Villain wants to live as a commoner chapter 112

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“Baek Gunho.”

I heard Jung Eunji’s voice.

I was growing irritated with her constant interruptions when she tapped me on the shoulder.

“The ambulance is here. Let’s get Heewon to the hospital.”

I turned my head sharply.

Seeing my distorted expression, Jung Eunji sighed heavily.

“You’re only reacting now? Seriously, what the hell happened?”

“…”

“Forget it. I wasn’t expecting an answer anyway. I’ve already cleaned up the area, so just go. You wouldn’t be much help here anyway.”

She sounded annoyed, but I didn’t care how she phrased it.

“When you go, stay close. If Heewon regains consciousness, someone might try to drag him off for questioning. Got it?”

Her words made me grip my hands tighter. Noticing this, Jung Eunji clicked her tongue.

“…But don’t go killing anyone, okay? Understood?”

Ignoring her pointless warning, I watched as the paramedics arrived with a stretcher.

I felt a constant anxiety while moving Seo Heewon, worried that his wounds might reopen and he’d start bleeding again.

I stayed tense, my eyes glued to him.

Thankfully, nothing happened, and Seo Heewon was safely loaded into the ambulance.

I got in and stayed by his side as the ambulance sped toward the hospital.

Despite it being rush hour, the roads were empty, allowing the ambulance to move quickly.

In the hospital room, both healers and medical equipment were immediately attached to Seo Heewon.

Seeing him hooked up to all those devices—devices I never imagined he’d need—made me bite my lips. It was surreal.

Just as pitiful as when he had lain pale on the street was how he now lay motionless in the hospital bed.

An overwhelming sense of helplessness consumed me.

The realization that there was nothing I could do for Seo Heewon turned into a suffocating despair.

If I could trade anything to help him recover, I would.

“What exactly caused such injuries?”

The voice came from an A-class healer, someone practically a legend at this hospital.

I’d encountered them a few times through the guild.

Their skills were undoubtedly top-tier, but even they didn’t inspire much confidence right now.

I glanced at them briefly before replying.

“…A sword. He was cut.”

As I said it, the image of the sword slicing Seo Heewon’s neck flashed in my mind, making me dizzy.

I felt nauseous.

“A sword? What kind of cut could leave him like this?”

“…Just shut up and do something.”

“The treatment seems to be mostly done. Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s alive with wounds like these…”

“…”

“There doesn’t seem to be a need for surgery, at least. Let’s observe his condition for now.”

I approached Seo Heewon, who had been partially stabilized.

Watching him lie there, pale and with an oxygen mask strapped to his face, filled me with an unshakable anxiety.

Although his wounds had healed, his condition didn’t improve.

His pulse was still far too weak, and his breathing remained shallow.

Despite the doctor’s reassurances that he needed time to recover, Seo Heewon looked so fragile that I couldn’t take my eyes off him for even a second.

I was overwhelmed with the fear that something might go wrong.

My eyes burned.

My hands, in contrast, were cold. It felt as though I’d swallowed needles.

I buried my trembling hands in my face.

A weariness I’d never known consumed me.

But I couldn’t rest—not until Seo Heewon woke up safely.

A few calls came through in the meantime, but I ignored them.

My focus never left Seo Heewon.

Even when others called out to me, if it wasn’t about Seo Heewon, I dismissed them all.

The memories of Seo Heewon—laughing, crying, getting angry—felt like something from a distant past.

Every second he remained unconscious stretched into an eternity.

I had no idea how much time had passed when the sound of the door slamming open startled me.

“Heewon!”

The familiar voice of a man.

The one who burst into the room was Seo Hoon.

His hands trembled as he reached for Seo Heewon.

“He… Heewon…”

Before he could touch him, his hands dropped.

Seo Hoon turned sharply toward me.

His eyes burned with unfocused rage.

“Gunho, what the hell happened to Heewon? Who did this to him?”

I almost ignored him but decided to speak.

If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have.

But Seo Hoon deserved to know.

Even if the truth would bring no comfort.

“Heewon did.”

“…What?”

“Heewon… slit his own throat.”

The suffocating feeling of those few words leaving my lips was unbearable.

Upon hearing what I said, Seo Hoon’s face turned blank, as if his soul had left his body.

“H-Heewon did what?”

I stared at the man who, like me, had made a foolish mistake.

Despair slowly clouded Seo Hoon’s expression.

“Gunho… what on earth are you saying? Why would Heewon…”

Exactly.

Why? Why would he say he’d cut his own throat?

What led him to that conclusion?

I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him myself.

But Seo Heewon, pale and lying lifeless, didn’t give me the chance to do so.

He owed Seo Hoon an answer, if not me.

Yet the unyielding Seo Heewon lay there silently.

“Was it because of me?”

“…”

“If only I hadn’t… pushed him like that…”

“It’s not your fault.”

I said those words, but I didn’t believe Seo Hoon bore no responsibility at all.

If Seo Hoon hadn’t cornered Heewon, if he hadn’t been unaffected by the brainwashing, maybe Heewon wouldn’t have hurt himself like that.

These thoughts gnawed at me.

Still, I didn’t want to waste energy pointing fingers.

I had no room to blame Seo Hoon when I had failed too.

I hadn’t even stopped Heewon from harming himself right in front of me. How could I blame anyone else?

Yes, if only I had stopped him properly back then.

The thought strangled me.

If I had somehow restrained him, Seo Heewon wouldn’t have succeeded in his desperate act.

But I did nothing, and this was the result.

The weight of my own inadequacy crushed me.

The arrogance of believing I could handle anything was now laughable. I was furious at myself.

If I could, I would have gladly slashed my own throat as Heewon had.

“I… I drove Heewon…”

Seo Hoon groaned in anguish and collapsed onto the floor.

My gaze didn’t leave Heewon, but the thought that a recovering Heewon might grieve if something happened to Seo Hoon forced me to turn my head.

Seo Hoon lay sprawled, drenched in sweat. His condition was far worse than a simple collapse from shock.

Just as I was about to call for help, someone knocked on the door.

“Excuse me. May I come in for a moment?”

It was Kim Jinhyung’s voice.

“Come in.”

Kim Jinhyung entered swiftly, his eyes widening at the sight of Seo Hoon on the floor.

He rushed over in alarm.

“Team Leader!”

As Jinhyung hurried to his side, I shifted my focus away.

No matter how much Seo Hoon suffered, it couldn’t compare to Heewon’s pain.

They’d manage somehow—I didn’t want to care anymore.

The noise around me grew chaotic.

Voices blended into unintelligible sounds as I stared at Heewon.

Unfazed by the commotion, Heewon lay motionless.

The noise swelled and receded in waves until it finally subsided.

Just as I thought there might be peace, a hand rested on my shoulder.

“Hunter Baek Gunho, what’s wrong with the Team Leader?”

“…”

“Hunter Baek Gunho. Are you listening?”

I tried to ignore him, but Kim Jinhyung repeated himself persistently.

Left with no choice, I responded.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s talk that the Bureau might detain Seo Heewon.”

Are they insane?

Detention, in this state?

I’d rushed to the hospital, too panicked to think about anything else, but considering all the complications surrounding Heewon, perhaps it would’ve been wiser to move quietly.

It didn’t matter much.

As long as Heewon woke up, everything else was trivial. If only he’d wake up.

“Well… you likely have a plan, but I thought you should know.”

With that, Kim Jinhyung left.

Silence returned to the room.

Heewon and I remained the only ones.

I didn’t speak, and Heewon couldn’t.

In the quiet, I mulled over Heewon’s words.

I had heard everything he said, but I still couldn’t understand.

Fearing his powers might spiral out of control… was that really enough of a reason to attempt suicide?

In previous cycles, even imagining the phrase “just a reason” in this context would have been unthinkable.

Whenever Heewon’s powers raged, the world teetered on the brink of destruction.

This cycle was no different.

But in this iteration, Seo Heewon was special to me.

Even so, a ruined world would have spared no one—not even Heewon.

The choice before him should have been obvious. It had always been clear before.

By the logic of past cycles, I shouldn’t have been trying to save Heewon now.

Minor sacrifices were acceptable for the greater good.

But I couldn’t do that anymore.

Everything I once believed in had crumbled.

Decades of convictions shattered, and in their place, only the dying figure of Seo Heewon remained.

In the past, Seo Heewon had made this world a living hell.

I had tried to destroy that world by eliminating him.

But now, I was certain.

I don’t want a peaceful world built on your death.

If a world can only find peace by killing you, then I don’t need that kind of peace.

If you’d just live. I wouldn’t ask anything of you.

I’d give you anything you wanted. Just live.

“…”

At that moment, Seo Heewon’s body twitched.

A sign of consciousness, perhaps?

I jumped to my feet, ready to call a doctor.

But then, something strange happened.

Objects behind Seo Heewon’s body began to show through.

“…Heewon?”

I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the eye.

But it wasn’t.

Seo Heewon’s body grew faint, fading like a mirage.

I reached out for him, but my hand grasped nothing but air.

Panic gripped me as I tried desperately to hold on.

But Seo Heewon slipped further and further away, evading my grasp.

It was as though he would disappear completely.

“Heewon!”

I screamed desperately, but my cries were in vain.

Seo Heewon’s body vanished from the hospital room.

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