Villain wants to live as a commoner chapter 107

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What I was eating now was monster meat.

At first, I felt reluctant, but hunger left me no choice.

Eating monster meat carelessly can cause problems, of course.

Fortunately, Yeon had a detoxification skill, so I could eat safely without worry.

The reason I’m eating this… is because I’m hiding in a dungeon right now.

The events leading me here go back a few days.

Dust had carried my unconscious body and fled into the dungeon where I’d first encountered the man.

He must have decided it was the safest place for now.

There, we found traces of the battle between Naru and the man.

Dust consumed the blood and leftover mana Naru had shed, activating one of his skills: [Devour].

[Devour (S)]: Consumes items or mana to temporarily acquire their associated effects.

[Devour] is a skill that puts an immense burden on Dust’s body.

He usually avoids using it, but in this instance, he had no choice.

Thankfully, enough time had passed since he last used it—when we were chasing Shin Chaeyoung—so he’d had time to recover.

Using Naru’s blood, Dust transported us to another dungeon.

Whether we were lucky or unlucky remains debatable.

We’re now in a dungeon near Seoul.

Even Baek Gunho wouldn’t know I’m here.

He doesn’t know about Naru’s existence or my skill set.

The man might have figured something out since we used Naru’s skill to escape, but…

“Man…”

Thinking of him made my mood sink again. I couldn’t just stay hidden here.

I needed to find a way to resolve this situation.

At first, I’d been deeply shaken by the fact that he tried to capture me, but after some reflection, I concluded that he couldn’t have done it of his own volition.

This wasn’t just blind optimism—there were two beings I knew of with S-rank mind-control abilities: Kim Kyungmin and Susu.

While the man wasn’t an easy target, if someone truly set their mind to it, even he could be subdued.

Kim Kyungmin had succeeded in controlling an A-rank hunter, and Susu had a similar track record.

Between the two, it was likely Susu who used their skill on the man.

Naru and Susu were working together. It seemed probable that they used a failsafe—mind control—if the attempt to kill me failed.

Maybe they thought if the man died or betrayed me, I’d lose faith in humanity and turn my back on them.

“Heewon-ah…”

“Heewon, stay strong!”

“Myaah…”

I let the three creatures burrow into my arms, stroking Dust as he reverted into his ordinary cat form.

He purred softly, rubbing his head against me.

Had Dust not grown larger and shielded me, I would have been captured, my control worn away, and my trait run amok.

I recalled the events leading us to this dungeon.

Dust had shaken me awake.

In his massive form, he held me tightly, his voice firm yet urgent.

“Heewon, snap out of it.”

“Urgh…”

“You probably don’t remember, but in a previous regression, you made a contract with a transcendent being.”

“…I did?”

“Yes. That contract is why we’re in this current timeline.”

“…?”

“That being’s goal is to see the world destroyed. And you’re the only one capable of fulfilling that goal. That’s why Susu and Naru retained their original powers, while Yeon and Noeul grew weaker.”

“What about you?”

“I paid the price. Most of the time, I can’t speak or even think clearly. I’m just a cat. I’ve been conserving energy for moments like this, to help when it matters most.”

“Why would you go so far?”

“Because I know you’re a kind person. In this timeline and the ones before it.”

“No, I’m not…”

“I just wanted to help you. That’s all. I’ll stay awake as long as I can, so call on me if you need me.”

Dust’s voice grew faint as he returned to his smaller form.

“Dust.”

“Myaah.”

“Give me your paw.”

Understanding instantly, Dust held out his soft front paw.

I grasped it, reassured by the fact that he could still comprehend me.

I didn’t want to push him too hard, but I had to prepare for the worst.

As I stroked Dust, my thoughts turned to the transcendent being he had mentioned.

That being was likely the voice I’d heard back in the dungeon.

The one who resented how I was wasting my [Villain’s Qualities].

I had no idea how much influence they wielded, but the fact that they sent us into another timeline indicated they were aware of the regressions.

But if I’ve been regressing repeatedly, why did they only approach me in the last timeline?

The answer seemed just out of reach.

In the previous timeline, I had realized I was regressing. In this one, I recalled all the memories of that timeline.

My growing awareness wasn’t a coincidence.

These repeated regressions were clearly taxing the world itself.

The thinning barrier between timelines allowed for shared memories—and interference from the transcendent being.

…At least, that’s what I pieced together based on Dust’s revelations and my fragmented memories.

They weren’t clear enough to claim as my own, but I vaguely remembered hearing something similar before.

Perhaps it was the transcendent being who had told me.

I opened the system window.

The [Villainous Disposition] trait was still visible, with its control rate diminishing.

[Villainous Disposition] was my trait, yet it felt as though it wasn’t entirely mine.

The way it seemed to threaten me—demanding obedience to its nature as if it had a will of its own—made me question if it might actually possess some form of consciousness.

The phrase ‘a being suitable for this skill’ only reinforced that thought.

[Villainous Disposition] felt like a garment tailored to a precise size, and I happened to match its measurements by sheer coincidence.

Not just my skills—perhaps Baek Gunho’s abilities were also bestowed upon him by chance.

Powers that didn’t exist in the first timeline might have suddenly appeared.

After all, these abilities were too overwhelming to belong to any one person.

Of course, this was all conjecture when it came to traits.

Still, the involvement of some transcendental entity was undeniable.

And since it was beyond my influence, it could end up being a significant variable—most likely, in a bad way.

Though frustrating, I couldn’t completely overturn this situation.

Yet, I couldn’t just sit idly forever either.

“…Time to head out.”

I couldn’t hide forever.

As long as this dungeon remained open, hunters would eventually come to subjugate it.

“Noeul, I need your help again. Take a look outside for me.”

—Of course! I’m happy to help!*

Noeul chirped cheerfully and flew toward the dungeon entrance.

As I watched Noeul leave the dungeon, I shared its senses.

Thankfully, there were no people nearby.

Noeul soared into a nearby restaurant and concealed itself.

It happened to be dinnertime, and the restaurant had the news playing on a screen.

Since regaining my memories, I’d become adept at sharing senses.

I no longer needed to actively switch between sight and hearing; it all flowed naturally.

Together with Noeul, I watched the news.

Fortunately, I hadn’t become a high-profile fugitive plastered all over the broadcasts.

But there was plenty of other bad news.

—Today, the Hunter Management Bureau announced that the simultaneous dungeon breaks occurring across the nation may be acts of terrorism.

The screen showed the face of a weary-looking official.

My chest tightened.

So, he had returned to his original post, rather than searching for me.

Pushing aside my emotions, I focused on the man’s words.

—Before each dungeon break, there were always perpetrators issuing warnings of terror. They all held the same type of mana stone. Based on this evidence, we are investigating these as artificially induced dungeon breaks, classifying them as severe acts of terrorism.

The screen shifted back to the newsroom anchor.

Just then, the news broadcast was interrupted by someone’s irritated voice nearby.

“Is this for real? People can trigger dungeon breaks now?”

“Maybe they’re mistaken. The Bureau’s been a mess lately…”

“But it’s not like they’re making it up. There’s evidence.”

“If that’s true, damn, we’re all screwed, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. With all these dungeon breaks and no proper predictions, we’re basically dead.”

Hearing their complaints, I ran a hand down my face.

That… might be the result of joint research by the Black Sea Guild and the Baekmyeon Sect.

In the past, I had personally conducted research to artificially trigger dungeon breaks.

Though never a perfect success, I’d managed to provoke them accidentally on occasion.

Maybe, in this timeline, they succeeded.

Although the Black Sea Guild had dwindled in size and influence, its technological prowess seemed intact.

They were still producing potent drugs, after all.

After finishing the news, Noeul exited the restaurant and glided down a deserted street.

I felt some relief—until Noeul’s gaze wavered with unease.

It shot upward, scanning below.

A gate had appeared out of nowhere. It hadn’t been there moments before.

Another dungeon not predicted in advance.

The decline in dungeon prediction accuracy wasn’t new, but I wondered if it was connected to the repeated regressions.

Either way, we had narrowly avoided disaster thanks to Noeul’s quick reflexes.

Soon, Noeul returned to the dungeon.

—Heewon! I saw a dungeon!

“I know. You did well to avoid it.”

—Heewon praised me!

Noeul flapped its wings in excitement.

I patted its head and sighed.

“This is bad…”

—What’s bad?

“The sudden dungeons… the constant breaks… it’s getting scary to step outside.”

Noeul tilted its head at my words.

—But Heewon is strong… Dungeons aren’t scary…

“No, I’m fine, but if a dungeon break happens right in front of me, I can’t just ignore it.”

The news reported significant casualties.

Hunters in Seoul had mobilized en masse to minimize the damage, but there were still deaths.

I could never ignore such things, and watching the news only made that harder.

—Just ignore them…

—Ignore them! Ignore them!

“How can I ignore it when someone might die or get hurt?”

—Let them die…

—Ignore them! Ignore them!

—Myaaahk!

“…You guys really are monsters. That level of callousness says it all.”

Ignoring it wasn’t an option, but I also couldn’t recklessly intervene.

Even if it was cowardly, there wasn’t much I could do.

All I could hope for was that nothing happened along my path.

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