* * *

Yeongdeok’s forehead wrinkled deeply, his facial muscles contorting as the voice rattled his head.

Wonjin, noticing the expression, asked with concern.

“Yeongdeok?”

“Didn’t you just hear that strange sound?”

“Sorry? What sound?”

“A fierce, commanding voice of a middle-aged woman….”

“A middle-aged woman?”

Wonjin looked around.

But aside from the trees, grass, and insects in the surrounding brush, it was just the two of them.

Wonjin shook his head, looking baffled.

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear…?”

The moment Wonjin said that, a thundering voice struck Yeongdeok’s mind again.

‘Begone, evil spirit!’

It felt as if a giant hand were squeezing his brain. Yeongdeok staggered slightly.

“Ugh….”

“Yeongdeok?”

He managed to avoid collapsing, but the strange voice in his head didn’t disappear, continuing to torment him.

‘Begone, evil spirit!’

Evil spirit? What is this sound…?

The clamor coming from all directions muddled his thoughts.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, then reopen them.

Wonjin’s worried voice cut through.

“Yeongdeok, are you okay? Does something hurt?”

As if things couldn’t get worse, raindrops started falling from the now-cloudy sky.

Wonjin sighed, thinking the weather was not helping at all, and pulled Yeongdeok’s arm over his shoulder to support him.

“We should probably get down from here for now. Can you walk?”

“You’re going to help me?”

“Sorry?”

Wonjin blinked, stunned by Yeongdeok’s tone, which suggested he hadn’t expected any assistance at all.

“I’m not your boss anymore, am I?”

Yeongdeok’s mind felt like it was slipping into a daze, his thoughts becoming clouded.

The voice commanding evil spirits to back off was fading, and his vision blurred.

That one remark left Wonjin bewildered.

Why would he think that not being his superior meant Wonjin wouldn’t help?

Just then, Wonjin recalled Yeongdeok’s face when he had asked, ‘Do you hate me that much?’

Yeongdeok had never shared his thoughts with Wonjin.

But then again, Wonjin had never opened up to him, either.

If he wanted an honest answer from Yeongdeok, he needed to be honest first.

Realizing his mistake, Wonjin tightened his hold on Yeongdeok’s arm and spoke, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to say it, but if I wait, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

“…….”

“The reason I used to hate you was….”

Wonjin’s voice reached Yeongdeok’s ears, and as he finally heard Wonjin’s true feelings, he felt as if he were being pulled into some kind of force.

His eyes began to close.

He vaguely heard Wonjin calling his name, asking if he was okay.

But before he could respond, something snapped inside him, and he could no longer hear a thing.

---

Unlike now, when Wonjin is considered tall, during his school days, he was so short and frail that he would always be the first in line whenever the homeroom teacher lined up the students by height.

Because of his innocent face, he was frequently bullied by older neighborhood boys and classmates.

He was hit and had his money taken.

One day, after being robbed once again and trudging home, he thought, “Why do I have to live like this?”

From that day on, he decided not to live as a victim anymore.

He started learning self-defense and ate diligently to grow taller.

As time passed, Wonjin finally retaliated and beat up the guys who used to bully him, almost to the brink of death.

As he looked down at one of his senior classmates lying in a bloody mess beneath him, he made a vow: he would never be underestimated again.

Wonjin, determined not to live a life where he was belittled, lived intensely.

He made it to a good university and meticulously built a brilliant portfolio, not wasting a single day.

Eventually, when he hit his 30s, he managed to join Seongjin Group.

When he first met Dowon, his impression was, “This guy doesn’t seem human.”

That initial impression never changed, and over time, Wonjin often—no, actually, frequently—thought Dowon wasn’t human at all.

Dowon’s face remained devoid of any emotional fluctuations, with hardly any signs of joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure.

While it was better than a moody boss who could snap over anything, Wonjin found that face that never showed any emotion, whether happiness or sadness, disturbing.

Was he just a workaholic robot or perhaps a psychopath?

One day, Dowon, for the first time, asked Wonjin something that wasn’t related to work.

“Secretary Ha.”

“Yes, sir. Please go ahead.”

“If seeing someone makes you feel happy and your heart races, what exactly is that emotion?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a week, but I can’t figure it out.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a whole week and still don’t know?

Is he serious?

At that moment, Wonjin felt an intense aversion, as if his muscles were twisting.

“Could it be that… you like that person, sir?”

“Me? I don’t think so. I really don’t know.”

Ever since meeting Eungyeol, Dowon would ask Wonjin things that even a fool would know.

Every time Dowon posed a question, a crack started forming within Wonjin.

How could someone who didn’t even know something that simple be above him, occupying a position that he, who had worked hard all his life, could barely reach?

The tiny crack gradually grew bigger and bigger.

It was the beginning of an inferiority complex, stemming from an arrogant feeling that he was better than that person.

However, when Dowon started behaving as if he had given up everything, acting like someone who might die at any moment, Wonjin became confused.

Was Dowon avoiding him because he noticed his petty thoughts?

Could it be that’s why he even quit the company?

Was he hurt because of him?

ꔚ–

In front of Yeongdeok, whose vision was flickering with pitch-black darkness, something shimmered faintly.

At the same time, he felt a sensation similar to what he experienced before returning to the previous timeline—a feeling as if he was floating in midair.

“Like you said, since I went through the trouble of performing an expensive ritual, my novel should return to its original form, right? I should be able to edit and delete things as well.”

A voice he had never forgotten since the day he swore revenge on PetitRolang reverberated through the air.

It was a jarring, unpleasant sound, like nails scratching a chalkboard.

“I’m not sure about that, but the ritual was completed successfully.”

“What? This is nonsense. The reason I needed you was for the novel. How could you not know?”

“Congratulations.”

The shaman clapped dryly, and at an annoyingly slow pace of once every three seconds.

The man clicked his tongue in frustration and lashed out angrily.

“What exactly are you congratulating me for? You stay right there. I’m going to check on something and will be back.”

The man disappeared in an instant.

As the shaman, who had been clicking his tongue disapprovingly, sensed something, he turned his gaze in the direction where Yeongdeok had been watching them.

“Huh…?”

A sharp gaze, now showing confusion. The shaman was staring blankly into the air.

“Damn it. I can’t edit the novel!”

As the man’s enraged shout echoed throughout the house, the shaman stepped backward slowly, unlocked the door, and fled in a hurry.

“Hey, you scammer, right? Stop right there!”

The man, eyes blazing with anger, quickly chased after the shaman.

Yeongdeok’s vision turned blurry once more.

ꔚ–

A faint scent of fabric softener tickled Yeongdeok’s nose. It was a simple yet neat fragrance.

Panting heavily, a strained breathing sound reached Yeongdeok’s ears.

Rainwater trickled down his neck and seeped inside his collar.

When the wind brushed against his cheek, the piercing cold slowly opened his heavy eyelids.

After blinking a few times, he lifted his head and saw thin but firm shoulders.

He wondered why his body kept shaking. Wonjin was carrying Yeongdeok down the mountain.

Though it was just a neighborhood hill, doing so in the rain was reckless.

Yeongdeok, his voice hoarse and cracked from just waking up, murmured.

“…What are you doing?”

“Huff, Yeongdeok, are you awake?”

* * *