Chapter 69

That night, when they had all returned to their respective places.

“Excellency, then I shall take my leave.”

The Captain of the Holy Knights briefly reported what had happened while the four were in the dungeon, then bowed to Joo Yian.

Joo Yian nodded slightly.

“Rest well.”

As he did, he took off his glasses.

The Captain tilted his head in puzzlement when he saw Joo Yian remove the thin brass-framed glasses instead of his usual monocle.

“But why the glasses…?”

The Pope had always worn only a monocle, so it was understandable that it caught his attention.

“Has your eyesight worsened recently—”

Joo Yian replied curtly.

“No.”

His voice sounded uncharacteristically sharp. The Captain froze.

“I spoke out of turn.”

“…It’s not quite that.”

After a brief silence, Joo Yian smiled softly.

“I must have been sharp because I’m a little tired, Captain.”

Joo Yian pressed his brow firmly and gestured with his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Go on.”

“…Understood.”

At his words, the Captain bowed repeatedly, as if deeply honored, before withdrawing.

—Click.

With the door closed, Joo Yian’s room held only its master.

“…”

Perhaps he had overdone it.

His vision was a bit blurry, so Joo Yian squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them.

He quietly gazed out the window. His own face reflected there suddenly felt unfamiliar.

No, more precisely, his solitary reflection in the window felt unfamiliar.

‘An afterparty without booze? What kind of nonsense is that!’

‘This can’t be real!’

‘We have to invite Hunter Joo Yian into the true world of alcohol.’

Joo Yian smiled as he recalled the lively afternoon.

The three had already left the temple, yet their voices still echoed in his ears.

He was a person who disliked noise, but he liked the hunter team.

To him, they were not mere noise.

It hadn’t been long since they parted, but he already missed them terribly.

“…Ah.”

He suddenly remembered what Shin Yuri had given him.

‘Right, this!’

She had toddled over, shrunken by the mini potion, and handed him a notebook.

‘In case Joo Yian misses us.’

‘…?’

—Rustle.

Joo Yian opened the notebook again and smiled faintly.

Inside, the hunter team was captured perfectly.

There was only one person on the team who could draw like this.

‘Hunter Shin Jae-heon drew it during self-study earlier.’

‘In case Hunter Joo Yian feels lonely.’

Recalling Shin Yuri’s smiling face as she said that, Joo Yian smiled warmly.

When he had turned back in gratitude and their eyes met, Hunter Shin Jae-heon had shrugged it off as no big deal.

He seemed indifferent but knew how to look after others.

In their shared house in Korea, most of the photos in Joo Yian’s room had been taken by Shin Jae-heon.

‘The real thing is better, but sometimes you want to see it when they’re not around, right?’

Even when he first got the photos, Shin Jae-heon had said that, often promising more before vanishing into his room.

‘Uh…’

He’d disappear while Joo Yian was too touched to speak.

That was Hunter Shin Jae-heon’s way.

Even if you chased after him to say thanks, he wouldn’t reply.

As if embarrassed.

“…”

Joo Yian smiled warmly and examined the drawing in the notebook.

Shin Jae-heon gazing at the window, Joo Yian himself looking down at a book. Beside them, Hunter So Yeri was dozing off while masterfully pretending to study.

And Hunter Shin Yuri.

“…?”

Joo Yian suddenly scrutinized the drawing more closely.

Even an art novice could tell that Shin Yuri’s portrait had been drawn with extra care.

Above all, in the drawing, Shin Yuri was quietly gazing at Shin Jae-heon.

—Swipe.

Joo Yian brushed his finger over the image.

The Hunter Shin Yuri he had glimpsed stealing glances during self-study in the study room never once took her eyes off the notebook.

But in Shin Jae-heon’s drawing, she was looking at Shin Jae-heon.

“…”

Moreover, since he had drawn the reflection in the glass, Joo Yian—standing closer to the window—should have been clearer, yet Shin Yuri was rendered more vividly.

Joo Yian stared down at the drawing, breath held.

Recalling the story Shin Yuri had told him earlier that day.

Hunter Shin Yuri probably wanted to protect Hunter Shin Jae-heon.

The skill name alone conveyed her fierce wish.

“…”

Joo Yian clearly remembered Shin Jae-heon’s troubled expression.

While Shin Yuri spoke of the math teacher, Shin Jae-heon couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Joo Yian, under intensive care, had an even better view.

‘…’

Those deep-sea-blue eyes appeared serene, but countless thoughts slumbered within.

Guessing that emotion wasn’t impossible.

Joo Yian knew well that Shin Jae-heon carried a deep debt of gratitude toward Shin Yuri.

So when he saw that skill name—when Shin Yuri leaped in front of him.

He could faintly imagine what Shin Jae-heon thought, what he felt.

As one who had received so much from Shin Yuri, he knew how grateful yet burdensome it was to stand in her radiant shadow.

Joo Yian’s fingertips traced over Shin Yuri in the drawing once more.

She alone seemed vividly alive, on the verge of moving.

Her cheerful smile, her sparkling eyes.

“…”

The girl who had clearly been focused only on the notebook seemed, almost as if she had truly been looking only at Shin Jae-heon.

Unless…

As Joo Yian gazed at the drawing, he suddenly lifted his hand from the notebook.

There, in the corner, tiny letters appeared. Shin Jae-heon’s handwriting.

It must have been meant for Hunter Shin Yuri.

What was that promise?

Joo Yian couldn’t tear his eyes from her image.

It was hard not to admire someone who shone so brightly.

Gazing quietly at Shin Yuri, he realized it.

The Shin Yuri in the drawing couldn’t take her eyes off Shin Jae-heon either—just as Joo Yian looked at her.

No, Hunter Shin Yuri had clearly been looking only at the notebook.

“This is…”

Joo Yian murmured. The artist was Shin Jae-heon.

It must be the scene he wanted.

Wanting her eyes only on him.

Wanting Shin Yuri to gaze solely at him.

“Ah…”

Joo Yian sighed softly.

He felt that demon’s voice again, one he’d heard even outside this RP dungeon.

A voice he’d come to hear more often since entering it.

‘Look straight at your heart.’

‘At what you truly desire.’

His inner voice, which he wanted to dismiss as a demon’s whisper.

“Hunter Shin Jae-heon.”

He whispered lowly.

The name of the man who drew Shin Yuri looking only at himself.

The name of the one who yearned to be more special to her.

But sadly, Shin Yuri was far too fair. She cared for everyone equally.

She didn’t love the team as a whole—she loved each individual.

Yet that wasn’t what Shin Jae-heon craved.

‘Nor what I crave.’

The whisper returned. Joo Yian clenched his fist.

I want to be the biggest part of you.

Of course, the whole team knew.

That Shin Yuri’s world held only the three of them.

‘You know you’re my favorite, right?’

Her words every time the team gathered.

But if the affection she gave the three of them totaled 100.

“…”

Joo Yian closed his eyes.

If she divided that 100 equally among them.

Even with 33 each, the three would still divide the remaining 1.

Even endlessly trisecting it, he wanted—even the tiniest sliver of that final 1.

He wanted to be the largest piece inside her.

The first face that came to mind.

And surely, Shin Jae-heon felt the same.

“…You and I alike.”

We’re tangled in a painful love.

It was then, as he murmured to himself.

—Knock knock.

A knock resounded.

“Excellency, I’ve brought some refreshments.”

A young voice called out. Joo Yian glanced at the clock.

“…It’s late.”

Besides, the Holy Knight Captain would assume the Pope was already resting.

He’d surely informed the others on his way out.

“Um, is it rude…?”

The voice came again. A novice priest’s.

Seemingly unaware the Pope was resting.

Joo Yian hated interruptions when lost in thought.

But he couldn’t embarrass the novice.

—Swish.

He opened the door, and the young priest peeked in.

A face he’d seen several times.

“Priest Hess.”

When Joo Yian named him first, the novice’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing.

—Click.

A plate of pastries was carefully set before him. Tea too.

He’d carried the steaming tea barehanded to avoid spilling—his hands red and swollen.

Oh dear.

“I’ll enjoy it.”

“Th-thank you!”

The boy bowed over and over. Joo Yian reached out and grasped his hand.

“…!”

To the startled child, Joo Yian smiled gently.

“Don’t carry hot things barehanded.”

He handed him a handkerchief, then closed his eyes.

—Flash!

A healing skill—but since the boy saw no system window, he’d think it holy power.

“You could get burned. Understood?”

The child bowed deeply.

“Th-thank you. I’m sorry!”

Joo Yian barely shooed away the head-butting boy and sat back at his desk.

“Eating late isn’t good for you.”

But today, his mind was too unsettled for early sleep.

Joo Yian turned to the notebook.

—Crunch.

He bit into a cookie thoughtlessly.

That instant.

—Flash!

“…!”

Several bright red system windows flooded his vision in a heartbeat.

His blurry sight shook against his will.

And soon.

—Thud.

His body tilted sideways.