* * *
“…….”
“It won’t be immediate. It will take time, but eventually, the side effects of regression will disappear, and the timeline will accept you. People won’t hate you. They won’t despise you. They won’t loathe you.”
Is… that even possible?
Seohwa hid his trembling hands beneath the table.
It was such an enticing offer.
But in truth, it didn’t matter whether the Hate Phenomenon disappeared or not.
Because after disappearing, he planned to kill himself anyway.
He had caused too many deaths.
He had forced sacrifices upon good people, taking far too many lives.
His atonement would be death.
It was a decision he had made from the very first timeline.
So whether people ended up liking him or not—what difference did it make when he was going to die anyway?
Even if the timeline accepted his existence, the people might never acknowledge him.
After all, he was known as the worst hunter in history, the one who led an expedition to their deaths just for a hidden reward.
And yet—
Even as his rational mind understood all this—
Seohwa could only part his lips slightly, unable to say a word.
“As long as you fulfill your vow and stay hidden, [Flight of Time] will transfer to me, and the Hate Phenomenon will disappear. Isn’t that a favorable condition for you?”
That was true.
So favorable, in fact, that it felt suspicious.
After a brief moment of thought, Seohwa asked,
“If you get a time-travel skill, what do you plan to do with it?”
“I have no intention of destroying the world. I know my reputation is bad, but I am not a garbage person like you.”
“I know, Gaius Jung. You’re someone who likes people. Even if your values are twisted, you’ve saved the world multiple times. Someone like that can’t be a villain.”
Gaius Jung tilted his head.
“I saved the world? I wasn’t even allowed into the 6th-grade dungeons.”
“It’s not like 6th-grade dungeons are the only ones that matter. You’ve conquered countless dungeons. When time was running out and an expedition team had to be assembled urgently, or when a monster escaped and a crisis broke out—you never refused the call. You were a Covenant, so you could’ve turned it down, and no one would have blamed you. But in every timeline, you stepped forward without hesitation.”
“…….”
“I don’t particularly like people. I don’t trust them, either. Maybe because of that, I find your sense of justice suspicious, and your values concerning. But I do believe one thing—you are not an absolute villain.”
Seohwa spoke as gently as he could.
Though, coming from the worst piece of trash in history, it probably didn’t sound all that gentle.
“If you take [Flight of Time], tell me how you plan to use it. It’s a skill far beyond my capabilities anyway, so I’m more than willing to hand it over.”
That was a blatant lie.
Gaius Jung pouted before responding.
“I won’t time travel. The side effects scare me too. I’ll just use it for something fun.”
“Like what?”
“Stopping time at a casino and playing around.”
“…….”
Seohwa had never imagined such a use for it.
Stunned, he could only stare as Gaius Jung asked,
“But I don’t get it. If you don’t like people, then that means you’re a bad person. So why did you do something a good person would do?”
Seohwa pressed against his aching temples before answering.
“Because I admired good people who loved the world. Because I knew… I could never be like them.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“It was just… the rational choice. Between me becoming the subject of Hate and the world being destroyed, it was obvious which was the smarter decision.”
Seohwa didn’t believe for a second that Gaius Jung would really just use [Flight of Time] for casino tricks.
He’d probably do something that benefited the New Humanity Sect.
Or worse, he could be plotting something dangerous.
But if… if there really was no scheme—if, by some chance, he was truly only going to use it for a casino—then Seohwa could never hand it over.
That naive fool would surely be unable to resist his curiosity and end up altering time.
The thought of what consequences that might bring terrified him.
And yet—
‘Why am I hesitating?’
He should refuse immediately.
There was no need to waver.
And yet, his mind kept circling back to the favorable parts of this additional vow.
If he took advantage of the benefits but never fulfilled the condition of giving up the skill…
As long as he remained hidden, there was no way Gaius Jung could obtain [Flight of Time].
A face full of anguish surfaced in his mind.
Across multiple timelines, countless people had suffered because of the Hate Phenomenon.
The one who had suffered the most… was Kang Yigeon.
Why had he tried so hard to overcome it?
The rejection of the timeline was an absolute force—why had he dared to defy it?
Why had he chosen to suffer?
‘If the Hate Phenomenon disappears…’
Kang Yigeon would no longer have to suffer.
And countless people in this world would no longer be tormented by unwanted hatred.
‘I…’
Yes. Ultimately, the one who benefited the most was still him.
No matter how much he tried to justify it through others—
‘I guess I really can’t be a hero after all.’
Seohwa let out a bitter laugh, and Gaius Jung, lost in thought himself, asked,
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just amusing. I thought I was prepared to be hated until the moment I died. I thought I’d accepted it all.”
“…….”
“But now that you’re dangling bait in front of me… I’m wavering so easily.”
“…….”
“You said no one else could see the additional vow, right?”
“……Yeah. The system ensures only you can see it.”
“Alright. I accept the terms.”
Seohwa was determined to clear the 6th-grade dungeon and then take his own life.
Suicide wouldn’t erase the vow itself.
But because it would be a complete and total disappearance from the world, it left absolutely no room for violating the oath.
Unlike hiding, where there was always the risk—intentional or not—of resurfacing, death would ensure that risk was eliminated entirely.
So, just this once—
Just this once, could he be foolish?
Just this once, could he be selfish?
After clearing the 6th-grade dungeon… before he died—
He wanted, even for the briefest moment, to experience a world where people didn’t hate him.
In the end, Seohwa signed the additional vow.
Two years passed—
When the timeline’s rejection vanished after Seohwa’s disappearance, people began wishing for his return.
They demanded that Gaius Jung break the vow, and he responded,
“My vow with Seohwa has already been nullified.”
Kang Yigeon used his skill [Mind Reading] to confirm the truth of that statement.
But the vow Gaius Jung referred to was the first agreement prepared by the organization.
Shortly after, Gaius Jung vanished from the world.
The second vow—the one only the two of them knew—remained in effect.
And Seohwa, unable to die, had to survive each moment while anxiously monitoring his vow violation rate.
∗ ∗ ∗
Beep, beep! Please be careful ].[
Vow violation rate rising rapidly!
■■■■■■■■□□
No, this can’t happen.
He must not get the skill.
Not that man, whose true intentions were unknown.
Not the one who still refused to break the vow, waiting in silence for the skill to be his.
“Hunter Seohwa. I…”
“I’m sorry.”
Seohwa slipped free from Kang Yigeon’s desperate grip, red marks left on his wrist from the force.
Kang Yigeon, still unable to see clearly, reached toward the sound of Seohwa’s voice, blindly grasping at the air.
The IV line was ripped out in the process, and tears slipped down his hollowed cheeks.
Seohwa pressed the nurse call button.
“Take care of yourself. If you ever use your own life as a hostage again, I’ll never show up in front of you again.”
Activating skill: Magician’s Door.
Boom! A massive gate formed.
“No, don’t go!”
Ignoring the desperate, metallic-tinged cries of Kang Yigeon, Seohwa stepped through the gate.
The skyrocketing violation rate of the oath had calmed down.
Seohwa stared at the status window, now back to two panels, deep in thought.
Should he disappear again now that he had confirmed Kang Yigeon’s survival?
Or should he continue this precarious, double life as Lee Yuje, searching for Gaius Jung?
It wasn’t that he wanted to blend into society or be around people.
Seohwa still preferred being alone.
But… he simply wanted to face Kang Yigeon one more time.
They had met again after three years, yet they hadn’t even had a proper conversation.
That desperate grip on his wrist.
A hand that clung to him as if it would never let go.
And yet, he had to shake it off.
“I didn’t know it would be this hard.”
He had endured more than his share of mental anguish.
But pulling away from that grasp… was the most painful thing he had ever experienced.
It felt like his heart was being torn apart.
After agonizing over his choice, Seohwa eventually returned to Lee Yuje’s hospital room.
As he absently touched the wrist Kang Yigeon had held onto, a commotion erupted outside.
It was only natural—an EX-rank hunter who had been in a coma had just woken up.
Seohwa listened closely. He could hear wails and screams.
The man who had always been so cold and composed was now crying like a beast that had lost its mate.
Ignoring the stares and whispers of others, Kang Yigeon unleashed a grief-stricken cry toward the one who had escaped from his grasp—toward Seohwa.
No one mocked him.
It was as if they all understood the depth of his desperate, one-sided love.
From that day until Seohwa was discharged, the atmosphere in the hospital remained heavy and somber.
As news of Kang Yigeon’s awakening spread, the organization issued an official statement.
They described his unstable condition in great detail—how he was experiencing hallucinations and auditory delusions.
An S-rank hunter would never show signs of instability, no matter how mentally unwell they were. Their fear would spread to civilians.
But Kang Yigeon wasn’t just an S-rank hunter.
He was the only EX-rank hunter in the world.
For the organization to openly admit his instability meant the situation was that dire.
It was also a message.
A plea to the one who had disappeared so quickly after appearing again.
You left, and now this man is suffering unbearably.
So, please… come back.
It was an obvious message directed at Seohwa.
* * *
