Chapter 22

Woojin opened his eyes.

He silently glanced around. The familiar ceiling, travel bags, and bedding came into view. The moment he saw them, he recognized that he had returned to reality.

Naturally, he sank into deep thought.

What was that just now…?

Had it been a dream?

But it felt too alien to dismiss so lightly. Derek and Cedric—their thoughts, emotions, and pain had been vividly clear. So vivid it felt as though he had possessed them.

A dream so lifelike it was hard to distinguish from reality. For Woojin, that was nothing new.

I endured it every night for twelve years.

For the past twelve years, Kim Woojin had crossed between two worlds whenever he slept. His identity had been split in two: a factory worker in South Korea, and a beast hunter in a dark fantasy world.

But recently, the Woojin of the real world had died. With that as the turning point, he had become a resident of this dark fantasy world… and since then, he had not dreamed even once.

Until last night.

Why would I suddenly start dreaming again…?

There was only one likely cause.

…The monster's inner core.

The inner cores of Derek and Cedric—creatures that had once been human. Perhaps consuming them had allowed him to experience fragments of the brothers' lives.

With that hypothesis in mind, Woojin replayed the dream in his head. The murdered brothers. The red-haired witch. He had seen that woman with his own eyes before.

I saw her when I was staking out the camp.

A few days earlier, Woojin had hidden in a tree, observing Derek and Cedric's tent. At the time, a female cleaner had entered and exited carrying a chamber pot.

Her appearance had been identical to the witch from the dream.

Her name was… Linda, I think.

Linda. A woman who had gone missing after Tarasque's rampage. The mercenaries had concluded she had been devoured by the monster.

In this mission, she had served as both prostitute and caretaker—keeping the mentally unstable brothers company, cleaning the soiled tent, and at times satisfying the men's desires.

Woojin recalled her movements from the dream. The way she approached the Holy Knight from the side, precisely sliding a blade through the gap in his armor. The dagger had shimmered with a dark blue glow.

An assassin of considerable skill.

And that was what unsettled him.

…She didn't seem that strong when I saw her before.

Not that he liked to brag, but Woojin could roughly gauge a creature's level at a glance. It was more like reading the atmosphere around them. Observe quietly for a few minutes, and he could estimate their strength.

From that perspective… the Linda he had observed during his stakeout had felt utterly ordinary. No presence. No edge. Just a civilian.

Did I misjudge her?

He decided to cross-check.

He dug back into the brothers' memories—of their lecherous gazes and hands roaming Linda's body. He carefully analyzed the sensory details embedded in those memories.

She was thin… but there was no muscle.

No sign of training. None whatsoever.

And then—

"…Wait."

Woojin narrowed his eyes.

He reexamined the memories more closely.

It wasn't imagination.

At some point, Linda's body had grown firmer. The change wasn't obvious to the eye, but the texture beneath the skin had shifted—dense muscle where softness once lay.

But Derek and Cedric had been heavily intoxicated. They hadn't noticed. If anything, Linda's smile had seemed more alluring than before. The brothers had lusted after her even more wildly.

…That woman isn't Linda.

The switch had happened during the journey.

Yet no one noticed.

The witch had the same face, body, and voice as Linda. A flawless impersonation that deceived everyone.

Even Golden Maggot—so cautious by nature—must have fallen victim to that ability and lost his life.

The ability to steal someone else's appearance… It doesn't seem like simple disguise. Magic?

He couldn't be certain.

He had only recently begun studying magic and didn't know much yet. He would need to consult someone more knowledgeable in that field.

Woojin rose and stepped outside the tent.

The campsite lay under a dim pre-dawn shadow.

…It's early.

The dream must have woken him earlier than usual.

Normally, it would be wise to try sleeping again—but after experiencing the agony of his eyes feeling torn out in that dream, sleep refused to come.

Maybe I'll start breakfast early.

Out of boredom, he began cooking.

He filled a pot with water, dried vegetables, potatoes, and sliced turkey, seasoning it with salt. A stew he had learned by watching Hector at his cabin. Simple—but surprisingly delicious.

The flavor from the dried vegetables is better than you'd expect.

He watched the stew boil vigorously. Thanks to dried tomatoes, the broth had turned a reddish hue, and rendered turkey fat shimmered on the surface.

A hearty meal before setting out on a journey.

Perhaps the clatter of cooking had been loud—Claire stumbled out of her tent and walked over groggily.

"Did I wake you?"

"The smell of food woke me. I think my appetite's been growing lately…"

She licked her lips while staring at the bubbling stew. Worried the ingredients at the bottom might burn, she picked up a ladle and stirred the pot.

It would take a little longer before the stew was ready.

Woojin had a question on his mind.

"Something occurred to me this morning."

"Yes?"

"If there were magic that lets someone impersonate another person… wouldn't that make assassination almost impossible to prevent? You approach as someone familiar, stab once, and it's over."

Claire tilted her head slightly and stared into empty space—a habit she had when thinking deeply.

"…I've never heard of such magic. If it exists, it would be extremely difficult and high-tier. I doubt it would be used for assassination."

"Why?"

"Anyone capable of casting high-tier spells would hold significant standing in the Mage Tower. Would someone that powerful really dirty their own hands with assassination?"

Moreover, accomplished mages took pride in casting spells itself—like artists cherishing their work. Few would waste high-tier magic on something as crude as murder.

In short, the witch's transformation was unlikely to be magic.

Woojin stroked his chin thoughtfully.

If not magic… did she consume a monster's inner core like I did?

Occasionally, very rarely, consuming an inner core allowed one to inherit the monster's talent. The witch's ability to assume another's form likely stemmed from something like that.

The reason was simple.

The black potion that had transformed Derek and Cedric into monsters—at a glance, it was clearly a product of the Demon Realm.

If she has knowledge of the Demon Realm, she likely accepted karma as well.

Karma, transformation ability, assassination skill.

The more he thought about it, the more dangerous she seemed.

Like a persistent gnat buzzing near his ear.

Would killing her ease his restless dreams? Somehow, it didn't feel like something that would end in a day or two.

As Woojin mulled it over—

"…Woojin, can we eat now? The potatoes are going to fall apart."

Claire, seated beside him, voiced her concern.

Woojin set aside his brooding and picked up the ladle.

Meals were always important matters.

***

Two days later.

Woojin and the mercenaries entered the Third Pioneer City.

As the Tarasques carrying Golden Maggot's wealth lumbered into the city in groups, citizens gathered to watch the procession with curious eyes.

Holy Knight Raymond departed at once to report everything that had happened to the Church Federation. Whether the mercenaries would continue the contract or not now depended entirely on the Federation's decision.

In other words… until that decision was made, the mercenaries would have to remain in the city.

"Nothing to do."

Claire, exhausted from the forced march, went to take a nap.

For the first time in a while, Woojin found himself alone. Reclining lazily in a chair, he yawned like a carefree drifter.

Drowsy.

Was there anything interesting to do?

As he idly mused, it occurred to him that he might need to get used to this sort of leisure.

The Barrier was no longer far away. Which meant he wouldn't be rolling around in the Demon Realm fighting for his life anymore.

Woojin had collected the werewolf bounty from the Church Federation branch. His accumulated wealth was nearing one hundred gold coins. With that much money, he could live comfortably inside the Barrier for at least ten years.

Living easy sounds nice.

But… what would he actually do?

There were no smartphones. No computers. To Woojin, the city's entertainment options felt bland.

The mercenaries seemed to spend most of their time gambling… but throwing away hard-earned money like that didn't sit right with him.

I can see all the sleight of hand anyway.

He didn't feel like calling them out and causing trouble. But pretending not to notice and playing the fool was even less appealing.

After ruling out option after option, there was truly nothing worthwhile to do.

It almost made him wish someone would come along and toss him any random task…

As if that wish had been heard—

"Hey, Jin."

A familiar voice called out.

Woojin turned his head and saw Holy Knight Raymond.

"I thought you were going to file your report with the Church Federation. You're finished already?"

"I wrote most of it in advance. That aside… if you have the time, would you accompany me somewhere?"

"Sure."

Woojin immediately stood up.

Raymond blinked, slightly taken aback.

"…I didn't expect you to agree so quickly. I was prepared to answer questions."

"Is there something I should know?"

"There is someone who wishes to meet you. If possible, he would also like to spar with you barehanded. Would you be willing?"

The answer was already decided.

"Let's go."

"That's good to hear… You must be quite bored."

Without hesitation, Woojin followed.

Before long, the two arrived at the Church Federation's training grounds.

At the center sat an old man, kneeling.

He wore worn martial robes. Around his neck hung a wooden bead necklace that stood out conspicuously—the beads were almost the size of fists.

Isn't that heavy?

With that thought, Woojin lifted his gaze from the necklace to the old man's face—

And was inwardly startled.

…He's blind.

A long scar ran across his eyes. His pupils were clouded and unfocused, as though afflicted with cataracts.

His sparring partner could not see.

As Woojin processed this, Raymond approached the old man respectfully.

"Elder. I have brought the man I mentioned earlier."

"You've done well."

The old man rose slowly and turned his head precisely toward Woojin.

"A pleasure to meet you… My name is Bow. If it is not impolite, may I ask yours?"

"Please call me Jin."

Bow extended his hand for a handshake.

Woojin grasped it and introduced himself.

The old man's palm felt as hard as stone. Thick calluses, to a degree that made one wonder how he had trained.

But something else troubled him even more.

"…Can you see me?"

Woojin voiced the unease he had felt since earlier.

A faint smile formed on Bow's lips.

"I closed two eyes to open the third."

A vague answer.

Yet it was also plainly true.

Woojin could feel it—like being observed from all directions at once, as though countless unseen gazes were fixed upon him.

It seemed he had encountered someone far from ordinary.

The pressure of the old man's presence was immense.