Chapter 45

Just as expected, Hae-gun intended to bring yesterday’s matter back to the table. From his perspective, the conversation had been derailed right when he was on the verge of hearing something vital, so his persistence was only natural.

“What were you trying to say to me back then?” Hae-gun asked.

The problem was that Eui-rim could not produce an easy answer. Though he had scrambled to piece together an excuse while showering, anything he said felt completely divorced from the heavy gravity of yesterday’s atmosphere. It hadn’t been an ordinary moment, either—it had occurred immediately after they discussed the hourglass sigil. He doubted any makeshift lie could withstand Hae-gun’s scrutiny.

“Well, that is…” Eui-rim began hesitantly.

Yet the instant Eui-rim parted his lips, a familiar window materialized across his blurring vision.

The status window that had stubbornly refused to open had finally stabilized, unfurling at length before his eyes.

Viewable for the 99th Fragment of the Origin? What on earth does that allow me to see? Don’t tell me… I can view his status window?

His cascading thoughts halted the instant an entirely new window surged forward. As Eui-rim stared blankly at the translucent panel, information both intimately familiar and chillingly alien materialized in dense rows.

The displayed status window was remarkably concise compared to what Eui-rim remembered from the previous timeline. Above all, the variety of Hae-gun’s skills and traits was visibly diminished.

Strange. Why isn’t the 〈Fragment of the Origin〉 listed anywhere?

The system had explicitly declared that a connection was established through resonance with the 99th Fragment. Yet on Seo Hae-gun’s status window, there was no mention whatsoever of any fragment.

“…”

A parching dryness seized Eui-rim’s throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing reflexively. It felt as though his entire body had locked up, making even drawing a single breath an effort.

Eui-rim forced his gaze past the glowing blue window to look directly at Seo Hae-gun. He simply had no idea how he was supposed to process what he was seeing.

Just then, familiar letters flickered into view over the translucent screen. A crimson window surged upward, flashing urgent alerts in rapid succession.

Ha.

Eui-rim nearly let out an incredulous scoff. A cold shudder washed over him as though he had been plunged into icy water, making it agonizingly difficult to keep his expression composed.

Seo Hae-gun is afflicted with a status abnormality too? But unlike Eui-rim, the Guild Master had never paid the price for crossing timelines. Why would such a restriction be placed on him?

Could the fact that the past-life Hae-gun had split off a piece of his soul as a thoughtform have exerted an influence across the regression?

The possibility was more than likely. The phrase ‘Failed to restart in complete form’ pointed directly to that conclusion.

Seo Hae-gun had failed to restart completely. And because of that failure, a portion of his memories and traits remained locked behind an impenetrable barrier.

Reading over the warning window again, Eui-rim forced himself to appear unbothered. In his heart, he desperately wanted to sit down and dissect every line of the notification against what he knew… but prolonging this silence any further would only invite suspicion. He had to pull himself together.

Even if Hae-gun’s vigilance had relaxed, Eui-rim was still an enigma to him. Their partnership rested largely on the Guild Master’s personal curiosity and goodwill, making it imperative to avoid anything that could erode that fragile trust—doubly so when Eui-rim could not disclose the truth.

Right. Another chance to parse this will come. At the very least, he had finally gained a clue as to why Hae-gun acted with such erratic intensity.

“Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun prompted softly.

“…I’m sorry. What was the question again?” Eui-rim managed a faint, apologetic smile. “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet, so my head feels a bit hazy.”

“I asked what you were trying to tell me yesterday,” Hae-gun repeated patiently.

“Ah, right. My apologies. It wasn’t anything grand,” Eui-rim said, carefully framing his lie. “I was worried that the dungeon anomaly might have been my fault. That was all I meant to say.”

As Eui-rim offered the makeshift excuse, a flicker of curiosity deepened across Hae-gun’s features. Studying the healer with an observant gaze, the Guild Master leaned forward over the table. “Your fault, you say?”

Thank goodness. He took the bait.

Eui-rim nodded quickly. “Yes. Between being the only one who saw the hourglass sigil and having my trait suddenly bloom, I couldn’t shake the unease. I wondered if my glitch-ridden status window might have affected the gate. As you know, my system is riddled with errors.”

“Mmm.” Hae-gun hummed in quiet contemplation before speaking. “I wonder. Utopia had already destabilized before we ever set foot inside, after all. If anything, I assumed your status window was influenced by the dungeon’s anomaly, not the other way around.”

While not entirely accurate, it was a remarkably sharp deduction. In truth, tracing the deeper causality, the anomaly had indeed arisen because of Eui-rim’s very existence.

“I see. That could very well be the case,” Eui-rim agreed readily.

When Eui-rim conceded without protest, Hae-gun studied him in silence before letting the corners of his lips curl. Resting his chin lightly on one hand, his smile took on a strangely crooked charm.

“Is that all?” Hae-gun asked.

“Pardon?” Eui-rim asked.

“Surely there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Hae-gun pressed.

Even if it was a bluff, flatly denying it carried too much risk. In ambiguous territory, offering a blend of harmless facts and half-truths was far more convincing than an outright denial.

“Actually… a notification regarding raid rewards appeared in the core room yesterday,” Eui-rim confessed.

At the admission, the sharp tension across Hae-gun’s face relaxed considerably.

Was he relieved, or was he disappointed? Whichever way the scale tipped, one thing was certain: offering a truth had been the right choice. At the very least, Hae-gun’s eyes held neither suspicion nor betrayal.

Thank god I had another card to play. Had the subject of rewards not come up, I can’t fathom where this interrogation would have led.

“A lot of strange things seem to happen to your status window, Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun remarked. “Skill errors appearing and vanishing, traits blooming out of nowhere, and now dungeon rewards manifesting as private status updates.”

Having regained his customary levity, Hae-gun looked far more relaxed than moments earlier. Now he feels like the Seo Hae-gun I know. That familiar, faintly mocking cadence brought an unexpected surge of relief, unwinding the tight knot in Eui-rim’s chest.

“What did it say? Did it offer to raise your stamina or something?” Hae-gun teased.

“…Yes,” Eui-rim admitted.

The instant his flippant joke met deadpan reality, Hae-gun’s mouth snapped shut. Seeing the S-rank hunter freeze in utter disbelief—so jarringly opposite his usual unshakeable poise—

It was absurd, of course, but it almost felt a little endearing.

“To be precise, my stamina and mana each increased by one point,” Eui-rim explained. “And a plus sign was added to my rank.”

As Eui-rim spoke, glancing upward, the translucent blue window that had long been a jumble of question marks and error codes filled his vision. Because he had scrutinized its lines countless times before, a single glance was enough to register every change.

First, exactly as he had told Hae-gun, a plus symbol was now appended to his rank. While Eui-rim couldn’t help wondering why an awakener rank was being graded like prime beef, the glimmer of potential advancement brought genuine relief.

In any case, his status window had abandoned all semblance of normality the moment he crossed the timeline. What difference did a single stray symbol make now?

And most importantly, the skill section.

The solitary skill that had remained veiled behind question marks had finally solidified into a name: Lantern upon the Boundary. It was identical to the unique skill Seo Hae-gun had wielded in the previous timeline.

In truth, there was no need to compare names. The crimson tag marked ‘Transferring’ where a grade should have been told him everything.