A Word of Regret (1)
“…Why are you here?”
“That's a bit of an odd question, Cadet Choi Siwoo.”
“Pardon?”
“I'm an instructor. And I'm staying at Prunel Academy. Isn't it only natural that I'd be here?”
Kang Hanseong shrugged as if to say, What's the problem? Choi Siwoo couldn't muster a single word in response. Logically, it made perfect sense. But that wasn't what he meant.
The man he'd run into first thing after escaping that nightmare, as if he'd been waiting. A guy who didn't flinch even in this chaos. And finally... his unnervingly calm demeanor, which made it hard to believe this was his first time dealing with something like this.
Sure, one could argue he was just experienced and mentally tough, handling it with composure. That would fit. But for some reason, Choi Siwoo felt a strange foreign taste lingering in his mouth.
Ignoring him, Kang Hanseong scanned the surroundings and scooped up the nearest fallen cadet and instructor, one in each hand.
“Come to think of it, we haven't had a proper chat since you climbed up here. It's been a while since I last saw your face, so I'd love to catch up... but it looks like we're both busy.”
“...Yeah...”
With a nod, he continued the rescue efforts. Dozens of people around them still hadn't regained consciousness.
“It seems like there's someone—or something—you're prioritizing in this disaster, Cadet Choi Siwoo.”
“...How'd you know?”
“Just a hunch. I've always prided myself on my instincts. And it's probably a person, with high odds.”
“...”
Kang Hanseong smiled faintly at the speechless Choi Siwoo.
“Looks like I nailed it. You can't answer because explaining the situation right now feels awkward, and there's no time, right?”
“...Spot on. No time to spare...”
“Understood. Everything can wait until the job's done.”
With that, Kang Hanseong pointed to the leftmost path.
“I saw most of the cadets over there. One of the people you're looking for is probably in that direction.”
He fell silent, watching intently.
“As an instructor, I should tell you to stop. But my gut says leaving you be is the best way to help. So go, Cadet Choi Siwoo. Follow the path you believe in.”
“...Thank you.”
Choi Siwoo gave a quick bow and dashed off.
BOOM!
Purple sword energy whipped through the air in all directions. Humanoid figures lunged in, targeting gaps with their arms and legs. They looked human at a glance, but the shadowy black mist coiling around them marked them as no true living beings.
-GAAAAAAA!
Incomprehensible shrieks like death cries echoed out. They were the Sentinels of Malice—cursed wretches who'd failed to escape their nightmares and lost their original selves.
Their sole purpose: drag survivors down to their miserable level. They surged forward relentlessly.
“Get lost.”
Of course, it didn't work on him. The sword storm spread, unleashing a fierce gale of blades. They were sliced, slashed, crushed, and scattered.
Choi Siwoo advanced triumphantly for a while before slowly coming to a halt. A massive cocoon loomed before him. The nightmare fragment in his pocket resonated.
Pulsing like a larva awaiting metamorphosis, the cocoon emanated an unmistakably ominous aura.
No doubt about it.
“...Number two.”
He swung his sword cleanly. The cocoon's shell split in two, revealing a silver-haired girl slumped inside. In her hand, clutched as if in final prayer, was an amulet symbolizing the three major gods of Irelua.
“Yurika. Yurika! Wake up!”
“...”
“Hey, you pig! Pork feet, bossam, pork belly! Lard-ass! Snap out of it!”
“...”
No reaction even to that level of provocation... She must be deep in it. With a sigh, Choi Siwoo pulled out a worn, shabby pocket watch.
He pressed it firmly against Yurika's forehead.
Dream Demon's Pocket Watch (C+)
An artifact he'd obtained through Cheonwigwang's connections. It allowed entry into the target's dream, linking their minds. He hadn't acquired it for a situation like this, but...
'Thanks to this, she survived.'
ZZZT! Channeling mana, the watch's second and minute hands spun rapidly from their stopped position. Soon, it guided Choi Siwoo into Yurika's mental realm.
“...”
That familiar sensation washed over him again. His head throbbed. A hazy, thick fog clouded his vision, making him grimace instinctively. The dim room came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Familiar surroundings emerged—crosses everywhere, holy relics defiled and useless.
'Irelua mentioned this.'
That he'd have to bear others' nightmares too. He'd brushed it off back then due to the rush, but now, seeing this scene, he vaguely understood.
As he pondered his next move, a pale white arm draped softly over his chest. Slender, fair, with graceful curves—it was unmistakably a woman's. A sweet, heavy fragrance wafted over.
“...Awake already?”
Her voice was mesmerizing, like jade rolling on silk, dripping with seduction. The timbre alone could stir any man's blood. Turning, he saw a silver-haired beauty with a faint smile. Gone was the clumsy, youthful saintess; here was a woman whose body rivaled mythic sculptures in perfection.
She licked her lips. The pure image shattered, replaced by the sultry allure of a legendary temptress.
Two opposing charms that would drive most men mad with lust—but not Choi Siwoo. They knew each other too well for that.
“Yurika.”
“...Oh my. What a surprise. It's been ages since you called me by name. Always 'damn bitch' this, 'demoness headed for hell' that...”
“...Did I? Sorry.”
“...”
Her eyes widened at the quiet apology. Smiling, she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to his—like first-time lovers. But as her tongue slipped out, it turned hungry. It invaded forcefully, heedless of his comfort. Saliva mingled. Tongues twisted like serpents. The fleshy exploration filled the room with wet, obscene sounds.
To an outsider, they might seem like devoted lovers—or even spouses. But they knew better. This was merely the opening act to sate raw fleshly desire.
They didn't love each other. They couldn't. An uncrossable river of regret flowed between them. They were exhausted, merely fulfilling their final duties to survive.
This sex was ritual: life extension for her, power for him. Pitiful writhing from the undead.
The bedsheets crumpled. Her divine feminine form, sculpted by gods, devoured his honed masculine perfection with greed. His touches grew rougher. Her moans filled the air.
Unable to hold back, Yurika straddled him, reaching for his lower half to continue. But that was as far as it went. Choi Siwoo grabbed her hand, stopping her, and sat up quietly.
“...Not going further? Want me to use my mouth?”
“No... the smell's too strong.”
She gave a wry, apologetic smile. As he'd said, a rotten stench clashed with her beauty—the death rattle of cells pickled in drugs, a body broken beyond repair.
In the end, she rose first. Swish. Dressed in a sheer white see-through slip that revealed everything, she tidied her hair and murmured softly.
“Oh, right—there's something I need to tell you.”
“What?”
“She's dead.”
“...Who.”
“Namgung Ryun.”
“...”
The image of Namgung Ryun sobbing quietly on the bed flashed by. Undeterred, Yurika pressed on.
“Suicide. Blew her brains out with a pistol. So pointless, huh? That venomous bitch going out like that. If you're gonna die, take someone with you. A luxurious end for this era.”
Tsking her tongue, she glanced at his face. Silent, impassive. No visible reaction—but she knew. It was grief and regret.
It felt fresh to her. They were long desensitized to death. Acquaintances from yesterday turned cold corpses by today—it was routine. They'd grown numb, weighing lives by value. Otherwise, they couldn't endure, couldn't live.
Yurika pulled a letter from the drawer and tossed it to him.
“She left this only for you.”
“...”
“You know?”
“...What.”
“Namgung Ryun. That woman. She kept coming to see me periodically. The reason? Hilarious. Begging me to let you go.”
“...”
“Claiming she loved you more truly than a drug-soaked witch like me tumbling in filth... Telling us to stop sleeping together.”
She let out a mocking laugh.
“What an idiot, right? We're not rolling in bed for fun. I need your body to survive my broken state, and you need it to grow stronger—pure transaction. Screaming 'love' in that mess? No wonder she ended up like that.”
“...”
Silent, Choi Siwoo stood. That was the Yurika he knew—a witch whose body and mind had crumbled utterly. He dressed quietly. Venting emotions changed nothing... and the nightmare was ending even now.
'The space is fading.'
As they talked, the world's power waned. A bit more time, and he'd reach the fragment's core. Grabbing the window frame for air, he heard:
“...Actually, there's one more thing I didn't mention.”
“...Someone else die?”
“No, not that big a deal... Kinda trivial. Or not? Wait, it's huge. Yeah, important. I was gonna handle it alone, but... you should know.”
Her mouth stayed shut after that.
“Yurika?”
“...No-Face's subjugation's right around the corner... Sorry to drop this now. But you need to know.”
“What the hell, just spit it out.”
“...I'm pregnant.”
“What?”
He whipped around. Her face—smiling? Crying? Unclear.
“...I'm pregnant. With your child...”