Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 015
Chapter Title: Ji Ye-won (7)
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It's dark. And black.
The world visible to my eyes is nothing but black.
A pitch-black world where nothing can be seen, nothing heard, nothing felt.
With my hazy consciousness, I vaguely string together thoughts. I can't even gauge what's happened to me or how much time has passed.
Only the faint sensation of something soft and warm.
Like a child on a holiday morning, spoiled and trying to sleep in, I curled up in that dark world, consciously rejecting the sharpening of my awareness.
I don't want to wake up.
I want to stay asleep like this.
Even in my hazy consciousness, that thought arose because, unconsciously, I recalled that my life had shattered.
Orphaned with no parents or relatives, I grew up in an orphanage.
To the outside world, it was an ordinary orphanage, but its true nature was a cradle for raising new recruits for the Dawn Corps.
The Dawn Corps is a terrorist group that fancies itself with noble ideals.
A gathering of ideologues preaching that modern society is rotten, clamoring to tear down all norms and systems and rebuild from scratch.
What kind of life does a child raised in such an organization lead?
Before I even came of age, I learned how to hate. How to hate society, hate the system, hate the elite, hate the world.
By the time I did come of age, I learned how to act on that hate. The organization taught many methods, but the one I trained in longest was murder.
I was the organization's bullet. Sent flying at their chosen targets, piercing their hearts, then discarded like spent casings. That was my role.
No doubts or complaints about it. No common sense to question it, no emotions to resent it. Every bullet trained alongside me felt the same. A life used once and thrown away was simply natural to us.
The only thing that set me apart from the other bullets.
'Good work today, Ye-won! Ta-da! Look at this? I secretly hid the strawberry milk left from dinner! Only two left, so let's drink them quick and keep it secret, okay?'
In that bleak existence, there was one person who brought color to it.
Her name was Min-ah. Kim Min-ah. Not some name arbitrarily given by an orphanage teacher, but a precious one properly received from her parents.
Maybe that's why, even in the colorless orphanage, Min-ah alone retained vivid hues.
Of course, a mere name can't defy one's environment.
Min-ah could keep her bright personality thanks to her convenient and useful superpower: Spatial Storage. Because of it, she was raised as a proper organization member, not a mere bullet candidate.
I wasn't jealous. Back then, the sense of self needed to even judge her as enviable was barely there in me.
But I did feel annoyed. Among us "students" of age and starting proper "education," private chit-chat was forbidden. Getting caught talking to her by the "teachers" meant a serious scolding.
Min-ah must have known that. And yet, for some reason, she carved out time that didn't exist to approach me and chat.
She annoyed me. And burdened me.
Yet somehow, swayed by her unwavering approaches, I snapped to one day and realized I was endlessly waiting for those precious minutes before bed after training.
Just ten minutes or so of talk.
Pointless ramblings with no substance or value, starting and ending on whims.
But those ten minutes felt like my entire life.
Before I knew it, Min-ah had become indispensable to me.
Because of Min-ah, I endured the grueling orphanage routine.
Even when other bullet candidates broke under training and collapsed, even when watching them made me want to quit and give in, the single thought of one more day of talk with her kept me holding on.
Thanks to her, I didn't quit. And by chance, I caught an executive's eye, escaping the fate of a disposable bullet to become a formal member.
Min-ah was like the morning sun piercing a hazy dawn to me.
A soft, warm sunlight that brightened the darkest skies and chased away the thickest fog.
But Min-ah is no longer by my side.
Even as part of a criminal syndicate, her nature was kind to a fault, always seeking to do good, unable to stomach injustice.
So when she stumbled on the organization's plans by chance, unable to stand by for that horrific scheme, she finally betrayed them.
When she confessed her betrayal to me, I aided her without a single question—she'd become the most vital part of my life.
In the end, captured by the organization and subjected to brutal torture, she...
She must have died by their hands, I thought even in my hazy stupor.
Tortured into spilling secrets, reduced to a worthless cripple—no way the Dawn Corps would spare a traitor like that.
That's why I didn't want to wake.
That's why I wanted to sink into this darkness forever.
This faint soft warmth felt just like her touch, and in my dim awareness, she kept rising in my mind.
If I opened my eyes from longing, I'd have to face the reality of her absence.
So I refused to wake in this darkness.
Even if I slept forever, no one could blame me. I'd already fulfilled my duty admirably.
Defeated the Dawn Corps assassin. Protected the Talisman from their grasp. The Security Force would handle safeguarding that key to their plans.
But clear thinking like this proved my mind was sharpening—and waking wasn't far off.
Still, how did I survive that wound?
A man's face surfaced in my clarifying thoughts.
A polite talker who called himself Security Force, but with a strangely prickly edge.
Did that guy end up pouring his pricey potion on me? I'd clearly told him not to waste it on a no-regrets criminal like me—save his colleague instead.
Ah.
Recalling even the moment before blacking out meant it really wouldn't be long now.
My submerged consciousness slowly rose.
Hazy thoughts cleared. Lost senses returned: the soft press against my back, warmth on the back of my hand, faint disinfectant scent, bright light filtering through closed lids.
Finally, I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.
Disinfectant suggested hospital, but this was a lavish mansion bedroom.
Expensive furniture and ornate decor everywhere, yet somehow sterile, untouched by human hands.
Late, I recalled the Security Force guy's words: Hanseong Group's safehouse. This must be it.
I pushed up from the bed. But my left arm, moved on instinct, was bandaged tight to my torso. Remembering the shoulder injury, I shifted the other.
-Twitch.
But my right arm snagged on something too.
A moderate weight, oddly soft and warm.
Gently turning my head, there was a man, chair-bound, asleep with my arm as his pillow.
Face hidden, but I knew who: Ahn Su-ho. The one who'd stayed till I passed out.
Must've dozed off nursing me from exhaustion.
Wondering if this was the warmth from my haze, I shook him gently awake.
"Uh, uhm."
He stirred with a soft groan, head snapping up. Our eyes met—his wide with panic.
"...You're awake."
"Yeah. Just now."
Awkward silence hung between us. Flustered, he still clutched my right hand. I squeezed; he yanked back in alarm.
He gave an embarrassed grin.
"Glad you're conscious again. Anywhere uncomfortable? Still hurting or—"
"Why'd you save me?"
His face froze. Thoughtful, burdened.
"Fatal wound. No survival possible. Lungs shredded, artery hit—even barely held, I lived, so you used a potion on me, right?"
He'd called it an Intermediate Recovery Potion. Even wholesale, 300 million each. Not for strangers.
"...Yes. I did."
"Why?"
After deep thought, he spoke carefully.
"...You're a key informant, Ye-won-ssi. Couldn't lose you there. Potion's pricey, but your intel's worth more."
"Your colleague was dying too. Not knowing my info's value, you picked me over him?"
"I-If you mean Chae So-yeon, her power let her—"
"Just."
My hollow voice cut him off.
He was my savior. I knew better than to say this to his face, but my lips moved on their own.
"Just... better if you'd let me die."
I bit my lip at the blurted truth. But it kept going.
"...When I betrayed the organization, I was ready to die."
"Learning Min-ah was caught, I let go of any will to live."
"Sad, agonizing—but I endured on one mission: stop their plan. Honestly, long as the Talisman didn't go to them, my life didn't matter."
"No, maybe I hoped to die."
"Hearing my only friend crippled, her death inevitable as dead weight. Defeating the assassin, handing you the Talisman."
"Duty done, no reason left. Maybe I welcomed death deep down."
"When you insisted on saving me with that pricey potion, I was a bit glad. But burdened too."
"I'm just a grunt. My info's nothing special—maybe not worth your potion."
"Save a nobody like me, risk your colleague's death, then disappointed in my intel?"
"Lose a friend, sacrifice for a stranger's survival, deemed useless?"
"Nothing more pathetic. Steeped in guilt and debt, undead-living. So better dead right there."
"Yet you saved me. Despite my pleas for your colleague. You saved me."
"Thanks. Really."
My lips quivered, words spent.
Even I felt like trash.
Saved, ungrateful, snapping why bother.
His face twisted in dismay. No surprise, after that tirade.
About to apologize, beg forget it—but wondered if words mattered.
"...Let me correct a few things."
He spoke cautiously.
"...Correct?"
"First: Chae So-yeon didn't die. Regenerator, different type. Fully healed, no aftereffects—back on duty. Don't worry."
"...Huh?"
Before I could speak, he pressed on.
"Second: You undervalue your intel. Even trivial bits—if they help grasp the enemy more, save one terror victim, potion cost's nothing."
"Third: Debt, burden talk, wishing I'd let you die? Planning trauma for me? Watch you die helpless? Want me regretting 'could've saved but didn't'? Your feelings aren't my problem. I saved you on my whim. No debts."
"Fourth: No suicide, ever. After the effort—if you off yourself over no attachments, I'll die too, haunt you as a ghost forever."
Calm, piercing voice.
His words left me expressionless.
No blame for my pity-party whine. Joking deliberately to ease guilt— I had no idea what face to make.
"Don't know how vital Min-ah was to you. But cliché: she wouldn't want you ending it all over her."
"...What do you know."
"Reverse: Would your friend want you dying with her?"
No. Min-ah never.
I shook my head weakly; he softened.
"Got it? Quit whining. Saved you pricey—what am I if you keep crying?"
"...Yeah. Sorry. You're right."
Sigh. Apologized.
'...Overemotional.'
Too much at once—lost control briefly.
Min-ah's loss hurt madly. But as he said, she'd hate me moping or following her.
"Calmer?"
"Yeah."
"Then my apology."
"Huh?"
I tilted my head; he raised his right hand gently.
"...Huh?"
Talisman ring bold on his index finger.
Sight erased my tangled feelings instantly.
"...Hey."
"Yes."
"Why's it on your hand?"
"Ahem."
"Why your hand?"
What happened while I was out spilled steadily.
Assassin I downed was regenerator—revived post-faint.
To stop him, all-or-nothing: donned Talisman.
Beat insane odds, settled perfectly. Beat him, but backlash floored me.
Then sniper ally arrived at crisis—regenerated Chae So-yeon appeared, took him down.
Cleaned site before eyes/police; sniper now in basement shelter here.
Questions swirled endless.
1-in-10,000 odds? Her Dragon Humanization? Why near-death first shot? Chaos unseen by cops?
He brushed off as trivial.
"Curious? Ask later. Time's plenty ahead."
Time's plenty ahead.
Casual toss.
But it stirred deep warmth in my chest.
"...Yeah. Thanks."
Straightened face, sincere thanks—not snide.
"Enough thanks."
Embarrassed grin. Like undeserved.
"Dawn Corps, Talisman aside—you're Academy student, I'm guard. Duty's student safety. Just earned my keep."
Grin turned sly. Blatant brag. Considerate joke, like before.
"Haha."
His clumsy kindness drew a natural smile.
"...Smiling suits you better."
Pretend surprise at my smile, then warm one of his.
"Just up—hungry? Porridge coming. Anything else, tell me. I'm your handler."
"Thanks. Handler what?"
"Nurse, bodyguard, watcher rolled one. Can't leave patient; Dawn Corps might hit; criminal needs eyes. All your stuff through me."
"...Tough gig."
"Cooperate, no sweat. Regular duties waived awhile."
Safehouse mansion-luxe, half-vacation mindset.
Casual add-on, then out the door.
"..."
Alone, I sank into the plush bed. Softness cradled my back.
'...I survived.'
Finally sank in.
Survived.
Damn well survived.
Min-ah likely dead by now. Just me.
'Negative again.'
Solo, thoughts soured naturally. To shake, down for room tour.
"Huh?"
Then noticed: changed clothes.
Nothing under loose gown. Quality stuff—soft wool warmed my skin.
...Originals blood-drenched, no choice but—
'Wait—changed?'
Question struck.
Deja vu; eyed Ahn Su-ho's exited door.
'Who changed me this time?'
Gone long before, the man to answer.