Chae Nayun descended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last as she carried the weight of secrets she wished she could forget. She had faced countless trials in her life, but nothing had prepared her for this—a tangled mess of mystery, betrayal, and tragedy. This regression had given her a second chance, but it also brought new burdens she never imagined possible.

Her mind swirled with thoughts of Kim Hajin. How did he know about the Devil’s Seed lying dormant within her brother? How could someone like Hajin, who seemed so ordinary on the surface, become the feared Black Lotus? What was he really hiding? The more she dug, the more she realized how little she actually knew about him. Each new revelation felt like she was edging closer to opening Pandora’s box. She couldn’t help but wonder—what if all of this led to another tragedy?

Chae Nayun clenched her fists, pushing away the thought. She refused to let that happen. If it came down to it, if her brother couldn’t be saved, she would kill him herself. She would destroy the Devil’s Seed with her own hands. Anything to stop Hajin from bearing that burden. Anything to avoid a future where tragedy struck again.

She sat down on the stairs, the chill of the stone seeping through her clothes as she stared at her feet. The secrets she had uncovered so far were only the tip of the iceberg, and they frightened her. Her heart ached as she thought of her brother, the once-strong figure now threatened by a demonic force beyond their understanding.

But what terrified her more was Hajin. He was an enigma, a mystery wrapped in too many layers. Yoo Yeonha’s suspicions echoed in her mind. Was Hajin a Regressor too? Could that explain the impossible knowledge he possessed? That was the only conclusion that made sense… yet it felt incomplete. There was something more. Something deeper.

“Hajin… what should I do?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. She wanted to help, to understand. But the truth was elusive, slipping through her fingers like sand. Her chest tightened with the overwhelming urge to cry, but she swallowed the feeling down, refusing to let herself break.

Yeonha had shared what she thought was Hajin’s burdens, painting a picture of him carrying an unimaginable weight. But even then, Nayun knew they were missing pieces. There were too many things that didn’t add up—his strange knowledge, his actions, the way he navigated through the anarchy like someone who had seen it all before.

And then there was Suho. Suho, who stood at the center of it all, yet seemed completely different. Unlike Hajin, Suho didn’t seem like a Regressor. He was steady, unwavering, not haunted by the same kind of shadows.

“This is getting more complicated than I thought,” Nayun murmured, rubbing her temples in frustration. Her mind kept circling back to the past life, the original timeline she wished she could forget. The pain of that timeline, of losing her brother and Hajin, was still fresh, as if it had just happened. Would she have to endure that all over again? Would this second chance bring the same heartbreak?

She didn’t know, but the uncertainty gnawed at her, refusing to leave her in peace. The past haunted her every step, and the future felt like an inevitable continuation of that suffering. Some cruel god must be toying with her fate, dragging her through this endless cycle of pain. But she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that. If she gave in to despair, there would be no way forward.

Still, that day before the Tower of Miracles remained vivid in her mind. She couldn’t shake the memory of how the world had suddenly miraculously forgotten Kim Hajin after the war with the Devils. Why? What had happened to him? What did he have to do with everything? The questions piled up with no answers in sight.

Chae Nayun sighed deeply, the weight of it all pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. She didn’t know what awaited her at the end of this journey, but one thing was clear—there was no turning back now. She had to face whatever came, no matter how painful it might be.

***

Early mornings at 4:00 a.m. had become routine. I made sure to exhaust myself with personal training before classes. Every time I felt my body slowing down, I transitioned into the Agent Military Academy’s breathing method, circulating my magic power through my veins, letting it course and refresh me. Then, once my breath stabilized, I’d jump right back into the grind. Alternating between physical training and meditation like this was the key to moving forward, step by painful step.

“Hooo…”

I opened my eyes, feeling the invigorating effect of magic power calming my muscles and sharpening my mind. It was a moment of respite before launching myself into the next round of exercise. Jogging around the Training Grounds was my go-to for improving stamina, especially with magic enhancing every step. The flow of energy in my veins added a boost, making each stride more powerful and more efficient.

Time was precious, and I couldn’t afford to waste it. Every second spent pushing my body to its limits meant getting closer to the strength I needed. Even when my legs felt like jelly, my lungs burned for air, and my head swam with dizziness, I forced myself to keep moving forward.

This drive… it felt alien to me, almost unrecognizable. Back in my past life, this much effort would have been unimaginable. I had been different then—content with a simpler, more laid-back existence. The concept of pushing myself this hard would’ve seemed ridiculous.

But now… was it a desire for survival pushing me beyond my limits? Or was I just deluding myself into thinking I could do this?

I wasn’t sure. Maybe it didn’t even matter. All I knew was that I had to keep going.

There was a reason why I couldn’t just jump into training magic power the moment I woke up in this world. Simply put—I didn’t understand it. The risk of injuring myself was too high. In the novels I used to read as the closest analogy, they called it "qi deviation"—a loss of control over internal energy that could wreck your body. I wasn’t stupid enough to recklessly tamper with something that could kill me.

I could’ve focused solely on my physical training, but that was inefficient. I knew even the most dedicated athletes spent years honing their bodies to reach peak performance. I didn’t have that kind of time. Since waking up here, I’ve chosen a different path. Connections, friendships—they were just as important as training. Networking opened doors that brute strength couldn’t. People were assets. Besides, I wasn’t an idiot who believed I could train in isolation and magically survive whatever was coming.

But the thought of trying to train with magic power without a proper foundation? That was a death sentence. It would be like asking a caveman to invent martial arts just because he’d discovered fire… or oxygen. I didn’t want to die due to sheer stupidity.

It’s not like I could ask the instructors to help me either. Magic power usage was covered during the Agent Military Academy days. The mere thought of begging Instructor Kim Soohyuk to reteach me something we should’ve learned years ago would probably give the man a heart attack. I’d be dropped out right off the bat. That option was off the table.

Which was why I had turned to Suho. Begged him, even. But he didn’t help me. He wouldn’t. I still couldn’t understand why. Was he too high and mighty? Did he see me as unworthy? I wasn’t buying his emotional bullshit… and it was because I was petty and angry. Either way, I had to push through on my own.

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the muscle cramps rippling through my body. The risk of injury—hell, even the risk of death—loomed over me every second I trained. But I’d rather face death than failure. Dropping out wasn’t an option. I had to live. I had to make my mark.

Strength wasn’t just about power. It was about overcoming death itself. And that was my ideal—facing death head-on and winning.

And fuck it hurts like a son of a bitch!

"I am such a walking contradiction."

Wednesday. The bane of my existence. Specifically, Wednesday mornings, because of Anti-personnel Training. Just hearing the name made me cringe.

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In essence, it was two hours of one-on-one sparring between cadets. Sure, it was physically intensive, which I grudgingly admitted would help me improve. But I hated getting smacked around.

Today, my sparring partner wielded a spear. And not just any spear, but a blunt one. Which, you know, still hurt like hell when it connected. He kept thrusting that thing at me like a maniac. And me? I could barely dodge the damn thing. It felt like dancing with death every time I narrowly avoided a hit.

The shiver running down my spine screamed, "Play dead!" My brain, though, kept pushing back. "This is for your growth," I told myself. "You’ll improve faster with something at stake!"

Yeah, right. I must have looked like a lunatic because I found myself grinning at the prospect of getting hurt. Maybe if I just expected the pain, it wouldn’t feel so bad? Or maybe I’d just keel over and wake up in the real world where none of this nonsense existed.

Wishful thinking, I know.

My breathing grew harsher with every dodge. I alternated between activating and deactivating [Always Here], hoping to avoid a fatal smack. The way I was moving must’ve looked awkward as hell because my partner was starting to lose his cool.

“You bastard! Are you toying with me?” he snarled, spinning his spear for extra flair. He followed up with a sweeping leg kick and a wide swing of his spear.

Crap. There was no way I was dodging that.

Time to bail. I flipped through the air with all the grace of a startled cat, his spear grazing me by the tiniest margin. I activated [Always Here] just long enough to mess with his aim, and then deactivated it as I collapsed on the floor, clutching my side in faux agony.

I played dead.

"H-hey, are you okay?" My partner asked, his voice softening in sudden concern.

Gotcha.

A commotion broke out just as I lay playing dead on the training mat. My sparring partner’s attention immediately shifted toward the source, and naturally, I couldn’t help but sneak a glance myself.

"I said, GET UP!" That was not my sparring partner.

"You fucker." Oh, this one was Kim Hajin.

Kim Hajin’s voice, sharp and full of uncharacteristic rage, caught me completely off guard. I cracked one eye open, curiosity getting the better of me.

There, in the middle of the training grounds, Hajin was wrestling with our female instructor. And when I say wrestling, I mean he was literally biting her hair. His teeth were clamped down hard on her long, dark strands, while his hands gripped her arm with surprising force.

“Ah! What are you doing!? 934… Ack! Let go! Let go! Let go!” the instructor cried out, flailing as she tried to free herself.

But Hajin wasn’t hearing any of it. He yanked back on her hair like he was trying to scalp her, his face scrunched up in determination. It was a brutal sight. Almost medieval.

Internally, I cheered him on. Go for it, Hajin! Rip it off and drink wine from her skull! I might have been losing it, but hey, who doesn’t enjoy a good spectacle?

Kim Hajin pulled even harder, and the instructor’s cries grew more desperate. I could almost feel bad for her. Almost. Then again, she was the one bullying him to begin with. It seemed like karma in action.

If I had popcorn, I would’ve been munching it right now. As if on cue, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone actually eating. I looked around and, sure enough, Chae Nayun was sitting nearby, watching the show with a bag of popcorn in hand. I blinked. Seriously?

I decided to ignore her and turned back to the fight, or whatever it was. Hajin still had a death grip on the instructor’s hair. I couldn’t tell who to feel worse for—the guy who was so cornered that he’d resorted to biting, or the poor woman whose hair was being chewed on.

“T-this is a warning! Let go! I said… LET GO!” The instructor’s patience was wearing thin. Humiliation was creeping in, and her face was turning red with frustration.

Then, in a fit of rage, she threw a solid punch straight at Hajin’s jaw.

CRACK!

Hajin dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, the instructor breathing heavily above him. I almost winced. But opportunity knocked.

“I’ll take him to the infirmary!” I shouted, already moving toward Hajin’s limp form. Before anyone could object, I hoisted him over my shoulder, staggering slightly under his weight. As I passed Chae Nayun, I saw the look of disappointment on her face.

"Sucks to be you, slowpoke," I mouthed at her, flashing her a smug grin. She scowled in response, and I couldn’t resist flipping her the bird behind my back as I walked off.

Hajin was surprisingly heavy for his size, and by the time I reached the infirmary, I was drenched in sweat. My stamina was trash, and I couldn’t help but feel the fatigue setting in. I gently dropped Hajin onto one of the infirmary beds, wiping my forehead.

He regained consciousness faster than I expected. Barely a few minutes had passed before he groaned and stirred, blinking awake.

“Man, I thought you’d be out for at least an hour. You playing dead or what?” I asked, half-joking.

“Oh, Hyon…” He greeted me with a glum expression. “I… I don’t know. Play dead, huh? Maybe I should have…” He touched his face gingerly, wincing as his fingers grazed a small bruise on his cheek. “O-ouch, the bitch really got me.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Cube should heal you up just fine. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

He sighed, sinking back into the bed. I watched him, feeling a pang of inferiority. Even with his stats reset, he was still somehow recovering faster than I ever could. I was sweating bullets from carrying him, while he was already shaking off a knockout punch.

It stung a bit, but I pushed the feeling aside. At the end of the day, we all had our strengths. Mine just hadn’t shown themselves yet.

"Seriously though," I said, breaking the silence. "What the hell were you thinking back there?"

“In my case,” I said, leaning back against the infirmary wall. I didn’t drag him here to kiss ass or anything. “It’s just… this way, I get to skip class too. Anti-personnel training sucks.”

Hajin raised an eyebrow, still rubbing his sore chin. “So, you’re just using me as an excuse to ditch?”

“Pretty much.” I grinned, folding my arms behind my head. “It’s not like I’m getting anywhere sparring with that lunatic spear-wielder. At least here, I can train at my own pace. Meditation and stuff…”

He let out a tired laugh, wincing slightly from the pain. “You know, that’s probably the most honest thing I’ve heard today.”

I shrugged. “Look, if I had to keep dodging his spear for another second, I might’ve just laid down and died for real. But now… I can relax. You can recover. It’s a win-win.”

Hajin shifted in his bed, his expression softening a little as the pain subsided. “I guess I can’t blame you. Sparring with these guys is a death sentence for people like us.”

He wasn’t wrong. My stats were low, and the gap between me and most cadets felt like a canyon. Even though I tried my hardest, my body just wasn’t up to par. That’s why I hated Wednesday’s Anti-personnel Training. Everyone else treated it like a normal day, but for me, it was survival.

I glanced over at Hajin, who was still lying in bed but looked a bit more relaxed. “You wanna stay here for a while? I mean, no one’s gonna bother us for at least another hour. We can just… chill. Or, I dunno, think about how we’ll survive the next class.”

He snorted. “Sounds like a plan.”

The infirmary was quiet, the soft hum of machines and the occasional rustling of bed sheets the only sounds in the room. Outside, the commotion of training and sparring continued, but in here, it felt like a temporary escape.

For once, I could breathe. No spears to dodge, no punches to block, just a brief moment of peace.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration as I stood up from my seat beside Hajin. Why was I even here?

Kim Hajin was built differently from me—he thrived in desperation and pushed himself through sheer willpower even when the odds were against him. And I? I was the kind of guy who’d drop the act and play dead the moment things got too painful. I didn’t like pain. It was simple.

So why was I trying so hard?

Hajin might have thought I was joking earlier when I talked about taking it slow, but there was a truth to that. In the back of my mind, I knew that if I was ever really backed into a corner—if I was staring down death—I’d probably run. No desperate last stand, no fighting to the bitter end. Just me, getting out while I could. And honestly? I hated that about myself.

Why was I training so hard? What was I trying to prove? When no one was watching, I’d push myself to the edge, risking injury, pushing through exhaustion like some maniac. But the moment eyes were on me, I’d shrink back, play it safe, avoid standing out. It was contradictory, and the worst part? I knew it.

What am I even doing?

I glanced at Hajin, still lying on the infirmary bed, his face bruised but his spirit unbroken. In a few months—maybe even weeks—he’d be stronger, faster, deadlier. He’d be the kind of person who could take on the world if he had to. And me? I wasn’t so sure. I was seventeen in this body, sure, but mentally, I still carried the habits of my past life. The desire to avoid conflict, to coast through things with as little effort as possible. It was a miracle I even survived here so far.

But this world wasn’t forgiving. The longer I stayed here, the clearer that became. No amount of connections or charm would save me if I was put at the end of a sword or staring down the barrel of a gun. And survival was becoming a much more pressing concern.

I chuckled to myself. Hugging Hajin’s thigh could work—he was going to be a major player in the future, after all. But there were others too. People whose power I could rely on, who I could align myself with, secure an easier path through this hell. It wasn’t glamorous, and I wasn’t proud of it, but I had the advantage of knowledge—of knowing who to cling to in this dog-eat-dog world.

“Pfft…” I let out a snicker, the absurdity of my situation suddenly hitting me. What am I even thinking? Here I was, contemplating my next move, planning to attach myself to the powerful like some parasite. Was that really who I wanted to be?

I turned to Hajin, who had noticed the shift in my expression. “Sorry, Hajin. I guess I have to leave you now. Anti-personnel training’s still going on… Do you want me to take revenge for you?”

He laughed, rubbing his bruised chin. “No thanks, Hyon. I’d rather you survive the day first.”

I grinned, but his words stuck with me. Hajin might’ve been half-joking, but he had a point. Surviving was what mattered, and I was barely scraping by. There wasn’t any more room for half-hearted efforts, no space for contradictions. If I wanted to live, really live, I had to stop thinking like the guy I used to be.

As I walked back to the training grounds, I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the doubts swirling in my head. It was time to stop pretending. Time to stop running away. Even if it hurt, even if I wanted to quit—I had to push forward.