# Chapter 170
“You’re cooperating with my work. I’m not joining your side.”
Lee Hwan firmly set boundaries just in case. If left unchecked, Kang Dongha was the type who would brag about recruiting a mysterious A-grade Hunter or stealing Taesung’s person as his subordinate—he was the kind who would lie without hesitation.
Kang Dongha, who had perfectly understood the questioner’s intention, pushed cookies toward Lee Hwan as if telling him to calm down. Lee Hwan picked up another butter cookie and looked at him with suspicious eyes.
“I know. Kang Dongying probably knows you’re on Kang Taesung’s side too, right? Still, I tried to probe, but that got rejected spectacularly. Though what I stabbed did stick.”
Crunch. Kang Dongha giggled as the cookie crumbled softly.
“He must be fuming, even if he doesn’t say it.”
Today’s a perfect day for planning something big, he muttered, sounding quite excited.
“Enough with the small talk. Did you bring the contract?”
Lee Hwan, who had demolished several cookies in an instant, asked while moistening his throat with coffee. For the past few days, he had diligently drafted the contract’s contents while lying in bed each night.
Since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he didn’t mind losing sleep time. He was a bit worried that he couldn’t do proper document work for fear of Taesung finding out. He had only refined and sent over the essential content that needed to be in the contract.
“The clauses you sent seemed quite unfair…”
“Even though your life is the price?”
“…But I’m good at unfair contracts anyway.”
Tap. Two sheets of formal documents were placed next to the cookie tray. Lee Hwan picked up one and read it thoroughly.
“That’s a surprise. You didn’t mess around.”
“As someone said, because my life is the price.”
After putting down the paper and pushing it forward, Kang Dongha took out a fountain pen from his shirt pocket. Tension gradually filled his face.
“Once we sign, let’s first hear about why I die.”
Scratch, scratch. The pen nib scraped against the paper, engraving Kang Dongha’s name. Lee Hwan sat calmly, watching him work until the remaining document was completed for them to share.
And finally, after checking both sheets and dividing them.
“You get involved in Naru’s illegal project.”
As Lee Hwan opened his mouth, a cold light seemed to frost over in Kang Dongha’s eyes.
“But then a historic accident happens with the project. They need someone to take responsibility…”
“And I’m the one who takes the blame, it seems.”
“You get dragged away with all your molars broken.”
It happened to be Taesung who, following orders without knowing better, went to catch him and knocked out his teeth, but that didn’t seem necessary to mention.
Kang Dongha still had sharp eyes. He tapped the document with an audible sound and asked.
“Who’s the original person responsible?”
“On a large scale, the Chairman; on a smaller scale, the Vice Chairman; and directly…”
“Kang Dongying.”
When Lee Hwan nodded, Kang Dongha’s face visibly darkened. As if he had expected it. But as if hearing it directly was still quite shocking.
“You end up in pretty miserable shape at the end. That was your last words.”
“Tamitree bar, white bowtie.”
Lee Hwan nodded. He had completely omitted any content about regression and EX-grade skills. Still, it seemed to be a sufficient explanation of the situation, as Kang Dongha showed signs of understanding.
“So, what role do you want from me?”
“Sabotage. Since you’re family, they’ll at least let you in on some minor tasks.”
“Is that the revenge I wanted?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything like that. But it seems like that’s the only way you can make a difference.”
Someone to infiltrate Naru’s plans, blur objectives, distort instructions, and steal away keystones and bricks one by one. It was by no means a safe job, but it was better than dying.
Moreover, Lee Hwan wasn’t expecting much from him anyway. Recalling his memories, Lee Hwan and Taesung had always missed their goals by narrow margins.
Kang Dongha just needed to fill in that gap. So that Taesung could live, Lee Hwan could live, the world could live, and incidentally, Kang Dongha himself could survive too.
“The name of Naru’s secret experiment and the project you’ll have to take on is…”
“Semi-awakening.”
“Semi-awakening.”
As their voices echoed simultaneously, Kang Dongha’s eyes, which had harbored a trace of doubt until then, softened a bit.
The information Lee Hwan had shared was exactly the kind of thing his family would do. Additionally, the name “semi-awakening” was a project that only someone of the same bloodline who had been hanging around the Hunter and Awakening departments, like Kang Dongha, would have barely heard of.
Lee Hwan neatly folded one document, put it in an envelope, and finished his remaining coffee. Kang Dongha quietly observed him.
“We start tomorrow.”
“While I’m participating in the semi-awakening project, what will you be doing?”
“Instructions, guidance, and handling all remaining tasks with Kang Taesung. I’ve always been a tank-dealer-buffer in any situation.”
Kang Dongha, who had been slightly furrowing his brow at the mention of Kang Taesung’s name, nodded and gathered the remaining documents.
Though they had written a contract to make things more certain, both Lee Hwan and Kang Dongha knew well. The thread of trust that bound them wasn’t that piece of paper but the past Kang Dongha who had died and disappeared.
“Let’s try to survive this time.”
Lee Hwan left the office with that sad wish of luck. In truth, the number of deaths remaining in his memory was greater for himself than for Kang Dongha.
This time, he hoped that number wouldn’t increase.
On the way back, Lee Hwan sat in a taxi, blankly staring out the window. Perhaps it was because he had just been talking about death and regression. Another memory seemed to be surfacing.
It felt as if a part of his brain was itching. Lee Hwan leaned against the back seat as if collapsing and began to peek at the memory slowly playing out before his eyes.
‘It’s all my fault. It’s all my… I knew this would happen. I thought this might happen.’
This was Taesung’s voice. His low, affectionate voice was completely soaked in moisture. Just recalling it made Lee Hwan’s chest feel compressed, and he anticipated that the content was not pleasant.
* * *
Tick, tick, tick. His consciousness gradually sank as he listened to the sound of a car’s turn signal as background noise.
Lee Hwan was in Taesung’s arms. Once again, he was limp.
One of his eyes seemed not to be working. The width of his flickering vision was unusually narrow. Still, he could see Taesung’s pain-filled appearance all too clearly.
“…That’s just a superstition.”
Lee Hwan touched Taesung’s face lightly with his hand that kept losing strength. Taesung grabbed that hand and groaned.
Having apparently regressed several times already, he seemed to believe in a strange jinx. He attributed each misfortune befalling Lee Hwan to him having spoken about regression.
But Lee Hwan felt that, thanks to hearing the whole story from him, they had made some progress in preventing the apocalypse.
When you think about it, his end probably wasn’t good in some regressions where Taesung didn’t say much either. That’s why he would repeatedly turn back time.
The problem was that he was losing strength and couldn’t even move his mouth to explain this.
His vision darkened, and Lee Hwan felt a deep lingering attachment to leaving him behind.
* * *
“Sir, sir!”
“Huh!”
As Lee Hwan jumped up in surprise, the taxi driver nearly fell backward, startling in response.
Lee Hwan steadied him before wiping away his cold sweat and looking around. A neatly organized street, a tall apartment complex. Even from a quick glance, it was Taesung’s neighborhood.
Lee Hwan paid the taxi fare with trembling hands and then deliberately drove away the dream-like feeling of death that still lingered.
While walking from the complex entrance to Taesung’s house, Lee Hwan slowly recalled the memory he had glimpsed.
It was another memory of him dying. Although he didn’t know exactly how he ended up in that state, the moment when drowsiness washed over him and his breath stopped was chillingly vivid.
Taesung was holding him and apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.
‘Why is he saying everything is his fault when he didn’t even kill me?’
Come to think of it, since the regression, Taesung had always been apologizing to him. As if everything was his fault.
Well, if you really had to pin it down, a few things were his fault. Deceiving and confining someone…
But mostly it was guilt he bore alone for reasons he hadn’t yet revealed to Lee Hwan. He was always sorry for no apparent reason. Sorry when Lee Hwan had nightmares, sorry when he stopped eating halfway through a meal. He’d probably be sorry even if Lee Hwan just tripped while walking down the street.
‘Is it because of the regression?’
Only after recalling one more memory did he somewhat understand Taesung’s feelings. Through multiple regressions, he seemed to have accumulated regrets and lingering attachments.
Each time, Lee Hwan had suffered various ordeals, and whenever things went wrong, Taesung must have desperately tried to find the reason.
Because the skill was unkind. Because the world was harsh. Because Naru was vile. Because of bad luck.
But blaming the skill or the world only lasts so long. Even with repeated opportunities, the situation didn’t improve, and given Taesung’s personality, in the end, the only thing he could dig into and fix would be his own choices.
So he was always regretting, both in the memories and in this very moment. Saying it was all his fault. That he could have done better.
‘How could that be?’
Thinking of him trapped in his own personal jinx, anxiously worrying, Lee Hwan felt as if he couldn’t breathe. A mixture of resentment and pity welled up simultaneously.
‘He should just talk. Instead of not talking.’
He had no choice but not to. He had definitely changed. He was no longer the same person or character as before.
But he had no choice but to change. He abandoned his composure, gave up on perfection. He became desperate to catch even one more clue. He became callous, accepting Lee Hwan’s disappointment.
What must he have felt to reach that point? Lee Hwan suddenly felt like his insides were turning.
“Ugh…”
Nausea surged up. If he had to keep watching Taesung’s end, he would probably have been out of his mind with exhaustion. The repeating year 2022, the recurring deaths.
What did Taesung feel and decide in the face of that catastrophe?
Suddenly, he felt urgent. This wouldn’t do. He needed to see him quickly. He had things to confront him about and many stories to hear.
Lee Hwan quickened his pace with a hardened face. He felt impatient throughout the elevator ride, even wanting to open the doors with his hands and get out.
After hastily entering the door code and stepping inside, Taesung, who had been on the phone with someone, turned around with surprised eyes.
Like a fuse being lit, anger and concern suddenly surged and rippled from his tired and worn gaze.
Taesung immediately hung up the phone, came over, and grabbed Lee Hwan’s shoulders.
“Hwan-ah…? What’s wrong? What happened?”
When he blinked, not understanding the question, his cheeks became wet. Only then did Lee Hwan realize he was crying.
“You idiot.”
Lee Hwan cursed through gritted teeth and threw a punch.
Thud. Taesung bent at the waist, not knowing what was going on.
