It was well past three in the morning, and Eunseong still couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning on the sofa before finally giving up and pushing himself upright. The guild leader’s office was dim, thick with darkness, while outside the city blazed with lights that never went out even at this hour.
The S-rank raid on Black Thorn Valley was scheduled for this morning. He needed all the rest he could get — and yet every time he closed his eyes, the images from the Shadow Swamp Dungeon came flooding back. That horrific sight he never wanted to see again.
“……I don’t want to go.”
It hadn’t even been a full day since he’d become Baek Eunseong. And already, a second Dungeon.
Eunseong stared down at the back of his hand, face drained of color. Someone else’s body. Someone else’s status. Someone else’s life. And yet he was the one who had to walk into that Dungeon, with no way of knowing what dangers might be lying in wait.
Just a little while ago he’d thought it wasn’t so bad, being Baek Eunseong — but the reality of having to enter Dungeons for the rest of his life had brought him crashing back to his senses.
No. This is really, truly not okay…!
He used to believe that only chosen people became Hunters. That hadn’t changed much. The number of Hunters was still small compared to ordinary people. The ratio had grown over time, but they remained a minority.
Those with awakened mana circuits couldn’t live ordinary lives. From the moment of awakening and registration with the state, they became subject to management.
Which meant participating in Dungeon raids as a Hunter until the day they died. And a guild leader of Zenith, the number-one ranked guild in the country, couldn’t exactly announce one day that he was done with raids.
Eunseong’s eyes moved slowly. A brilliant idea suddenly struck him.
All I have to do is not be active duty anymore.
He’d already planned to hand Zenith Guild over to Kang Mujin eventually. Somewhere around the midpoint of the original story, Kang Mujin kills Baek Eunseong, and Zenith naturally passes into his hands.
What if I hand the guild over before things go that far?
The corners of Eunseong’s mouth curled up faintly as he slouched against the sofa cushions. Of course, he had absolutely zero intention of passing it on the same way as in the original — by dying.
I raise Mujin up properly, hand the guild over to him, and then retire. It’s not like I’d be short on money either. I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing but eating and playing.
Setting aside the income from being a Hunter, Baek Eunseong as a person was already wealthy, so there was little to worry about.
A little hum rose to Eunseong’s lips without him meaning it to. Retiring wouldn’t mean complete freedom — if the state called in an emergency, he’d have to answer. But that kind of thing only happened when a Dungeon break occurred right in the middle of the city, so it shouldn’t be an issue.
Retirement. My own idea, but I have to say — it’s brilliant.
It wouldn’t be a smooth road, but if he laid the groundwork steadily from here on out, it might be achievable within a few years.
Eunseong thought back to the Dungeon he’d seen the day before, let out a long dry heave, and shuddered.
This is the only path I have.
Eunseong picked up his tablet, letting himself drift into daydreams of life after retirement. Traveling the world. A luxurious life in fine hotels. An existence in which he would never have to look at a monster again. Just imagining it made him feel better.
Then a corner of the screen caught his eye — the Zenith Guild exclusive app. He tapped it on a whim, and a long list of management menus accessible only to executive-level accounts unfolded before him.
Scrolling down, he idly tapped on facility usage status — and stopped.
“…What.”
It was well past three in the morning, and every single training room was in use. The waitlist was packed solid. A few hours from now they’d be walking into an S-rank Dungeon, and the guild members had chosen training over sleep.
Eunseong stared at the screen for a moment. Something settled uncomfortably in the back of his throat. He found himself thinking that maybe he should have given them even more supplies.
Then his finger stopped on a line near the top of the list.
[Training Room 12 — Kang Mujin (C)]
Kang Mujin. Three syllables embedded in a screen — and the body that had been limp and wrung out with exhaustion slowly began to pull itself into an upright posture.
Training at this hour? I told him to rest. Or… is he getting used to the equipment? The stuff I gave him?
Eunseong, who had been blinking at a drowsy pace, shot up from his seat — then sat back down.
Don’t go. Even if I want to, I have to hold myself back.
But his gaze stayed locked on the tablet. He couldn’t look away from the real-time facility usage updates. He bounced one leg restlessly, and in the end — stood up again.
There was no way he wasn’t going. He refused to be the kind of fool who let slip the chance to watch his favorite character train right in front of him. His feet were already sliding into his slippers.
Eunseong straightened his rumpled shirt collar with a few hasty pats and hurried out of the guild leader’s office. The night-shift secretary startled to her feet, then sank slowly back down at his wave.
Eunseong walked briskly to the floor where the training rooms were located. Training Room 12, where Kang Mujin was, sat at the far end of the basement level. As he passed through the corridor, guild members who recognized him called out in loud greeting.
“Good evening, sir!”
“Good evening!”
The booming voices rang out and echoed through the hallway. Eunseong waved them off vaguely with one hand and stole glances at the other training rooms as he passed. The interiors were perfectly visible through the transparent glass walls.
Everyone’s working hard.
He was itching to get to Kang Mujin immediately, but making it too obvious would only stoke another fire on Hunters Blind. So he kept his pace deliberately unhurried, letting his gaze drift across the training rooms as he passed.
He made his way slowly toward Training Room 12. Unlike the other training rooms that blazed with light, Training Room 12 was dark. And in the center of that darkness, the faint outline of Kang Mujin.
There’s Mujin.
Eunseong pressed himself closer to the glass, warmth rising in his chest. The guild members nearby quietly stepped back.
The Lord of Darkness was in Kang Mujin’s hand. The blue mana flowing along the blade cast an eerie glow across the dark room. He raised the sword slowly.
A single sweep — light, almost casual — and yet the blue arc it left hanging in the air made Eunseong swallow without meaning to.
To think he’d get to watch his favorite character move like this, up close.
Having Baek Eunseong’s memories means I can actually see this. He didn’t become guild leader for nothing.
Baek Eunseong had a reputation for being unlike a real Hunter — but he hadn’t started at the top. In his days as a guild member, he’d participated in many Dungeon raids.
Perhaps thanks to those memories, Eunseong could see it — the minute shifts in Kang Mujin’s wrist angle and stride with each swing of the sword.
Kang Mujin wasn’t simply training. He was calibrating the Lord of Darkness to his own body. Even if the regression had left him weakened, the experience accumulated over a past lifetime hadn’t vanished with it.
Watching in silence, Eunseong pressed his fist tight and clamped his mouth shut, fighting to keep the excitement off his face.
Kang Mujin is insane. He’s not a slime, so how is he moving that fluidly? What’s he doing performing sword dance in a fantasy world.
He wanted to clap both hands over his mouth and bounce on the spot right where he stood. He wanted to broadcast it to everyone — look what our boy can do.
True to the original story’s setting, Kang Mujin was restraining and concealing the full extent of his strength. Holding an S-rank weapon, it would have been instinct to push it to its limits — and he was suppressing that. Even the veins standing out across the back of the hand gripping the sword filled Eunseong with a fierce sense of pride.
Lost in admiration, Eunseong let his guard slip without realizing it.
That was when it happened. Kang Mujin, who had been striking at hologram monsters, went still. He drew in a rough breath, swept his damp fringe back from his forehead — and turned his head. Dark eyes flashing with a killing edge locked directly onto where Eunseong stood. Bathed in the bright light of the corridor beyond the transparent glass, Eunseong’s figure was unmistakably clear.
Their eyes met, and before Eunseong could stop himself, a small hup escaped his throat as he clamped his mouth shut. He’d been caught staring. There was no way a Hunter with senses this sharp would have failed to notice his presence — he must have stayed far too long.
Mildly mortified, Eunseong was weighing whether he should look away first — when Kang Mujin swayed almost imperceptibly, and Eunseong startled, pressing himself even closer to the glass.
Wait, what — why is he doing that? Did he push himself too hard?
His wide eyes filled with worry in an instant — but from Kang Mujin’s side of the glass, that expression read as something far more like reproach: tired already, from just a bit of that?
Coming all the way down here at this hour to keep watch.
Kang Mujin held Eunseong’s gaze and tightened his grip. The Lord of Darkness hummed against his palm, as if resonating with him — and the heart that had been pounding with exhilaration slowly steadied. The sword was unquestionably excessive for his current rank.
Was giving me this sword intentional? A way to test my ability?
Baek Eunseong testing people was nothing new. When someone showed him what they were capable of, and he decided they were worth it, he didn’t hold back on support — he helped them grow. And then he ran them to their limit. Kang Mujin knew that road. He’d walked it before.
Since the regression, he’d worked to conceal his abilities — but the instinctive combat responses that slipped out of him unconsciously were beyond his control. He wondered if Eunseong had noticed those and was acting on it.
He probably doesn’t have the ability to catch that himself.
Kang Mujin’s eyes narrowed. Usually it was the people around Baek Eunseong who made those calls — him getting directly involved was rare. Either way, if everything had been a test, it made sense. A man who’d been perfectly content to shove him into the jaws of death had now handed him an S-rank Elixir and S-rank equipment back to back. And come down to the training room to watch him.
I was complacent.
He’d underestimated Baek Eunseong. He’d thought he only needed to guard against the people around him — he never imagined Eunseong would catch on and come to him directly.
…Maybe I can use this.
If Baek Eunseong was testing him, he could do the same — work his way in. Find out what Eunseong’s real purpose was.
But the opportunity didn’t come right away. Because Eunseong, who had been watching from outside, slowly turned — and walked away.
Kang Mujin watched him go in silence. When the end-of-session chime sounded from the speaker, he slid the Lord of Darkness back into its scabbard.
In a few hours, they’d be entering Black Thorn Valley. Whatever game Baek Eunseong was running — he’d find out there.
