Author: Renegade

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 9

    What had just happened?

    Every time he blinked, the heads of his comrades exploded. Brains and blood splattered in every direction.

    Splat!

    A sticky liquid drenched Taeseong’s face. He raised a hand and wiped the blood off his face. Despite the gruesome scene unfolding before him, his expression remained calm. He simply surveyed his surroundings, as if trying to grasp the situation.

    The bodies of his comrades, their heads crushed like deflated balloons, collapsed limply to the floor.

    Taeseong was the sole survivor.

    Well, if the boy with the split mouth could be considered a survivor, then there were technically two. Whatever the boy truly was, he certainly wasn’t human.

    “The team leader said he was a Delta-level operative,” Taeseong recalled.

    If something had managed to crush the team leader’s head in an instant, it was safe to assume it wielded power well beyond that level.

    He knew the recon team wasn’t made up of combat specialists. But there was no time to dwell on the nuances.

    Taeseong quickly drew his pistol and, without a moment’s hesitation, pulled the trigger.

    Bang!

    The bullet tore through the boy’s head.

    For any normal human, that would have been the end. But the boy, who was clearly far from human, remained completely unscathed.

    He turned to Taeseong, still grinning, as if to mock the attack.

    “…”

    Realizing the gun was useless, Taeseong discarded it without hesitation.

    Instead, he unsheathed two daggers from his belt, holding one in each hand.

    Tap-tap-tap!

    Before his mind could issue the order, his body moved instinctively, executing the most efficient course of action for the situation.

    He sprinted forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat, and leapt into the air. With a fluid motion, he aimed a kick at the boy’s head.

    Taeseong’s movements were clean, precise, and impossibly efficient—far beyond what one might expect from someone suffering from amnesia.

    “…”

    Though the kick seemed to land squarely, Taeseong felt as if he’d struck empty air.

    “Physical attacks don’t work either?”

    But it wasn’t over yet. Determined to continue his assault, Taeseong moved to slash with his daggers.

    Before he could strike, his body was suddenly flung backward.

    It felt as though he’d been hit by an invisible force, like a car crashing into him.

    He twisted midair, landing in a controlled roll and coming to a crouch.

    “An unseen force…?”

    Pain flared in his side, a dull ache from the impact.

    On top of everything else, Taeseong now knew the boy—or rather, the creature in the form of a boy—could manipulate some kind of invisible power.

    Yet even in the face of this dire situation, Taeseong remained unshaken. He didn’t falter, only analyzed. He focused on one question: How can I defeat it?

    Steadying his breath, Taeseong gripped his daggers tighter. A faint blue aura began to ripple from the blades.

    The boy, still smiling, tilted his head slightly, his expression subtly changing to one of curiosity.

    “…Why are you still fine?”

    For the first time, the boy spoke, his tone mixed with confusion.

    The meaning behind his question was clear:

    All the others died instantly. So why is your head still intact?

    The boy couldn’t comprehend it. In his long existence, he had never encountered someone immune to his abilities.

    …Or had he?

    Now that he thought about it, there was one faint, distant memory.

    “There was a thief… a self-proclaimed vigilante from Joseon…”

    Before he could delve deeper into that memory, it happened.

    Slice!

    The boy’s right arm was severed, disintegrating into black smoke before it could hit the ground.

    “How…?”

    For the first time, there was genuine surprise in the boy’s voice.

    And then, the memory clicked.

    The vigilante had been like this one. Despite his power, he couldn’t crush the man’s head, no matter how hard he tried. That man had easily severed his limbs and then warned him:

    “Pitiful demon who feeds on human fear. Today, I grant you mercy and let you live. But mark my words: if I hear that you’ve harmed humans again, I will obliterate you entirely. Do you understand?”

    Now the boy understood.

    Why his power didn’t work on Taeseong.

    Why he felt a sense of déjà vu.

    “You…” The boy’s voice trembled. “You don’t fear me, do you?”

    Taeseong remained silent, his expression cold and calculating.

    The boy’s words weren’t wrong. Taeseong didn’t fear him—or anything else.

    Fear, for most, comes from the unknown. Fear of death? It’s the uncertainty of what lies beyond that terrifies people. Fear of ghosts? It’s the lack of understanding of what they are and why they exist.

    But Taeseong was different.

    He didn’t fear death.

    Was it because of his amnesia?

    Could forgetting erase even the primal instinct of survival?

    The answer to that question was something only Taeseong himself knew.

    “Why does that matter to you?” Taeseong finally spoke, his tone sharp and dismissive.

    Even as he spoke, he was calculating his next move. Whatever this creature was, its curiosity was irrelevant.

    The only thing that mattered was killing it.

    Because Taeseong still had unfinished business in this world.

    And now was the moment to strike.

    Taeseong seized the opportunity, exploiting an opening and moving forward. His movements were so swift that an ordinary human couldn’t even track them with their eyes. The keen edge of his blade sliced through the boy’s shoulder.

    Then his other arm.

    His chest.

    His side.

    His legs.

    Strike after relentless strike rained down, the glowing blue aura of his sword tracing arcs through the air. With every cut to the boy’s body, a black, smoke-like vapor surge out.

    “……”

    Time blurred as the assault continued.

    Eventually, the boy’s body, once formidable, had shrunk to resemble that of a child barely four or five years old.

    “Why… do you not fear me?” the boy asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

    Taeseong gazed at the diminished figure, his face blank and emotionless.

    ‘Even after piercing the heart or severing the neck, it won’t die.’

    Realizing that no amount of cutting would end it, Taeseong turned and approached the body of his late team leader, Choi Han-seong. Kneeling, he searched through Han-seong’s belongings.

    ‘As I thought, he had it.’

    Han-seong who was eager for recogniztion had carried the device Taeseong sought—restraints designed specifically for containing such entities.

    These restraints were not ordinary. Taeseong knew their effectiveness firsthand, having once worn them himself as a temporary containment subject.

    Carrying them back, he placed the restraints on the boy. For whatever reason—whether it was the damage from the fight or a resigned acceptance—the boy did not resist.

    ‘Better safe than sorry.’

    Still wary, Taeseong made a quick decision. He plunged his sword into the boy’s head.

    Thunk!

    Restraints or not, the creature was an unknown variable. Its inability to die was proven; thus, rendering it as powerless as possible was the best course of action.

    ‘It doesn’t even seem to feel pain.’

    Not that it mattered to Taeseong whether it did or not.

    “Now, what to do about this thing…”

    As he considered his options, Taeseong suddenly thought of Ho-jin, who was waiting back in the vehicle.

    “Contacting the company is probably the best move,” he muttered.

    With the boy in tow, Taeseong dragged him back to the vehicle, explained the situation to Ho-jin, and provided a summary to the organization, Tree.

    Before long, administrators and cleanup crews dispatched by Tree arrived. While the cleanup team handled the bodies and aftermath, the administrators escorted Taeseong, Ho-jin, and the restrained “Head-Crushing Boy (provisional)” back to headquarters.


    Operation: Abandoned Hospital Sweep
    Search Team 2
    Total Members: 15
    Casualties: 13
    Survivors: 2


    Upon returning to headquarters, Taeseong had a brief conversation with Choi Harin before heading to the temporary containment room.

    “…Sigh. Taeseong, I’ve got so many questions for you that I could probably fill a mountain, but unfortunately, we’re short on time right now. So let’s save the detailed talk for later. For now, I need you to handle that unidentified entity you brought in.”

    “Isn’t that a job for the management team?”

    “It is… Normally, yes. And believe me, I wouldn’t want to ask you to do this, but we don’t have much of a choice. No one else can deal with it. The upper-level administrators are swamped with their own issues, and if we send in Delta-grade managers, they’ll just get their heads crushed like before…”

    “Like before?”

    “Yeah… Two Delta-grade managers already went into the containment room and got killed. Their heads were destroyed, just like you reported. Based on what we’ve pieced together, it’s probably a type of vengeful spirit (akgwi), but there’s so little we know about it. If we send anyone else, it’ll just be a waste of lives… You’re the only one who fought it and came back unharmed. Please, just this once, help us out, okay?”

    “…Fine. I’ll go. What do you need me to do once I’m there?”

    “Not much. Just talk to it, like Haeyoung did with you when you were in temporary containment. And if you can, gather some information about it.”


    Arriving at Containment Room E-12, Taeseong hesitated outside the door.

    ‘The restraints should be on it, so how did those managers still end up dead? Then again, why am I still alive when the others weren’t?’

    He reached for the door, but it opened on its own, and a figure stepped out—a person in full protective gear carrying a large bag slung over their shoulder.

    “A cleaner?”

    The cleaner gave a small nod, and Taeseong returned the gesture before stepping inside.

    ‘Wait… Why was that cleaner unharmed?’

    The thought lingered in his mind, but he decided to focus on the task at hand. Taking the seat where Haeyoung had once sat during his own containment, he found himself overcome with an odd sense of déjà vu.

    “Another human has come… Wait, it’s you.”

    “Yes, it’s me.”

    The boy was now fully restrained, his every movement bound. Taeseong stared at him for a moment before speaking bluntly.

    “What are you?”

    “…I don’t know. The only thing I know is that I was brought into existence by you humans.”

    “Do you have a name?”

    “A name? Are you referring to what humans called me?”

    “Yes. Anything you can remember. Speak.”

    After a pause, the boy finally answered.

    Dueokshin.

    The name was unfamiliar, but a deep sense of unease crept over Taeseong.

    “That is what humans called me.”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 8

    “……”

    “Senior?”

    Ho-jin froze in place like a statue at the sight of the hanging teammates. His pupils trembled faintly.

    Drip. Drip.

    The blood dripping without pause mocked him, staining the floor in a deep crimson.

    “Young-chul… Pil-s0… What the hell happened? Why are you like this…?”

    Their heads had been crushed beyond recognition.

    However, their uniforms and the radios scattered on the floor made it clear who they were.

    “Senior, I’ll report this to the team leader immediately.”

    Despite Taeseong’s words, Ho-jin didn’t respond. No, it was more accurate to say he couldn’t respond.

    Although the situation was horrifying, reporting it took priority, so Taeseong contacted the team leader.

    “Guys… You were talking about a welcome dinner for the rookie, weren’t you? Pil-so, weren’t you getting married next year…? Why, why did it end up like this…?”

    As a member of “Tree,” Ho-jin knew that losing comrades was an inevitable reality of their line of work. He also understood that the next one to die could just as easily be him.

    But knowing and experiencing it firsthand were completely different matters.

    The scouting team under the intelligence department was tasked with identifying, investigating, and discovering strange occurrences across the country. While their missions carried risks, fatal outcomes were rare compared to other departments directly managing entities.

    Yet, seeing his comrades’ deaths in such an inexplicable, grotesque manner was a shock that Ho-jin wasn’t prepared for.

    “Ugh!”

    Unable to suppress the nausea, he began to vomit.

    As he struggled, the team leader, Choi Han-seong, and the other team members arrived, one by one.

    Their reactions were not much different from Ho-jin’s, except Han-seong, who remained unusually composed.

    “Ah, shit… What the hell is going on…?”

    “T-T-Team leader… Young-cheol and Pil-so…”

    “I knew something was off with those two, fooling around earlier. I just didn’t expect this…”

    “Rookie, did you report this immediately after finding it?”

    “Yes.”

    Han-seong walked through the group and crouched to inspect the blood pooling on the floor. His gaze shifted to the bodies hanging from the ceiling.

    The corpses were mixed, regardless of gender or age, all with the same crushed heads and suspended like bats.

    Even more bizarre was the ceiling itself.

    They weren’t tied or hooked; it was as if their feet were glued directly to the surface. There was no visible mechanism or support holding them there.

    After taking in the scene, Han-seong muttered bitterly, “First, we need to recover the bodies.”

    Continuing the operation or not, leaving their comrades like that was unacceptable.

    Two team members tried to pull Young-cheol and Pil-so’s bodies down from the ceiling, but no matter how much strength they used, they wouldn’t budge.

    Even with their superhuman strength, far beyond an average adult man, the bodies remained stuck.

    Eventually, Han-seong intervened personally, and only then were the bodies freed.

    “What’s the plan now, Team Leader?” one of the members asked.

    “Shouldn’t we just abort the operation and head back to HQ?”

    Taeseong scanned the faces of the team members.

    Excluding Han-seong, most looked pale, their expressions a mixture of fear and shock.

    The death of comrades they’d worked alongside for years—under circumstances both gruesome and inexplicable—was enough to send the team into panic.

    I understand, but their mental resilience is too weak. Continuing the mission in this state would be pointless.

    Finally, Han-seong spoke up.

    “The operation continues.”

    “Team Leader! Young-cheol and Pil-so are dead, and you’re saying we keep going?”

    “And what do you propose we do instead?”

    “……What?”

    “I said, what’s your alternative? Did you join this organization thinking no one would ever die? Or that the risks didn’t apply to you because we’re in one of the safer departments? Did you think you could get by without putting in any real effort forever?”

    “That’s not what I meant…”

    The protest trailed off.

    Because, deep down, that’s exactly what they had come to believe over time.

    “You’re not the only one grieving Young-cheol and Pil-so’s deaths. I’m just as angry and terrified as the rest of you, to the point where I want to run out of here right now. But I have a responsibility to keep going.”

    Han-seong’s gaze bore into each team member.

    “Young-cheol and Pil-so’s deaths prove something is happening here. It could be the work of an unidentified entity from a rift. If we abandon the mission now and it causes harm, who will answer for it? If lives are lost because we didn’t act, how will you live with yourselves? Especially when there’s a village just downhill from here.”

    The room fell silent.

    Han-seong’s voice was steady and resolute.

    “None of you signed up for this job without knowing the risks. This isn’t about being a hero or a martyr; it’s about doing the job we chose to do. If you can’t handle that, you can leave. But as long as you’re here, remember this: our work ensures the safety of others. If we fail, innocent people—perhaps your own family or friends—will pay the price.”

    “…Understood, Team Leader.”

    Taeseong observed the scene quietly.

    He hadn’t expected Han-seong to demonstrate this level of leadership, especially under such dire circumstances.

    He’s surprisingly capable in situations like this.

    While the others seemed inspired by the speech, Taeseong remained skeptical. To him, Han-seong’s words felt more like a cover for ulterior motives.

    Why is he so adamant about continuing? Is it really just responsibility?

    Fragments of overheard conversations between Ho-jin and Han-seong replayed in Tae-seong’s mind.

    —With solid results, that damn woman won’t be able to mess with me anymore.
    —Once you climb the ranks, it’ll be smooth sailing. I’ll support you all the way, Team Leader.

    Perhaps my gut feeling is right… But it changes nothing. He’s still the leader.

    “Kim Ho-jin! Kim Ho-jin!”

    “…Yes?”

    “Snap out of it! How long are you going to act like this?”

    “S-Sorry.”

    Ho-jin’s pale face and trembling hands betrayed his fragile state.

    With a sigh, Han-seong shook his head.

    “This won’t do. You, recover the bodies and stay with the vehicle.”

    “N-No, I’ll continue the search!”

    “Search? Look at yourself. You’re in no state to do anything. Just follow orders and wait in the car. Someone needs to transport the bodies anyway.”

    “…Understood.”

    Ho-jin glanced back at Taeseong with a worried expression, but Taeseong merely nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

    “That guy’s great at everything, except his fragile mental state,” the team leader murmured with regret once Ho-jin had moved out of earshot.

    “Alright! Let’s resume the search. If anyone has objections, speak up now!”

    “No objections, sir!” the team shouted in unison.

    Taeseong regrouped with the team leader, and together they scoured every corner of the second floor. Despite an hour of meticulous searching, they found nothing of significance. Now, only the third floor and the rooftop remained unexplored.

    Before proceeding, Han-seong sent a radio message to the sub-team searching the first floor.

    Static crackled.

    [Sub-leader, any findings?]

    The team held their breath, awaiting a response. The horrific events from earlier had left them all on edge.

    Static crackled again.

    [We found some documents related to this hospital, but nothing else noteworthy.]

    Relief swept through the group, and they exhaled collectively.

    [Understood. Continue searching a little longer. If there’s nothing further, regroup with us. We’re heading to the third floor. Report immediately if anything comes up.]

    [Understood, sir.]

    Han-seong ended the communication, and the team cautiously moved to the third floor. This time, instead of splitting up, they moved together, vigilantly checking every direction.

    The heavy atmosphere was noticeable, suppressing any unnecessary chatter. As a result, the silence on the third floor was almost suffocating, broken only by the sound of their careful footsteps and shallow breaths.

    Time passed, and the sub-team from the first floor eventually joined them.

    “Team Leader, only the rooftop remains now.”

    Han-seong nodded silently. The third floor was surprisingly clean compared to the others—no graffiti on the walls, hardly any trash, and no signs of disturbance.

    “We’re heading to the rooftop now. Stay sharp and be prepared for anything.”

    Aside from Taeseong, the rest of the team looked visibly tense.

    With Han-seong leading, the team climbed the stairs cautiously.

    Thud. Thud.

    When they reached the rooftop, they found the door already open.

    Han-seong froze in place at the entrance.

    “Stop.”

    At that single word, everyone halted immediately.

    In the weighty silence that followed, the only sound was the pounding of their own hearts, drumming against their ribcages like a panicked beat.

    “…Unidentified entity spotted ahead,” Han-seong said, his voice low.

    At the far end of the rooftop stood a figure resembling a child, their back turned toward the team.

    The team tensed, fingers instinctively moving to their triggers.

    “It’s… a child?” the sub-leader muttered, his voice filled with disbelief.

    Looking closer, they saw it was indeed a boy, likely no older than a fourth or fifth grader, standing motionless and gazing outwards.

    As the realization dawned on them, murmurs broke out among the team.

    “It’s just a kid. Put your guns down, everyone.”

    “Are you insane? Look around you! Does this seem like the kind of place a normal kid would be? Especially one this young?”

    “Y-yeah, but what if he’s just a kid who wandered in here playing around?”

    “Team Leader, what’s the plan?”

    Ultimately, the decision rested with Han-seong.

    There’s no way a kid in a place like this could be normal. This is definitely an unidentified entity, Han-seong thought. The question now was whether to retreat or attempt to capture “it.”

    If he could secure this entity and deliver it to headquarters, the rewards would be massive—possibly even a transfer to the management division.

    Han-seong made his decision.

    Approach first and assess the situation. If things go south, buy time for the others to retreat.

    He had prepared for situations like this, even packing a special restraint device for entities.

    “Team Leader?”

    Ignoring his subordinates’ protests, Han-seong began walking toward the boy, every sense on high alert for any potential threat.

    “Hey, kid,” Han-seong called gently.

    “…”

    The boy remained silent, his back still facing them.

    “Kid, how’d you get up here? Where are your parents?”

    “…”

    No response.

    Han-seong’s grip on his weapon tightened. His gut told him this wasn’t human, but he kept probing for any signs of communication.

    “Kid, I’m not here to hurt y—”

    Suddenly, the boy’s head twisted around—an unnatural 180 degrees—to face Han-seong.

    Human body could never achieve such a movement.

    The boy grinned, his mouth stretching unnaturally wide, the corners splitting all the way to his ears.

    “…Found you.”

    CRACK!

    Han-seong’s skull shattered instantly.

    “Team Leader!”

    Before anyone could react, the sub-leader and the teammate next to him met the same fate.

    “Wh-what the hell is—”

    One by one, the rest of the team’s heads exploded, leaving no time for screams or resistance.

  • The Seventh Knight Chapter 17

    The assault unit led by Helford is the only heavy infantry in the territory. Though it consists of a small force of about 50 men, their superior combat power and defense as heavy infantry are what matters.

    The defense unit led by Einse, combined with the vigilantes from the village directly under the territory, totals about 100 men. However, in terms of combat power, they couldn’t compare to the assault unit of heavy infantry.

    At first, Jiwoon couldn’t understand why heavy infantry was called an assault unit. In medieval times, heavy infantry were almost the only troops capable of withstanding the powerful charges of knightly orders, but their heavy armor and equipment made them extremely slow. Moreover, if not densely packed, they weren’t very effective in stopping a knight’s charge. Therefore, it was natural that Jiwoon found it perplexing that such heavy infantry were the ones conducting assaults.

    However, after a few days of physical training with the assault unit, Jiwoon realized why they could perform assaults despite being heavy infantry. They would run for about 30 minutes, wearing hauberks and capes, until an hourglass flipped twice.

    Then, after a 10-minute break, they would equip shields and weapons and run again. They would continue running for another 20 minutes, this time holding shields and spears at the ready without resting—a grueling part of the training.

    Seeing this, Jiwoon was stunned. They ran, fully equipped in armor weighing over 20 kilograms, under the scorching sun of June. Although some recruits who had recently joined the assault unit couldn’t keep up and collapsed, their comrades paid no attention.

    When one soldier fell, Jiwoon, who was lightly armed compared to the assault unit, tried to help him but was strongly blocked by Helford.

    “That bastard’s already a corpse! Have you ever seen corpses being retrieved in battle? Leave him, Jiwoon! You stupid mule! Get up!

    Our assault unit rises even in death. Get up, you bastard!”

    At Helford’s absurd words, the ‘corpse’ twitched and, after a struggle, managed to stand and staggered around the training ground.

    Over time, more ‘corpses’ appeared, but no one paid them any mind. Only Helford’s curses filled the air. While the others relaxed under the shade of trees after their physical training, these ‘corpses’ continued to run or stagger under Helford’s watchful eye. Still, they never let go of their shields and spears.

    After the hourglass flipped once more, the training for the ‘corpses’ finally ended. Only then did Jiwoon understand why they could be considered assault-capable heavy infantry. They were not marching but ‘jogging’ for over an hour daily while fully equipped.

    “By the way, has there ever been a case of a soldier dying during training?” Jiwoon asked.

    “Not yet,” replied a senior soldier, explaining that the veteran soldiers had been recruited by Helford from his mercenary company, while the new recruits were selected from the defense unit and the village vigilantes based on their physique. Jiwoon still had doubts. It wasn’t just about physique. Even well-built U.S. soldiers would marvel at the rigorous training of South Korean reconnaissance units.

    While the veteran soldiers might be accustomed to such training, how could the others endure it? Jiwoon’s question was soon answered. Helford explained that new recruits underwent light training and were fed extremely well for the first month. After that, their food was gradually reduced, and the intensity of training was increased bit by bit.

    The soldiers hardly noticed the reduced portions because it was done so gradually. Though there were minor complaints about the increasing difficulty, they were still well-fed and received wages.

    With food, shelter, and even a small salary, they had little reason to complain and had to participate earnestly in training. After a couple of months, they could handle the same level of training as the other soldiers while maintaining the same diet.

    In short, they were being ‘conditioned.’

    But why did some soldiers still fall behind? Helford attributed it to them simply being weak.

    After thinking it over, Jiwoon realized the real reason: the scorching June sun and the mental fatigue that typically hit soldiers a few months after joining any organization. It was a kind of homesickness, similar to what new recruits feel after the initial training phase and before fully settling into military life.

    Jiwoon recalled his own military days and the most challenging period just before becoming a full-fledged private. The initial adjustment to military life, combined with lingering homesickness, made that period the hardest.

    “About the soldiers who collapsed earlier,” Jiwoon inquired, “will they be left alone after a few days when they recover?”

    Helford nodded as if it were obvious. “Most of them adapt. Of course, a few tried to desert, but after a good beating, they had no choice but to adapt! What else can they do? Ha-ha!”

    Jiwoon shook his head. The training was effective in gradually conditioning the soldiers, but the necessary policies to follow up were missing.

    ‘Should I say something?’ Jiwoon pondered.

    Though he had gained the trust of Baron Frederick and Bishop Swendik and was recognized as a foreign noble, it wasn’t his place to interfere with the affairs of another’s territory. For now, he was still a ‘guest.’

    Moreover, Jiwoon held back from speaking because he doubted he could elicit a positive reaction from the impatient Helford. Helford only regarded Jiwoon as a “noble” recognized by his lord, Baron Frederick, but not as an equal “knight.” Any suggestion would likely fall on deaf ears.

    After the training ended, Jiwoon gave a respectful nod to Helford.

    “Thank you again for today, Sir Helford. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

    “Haha! No need for thanks! See you tomorrow!” Helford laughed heartily, giving Jiwoon a hefty pat on the back.

    Although it might have been a gesture of friendliness, Jiwoon felt as if a heavy rock had struck his back.

    If I took a direct hit from those hands… Phew! It’s a good thing I didn’t say anything.

    Helford probably would have reacted that way. The only people he showed deference to were Baron Frederick, Roselia, and Bishop Swendik.

    As he walked back to his room, Jiwoon pondered deeply. The training and discipline methods of the assault unit were excellent.

    However, a unit maintained solely by rigorous training and discipline would eventually hit its limit. While strict discipline might be the best way to maintain top combat readiness during wartime, it wasn’t necessarily the case in peacetime.

    You have to offer rewards along with punishment. Given the medieval setting, ample food and wages might serve as those rewards, but that alone wasn’t enough. People tend to take things for granted when they receive them regularly. Something beyond that was needed.

    Perhaps higher wages? It would be difficult to implement immediately and would have its limits.

    Then…

    “I should talk to Lawrence,” Jiwoon decided.

    Though the era and circumstances were different, they were still soldiers, and this approach would likely be effective.


    “Hmm. I don’t quite understand,” Lawrence said.

    “This is a method I implemented in my domain to maintain morale among soldiers during peacetime. Initially, most of my vassals reacted like you, Sir Lawrence. But wouldn’t you like to know the results after it was implemented?”

    “Hmm…” A glimmer of curiosity appeared on Lawrence’s face. Seeing this as an opportunity, Jiwoon quickly continued.

    “There hasn’t been a single desertion among the soldiers, which used to happen occasionally. I guarantee the effectiveness of this method. Of course, given the unique characteristics of this country, some additional measures will need to be taken, but the fundamental effectiveness is undeniable.”

    “Ho? Not a single deserter? And were there any soldiers who didn’t return after being granted leave?”

    “No, all thirty soldiers who were given leave returned. Since then, the soldiers have been more dedicated to their training, and there hasn’t been a single deserter.”

    What Jiwoon was suggesting to Lawrence was the implementation of “leave.” In the 21st-century military, there were still soldiers who didn’t return after their leave. Even in Jiwoon ’s unit, there were cases of soldiers not returning. It could be a risky approach. However, Jiwoon was confident there would be no absences here.

    His confidence stemmed from a simple reason: In the Korean military, most cases of soldiers not returning from leave or deserting were due to homesickness and disillusionment with the harsh military life. These issues arose from enlistment and the drastic change from a free life in a materially advanced society to the rigid structure of the military. But the situation here was different.

    The soldiers here were mostly from the militia or defense forces.

    They were more akin to volunteers than conscripts. Additionally, medieval society was significantly different from the modern materialistic world.

    While they might have been able to make a living, the soldiers were treated far better than they would have been in their home villages. Being a soldier was far more desirable than farming back home.

    Considering this, it might be hard to understand why some soldiers would desert such a good position, but after witnessing their training, Jiwoon could understand the mindset of those who considered deserting.

    Their commander was Helford, the most rough and impatient knight in the domain. He was a knight with the basic qualities expected but excelled more in combat than in instruction. He was more of a warrior than a leader.

    Upon learning that the process of gradually acclimating the soldiers was also Lawrence’s idea, Jiwoon was not surprised. It was an effective policy that only someone like Lawrence could have conceived.

    Thus, Jiwoon resolved to suggest to Lawrence the idea of granting the soldiers leave as a way to improve morale.

    (To be continued)

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 9

    I nodded at Lee Seo-jun’s words.

    After all, as long as Lee Seo-jun is on the team, it’s enough. With him alone, a top-three rank is practically guaranteed.

    “Sure, no problem.”

    At my answer, Lee Seo-jun smiled. That ridiculously handsome smile annoyed me for some reason.

    “Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. Your specialty is manifestation magic, right?”

    “That’s right.”

    “What about your secondary skill? Oh, let me guess—it’s enhancement magic, isn’t it?”

    A secondary skill refers to a supplementary specialization among the four branches of magic. Usually, enhancement mages take support magic as their secondary skill, and manifestation mages often choose enhancement.

    Of course, that’s not an absolute rule—exceptions exist.

    Incidentally, summoning and support magic are so complex and distinctive that very few people specialize in them.

    “Yeah, my secondary skill is enhancement magic.”

    “Then we’ll need to recruit someone proficient in support magic.”

    Lee Seo-jun, being a rare case, specializes in enhancement magic while mastering manifestation magic as a secondary skill. He uses a high-level technique called “synergy,” combining enhancement and manifestation magic simultaneously.

    In other words, this team needs someone who can handle support magic effectively.

    Lee Seo-jun seemed to think for a moment before nodding as if he had made up his mind.

    “Alright. Let’s do our best this semester.”

    He extended his hand, and I took it in a firm handshake.


    [The character, ‘Lee Seo-jun,’ has taken a keen interest in you.]

    [You have earned 2,000 points as a reward.]


    After all the classes had ended, I headed to the Mana Training Hall.

    The first week hadn’t even passed yet, so the place was crowded with students chatting among themselves.

    I couldn’t understand why they were socializing here instead of in the lounge or the campus café, but I ignored them and entered the training area.

    As soon as I stepped in, I felt the weight of people’s stares.

    “Isn’t that him?”

    “Oh, from the test video?”

    “What an embarrassment to the school, seriously.”

    Some whispered among themselves, while others openly sneered at me.

    Annoying as it was, I brushed it off and made my way to a private training room.

    “Sigh.”

    The private room door opened after I scanned my smart student handbook against the sensor.

    ―Beep!

    Inside, a long, empty space stretched out before me. It looked like a private baseball field or a bowling alley at first glance.

    In many ways, manifestation magic resembles pitching in baseball. Velocity, power, and precision—these three aspects are equally critical.

    I activated the summoning device designed for training.


    [Target creation initiated.]

    [Setting target movement.]

    [Target movement set to ‘Fast.’]


    With a sound, a “doll” appeared—a humanoid figure generated by the magical device. It immediately began darting left and right erratically.

    I conjured my magic and started compressing my mana, just as I had during the public test.

    Of course, this time I reduced the amount of mana being compressed to avoid repeating the failure from before.

    The next step was discharge and control.

    Yesterday, I failed to release the magic properly due to insufficient mana.

    Today’s goal was to experiment and determine how much mana I could safely compress without issues.

    “Haaah!”

    I launched the spell directly at the moving target.

    ―Whoosh!

    The mana sphere sliced through the air. I could feel my mana draining rapidly as I focused on its release.

    As the sphere closed in on the target, I moved to the control phase.

    ―Crash!

    The target’s head shattered, and a score appeared.

    [96 points.]

    “…Phew.”

    Fortunately, the first attempt was a success, and the score was decent.

    It seemed this was the maximum amount of mana I could safely compress and release.

    Without the mana recovery and boost provided by the Returnee’s Wristwatch, even this level would have been a stretch.

    “Next comes the real challenge.”

    The immense mana consumption left me hesitant to try another shot, but I had to push forward.

    Understanding my current limitations objectively was the priority.

    [Generating the same target.]

    [Increasing target count to 3.]

    This time, I opted for a standard casting without compression.

    Though less destructive, it was all I could manage with my remaining mana.

    I conjured another spell and fired rapidly, launching three consecutive shots.

    ―Whoosh!

    Three glowing blue projectiles streaked toward the targets, leaving faint trails in the air.

    ―Smash! Smash! Smash!

    One by one, the targets’ heads exploded, and scores appeared.

    [78 points.]

    [68 points.]

    [51 points.]

    “…Tch.”

    The last spell failed to connect properly due to insufficient mana.

    So, this was my limit: one compressed shot followed by three standard ones.

    It wasn’t nearly enough for combat, but with the wristwatch’s mana recovery, I might be able to stretch it a little further.

    “Alright.”

    With my limits clear, it was time to move on to mana cultivation.


    [Your mana has increased by 0.02.]

    [You have gained an additional 0.03 mana from the effect of Nature’s Blessing.]

    [Training progress for Nature’s Blessing has increased by 12%.]

    After finishing about two hours of mana cultivation, I opened my eyes.

    Finally, it felt like I had safely wrapped up the day. Stretching contentedly, I stood up.

    “Ahhh, this feels great.”

    Just the thought of returning to my dorm to relax made me happy.

    ‘Man, cracking open a can of beer after this would be perfect.’

    The mere imagination of it brought me joy.

    But alas, I was still underage. Even if I wanted to, there was no way to get beer.

    And getting caught drinking on school grounds would at least result in a warning.

    “Ugh,” I clicked my tongue in disappointment.

    Guess I’d need to find a workaround for that someday.

    Exiting the mana cultivation chamber, I stepped into the eerily empty training area. It was well past 11 PM, so the space was desolate.

    As I walked through the silent training hall, the door to a private training room suddenly opened.

    Out stepped a familiar face—Yoo Ara, her hair slick with sweat and tied back. Her gaze immediately locked onto mine.

    “… …”

    Her sharp eyes and the coldness in her stare were a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.

    She seemed to be harbouring some kind of grudge.

    Feeling awkward under her gaze, I decided to break the silence.

    “Hey.”

    But she didn’t reply. Her cold eyes simply stayed on me.

    “…Okay,” she said shortly before walking out of the training hall.

    Watching her retreating figure, I couldn’t help but wonder.

    ‘…Is she mad because I said she doesn’t have any friends?’


    Wednesday Morning

    I headed to the dormitory cafeteria for breakfast.

    Although the line wasn’t as crazy as yesterday, it was still long.

    After waiting absentmindedly for my turn, I grabbed a tray.

    The academy’s dormitory cafeteria operated buffet-style, boasting an impressive variety of dishes thanks to its abundant funding and emphasis on student welfare.

    “Where is it?”

    I wandered through the cafeteria, searching for a specific dish: Mana Shrimp Stew.

    A fantasy-inspired dish said to be brimming with the mana of the sea, it was my favorite meal before my regression, and I made it a point to grab it whenever possible.

    But today, I couldn’t spot it anywhere. Maybe word had spread, and everyone else had taken it.

    ‘No way I’m giving up that easily.’

    Fuelled by my determination to eat shrimp, I searched for another two minutes before finally spotting it.

    “Come on, seriously?”

    There was only a single shrimp left in the large serving bowl.

    I sighed. Oh well, better one shrimp than none.

    “Too bad,” I muttered, piling my plate with various other dishes before scanning the room for a seat.

    Unlike yesterday, there were more empty spots today. It seemed like students were beginning to adjust to academy life and skipping meals.

    I found a suitable seat and started eating.

    While I was savoring my meal, I noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

    The students’ gazes seemed to move toward a particular direction.

    ‘What’s going on?’

    Following their eyes, I saw three familiar faces: Seo-Jun, Hyun-Joo, and Young Joon, all main characters in the story.

    As they filled their trays and looked for seats, Seo-Jun’s eyes met mine.

    “Kim Sunwoo,” he called out cheerfully and walked over to sit in front of me.

    “Why are you eating alone?”

    Hyun-Joo and Young Joon followed suit, and suddenly I found myself sharing a table with them.

    Young Joon glanced at me and smiled.

    “You’re Kim Sunwoo, right?”

    “Uh, yeah.”

    Young Joon turned to Seo-Jun.

    “When did you two get so close?”

    “Us? We became friends yesterday.”

    “Didn’t see you two hanging out though.”

    “We’re teaming up for tomorrow’s dungeon exploration.”

    Young Joon nodded in understanding.

    “Oh, trying to take advantage of the scoring curve since he’s last place?”

    “Yeah. He approached me first about teaming up,” Seo-Jun teased.

    “Hah, you really are competitive,” Young Joon muttered, shaking his head.

    As I tried to focus on eating, I noticed a strange sensation.

    Looking up, I saw Hyun-Joo staring intently at my tray.

    “What?” I asked, breaking her trance.

    Startled, Hyun-Joo came back to her sense.

    “It’s nothing.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, really. Forget it.”

    I decided to let it slide and returned my attention to my meal. Soon, my plate was nearly empty except for the Mana Shrimp Stew.

    This was the highlight of my meal, the moment I had been waiting for.

    I picked up the single shrimp with my chopsticks, savouring its tempting aroma.

    ‘Ah, this is going to be amazing.’

    Just as I was about to take a bite, I noticed Hyun Joo’s gaze fixed on the shrimp. Our eyes met.

    “… …”

    “… …”

    The awkwardness was noticeable.

    “…Do you want it?”

    Her eyes widened, and she frantically shook her hands in denial.

    “No, no! I’m fine, really.”

    “… …”

    Despite her protests, her gaze remained locked on the shrimp.

    Sighing, I placed it onto her plate.

    “Here. Just take it.”

    Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at me, her expression softening with gratitude.

    “You…” she murmured, clearly touched.

    “You’re a really good person.”

    [Character ‘Hyun Joo’ is moved by your kindness.]

    [You have received 1,000 points as a reward.]

    “… …”

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 8

    If you were to ask what the strongest organization in the world is, nine out of ten people would point to the Anti-Terror Special Task Force under the World Mage Association.

    The task force’s primary mission is to eliminate rogue mages appearing in cities and thwart terrorist activities. Unlike ordinary monsters, rogue mages and terrorists possess greater power and intelligence, making them more dangerous and challenging to handle.

    For these reasons, the task force is comprised of top-tier mages, with each member being among the world’s best. Kim Deokhyun, a veteran who had served in the task force for 15 years, was one of them.

    Returning to the Korean headquarters after a week-long overseas mission, Kim Deokhyun opened the door with a sense of excitement to see his colleagues again.


    “Isn’t this outright admissions fraud?”

    “Exactly. It wasn’t like this when I was in school.”

    “What? You graduated from there too? What year?”

    “Oh, I’m Class of 2022.”

    Even as Kim returned, his colleagues didn’t seem to notice, engrossed in something on the screen. Curious, he quietly approached them to see what they were watching.

    A video?

    The footage showed a teenage student attempting to cast a spell. Mana was gathered but then dissipated in a mana overload, causing the magic orb to vanish. To Kim, it seemed like an unremarkable failure.

    “What is this?”

    “Ah! You scared me!”

    Startled, Jung Hyunsoo, who had been watching the video, turned around.

    “Oh, Senior Kim! When did you get here?”

    “Just now. But what’s that?”

    “Oh, it’s a leaked video of yesterday’s open test at the Korean Mage Academy.”

    Kim nodded as Hyunsoo explained.

    “Pretty decent.”

    “Sorry, what?”

    “I said it’s decent.”

    “Did you even watch the video properly?”

    “Why don’t you look again? It’s just mana compression causing an overload.”

    Hyunsoo tilted his head. Mana compression was typically undetectable unless one was close enough to sense the flow of energy. Yet Kim seemed certain based on the short clip alone.

    “Wait, how could a student manage mana compression?”

    “Why not? Besides, that target doesn’t look particularly big. Usually, you’d compress mana to aim for a critical spot for better scores.”

    While not incorrect, it was still hard to accept.

    “Even if they did compress it, how could someone who triggers an overload with such weak compression use manifestation techniques? And that student ranked 112th.”

    “Don’t know about the rank, but think of it this way—if it wasn’t compressed, how could such a small mana orb cause an overload?”

    “…Huh. Now that you mention it…”

    Kim clicked his tongue.

    “Instead of wasting time on this, go watch Lee Seojun practicing sword techniques. I saw him sparring with the president last time, and he’s better than you.”

    “Come on, Senior. No way he’s stronger than me. He’s still a high schooler, no matter how talented.”

    “I’m just saying. But give him a year or two—he might be on your level.”

    Though Hyunsoo had a retort in mind, he chose not to argue further, knowing he couldn’t win a debate with Kim. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the screen.

    “You know, if that student really did manage mana compression, they might be worth scouting.”

    “What’s there to scout?”

    “If they’ve got potential, we should recruit them right away.”

    Kim clicked his tongue again.

    “Potential, huh? You’re always so one-dimensional.”

    “What? Why? You just said they were decent.”

    “‘Decent’ refers to their technique. But usually, if a student can handle compression like that at their age, it means they haven’t trained much in emission or control. Think about it—if they were good at those too, would they be ranked 112th?”

    “…Oh. You’re a genius, Senior.”


    [An unencountered character has taken an interest in you.]

    [You have earned 500 points as a reward.]

    “Hah… hah… What’s this…”

    During the afternoon’s basic endurance training, a sudden message appeared before my eyes.

    “Hah… What the…”

    An unencountered character? Who could that be? There were so many characters in the story that none came to mind. But honestly, that wasn’t the main issue.

    “Hah… I’m gonna die…”

    I’d been running nonstop on the track for over 30 minutes, and it felt like my heart was about to burst. My legs had gone numb long ago, and all I wanted to do was collapse onto the ground.

    “Wow, that kid’s holding up better than expected.”

    “Right? Their stamina’s not bad.”

    Out of 50 students, 45 had already given up. The only ones still running were me, Lee Seo-jun, Shin Young-joon, and two others—a boy and a girl whose names I didn’t know.

    The funny thing? All four of them were enhancement mages.

    “Why doesn’t he just stick to enhancement magic? His stamina’s great—why switch to manifestation?”

    “Good question.”

    Just then, the unnamed male student dropped out.

    “Hah… I give up!”

    “Park Yumin, 31 laps,” the instructor called out as the boy left the track.

    Thirty-one laps. How was that even possible?

    If it weren’t for my Returner’s Wristwatch restoring my stamina, I wouldn’t have lasted eight laps.

    “Kim Sunwoo, when’s he gonna quit? Is he trying to kill himself?”

    “Think he’ll just drop dead at this rate?”

    Now only one competitor stood between me and a top-three finish—and the prized A grade.

    So please, just give up already.

    “Ugh…”

    But my body, pushed beyond its limits, refused to keep going.

    “Kim Sunwoo, you’re tenacious. 32 laps,” said the instructor, Jang Ancheol, glancing at me.

    Lacking the energy to respond, I collapsed onto the ground.

    [Jang Ancheol is impressed by your determination.]

    [You have earned 500 points as a reward.]

    “Hah… hah…”

    Moments later, the lone girl who had been running gave up as well, evidently deciding that third place was good enough for an A grade. Smart move.

    That left only Lee Seo-jun and Shin Young-joon.

    Despite running nonstop for hours, neither of them showed any signs of exhaustion.

    How they managed to endure without special items like mine was beyond comprehension.

    ‘…Monsters.’


    “Ugh.”

    I collapsed into my classroom seat on shaky legs. My entire body ached from overexertion.

    Just as I was catching my breath, a commotion broke out among the students.

    “Hey! The test rankings are out!”

    “Really? Let’s check right now!”

    The results of yesterday’s evaluation test must already be out.

    I pulled out my student handbook to check my grades. After unlocking the screen, I tapped the “Integrated Information System” icon on the background.


    [Integrated Information System]

    With quick, practiced swipes, I navigated to my grades.


    [Grade Information]

    [2nd-Year Basic Evaluation Results]

    [Kim Sunwoo] [Class 2-A]

    [Overall Rank: 150th]


    “…”

    I had braced myself for it, but seeing it in black and white still stung.

    150th place.

    Out of 150 second-year students, I was dead last.


    [You have achieved the ‘Dead Last in School’ achievement.]

    [Reward: 1,000 points earned.]


    “Sigh.”

    Humiliating as it was, at least I racked up a decent chunk of points. That was some consolation.

    On the bright side, having so much room for improvement meant there were plenty of achievements waiting for me to unlock. I clung to that thought to keep my spirits up.

    As I exhaled another heavy sigh, the excited chatter of students reached my ears again.

    “How are we forming teams for the dungeon exploration on Thursday?”

    “Let’s start planning now that the rankings are out.”

    Ah, that’s right—Thursday was the five-person dungeon exploration.

    Five-Person Dungeon Exploration.

    Every Thursday, groups of five students would dive into an artificial dungeon. It was a competitive class where grades were based on how quickly each team cleared their dungeon.

    Looking around, I saw my classmates busily moving to secure team members. I needed to act fast.

    Naturally, having strong teammates would be a huge boost in raising my grades. Plus, once teams were set, they couldn’t be changed until the semester ended. It was a decision that required careful consideration.

    Strong teammates, huh…

    Several candidates came to mind. I scanned the room, my eyes quickly locking onto my first pick.

    It didn’t take long to spot them. There was one person I knew who had both talent and a proven track record.

    I stood up and walked over to a girl sitting alone at her desk, engrossed in her studies.

    “Yoo Ara.”

    At my call, Yoo Ara glanced up at me with sharp eyes. Her expression made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see me.

    “…I told you not to talk to me.”

    “Join my team for the dungeon exploration on Thursday.”

    “What? No.”

    Her rejection was instant and absolute. The curt response left me momentarily speechless.

    “I have a good reason for asking,” I pressed on.

    Yoo Ara let out a dry laugh, her skepticism noticeable.

    “I already have a team.”

    “What?”

    I hadn’t expected that. Who could she have teamed up with? She didn’t have friends.

    “Who’d you team up with? You don’t have any friends.”

    “…What did you just say?”


    [The character ‘Yu Ara’ is filled with contempt for you.]
    [Reward: 500 points earned.]


    While I was still processing her rejection, the classroom bell chimed. There were only about five minutes left before class resumed.

    Meanwhile, in the hallway, Lee Seo-jun walked alone, his thoughts drifting to the dungeon exploration.

    “Who are you teaming up with for the dungeon exploration?”

    “Haven’t decided yet.”

    Bits of conversation about Thursday’s event floated into his ears.

    “Ah, right. I need to form a team, too,” he thought.

    Naturally, as the school’s top-ranked student, plenty of people would jump at the chance to team up with him. He could probably fill a line of volunteers a hundred strong.

    But since the teams would last all semester, he couldn’t just pick random names out of a hat.

    “I’d rather team up with someone I can get along with than just someone strong…”

    The thought of his closest friends, Shin Young-joon and Lee Hyun-joo, crossed his mind. But teaming up with other top-ranked students would result in a grade penalty.

    That left one option: a skilled mid-tier student.

    “Lee Seojun.”

    Someone called out to him from behind. Turning around, he saw a male student slightly out of breath, as if he had rushed to catch him.

    “Kim Sunwoo?”

    Sunwoo wasn’t someone Seo-jun had paid much attention to last year. But over the past two days, the boy had somehow managed to draw attention in various ways.

    “What’s up?”

    To Seo-jun’s surprise, Kim Sunwoo flashed a confident smile.

    “I want to team up with you for the dungeon exploration.”

    “Hmm.”

    Seo-jun hadn’t even considered Sunwoo for his team. He was about to refuse outright when he remembered the public test from the day before.

    Compressed manifestation techniques. Last year, Sunwoo had focused on enhancement magic, yet now he was showing proficiency in such an advanced skill.

    Seo-jun found himself curious.

    “Sorry, but I never considered you as a potential teammate.”

    “You should,” Sunwoo replied with a surprising firmness. His tone was more of a demand than a suggestion.

    “And why’s that?” Seo-jun asked, smiling faintly.

    “I have two reasons.”

    “Two reasons, huh?”

    Seo-jun found himself intrigued despite himself.

    “Alright, let’s hear them.”

    “First, I’m ranked last in our grade.”

    That was a reason? Seo-jun couldn’t suppress his laughter.

    “Pfft. That’s your reason?”

    “In every combined test the school conducts, there’s a score adjustment based on rank. If the top-ranked student teams up with the bottom-ranked one, you’ll benefit from the bonus points.”

    Ah. So that’s what he meant. It did make sense.

    But that alone wasn’t enough to justify taking the risk of teaming up with the lowest-ranked student.

    “That’s not enough of a reason. Even with bonus points, it won’t matter if my teammate contributes nothing.”

    “Then here’s the second reason.”

    Sunwoo smirked, his confidence almost unnerving.

    “What’s the second reason?”

    “Yoo Ara’s team composition.”

    “What?”

    Seo-jun was caught off guard.

    “You’re aware of Yoo Ara’s specialty, right? She excels in wide-area magic and group combat. She’s paired herself with two of the lowest-ranked students—149th and 148th place.”

    “…”

    Seojun frowned.

    He knew Yoo Ara viewed him as a rival. She’d been working tirelessly to claim the top spot.

    But to go so far as to team up with the near-bottom-ranked students?

    “Even if her teammates are weak, Yoo Ara’s abilities are well-suited for a dungeon setting. She probably won’t have much trouble clearing it.”

    “Hmm… You’ve given me something to think about.”

    Seeing that Seojun was considering his words, Sunwoo added a final point.

    “There’s one more reason.”

    “I thought you said there were two reasons?”

    At this, Sunwoo’s gave a mysterious smile.

    Seo-jun, intrigued, leaned closer.

    “Fine. What’s the third reason?”

    “I’m stronger than you think.”

    “…What?”

    Seojun couldn’t help but laugh.

    “Pfft… That’s bold.”

    It sounded like a joke, but Seojun could tell Sunwoo wasn’t bluffing.

    His curiosity deepened.

    “Alright, fine. Let’s team up. But on one condition.”

    “Condition?”

    “I’ll pick the remaining teammates. That cool?”

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 27

    As the eventful year of 1420 drew to a close, a chilly breeze swept through the room where I had been diligently writing. The draft must have slipped in through the door I had left half open for ventilation. Is it winter already? Focusing on a single task for too long can be tiresome, so I set down my pen.

    “Haah…”

    My shoulders felt stiff. How long had I been sitting at my desk?

    Rising from my seat, I noticed the dimness around me. A glance at the window gave me a rough sense of how much time had passed. It was approaching nightfall. With no pressing tasks left that required working by lamplight, I decided it might be time to rest.

    After bustling about to tidy up, I realized my rare early departure had been delayed. Feeling a bit annoyed, I glared at the setting sun just peeking over the horizon, knowing it was a futile gesture. With a resigned sigh, I left my office.

    The late hour meant the halls were mostly empty. Walking alone through the corridors, the chilly air nipped at my skin, signaling the approach of winter. Winter… another year was ending. The thought left me feeling a bit lonely.

    Spending much time alone due to various circumstances, I found myself pondering my solitude. Had I lived my life without a single friend? The realization that there was no one to share my thoughts with made the solitude more profound.

    The only cure for my weary heart seemed to be sufficient rest, wrapped in a warm blanket, as I promised myself again to seek comfort in sleep.

    “Haaa…”

    A long, weary sigh caught my attention. Turning my head, I saw a maid, identifiable by her attire, standing near a small brazier, warming her hands against the cold.

    Why was she alone when everyone else was likely winding down their day? This unexpected encounter added a weight to the scales of my decision—should I walk past her for the comfort of sleep or approach in case of an unseen threat? My thoughts leaned towards sleep, assuming she would find her way safely.

    As I resumed my steps, a sudden crunch underfoot stopped me.

    “…! Who’s there?”

    Instinctively, I covered my face. What had made such a noise underfoot? Moving my foot aside, I found fragments of what appeared to be a wooden object. Perhaps it had once been something more intact before shattering. As I knelt to examine the pieces, a dark figure appeared before me. Looking up, I saw her standing there.

    “Ouch!”

    “….”

    What are you doing? It was fortunate I hadn’t risen quickly, or I might have been hit. Though my gaze held disappointment, she was too busy rubbing her nose to notice. Watching the maid tremble with tears in her eyes, it felt absurd to express anger. Exhaling my irritation, I rose carefully. Dwelling too much on small details could make one miss the bigger picture. A brief greeting and parting would suffice…

    “Ow… Oh, what’s this?”

    …Her gaze was on the broken wood pieces. I had a bad feeling. She hurriedly gathered the fragments, her expression distraught, as though about to cry. For a few moments, I watched in silence, feeling guilty. Then, unexpectedly, she held the pieces out to me.

    “What should I do?”

    I didn’t know, and I wished she wouldn’t ask. Though my mind wanted to draw a firm line, her pitiable appearance swayed me. Not wanting to get involved but also striving to be fair, I knew I couldn’t dismiss my responsibility lightly. Adjusting my mindset, I spoke carefully.

    “Was it important?”

    “Huh? Yes… Yes, it was a precious item.”

    If only she had been more careful. Clicking my tongue, I pondered how to make amends. Simply offering money might be seen as dismissive of the item’s sentimental value. After all, what is precious to someone often transcends monetary worth. So, what could I do? It seemed the best approach was to ask her directly.

    “I apologize. It was my fault it broke. I’d like to make it right—what would you like me to do?”

    “Oh? Well… What would be appropriate to call you?”

    Tilting her head in thought, she seemed to ponder deeply before finally asking for my name. I had no reason to refuse.

    “Konstantinos.”

    “Oh? That’s the same name as someone I know!”

    A moment ago, she had been teary-eyed, but now she beamed with a bright smile. It could seem foolish, or perhaps simply innocent.

    Avoiding any negative judgments about others, I decided she was an innocent girl. As I reached this conclusion, she placed her hands on her hips and stood straight.

    “Hello, I’m Maria, newly appointed to the court of Mistra!”

    “A common name.”

    “I heard my parents named me that because I was mischievous as a child and they hoped I’d become as demure as the Virgin Mary… uh?”

    Maria, speaking in a cheerful voice, suddenly noticed something amiss. Lifting her hands, she realized her mistake.

    “I dropped it!”

    Watching her hurriedly gather the scattered wood fragments, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Should I help or wait quietly? I chose the latter. Soon, Maria looked at me with a slightly pouty expression.

    “Can’t you help me out?”

    “You’ve already picked them all up.”

    “The mischievous one is you, it seems. My mother should have seen this.”

    Indeed, I was more playful than usual. It had been a while since I’d had a casual conversation with someone my age. Most of my discussions with those of similar mental age were work-related, leaving little room for small talk. Because of this, Maria’s complaining reminded me of a niece. After exchanging lighthearted words for a while, I brought up the topic that had piqued my curiosity from the start.

    “Why were you standing here alone?”

    “…Oh, well, actually, I came to deliver this letter.”

    “A letter? To whom?”

    “To Prince Konstantinos, the ruler of this city. I was told it contained an important matter.”

    “Were you waiting alone because you were reluctant to meet him directly?”

    She didn’t answer. Maria fanned herself with the sealed letter, trying to cool her nervous sweat. I had guessed correctly, and the mixed feelings of being right were difficult to describe.

    “But… I heard the Prince is very strict, serious, and solemn. Other maids say they feel suffocated just being near his office…”

    Let’s think positively. Avoiding impulsive actions allows for better focus. More surprising was the court’s unfavorable view of me. Strict, serious, solemn.

    As I massaged my throbbing forehead, I realized something. Maria didn’t want to meet me formally, and I wanted to compensate her.

    Our interests aligned unexpectedly.

    “In that case, I’ll deliver it for you.”

    “Huh? Can you meet him that easily?”

    “Unless it’s about marriage, I’m open to discussing important matters.”

    “Hmm… Then, may I ask for your help?”

    “Of course.”

    Maria handed over the letter without hesitation. Her initial reluctance gave way to a beaming smile once the letter was out of her hands.

    “Now I can return to my quarters without worry. Thank you, Konstantinos!”

    Before I could bid farewell, Maria gathered her skirts and hurried off. Though a bit overly cheerful, it was better than being gloomy. As long as we didn’t spend too much time together, I wouldn’t mind seeing her occasionally. Despite the delay, I had managed to smile today. Perhaps I should thank her later… For now, it was time to rest.

    But first, I needed to check the letter’s contents. Yet, an ominous feeling crept over me. Hoping it was nothing, I quietly headed to my bedroom. Upon opening the letter, I found myself in an unexpected exchange with a familiar figure.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 26

    The world is in constant motion.

    A peaceful era may seem to stretch on, only to be swiftly followed by a turbulent one.

    Perhaps it moves with the belief that only unceasing change can breathe life into it. Though minor conflicts have always existed, even in times considered peaceful, they have not decisively marked turning points in history.

    Now comes a moment of grave choice that will determine the direction the world will take.

    Indeed, the 15th century is such a time.

    Let us turn our gaze to the far western edge of Europe.

    The fate of the Iberian Peninsula, once a Roman province known as ‘Hispania,’ had long reached its peak. In the 7th and 8th centuries, it faced the onslaught of rising Islamic forces under the prophet’s name, leading to a agonizing past where many had to abandon their faith and become Muslims. However, with the fall of Islam, the reconquest under the banner of Christ was nearing its conclusion.

    The conquest, led by Castile and Aragon, was set to end soon in a Christian victory. This would be followed by a sweeping crackdown on heretics and Jews who had acted as collaborators for the Muslims. Yet, Christianity’s triumph on the Iberian Peninsula did not lead to absolute glory.

    The Hundred Years’ War between England and France over the throne.

    England, having seized Aquitaine in southern France, sought to establish an Anglo-French empire, while France aimed to expel the foreign power from its land. This war, which began in 1337, forced heavy casualties on both sides, with frequent truces and renewed conflicts.

    The unfortunate truth was that the war was far from over.

    The war’s toll was immeasurable—exhausted citizens, devastated farmlands, pillaged villages. The weakening of these two Western Church pillars robbed the West of its ability to counter Eastern threats.

    What of the Holy Roman Empire further east?

    Unfortunately, the Germanic Roman Empire was in no position to engage in international affairs. The death of the emperor had left the throne vacant, leading to nonstop conflict among the heirs competing for the crown. Without a clear contender for the throne, it seemed the chaos would take a long time to subside.

    Thus, while Western Christianity—Catholicism—claimed victory on the Iberian Peninsula, it could not prevent the demise of religious authority due to internal divisions. Furthermore, when people started to understand the teachings (doctrines) in new ways, it actually made the existing problem worse.

    A figure emerged who condemned the corrupt behaviour of clergy and challenged long-standing church doctrines.

    Not Martin Luther, as he belonged to the 16th century.

    This courageous theologian, who viewed the church’s luxury and wealth as sinful and used the cup of wine as a symbol to resist the pope, was Jan Hus.

    He struck a powerful blow to the popes authority, which had dominated for centuries with the fervent support of Thomas Aquinas.

    Jan Hus was condemned as a heretic and burned at the stake at a council filled with the pope’s wrath.

    But wasn’t this a common occurrence in medieval Europe?

    Indeed, the pope might have believed that the burning of this daring theologian who had dared to challenge him restored the church’s authority on that very day. But it was different this time. Jan Hus was a figure of considerable popular support, unlike other heretical leaders. Would his followers, who revered him as a clergyman, quietly accept his death?

    Rather than restoring church authority, Jan Hus’s death incited challenges against the church.

    Hungary, where many of Jan Hus’s supporters resided, soon became engulfed in the flames of war. They called themselves the Hussites and followed the new teachings adopted by Jan Hus. But weren’t they just a motley crew without proper military training? The Hungarian king and nobility thought so and sought to crush them with powerful knights.

    Soon, Hungary suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of this motley crew and went to the pope to request a crusade. The pope, displeased with the Hussites, declared a crusade, and it seemed the overwhelming military difference would obliterate the heretics—assuming no unforeseen variables.

    But, there was a variable

    The Hussites were led by the incomparable one-eyed military genius, Jan Žižka.

    Thus, Hungary, entangled in civil war, also fell out of the picture. The Western Church became utterly fractured, plunging into a state of vulnerability never seen before.

    As each nation struggled to address its own issues, Christian states in the Balkans trembled in fear at the growing power of the Ottoman Turks.

    Serbia had attempted to resist several times but suffered devastating defeats at the hands of the Ottomans, who had a unified command unlike the mixed crusader forces. With the crusades now hopeless, Serbia needed a reliable ally.

    Wallachia’s resistance against the powerful Ottomans was limited. Athens had long since pledged loyalty to the Ottomans, becoming a vassal state paying tribute. Even the “empire” was not in a better state, with only Morea standing, isolated and struggling to consolidate power.

    In these turbulent times, one figure stood out: Constantine, the ruler of Morea.

    In just a few years, he had unified the Peloponnesus, divided for nearly a century, and stabilized his rule. With overwhelming support from his subjects, he meticulously trained his army. Over the seven years since he had become a ruler, Morea’s standing army had grown from under a thousand to nearly four thousand.

    This is why Sophia had chosen Constantine as her marriage partner.

    “How could I be content with being merely a Serbian princess, Father?”

    Sophia gazed at the map of Europe illuminated by candlelight, a slight smirk on her lips. The portion Serbia occupied on the vast map was far too small. Though it had once been powerful enough under the great Stefan Uroš Dušan to threaten Constantinople, now it nervously awaited its inevitable fall to the Ottomans.

    Sophia’s delicate white fingers lightly touched the surface of the map. Her index finger slowly traced a circle over the western Balkans, an area protected by the natural barrier of the Pindus Mountains, which had delayed Ottoman campaigns.

    ‘And it is precisely the place he must secure.’

    To solidify the alliance between Serbia and the ruler of Morea, control over the western Balkans—Albania and Epirus—was essential.

    But the Turks would not sit idly by. A well-prepared alliance challenging them would be their greatest threat. As always, Sophia’s thoughts ended there.

    “In the end, everything depends on you, ruler of Morea. Truly…”

    Please make my bold request to Father worthwhile. Sophia muttered softly, picking up a comb to tidy her hair. Soon, she would leave the familiar court and become the wife of a man she had never met. It was a fate no noble could escape.

    Sophia no longer smiled.

    Her eyes, once lively with ambition, now seemed devoid of color. She bit back her words, pressing her red lips together tightly. We’re in the same boat, aren’t we? You and I. Addressing her yet unseen fiancé with unspoken questions, Sophia thought, It’s not just me who’s feeling this way.

    After all…

    ‘For nobles, love is not an option—only power.’

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 25

    The prince’s decision unsettled the capital.

    The nobles were outraged by Prince Konstantinos’ choice, openly criticizing him for insulting a highly esteemed grand noble. A once-celebrated hero was now branded a traitor who had sullied the empire’s pride.

    Only Co-Emperor John refrained from uttering any slander against Konstantinos. Instead, he began arranging for the second prince, Theodoros, to be matched with Joannina, whose engagement had been broken off.

    In the wake of the scandal and her rejection by the prince, Joannina secluded herself in her chambers for some time.

    The servants, understanding her turmoil, did not attempt to coax her outside. It was understandable. It would not have been surprising if Joannina’s heart was shattered. Occasionally, her father, Andreas, would knock pitifully on her door, only to turn away in sorrow.

    “I should never have arranged a marriage with the royal family from the start. If I had known it would come to this, I would have sent her to be a nun instead…”

    Regret always comes too late.

    Yet, contrary to everyone’s expectations, Joannina did not break. When she reappeared after some time, her demeanor and actions bore no trace of a broken heart. She had spent days replaying the prince’s dismissive words, and now, socializing naturally among those who didn’t know how to treat her, she held a glass firmly in her hand.

    “Inadequate,” he had said.

    Joannina had never considered herself lacking. She had worked hard enough to stand beside a prince, and all who had witnessed her efforts acknowledged it. So what had he seen to deem her insufficient? The past few days were spent searching for an answer to this question.

    Finally, Joannina found a response she could accept.

    “The only condition where Serbia might seem preferable than Kantakouzenos would be the number of soldiers and economic power they could mobilize.”

    At the same time, she realized who the right woman to stand beside the prince was. Being a supportive wife meant nothing. What Constantine needed wasn’t a warm human connection. He wanted a partner who could join him politically.

    As she smiled at those around her, Joannina’s mind continued to analyze.

    “In other words, that’s all there is to it. The prince chose Serbia solely for that reason.”

    He was a man who would discard what was no longer useful without hesitation. Whatever merits the Serbian princess had, Joannina knew her own legitimacy and prestige within the empire surpassed them.

    Once she secured enough economic and military power, the outcome would be different. With all external factors removed, she would rely solely on her innate charm as a woman to challenge.

    Having resolved her course of action, Joannina walked through the crowd with more confidence than ever before.

    At the end of her path waited her father, Andreas Kantakouzenos, who had been lost in regret. As a father rather than a noble, he cast aside his mask and embraced his beloved daughter tightly.

    “I’m sorry, Joannina. I forced something too difficult upon you. I promise never to do so again.”

    “Thank you, Father, for truly caring for me.” Joannina buried her face deeper into his embrace. As they shared a powerful connection, she slowly spoke.

    “Father, I have a request.”

    “Tell me. I’ll do anything for you.”

    Andreas, filled with regret, readily agreed. Joannina looked up at him with clear determination, knowing her request was unreasonable.

    “Please arrange for me to meet His Majesty John.”

    The relief on Andreas’ face hardened. He pondered his daughter’s words for a long time before responding.

    “No. I don’t want to use you in any more power struggles. I’ve seen the harm my ambitions have brought you, and I won’t repeat the same mistake.”

    He rejected her firmly. Yet Joannina’s resolve was not shaken by her father’s opposition. Instead, she gripped his arms tightly and laid out her reasoning.

    “Given the situation, our family must have connection with the imperial family. Otherwise, the nobles angered by the insult from the royal family will rally behind someone else, sparking a civil war. I don’t believe we can remain safe at the heart of this turmoil.”

    “So, you’re willing to marry against your wishes? Joannina, if this is your way of reproaching my mistakes, I’ll kneel and apologize right now. What is power worth if it causes my beloved daughter such pain? I’d rather give it all up.”

    “Thank you, Father. I’m glad you’d go so far for me.”

    Still. At her next words, Andreas closed his eyes tightly.

    “But I don’t want to retreat.”

    What a resilient woman she had become. Despite the humiliation and disgrace, she stood firm, making her father proud yet ashamed of himself. He felt nothing but regret. Determined to do his best for her, Andreas finally nodded slowly.

    Thus, following the Kantakouzenos family’s proposal, the imperial government allowed John and Joannina to meet.

    Due to the prince’s drastic decision, which had destabilized the government’s political standing, it became necessary to show leniency toward the clear victim, the Kantakouzenos family. For this reason, the young Emperor John beamed at the bold young lady standing before him.

    “I deeply regret the previous engagement matter. It was a significant incident that tarnished the prestige of a renowned grand noble, and we are contemplating more certain compensation.

    But if there is something you desire more than what we can offer, please speak up.

    We will make every effort to accommodate your request as closely as possible.”

    With a bright demeanor that could easily win the favor of his subjects, John seemed a skilled diplomat adept at crafting his image. Joannina, after briefly analysing the new emperor, confidently presented her demand.

    “Your Majesty, I assume you are also considering a new union between me and the imperial family.”

    “Of course, given the Kantakouzenos family’s reputation, that is a natural decision.”

    It seems this will proceed smoothly, John thought to himself. As he did, Ioannina bit her lower lip lightly. To stand beside the prince, she had to transform into a politician, not merely a woman—a dictator who suppresses emotions with cold reason. She continually drove herself forward.

    But what meaning would there be if, in the end, I lost myself as a woman? I want to be by his side. I won’t give up. I’ll work as hard as I need to for that.

    …Still, I want to be loved as a woman.

    She swallowed hard. She had resolved not to retreat.

    Tears were now reserved only for moments of joy.

    “But you must know that the dissolution of this engagement cannot be patched up with a superficial union.”

    “I am aware. That is why we are considering the second prince, Theodoros…”

    “That won’t suffice.”

    The words were cut off sharply. The young emperor’s smile vanished. Sensitive from the burden of safeguarding his throne, John quickly adopted a more aggressive stance. His eyes ignited with intensity as he fixed his gaze on the Kantakouzenos lady.

    “What more do you want?”

    This is where it begins.

    Reaffirming her resolve, Joannina did not flinch in the face of the emperor’s overt hostility.

    “I desire a share in imperial power. There could be no more solid proof of the bond between our family and the royal house.”

    John did not respond immediately but instead chose to press his lips firmly together.

    After a pause, he displayed a smirk that was entirely different from the smile he had shown earlier—one of skepticism.

    “Did Konstantinos instruct you to say this?”

    “No, it is solely my personal thought.”

    “So, Konstantinos has rejected the grace that came his way. Or perhaps… he has become more tempered through this ordeal.”

    Regaining his composure, John slowly rose and walked to the window. After a moment, he spoke again, gazing at the sea and the capital’s expanse beyond.

    “I had considered strengthening Theodoros to check Konstantinos. But this approach might not be bad either. The resolute Kantakouzenos lady—surely, you have something else you wish for, having come to see me personally?”

    Joannina flinched slightly. At this, John chuckled softly.

    “I promise you this: I will protect your purity. I have no interest in forcibly taking a woman who loves another.”

    “…Are you certain?”

    “An emperor does not speak in vain.”

    Still gazing out over the capital, John concluded.

    “As long as I can keep this throne.”


    TL : Nah this chapter is crazy. might need to drop this

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 7

    Choi Han-seong, his face filled with urgency, slapped the cheek of his fallen teammate and shouted.

    “Lee Chan-hyuk! Lee Chan-hyuk, you bastard! Snap out of it!”

    “T-Team Leader…”

    “Yeah, that’s right! Chan-hyuk, it’s me! Are you finally coming to your senses? Do you recognize me?”

    “My cheek…”

    Choi Han-seong looked at his teammate with a worried expression.

    “Your cheek? What about your cheek?”

    Suddenly, the fallen Chan-hyuk shot up and shouted.

    “It hurts so much!”

    At that, the other team members around them burst into laughter.

    “Hahaha! Team Leader! That bastard is acting. He’s been going on and on about pretending to be possessed by a ghost before we got here!”

    “Hahaha! Team Leader, you really fell for it this time!”

    “Look at that guy’s acting skills. He’s getting better, huh? Hey, you should quit the company and seriously consider becoming an actor.”

    Choi Han-seong stared at Chan-hyuk, bewildered. Chan-hyuk grinned mischievously, rubbing his reddened cheek.

    “Team Leader, did you really think I passed out? How was my acting? Amazing this time, right?! You slapped me so hard I almost actually lost consciousness!”

    “…Chan-hyuk.”

    With a heavy sigh, Team Leader Choi Han-seong exhaled deeply.

    Startled by the unexpected reaction, Chan-hyuk asked cautiously.

    “…T-Team Leader? Are… Are you mad?”

    “You son of a bitch! How many times have I told you not to joke around in the field!”

    Choi Han-seong reached out and put Chan-hyuk in a headlock. Though his words were harsh, his face had a mix of relief and laughter.

    “Ow, ow! That hurts! It really hurts, Team Leader!”

    “Does it hurt? Does it? This is pain? My heart hurts more, my heart!”

    “Ow! It really hurts! I surrender! I won’t play pranks like this ever again!”

    “Surrender? Surrender is casual speech, you bastard!”

    As the two scuffled, Taeseong, who had been watching, turned to Ho-jin and asked.

    “Judging by their reactions, it seems like they pull pranks like this often.”

    “Oh, yeah. The team members are usually pretty playful, and sometimes they tease the Team Leader like this. Like I said earlier, the Team Leader may seem stern on the outside, but he’s soft at heart, so he usually takes it in pace.”

    “Isn’t it dangerous to joke around like this while on duty?”

    “Well… yeah, but everyone here is experienced enough to know when it’s appropriate. Don’t worry too much. If anything happens, the team will have your back.”

    Ho-jin’s reassurance took on an entirely different meaning in Taeseong’s mind.

    Even with his memory completely wiped, Taeseong was certain of one thing. Back when he was in the military, he would never have allowed such pranks in the field.

    No matter how close people were personally, such antics were unacceptable during operations. Taeseong judged the prank to be an action that should never occur during a mission.

    ‘No matter how friendly you are in private, you must draw the line in professional work. And yet, these people…’

    Taeseong shook his head. After all, he wasn’t the one in charge of this team. The one leading them was Team Leader Choi Han-seong. He was merely a new recruit; it wasn’t his place to interfere. If something happened, he could just get himself out of there. He was confident in his ability to protect his own life under any circumstances.

    Taeseong wasn’t the kind of person who would care about the lives of strangers he’d just met.

    The playful air vanished from Choi Han-seong’s face. The other team members also became serious. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and they transformed into entirely different people.

    “Alright, enough joking around. We’re starting the search now, so stay alert. Keep a close watch on your surroundings.”

    “Yes, sir!”

    “Louder!”

    “Yes, sir!”

    Choi Han-seong led the team from the front, followed by the deputy team leader and the other members. Taeseong and Ho-jin took positions at the rear. The playful atmosphere from earlier was replaced by a serious one.

    Step. Step.

    One of the team members climbing the hill glanced at the approaching abandoned hospital and muttered.

    “No wonder there are so many ghost stories about this place. Just look at it. Doesn’t it look like a hundred ghosts could show up?”

    “…Agreed. It’s seriously creepy. The atmosphere is so damp and heavy—it’s unsettling.”

    “Right? Ever since I got here, my head’s been hurting. Is it just me?”

    “Hey, you too? I’m not kidding. My head’s been throbbing since earlier—”

    Suddenly, a flock of crows swarmed above the abandoned hospital, letting out eerie cries. There had to be dozens of them, at least.

    Caw! Caw!

    “Ah, damn it, that scared me!”

    “Pfft. Hey, aren’t you the son of a shaman? How can you be so scared? We’re employees of Tree, for crying out loud. You can’t get spooked by ghosts or rumors, right?”

    “Who’s scared? I’ve identified so many entities already. I was just startled, that’s all.”

    From the front, Choi Han-seong’s voice rang out.

    “Quiet in the back.”

    “…Yes, sir.”

    The search team reached the top of the hill, revealing the full view of the abandoned hospital. Next to it stood the massive carcass of a dead tree, long deceased even before the hospital was built.

    Even the seasoned search team, with their experience in countless operations across the country, felt a chill in this hauntingly eerie place.

    According to Ho-jin, the site was originally a mental hospital. There were rumors of a deranged doctor conducting experiments on the patients here, but such stories were often exaggerated.

    “What are you all standing around for? Planning to camp here overnight?”

    Choi Han-seong stepped inside the hospital, and the others followed.

    They arrived at the first-floor lobby.

    Inside, the hospital was pitch black, with no light penetrating the space.

    “Flashlights on.”

    Click.

    As the beams lit up the corridor, the details of the interior began to emerge. Smashed furniture, shattered glass, and trash scattered across the floor. Unidentifiable liquids seeped from cracks in the walls, and the ceiling was covered in cobwebs and insects.

    One team member pointed to a wall.

    “This… Team Leader, take a look at this.”

    On the wall, a long message was scrawled in red spray paint, the words jumbled and incomprehensible:

    Turn back or die. Help me. Save me. I don’t want to die. Please…

    The chaotic and disturbing words trailed off into an unintelligible mess.

    Choi Han-seong frowned deeply at the sight.

    “…I can’t understand a single word of this.”

    “There’s more over here. It says ‘Go back.’ And next to it, ‘A cool guy was here.’”

    The surrounding walls were littered with vulgar graffiti and obscene words.

    “Judging by the looks of it, some kids came here for a haunted house adventure and decided to mess around.”

    “Yeah, that’s typical. At that age, they think leaving marks like this makes them look cool.”

    “Right. I’ll check deeper inside. Everyone, split up and search. Ho-jin, make sure to keep an eye on the rookie.”

    “Yes, team leader!”

    “If anything happens, report immediately over the radio.”

    Following Han-seong’s orders, the team dispersed and began their search. The two members who had been joking earlier headed up to the second floor.

    Taeseong and Ho-jin moved toward the last room at the end of the first-floor hallway. The sign on the door read Examination Room.

    Creeeeak.

    The door opened with an eerie, unpleasant sound.

    “Someone must have lived here.”

    “It sure seems that way.”

    Inside, piles of blankets lay in one corner, coated with thick dust that suggested they had been untouched for years. Nearby were discarded items like instant noodle cups, utensils, newspapers, and medicine packets. The walls were covered in mold, and the air reeked of decay—a place abandoned yet filled with traces of life.

    “In places like this, it’s common for homeless people or criminals with nowhere else to go to take shelter,” Ho-jin said.

    Taeseong nodded. That must have been the case before rumors and ghost stories drew people here. Such abandoned buildings were perfect for fugitives trying to stay hidden.

    Crackle.

    [Team leader… on the second floor… @@#&$… found…]

    A voice crackled through the radio, but interference made it hard to understand.

    [There are corpses! Not just one or two!]

    [Got it. We’re heading up now.]

    Taeseong and Ho-jin hurriedly left the room and joined Han-seong. The group moved up the stairs to the second floor. Other team members had already armed themselves with firearms and knives, but Han-seong stood out with a unique weapon—knuckle dusters.

    “Close-combat specialist, huh?” Taeseong mused.

    According to Ho-jin, those knuckle dusters were Han-seong’s personal equipment, marked with a serial number and requiring special approval to use. His rank was Delta, the same as Oh Haeyoung.

    Interesting, Taeseong thought. A Delta rank indicated someone at least as skilled as a top operative, despite Han-seong’s seemingly grumpy exterior.

    Holding the familiar weight of his pistol brought a strange comfort to Taeseong, reminding him of his time as a soldier.

    The team reached the second floor, but when Han-seong called out for the team members who had sent the radio message, there was no response.

    A teammate clicked his tongue in frustration.

    “Ugh… Team leader, are those guys messing around again?”

    “Those idiots still don’t get it, do they…” Han-seong growled, his irritation clear. But first, finding them took priority.

    “Search the second floor. When you find them, give them a good punch and drag them back. That’s an order.”

    “Understood.”

    Once again, the team split into groups. Ho-jin stayed with Taeseong, feeling responsible for looking after the rookie.

    As they walked through the left corridor, Ho-jin muttered, “This is strange.”

    “What’s strange?” Taeseong asked.

    “Young-chul and Pil-soo like to joke around, sure, but not to this extent. And pulling a stunt like this during an operation, over the radio? It just doesn’t add up.”

    Drip. Drip.

    The sound of droplets echoed faintly through the corridor, coming from the far end.

    Taeseong walked toward the source of the sound without hesitation.

    “Hey, Taeseong! Slow down!” Ho-jin called after him, but Taeseong paid no mind.

    At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of a puddle on the floor.

    “This is…”

    A dropped radio lay on the ground nearby.

    The smell of rot.

    Drip. Drip.

    The droplets weren’t water. Taeseong realized the source in an instant.

    “Blood.”

    He instinctively drew the knife from his belt, the motion fluid and natural. Though his grip tightened, there was no immediate need to strike. Instead, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

    “This… isn’t good.”

    Suspended upside down from the ceiling were dozens of corpses, their heads crushed and mangled as if crushed by tremendous force.

    Among the bodies, Taeseong spotted two familiar faces—the team members who had sent the radio message.

    “Ho-jin. I’ve found the second-floor search team.”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 6

    Taeseong, who had officially become an employee of Tree, moved out of the temporary quarantine facility and into a dormitory for staff. At last, his grueling life as a quarantined entity was over. It was something to celebrate, but the conversation with Choi Harin tempered his enthusiasm.

    ―Still, Mr. Taeseong, you said you wanted to be a manager, didn’t you? I was surprised by your proposal, but honestly, it’s not a bad deal for us either. We’ll accept your offer. For two years, just as you suggested, you’ll work as an employee of Tree and contribute to the world. In return, we’ll provide all the support you mentioned.

    Their words were polished, but from the beginning, the answer had already been decided. Taeseong merely chose the option they presented. However, this outcome was also part of his plan.

    “Two years… Fine, just as you’re using me, I’ll thoroughly use you.”

    The present became the past, and the water was already spilled. Rather than regretting the time gone by, he resolved to focus on what he could do now.

    If he couldn’t avoid it, he’d exploit it. He would maximize the use of their resources and influence.

    For himself alone.

    “What was her name again? Lee Sooah, wasn’t it?”

    It was the name of his younger sister, as conveyed by Choi Harin.

    “Lee Sooah…”

    Taeseong slowly repeated her name, savoring it.

    It felt strange—familiar, nostalgic, yet distant and foreign.

    According to the information Harin shared, Lee Sooah was the only family Taeseong had left. When he asked about other family members, Harin told him about his parents, who both passed away on the same day shortly after he disappeared.

    The cause of death? She hadn’t mentioned it. Whether she knew and deliberately withheld it or truly didn’t know, Taeseong had no way to discern.

    …The death of his parents.

    It was shocking news, but Taeseong reacted more calmly than expected. This was because he had no memory of them. However, this lack of reaction also made him question himself.

    Was it normal not to feel even a hint of sadness for one’s parents, no matter the memories? Shouldn’t some instinctive grief emerge simply because he was their son?

    “Maybe I’ve already gone mad,” he thought.

    He didn’t feel nothing, but his reaction was far removed from how most people would respond to such news.

    “Why was I swept up in that dimensional shift?”

    “What exactly happened there…?”

    “What did I experience during my time as a soldier…?”

    “Or rather, am I even truly human?”

    The most frustrating thing about his cursed amnesia was how it left Taeseong himself in the dark.

    “Why did something like this have to happen to me…?”

    Sighing deeply, Taeseong shook off his tangled thoughts. He knew from experience that dwelling on such questions only led to an endless spiral of negativity. The more he focused on such thoughts, the more they chained him to despair.

    Rising from his seat, Taeseong opened a meal box on the dining table.

    “Not bad… better than I expected.”

    He began eating with enthusiasm.

    Crunch. Crunch.

    As Choi Harin mentioned, both the dormitory and meals were provided free of charge. The stir-fried pork lunchbox he was devouring was one of the perks Tree offered its employees, and it was well-received for its surprising quality.

    After finishing his meal almost too quickly, Taeseong retrieved a can of beer from the refrigerator, popped it open, and took a long, satisfying sip.

    Gulp. Gulp.

    The icy carbonation sent shivers through his body. Pain and pleasure were said to be two sides of the same coin; the burning sensation in his throat reminded Taeseong that he was alive.

    “Much better than the quarantine facility, that’s for sure.”

    His gaze drifted to the living room.

    The apartment was still empty, as he had just moved in, but it was furnished with all the essentials. Though some of the furniture had been left behind by the previous occupant, Taeseong wasn’t bothered.

    The space was modest—around 15 pyeong(49.5 square meters)—but it was more than enough for one person.

    The employee dormitory, despite its rundown exterior, was surprisingly clean inside. The only drawback was the lack of soundproofing, as it was an old-style corridor apartment.

    Taeseong’s unit, 301, was at the end of the hall.

    “…”

    While sitting at the table, he suddenly heard what sounded like a woman crying.

    “The neighbor?”

    The sobs lasted for about five minutes before fading away. Taeseong, who generally didn’t concern himself with others, dismissed it as someone in the next apartment dealing with their troubles.

    After all, considering the strange and horrifying entities they had to face daily, crying at home seemed understandable.

    “Whoever it is, they must have it tough too.”

    Just as he considered going to bed, the doorbell rang.

    Ding-dong!

    Walking to the door, Taeseong opened it.

    “…Manager Oh Haeyoung?”

    Standing there was Haeyoung, who seemed startled by the sudden opening. She wasn’t in her usual black suit but wearing a casual oversized T-shirt and slippers—clearly dressed for comfort at home.

    “Ah, Mr. Taeseong! H-hello!”

    “What brings you here?”

    “I heard you became a Tree employee! So, as a gesture of congratulations…”

    Taeseong’s eyes fell on the black plastic bag in her hand. The aroma of fried chicken wafted from it.

    “…Come in.”

    “Thank you!”

    Haeyoung sat at the dining table while Taeseong fetched two cans of beer from the fridge.

    “Will you drink?”

    “Of course! Thank you!”

    As Taeseong handed her a beer, she passed him a chicken drumstick.

    “A trade, is it?”

    “You give, and you get!”

    Smirking, Taeseong bit into the drumstick.

    Now, they were no longer manager and entity but colleagues in the same organization.

    The two chatted over beer.

    “So, how did you find me here?”

    “Oh! Team Leader Choi Harin told me! She said you became a Tree employee and moved into the staff dormitory. As a fellow employee and neighbour, I thought I’d come say hi!”

    “Neighbour?”

    “I live in 303!”

    “That explains the outfit…”

    Taeseong suspected her assignment nearby wasn’t coincidental, but he didn’t voice his thoughts.

    “I see. Well, I appreciate the gesture. By the way, I heard you wrote a favorable report about me. Thanks to you, I’m here enjoying chicken and beer.”

    “Hehe, it’s no big deal… I’m glad it worked out. You were the first humanoid entity I managed since becoming a manager.”

    “Is that so? Is that why you evaluated me positively?”

    “Ah, no! Not just because of that. As your manager, I knew better than anyone that you weren’t dangerous. I couldn’t stand to see you treated unfairly because of upper management’s misguided decisions.”

    “I appreciate it. Regardless, I owe you a debt. I’ll repay it in some way.”

    “A debt? No, really, you don’t need to! I did it because I wanted to.”

    “Let me decide that.”

    “…Alright.”

    As their conversation flowed, Taeseong suddenly recalled the crying he heard earlier.

    “You said you live in 303, right?”

    Haeyoung, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, nodded.

    “Yes.”

    “Then do you know anything about the woman next door?”

    “The woman next door? You mean 302?”

    “Yeah. About five minutes before you arrived, I heard a woman crying from there.”

    “Ah, come on, Mr. Taeseong… Don’t joke around!”

    “Joke? Why would I joke about that?”

    “Because it doesn’t make sense. No one lives in 302.”

    “No one lives there? That can’t be right. I clearly heard crying. Is it possible you’re mistaken? Maybe a new tenant moved in without your knowledge…”

    “No way. I would know if someone new moved in—I’m in charge of our floor’s roster.”

    Taeseong murmured, puzzled.

    “Then was it my imagination? That’s hard to believe…”

    He was certain he heard it.

    A woman sobbing.

    “Maybe you imagined it, Mr. Taeseong? 302 has been vacant for over six months.”

    “…Fine, maybe I was mistaken.”


    Sipping his beer, Taeseong fell silent.

    The next day.

    Information Team 2 Leader Choi Harin’s office.

    “Not the management team, but the search team…?”

    “Yes, that’s correct.”

    “Why?”

    “Orders from above.”

    “…Understood.”

    Taeseong couldn’t understand it, but when someone mentioned it was an order from higher-ups, he didn’t have much else to say.

    Sitting at her desk, Choi Harin lit a cigarette as she always did.

    Fwoosh.

    With a blank expression, Harin stared at Taeseong intently.

    “By the way, Taeseong.”

    “…”

    “Are you unfamiliar with formal speech? Now that you’re under Tree, and in the search team no less, I’m your direct superior. Yet, as a former soldier, you still use informal language?”

    The search team was an organization under the Intelligence Division.

    “…”

    When Taeseong silently looked at her, Harin spoke in an unusually cold tone.

    “Aren’t you going to answer?”

    “…Yes.”

    “You were in the military before, so you know, don’t you? The hierarchy in an organization is absolute. Follow orders properly from now on.”

    Taeseong nodded.

    “Respond verbally.”

    “…Yes.”

    Only then did Harin smile in satisfaction.

    “Alright, do well on your first assignment, Taeseong. I’ll be watching with high expectations.”

    Without replying, Taeseong left the room. Harin, who had secretly feared Taeseong might react unpredictably, let out a sigh of relief.

    ‘Gotta establish dominance early, one way or another.’

    But at that moment, Harin was completely unaware of what would come of this in the future.

    Lee Taeseong was a man who never forgot even the smallest favor—or grudge.


    A man in his mid-30s, wearing a friendly smile, extended his hand for a handshake. Taeseong grasped it and introduced himself.

    “Oh, so you’re the new recruit? Nice to meet you. I’m Choi Han-seong, team leader of Search Team 2.”

    “I’m Lee Taeseong.”

    “Ah, you’re one of the returnees, right?”

    “That’s correct.”

    “Let’s see… your rank is…”

    The man glanced at some paperwork, and his face immediately darkened.

    “Epsilon? Sigh… I’ve been asking for decent recruits because we’re short-staffed, and they send this? This blatant disregard… That damned woman…”

    The teammate standing beside the man skillfully tried to calm him down. The natural ease of the gesture suggested it wasn’t the first time.

    “Ah, boss, don’t let those Intelligence slackers stress you out again. Every time we get worked up, it’s only bad for us. How about we make a solid achievement this time and shake things up?”

    “Right… achievements… If we deliver results, that damned woman won’t dare act up anymore.”

    “Exactly. And you’re a Delta rank, boss! It’s just bad luck holding you back. Once you focus, your promotion is a given. When that happens, I, your loyal Kim Ho-jin, will make sure you walk nothing but a flower-strewn path!”

    The team leader, now in a much better mood, laughed heartily.

    “Ho-jin, you’re the best!”

    “Of course, boss. Look at this guy—he doesn’t seem so bad at a second glance, does he? As his senior, I’ll train him thoroughly and turn him into a proper asset. So don’t worry about him!”

    “Alright, sounds good! Let’s get moving immediately!”

    “Wait… is the newbie coming with us…?”

    “Of course! When have we ever gone easy on a rookie? Just get him in the car already.”

    “Alright then, I’ll take him in my car!”

    “Good.”

    Ho-jin led Taeseong to the car. Once Ho-jin was seated in the driver’s seat, Taeseong climbed into the passenger seat. Although Ho-jin hadn’t said a word on the way here, he began talking as soon as the car started moving.

    “Feeling overwhelmed on your first day? I was like that too when I started. They just told me to get in the car without explaining a thing. I was sweating bullets back then… You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

    “Yes.”

    “And, about earlier—sorry for that. The boss gets sensitive when it comes to issues with Intelligence. I was just trying to keep him in a good mood, so don’t take it personally.”

    “Yes.”

    “He might seem harsh at first, but he’s actually a softie. He really takes care of his subordinates. A few days in, and he’ll probably start calling you his precious rookie.”

    “…”

    Ho-jin turned out to be far chattier than Taeseong had expected. Though Taeseong initially replied out of politeness, he soon fell silent.

    ‘You’d think he’d run out of things to say by now…’

    Still, Taeseong didn’t find it unpleasant. At least Ho-jin was considerate enough to apologize to a subordinate, something he could have easily skipped. Taeseong also realized that Ho-jin’s constant chatter was likely an attempt to ease his nerves.

    ‘He must think I’m anxious about the first mission.’

    Ho-jin was clearly someone who naturally cared about others.

    “Don’t stress too much. Our job is just to confirm whether there’s a rift or not.”

    Ho-jin explained the mission:

    The operation involved 15 personnel.

    The target was an abandoned hospital in the Gwangju district of Gyeonggi Province, near Gonjiam-eup.

    They had received information about strange occurrences in the area.

    Their task was to secure the vicinity, investigate the phenomena within the hospital, and look for signs of a dimensional rift.

    That was Search Team 2’s mission.

    “Stick close to the boss. He’s a Delta rank, after all. Alright, we’re here.”

    Ho-jin and Taeseong got out of the car. The other team members were already present, surveying the area. The team leader spotted Ho-jin and nodded in greeting, to which Ho-jin responded cheerfully.

    Scanning the surroundings, Taeseong noticed the abandoned hospital on a hill. Its eerie exterior was something like a horror movie set, but beyond that, it exuded an indescribably unsettling atmosphere.

    From the moment he arrived, Taeseong had the distinct feeling of being watched. The sensation was too blatant to dismiss as mere paranoia.

    However, no matter how much he heightened his senses, he couldn’t identify the source of the gaze.

    ‘Ultimately, I’ll have to go inside the hospital…’

    It was then that a team member suddenly collapsed to the ground, screaming.

    “Arrgh! Aaaargh! Aaaaaahhh!”

    Alarmed, the team leader rushed over.

    “What’s going on? What happened!?”

    “Ugh… T-team leader…!”

    The team member writhed in agony, his eyes rolling back as if possessed. He coughed violently, choking out fragmented pleas.

    “Please…! H-help me…”