamity?’

How the hell?

As a chill ran down my spine, I couldn’t respond. The fake took that silence as confirmation and nodded slightly. “Let’s put Song Ji-un on hold. I swear on my life that he’s fine. And there’s a proper time to meet him.”

“…”

“Just so you know, my life is worth far more than you probably assume. So let’s talk about what really matters right now.” He stood. He looked around the not-so-large office, then looked down at me. “First, let’s change the setting to make the explanation easier.”

“What?”

Ping!

A strange sound, like a tightly wound thread snapping, and my vision warped violently.

“Wh-what…?”

I grabbed the sofa arm in a panic, forcing my eyes to focus, but my vision kept fading. It was like someone had flipped a switch—my eyelids fell against my will.

“You son of a bi—”

I couldn’t hold on any longer. My body swayed, and just before I blacked out, a large hand cradled my head—and then everything went dark.

***

“Wake up.”

“Ugh…”

The first thing I felt was pain. My whole body ached like I had come down with the flu. The worst of it was the headache. I reflexively clutched my head and let out a groan, and someone standing nearby whispered with a touch of concern.

“Ah, is this method too much of a strain?”

Even though the pain in my head was splitting, and I couldn’t open my eyes properly, a cold sensation touched my forehead. In an instant, the pain that had been crushing my body vanished.

“…?”

Only then could I open my eyes. After catching my breath and sitting up, I saw a man standing against the pitch-black night sky, looking down at me. A long-haired man wearing a lavishly decorated blindfold, with the Milky Way stretched out behind him in the black sky. Realizing the situation a moment later, my face twisted in anger.

“You fucking bastard…”

No doubt about it. This was that bizarre place I had dreamed of while in the hospital. This son of a bitch had gone through the trouble of dragging me all the way to the Circle Guild, only to pull me back here again.

“Isn’t that kind of language a bit much? Though, I suppose I did make a mistake.”

“Do you think you’d be speaking nicely in my place? What kind of goddamn mess is this now…”

I was about to spit out more of my thoughts as I pushed myself up from the ground when I noticed the massive tree behind the fake.

Naturally, since it was the same place, the tree I had seen last time was there again. But it wasn’t the same.

Back then, the tree had glowed so brilliantly in golden light that it was almost blinding—like a Christmas tree. But now…

“Looks like a dead tree, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“What I showed you in the last dream was an illusion. This is real. And yes, it is dead. Or, to be precise—”

The fake raised a hand and pointed toward the distant top of the tree. I followed his gesture, and it didn’t take long to figure out what he meant.

‘Light.’

Yes, there was light twinkling up there. It was very small, but like the planet Venus… it asserted its presence fiercely from the top of the tree.

“Only that part is still alive. The ‘present.’”

“What do you mean?”

He slowly turned his head to look at me. A chill ran down my spine.

The fake I was seeing again in this place was no longer Song Ji-un. He radiated a wildly powerful aura—an overwhelming presence. If this unknown man standing before me wanted to kill me, I wouldn’t even realize it before I was dead.

It was a primal kind of fear. Swallowing hard, I clung to reason as best I could. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in fear.

“If you fail, that light will disappear too.”

“Fail?”

“Yes. Like the countless other branches that have already died.”

I still couldn’t make sense of what the fake was saying.

I narrowed my eyes in frustration, and he too seemed to fall into thought. It wasn’t that he had another reason—more like he was stumbling through it because it was his first time dealing with something like this.

“Hmm, I suppose to convince you perfectly, I need to offer a worthy reward.”

“Let me guess—more of that ‘price to pay’ crap?”

“Whatever else, this is something I need your cooperation on. So showing you the reward first will make things go smoother.”

The fake waved a hand casually through the air. Then, something slowly descended from a distance.

What landed in the palm of his hand was a single tree branch.

It was the branch closest to the light at the top. Just over 10 centimeters long and sparsely dotted with leaves, it looked completely ordinary at first glance. But as if drained of all color, it was dark and lifeless—like something rendered in black and white.

After a brief hesitation, the fake held the branch out to me.

“What. Don’t tell me this is the reward?”

“Yes. I think this might be the greatest reward you could receive.”

I let out a scoff, unable to believe what I was hearing. How could something like this—which I didn’t even understand—possibly be considered a reward?

‘Shit, I never should’ve let him ramble this long.’

I’d made a mistake. I should’ve pressured him into revealing Song Ji-un’s location first. While I was seething in frustration, the fake let out a sigh and spoke. “To the eye, it looks shabby and useless.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“Of course it does. Because this is time that’s already ended.”

“…!”

Before I could even process what he meant, my head snapped up. But his face was still half-covered by the ornate blindfold, making it impossible to read his expression.

“What… what do you mean…?”

“This is a time—and a world—that ended before.”

“…”

“Your memories came from here.”

My mind was instantly bleached white.

Every thought I’d been having until now vanished. Where I was standing, the man in front of me, the situation I was in—none of it mattered anymore. Nothing… was important anymore.

A gentle voice brushed past my ear like the wind.

“Seohu.”

I slowly reached out my hand. The one I saw trembling in front of me.

The branch was rough, dry, and brittle.

As I quietly accepted the branch, the fake, who had been silently watching me, finally spoke. “If you cooperate with me, I’ll give you that as your reward.”

The end of the branch in my hand trembled violently.

“If you want… you can even return to that time.”