* * *

Unlike the president’s concise statement, the Minister of Awakener Safety Bureau’s announcement was lengthy.

Starting from Seohwa’s initial appearance, it detailed how the government was preparing for the 6th-grade dungeon.

The minister’s tone was slow, his expression and actions exuding composure.

It wasn’t urgent—it was boring. Deliberately so, to avoid creating a sense of crisis.

“Ah, the principal’s lecture is so long. It’s putting me to sleep. Is the viewership dropping yet?”

Seohwa slouched lazily in his chair at the back of the press room, resembling a crumpled pile of laundry.

Understanding the minister’s intent didn’t make it any less tedious.

“Sit properly. You’ll wrinkle your suit.”

“Honestly, I should just change clothes. Why a suit? It looks like mourning attire. I don’t get why they always make me wear this.”

Grumbling, Seohwa straightened his back.

“Maybe I should practice. Look into the camera, speak without stuttering, say my lines, and get off the stage, right?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t look at the camera. If you meet their eyes, it’ll only ignite their fury.”

“…To inspire trust, I have to make eye contact with the camera. But if I do, they won’t trust me? What a dilemma.”

Seohwa slumped again, tapping the chair leg with the toe of his shoe.

“When you’re out there, do not act as you are now.”

“What’s wrong with how I’m acting now?”

“Don’t be flippant. Speak with weight and sincerity instead of being light, trivial, or playful. You’re already seen as a five-time failure, and even if you weren’t, you’re inherently untrustworthy in their eyes.”

“In the first timeline, my talented aide said persuading the public with sincerity wasn’t something I could pull off. He shook his head like it was unthinkable. And he was right—I can’t do it. It’s cringy and awkward.”

Kang Yigeon’s eyes brimmed with disdain.

“Haven’t you outgrown calling sincerity ‘cringe’ at your age?”

“Still harping on about my maturity at this age, huh? First-timeline me heard that one plenty too.”

“Don’t bring up age. That’s a sore spot for me. I’ve lost track of how old I even am. I regressed at 29 and returned to 26 five times over. How should I introduce myself—what age am I supposed to be?”

“Since your body and mind from past timelines remain intact, you could say you’re in your 40s.”

“Can’t I be immature in my 40s? Look at Wolf Hunter. He’s 45 and still tops the list of most immature hunters ten years running. I want to challenge him as the new contender.”

“No one knows Wolf Hunter’s exact age. Let’s not digress—prepare to be serious.”

“Yes, serious and sincere…”

Seohwa pursed his lips but broke the silence within five minutes.

“Maybe I should try calligraphy. They say it helps scatterbrained people focus. Did you take calligraphy, Kang Yigeon? You seem like the type who’d excel at it as a kid. Were you the class rep? The instructor probably insisted you be one.”

“…….”

“Or maybe calligraphy’s too intense. How about reading? Do you read much, Kang Yigeon? What’s your hobby anyway? What do you do on your days off? Calligraphy? Reading? You probably haven’t had much time for hobbies or rest lately because of me. Must be annoying.”

“You know my spiritual and mental stats by heart, but do you know my hobbies? How I spend my days off?” Seohwa thought back to Kang Yigeon’s accusatory voice from the first timeline and asked earnestly. Kang Yigeon, however, offered no reply, signaling he had no patience left. Seohwa wisely kept quiet, his years of regression attuning him to Kang Yigeon’s breaking point.

“Our guild’s vice-leader has no hobbies. He’s a workaholic who lives only for his job.”

The sudden voice startled Seohwa, and he turned to see Simjin, his former aide and the current guild leader.

A familiar, welcome sight—though Sim’s icy expression quickly quashed that feeling.

“The guild leader of Danbaek. Nice to meet you in this timeline.”

“I’ve heard about you. You were the guild leader in a previous timeline, huh?”

“A long-vanished timeline. It was a position far beyond my means. I spent my time scheming how to step down.”

Seohwa emphasized his disinterest in reclaiming the role, wary of being misunderstood.

Simjin’s cold eyes scanned him up and down.

“Indeed, the word ‘Danbaek’ suits you best.”

“It suits you too. You’re a truly upright person. How are Cherry and Pickle?”

“Don’t sully their names with that filthy mouth.”

It was just a simple question, but Simjin reacted as if personally insulted.

Seohwa gave a wry smile, noting Simjin’s surprise at his own sharpness.

“Seeing you in person is even worse than I imagined.”

Simjin, never close to Seohwa, took another step back.

“I feel like killing you on the spot. Now I understand why everyone stands so far away from you.”

To protect Seohwa as he attended his first official event, the Department of Security assigned a few hunters to guard him.

However, they kept a considerable distance, leaving only Kang Yigeon within 5 meters of Seohwa inside the hall.

Simjin briefly stepped closer but quickly retreated.

“As I expected, Vice Guild Master, your patience is remarkable. How do you stand it? How do you not kill it and even manage to converse with such a grotesque, ominous existence?”

“You’re being quite harsh, talking like that right to my face. You know I can hear you, right?”

“Even its voice sends chills down my spine. I feel like tearing out its vocal cords—or my own ears.”

“Kang Yigeon, could you please teach the Guild Master some patience training methods before he harms our precious future asset? Perhaps calligraphy or reading?”

Despite the Guild Master openly displaying murderous intent, Seohwa remained calm and composed.

His relaxed demeanor suggested he could easily fend off an attack if Simjin decided to lash out, further fueling Simjin’s rage.

Simjin clenched and unclenched his fists, the dark blue veins on the back of his hands pulsating.

His sharp, black nails extended and retracted repeatedly, evidence of his struggle to restrain himself.

Finally, Kang Yigeon intervened.

“Guild Master, please return to your seat.”

“…What, you think I can’t hold myself back?”

“…”

“I’ll stay right here. I need to get used to its presence anyway. After all, we have to fight as a team with that… thing.”

Simjin dragged a chair over, plopping down with his arms crossed to hide his hands, glaring at Seohwa.

Meanwhile, Seohwa smiled lightly, curling his lips.

“Great. Now I have another conversation partner. I was just talking to Kang Yigeon about his hobbies. Surely even a workaholic like you has at least one….”

“I don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t have any. The Vice Guild Master reads books while traveling or waiting, but that’s for acquiring knowledge, not leisure. He trains rigorously every morning and evening, but that’s for missions, not a hobby. He doesn’t watch TV, play Kang Yigeones, or browse the internet. He lives a barren life.”

Seohwa’s expression faltered for the first time, his confident smile giving way.

Despite his usual composure in the face of hostility, this revelation seemed to unnerve him.

Unbeknownst to Simjin and Kang Yigeon, Seohwa was recalling whether the Kang Yigeon of the “first timeline” had also lacked hobbies.

The two, clueless about his thoughts, wondered why his demeanor had suddenly changed.

“Please prepare yourself.”

“Ah, is the principal’s speech almost over?”

As the protocol team gave notice, Seohwa quickly composed himself, adjusted his attire before a mirror, and stood.

Kang Yigeon stepped forward to fix his crooked collar, leaving the surrounding security and protocol teams in shock.

“Stick to the script and avoid unnecessary remarks. Just read the prepared lines and step down.”

“I know. You’re drilling it into my head.”

“The longer I look at you, the more murderous I feel. Make it brief.”

“Got it. Stop nagging. I’ll do well and come back down. The fate of this world depends on it, so I won’t mess up. Don’t worry.”

Moments later, Seohwa stepped onto the podium.

“My goodness….”

“Urgh…!”

“How can something like that….”

Despite being briefed and mentally prepared, the attendees of the official press conference couldn’t suppress the instinctive disgust that surged when Seohwa appeared.

His presence felt deeply unnatural, as though it repelled the soul itself.

If something smells foul, you hold your nose. If it looks horrifying, you shut your eyes.

But no amount of sensory denial could suppress the dread of simply existing in the same space as that ominous being.

* * *