Chapter 4

This is a bit of a heavy topic.

Since being reincarnated into this world, I’ve already committed multiple murders.

Of course, the ones I killed weren’t ordinary humans. They were all beings with octopus-like split heads or human forms melting down like sea cucumbers.

Cultists of the Evil God.

Also known as heretics, these people received the power of the Evil God, transforming into monstrous heads while retaining human bodies. They were infamous as a global anti-humanity force.

But did knowing this lessen the guilt from committing murder? I can’t say for sure.

If anything, it’s probably thanks to the intuitive image of their monstrous heads that my mind is holding up.

Killing monsters feels less guilt-inducing, after all.

“Phew…”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my queasy stomach.

Focus.

If left alone, these lunatics would kidnap innocent citizens and carry out human sacrifices.

Killing such people and stealing their artifacts is a task that perfectly aligns public interest with personal gain.

I kept repeating this to myself to dilute the weight of murder when—

“You’ve wrapped it up perfectly again this time, Mr. Yidam.”

Someone entered the messy office.

A girl, wearing clothes far more expensive than mine and of similar height, looked around while pinching her nose with her index finger.

“Ugh, no matter how many times I see this kind of scene, I can’t get used to it… How do you even endure this, Mr. Yidam?”

“I just do,” I replied with a shrug.

The girl skipping over the corpses to approach me was Lee Rasol, the daughter of one of the top three conglomerates in South Korea.

Among the three, her family was undoubtedly at the top of the list.

For some reason, Lee Rasol was extremely interested in hunting heretics.

Whether in the game where she appeared or in reality where I met her, her obsession with heretics was consistent.

Despite her considerable skills, she refused to climb the ranks in the academy, focusing entirely on heretic hunting—something I found somewhat relatable.

With her providing locations and information, I would swoop in and clean up.

Together, we had already eradicated several groups of heretics.

While I coveted the artifacts heretics left behind, Rasol’s goal was purely the heretics themselves.

We met through the black market and formed a pretty decent partnership.

Although she was part of the protagonist’s party, I intentionally built a connection with her for my needs.

“If I provide the locations and weapons, Mr. Yidam takes them out!”

Rasol made a punching motion in the air as she spoke.

“We really are a great team, don’t you think?”

“I can’t deny that.”

Without the precise locations and intel she provided, I wouldn’t have been able to operate as freely as I did.

Moreover, being the wealthy heiress she was, Rasol showed little interest in the artifacts acquired as byproducts of heretic hunting.

This meant the rewards of our work were entirely mine.

Of course, if we’re being technical, Rasol was steadily accumulating reputation and achievements in heretic hunting, so it was a win-win situation for both of us.

In that sense, we really were like a crocodile and a plover bird—a mutually beneficial relationship.

But, of course, not everything was perfect.

“So, Mr. Yidam, don’t you think it’s time you answered my proposal?”

Rasol was relentless in her efforts to recruit me into her family’s guild.

Her persistence was unparalleled, clinging to me like a leech.

Each time I had to fend her off with various excuses, and it drained me completely.

I responded firmly.

“I told you, I’m not joining.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much trouble.”

“Oh, come on!”

Rasol furrowed her brows in mock anger.

Anyone would feel a chill down their spine at the thought of angering the daughter of such a powerful family.

But luckily, I knew her patterns well.

“Looks like she wants something again,” I thought.

Whenever Rasol had a request, she would throw an absurd tantrum first, then present a slightly more reasonable proposal.

She knew I would firmly reject guild recruitment, so she used it as bait before revealing her true intentions.

I’d fallen for this a few times and even deliberately gone along with it on occasion.

Despite our partnership, I believed that if we were placed on a scale, the weight would tilt slightly in my favor—not in terms of body weight, but in who benefitted more.

I owed her a little, though.

With a sigh, I asked, “What do you want this time?”

“Yes!” Rasol beamed, finally revealing her true intentions.

“It’s about that cadet you sparred with recently. You remember Kang Han, right?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“I thought he’d be a great fit for our guild, so I actively tried recruiting him!”

“Did you?”

Hearing her out, my mind began to process the situation.

With Rasol’s resources, even the madness from Kang Han’s berserker traits could likely be suppressed with the right artifact.

If her guild managed to stabilize Kang Han as a berserker, they could reap significant benefits.

But who gained or lost from that didn’t matter to me.

My sole concern was clearing the tower, and I felt Kang Han, with Rasol’s support, had the potential to contribute significantly.

I nodded.

“That’s a good idea. So, what’s the issue?”

“Have you really not heard anything about Kang Han?” Rasol tilted her head as if genuinely puzzled.

“Kang Han’s now completely incapacitated in battle!”

I immediately returned to the academy.

Originally, I would’ve been lying on my dorm bed after the exhausting heretic hunt. But after hearing such an absurd report, I couldn’t just sit still.

Kang Han had apparently become incapable of fighting—because of me!

More precisely, because of the horrifying memory of sparring with me that left him utterly exhausted!

“This is insane.”

I knew Kang Han was fragile, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.

It wasn’t even that he was injured; the trauma of injuring someone else had rendered him unable to fight.

This was unacceptable.

With his growth potential, if extras scored a 5, the protagonist could aim for a 10 or even 15.

He was an indispensable force for clearing the tower.

For someone like that to collapse over such a trivial matter? Absolutely not.

Especially if it was my fault.

The day my insides felt torn apart, the sparring match that started it all was a free duel I initiated, specifically naming Kang Han to confirm his abilities.

If there’s any blame to be placed, it’s on me.

So, it should also be me who sets things right.

Even if it means breaking my past resolve to avoid getting involved with the protagonist.

“Hey, Kang Han!”

I barged into the private training room designated for the berserkers’ training.

And there he was—Kang Han, seated in the middle of the room, calmly meditating on a cushion. The special instructor, Monk Jung Hye, was absent, making things even better.

Now I could immediately drag this kid out and give him a proper mental overhaul.

As I walked closer, Kang Han’s eyes widened in shock, his pupils reflecting my growing shadow.

I could feel my footsteps carrying the weight of my irritation as I strode toward him.

“Joo…Yidam? What, why?”

“Come with me!”

I dragged Kang Han to a nearby lounge.

Once there, I forced him to sit down and took the seat across from him.

“Talk. What’s going on?”

“About what?”

“You’re in a state where you can’t fight, aren’t you?”

“How did you—no, I suppose the rumors must’ve spread by now.”

Kang Han sighed, looking troubled.

“I don’t think fighting suits me,” he muttered.

I tapped the armrest of my chair, waiting for him to continue.

Even as he spoke, Kang Han kept glancing at me nervously, as if I were some kind of ticking time bomb.

His timid demeanor was beginning to irritate me—probably something he picked up on.

After an uncomfortable silence, Kang Han finally swallowed hard and continued.

“So, I had a talk with the monk—uh, I mean, the instructor—today.”

“And?”

“I’m thinking of just dropping out—”

BANG!

Before I knew it, I had slammed my hands on the table and shot to my feet.

The silence that followed was suffocating, far worse than the earlier pause.

I immediately regretted my reaction, but it was too late.

More than anything, I was reeling from what I’d just heard.

What did he say?

No.

This can’t happen.

The protagonist can’t just run away like this. Who’s going to save the world then?

“No.”

“…?”

“No, you can’t. You’re not dropping out.”

Kang Han, who had been cowed by my earlier outburst, now raised his voice in frustration.

“That’s for me to decide!”

“For you to decide? Ha!”

I let out a bitter laugh and snapped back.

“Aren’t you learning meditation and mental training from the monk to fix that kind of attitude? And now you’re pulling this? What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you even have to do with this?!” Kang Han shouted, clearly flustered.

At this point, I didn’t even know where the conversation was headed.

Driven by sheer frustration, I blurted out whatever came to mind. My only thought was to stop him from dropping out.

“If I, the one who beat you up, am fine with it, why are you the one struggling on my behalf? What, are you teabagging me? Mocking me? I said I’m fine!”

“It’s not like that—!”

“Then what is it?!”

This wouldn’t do.

I pulled out my phone and thrust it at him.

Wait, no. That wasn’t it.

I snatched Kang Han’s phone instead, keyed in my number, and hit call.

Beep-beep-beep.

The call went through, and my phone rang. After confirming the connection, I immediately ended the call.

The entire sequence unfolded so fast that Kang Han stared at me, wide-eyed and stunned, as if he’d just been robbed.

“What…what are you doing?”

Handing back his phone, I said firmly, “From now on, report your condition to me every day. Got it?”

“What?”

Kang Han stared at me, utterly dumbfounded, before muttering quietly, “We’re not close enough to share things like that…are we?”

“What?”

The words hit me like a blunt object, making me stagger.

He was right.

Completely right.

There was absolutely no reason for Kang Han to report his condition to me.

But it was too late to back down now.

I forced him to agree through sheer persistence.

9:31 PM

Joo Yidam

[Why haven’t you texted me?]

[You didn’t report on time?]

[Do you want to die?]

Kang Han

[Uh]

[No]

[I was about to send it]

[Sending it now]

Joo Yidam

[Report.]

Kang Han

[Uh.]

9:34 PM

Kang Han

[All good.]

Joo Yidam

[This little—]