Chapter 42
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Finally Found You.
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“Huff... huff...”
Only the occasional rundown streetlamp dotted the way.
A narrow alleyway swallowed entirely by darkness.
He was sprinting through it, gasping for breath.
“Hngh... hngh!”
Every swallow felt like needles stabbing his throat from the reckless dash, and his heart thrashed as if it might burst at any moment.
Still, he didn’t stop running.
No—he couldn’t stop.
He didn’t know where this place was, why he was running, or even who he was. The only thing he knew for sure...
Was that he had to keep running.
Thud!
“Kuhk!”
Was it because of his desperation?
As he squeezed out every last breath to flee, his foot caught on a small metal scrap, sending him tumbling to the ground.
He’d fallen so hard that his forehead was bloodied, and one ankle dangled limply, the bone clearly twisted out of place.
But he didn’t writhe in pain.
He just clawed at the ground, struggling to drag himself farther.
Screeech.
“...!”
But right then.
He had no choice but to stop crawling.
The metallic grinding sound from behind froze his entire body stiff.
Don’t look back.
That’s what he thought, for sure.
But his head turned anyway, against his will.
Like a rusty tin doll, it creaked around with a screech, and what met his eyes was a single piece of scrap metal.
The worthless hunk of junk that had tripped him up mid-sprint—the kind of thing that belonged in a dump.
And yet, his eyes widened for one reason.
The scrap was changing.
As if time itself were rewinding.
The rust flaking off its surface, it slowly rose from the dirt where it had been buried.
Beautiful and antique like a work of art, gleaming with an eerie light even in the darkness. Staring at it, he murmured without thinking.
“A sword...?”
What was this sword?
Why was it discarded in a place like this?
Why had he tripped over something like this?
The questions flashed through his mind, only to vanish even faster.
Shiiiing.
As if it were a living creature.
The sword drew itself from its sheath and floated in the air.
Its blood-red tip leading the way, it drifted slowly toward him, bulging his eyes in terror.
My body...!
Pure instinctual fear drove him to crawl away.
But it was a futile hope.
His limbs wouldn’t budge, pinned like they were caught in a vice. It only deepened his despair.
This can’t be happening.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t escape.
He couldn’t even turn his head back.
He couldn’t close his eyes.
All he could do was one thing.
Watch the blade inching slowly toward him.
This can’t be real.
He’d worked harder than anyone.
He’d scrimped on eating and sleeping to get where he was.
He’d shaken off hands dragging him down, leaped over every obstacle in his path.
He hadn’t quite reached the top, but he’d made it into the glow of its light.
This couldn’t be how it ended for him. At least, if there was any justice in the world—if there was a god out there—it shouldn’t end like this.
It’s a dream.
The sword drew closer.
The blade loomed larger, bit by bit.
Its tip aimed unerringly at his eyeball.
Eyes wide, staring at the glinting edge, he repeated to himself.
It’s a dream!
This wasn’t real. It wouldn’t hurt. He wouldn’t die. It wouldn’t slice him. It was just for a moment. If he could just wake up... just wake up...!
It’s a dream...!
Squelch.
And in that instant.
A sound rang out, like a spoon plunging into pudding.
“Aaaargh!”
Park Hyeon-gun bolted upright with a scream.
Drenched in cold sweat, he panted for a long while.
He reflexively pawed at his eyes.
Only after confirming they were intact did he finally regain a shred of calm and look around.
The chair he’d toppled over in his jolt awake.
The desk with a few papers scattered on it.
The painting on the wall and familiar ornaments.
Taking it all in, Park Hyeon-gun confirmed this was the Infinity Guild’s secretary office. He wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Must’ve dozed off...”
No matter how tired he was, though.
A high-level player nodding off in a chair?
If anyone had seen, it would’ve been mortifying.
But Park Hyeon-gun felt no shame.
An overwhelming relief he’d never known before drowned out every other emotion.
What a nightmare.
Whether from the awkward position.
Or exhaustion from overwork.
He never wanted to dream that again in his life.
If it was fatigue, he’d seriously consider getting more sleep from now on.
No, more importantly—how’s the situation?
His moment of relief in reality was short-lived.
His mind quickly shifted from the dreamlike triviality back to the real issue.
Still no word from the Blue House? What’s the Monarch doing?
The dilemma he’d been mulling before drifting off.
The reason he’d stayed at the guild this late, handling work alone. Biting his lip at the thought, Park Hyeon-gun steeled himself.
It had been a full day since Lee Cheongi, the Infinite Monarch, had gone to deal with Rimon, who’d taken the Blue House hostage.
Up until then, he’d believed it would all be over soon.
Nothing could stand against the Infinite Monarch himself.
Even when reports came of massive booms tearing the sky and shaking the earth, followed by flashes of light from the Blue House.
Even when that commotion cut off abruptly at some point.
Park Hyeon-gun’s faith hadn’t wavered.
But now, a full day later.
He couldn’t suppress the rising anxiety anymore.
Where the hell is the Monarch, and what’s he doing?
By the time the noise stopped, Rimon should’ve already been taken out by Lee Cheongi yesterday.
The problem was why Lee Cheongi hadn’t returned.
Knowing the man’s emphasis on reporting protocols, this sudden radio silence was even harder to fathom.
He’d even dispatched tracers to scout the Blue House.
But the results were useless.
No skill—from Thousand-Ri Eye to Stellar Q&A—could penetrate the Blue House interior.
As if even the great constellations feared peeking in.
“...Guess I’m more worn out than I thought.”
A constellation fearing something?
He scoffed at his own absurd notion, muttering to himself.
Then Park Hyeon-gun coldly devised a plan.
I need to investigate after all.
His decision was simple.
If no contact by morning, he’d deploy the Infinity Guild’s raid teams to scout the Blue House directly.
Of course, as mere secretary—not even vice-guild master—he had no authority to mobilize the guild.
But he could move the vice-guild master.
The vice-guild master’s an item fanatic... Hand over a top-tier item from the guild vault, and he’ll gladly do this favor.
It was blatant overreach.
Beyond a secretary’s purview.
But as always, Park Hyeon-gun ignored such trifles.
He just pondered which item to offer as he pulled out his smartphone.
“Just to confirm, though.”
“...!”
But before he could even dial.
Park Hyeon-gun froze.
It wasn’t just the unfamiliar voice in the supposedly empty secretary office.
“You’re Park Hyeon-gun, right?”
The window, now wide open.
A white-haired man perched on the sill, golden eyes fixed on him—that sight filled him with shock.
“R-Rimon Asfelder?”
“Am I your buddy or something, asshole? We haven’t even been introduced, and you’re calling me by name?”
“How the hell did you get in here...!?”
Rimon should’ve been dead by Lee Cheongi’s hand long ago. Why was he alive, right here?
Reeling in shock and confusion, Park Hyeon-gun’s hand still darted reflexively under the desk.
Rimon didn’t bother stopping him.
He just spoke in a languid tone.
“Better ditch any hope of backup coming.”
Park Hyeon-gun flinched at the words.
Not just because his intent to hit the panic button was exposed.
He finally realized it, after hearing Rimon say it.
How unnaturally silent it was outside, even for the dead of night.
As if everyone but him had vanished.
“What did you do?”
“None of your business.”
How he’d gotten in.
What he’d done with the guild members who should be here.
Rimon brushed off Park Hyeon-gun’s question, packed with a flurry of doubts.
Propping his chin on one hand, he spoke.
“You just need to answer one question.”
“What the...”
As if Rimon had no right to ask.
Or as if he was obligated to answer.
Park Hyeon-gun bristled at the one-sided demand, about to snap back.
“Did you orchestrate taking the Hanbit Orphanage kids hostage and making Na Kyung blow herself up?”
But at that question.
Park Hyeon-gun felt his blood freeze.
Not just because it was completely unexpected.
Staring into those strangely serene golden eyes, fixed on him with eager anticipation.
He knew in that moment.
His answer would seal his fate.
It was pure instinct.
The kind of gut feeling Park Hyeon-gun would normally scoff at.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
But when he spoke.
What came out was firm denial.
Even rationally, admitting anything now gained him nothing but disadvantage.
“You don’t know?”
Rimon tilted his head, as if surprised.
Park Hyeon-gun met his gaze squarely.
“The Monarch handled everything involving you personally. Some orders bypassed me entirely.”
“So, in short, the Infinite Monarch ordered my death, and you knew nothing about the Hanbit Orphanage or Na Kyung?”
“That’s right.”
“Hmm, really? You know nothing.”
Rimon nodded to himself, as if weighing important words.
Park Hyeon-gun didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow.
Others might not know, but his Prestige of False Divinity was a unique skill rivaling absolute skills.
No tracer could detect his lies—let alone Rimon, who had no skills.
Watching him intently.
Rimon smiled.
“Heh, heh heh heh...”
Laughter spilled out with shaking shoulders.
Starting small, like air escaping his lungs, it grew louder with time, exploding into roaring guffaws.
“Puhahaha!”
As if it was too hilarious to hold back.
He laughed uproariously for a while.
Then abruptly stopped.
Slowly lifting his head.
He fixed Park Hyeon-gun with the eyes of a predator spotting prey and growled.
“—It was you.”