The National Intelligence Service agent had escorted Kim Kyung-hwan to the bunker beneath the Blue House, leading him to the situation room of the National Crisis Management Center.
Inside the situation room, high-ranking officials and generals had gathered, including President Kang Min-ki, the heads of the National Security Office and the Foreign Affairs and Security Office, the head of National Intelligence Service, the Joint Chiefs of Staff leader, the Minister of National Defense, the Prime Minister, and the chief of the secretary’s office.
“Welcome, Wizard Kim Kyung-hwan,” the President greeted.
Once Kim Kyung-hwan had taken his seat, they delved into the discussion centered around the contract resting on the table.
“It’s certain that this contract possesses magic,” affirmed the President.
Kim Kyung-hwan acknowledged the President’s statement with a nod and responded, “Indeed. Most likely, the signer will be compelled to adhere to the contract’s terms. Violating it would almost certainly trigger the stated penalties.”
It’s not just a probability; it’s an absolute certainty. Kim Kyung-hwan mused internally. This assertion stemmed from his prior experience with a similar contract. However, due to the contract’s binding provisions, Kim Kyung-hwan couldn’t reveal its details. Thus, he presented his insights as mere speculation, deliberately omitting his own involvement. It’s risky to delve into further details!
When the government had requested an analysis of the contract, they had not disclosed how they had obtained it. Nevertheless, Kim Kyung-hwan hadn’t inquired or pondered the matter, as the unique mana pattern imprinted on the contract was all too familiar to him.
From the moment he laid eyes on the contract, he already knew. It was Eraser. He was sure Eraser made this contract.
That certainty had exhilarated him. An enigmatic figure, masquerading as an extraterrestrial race, had approached the government, attempting to forge a contract similar to the one he had imposed on Kim Kyung-hwan himself.
Aah, he is indeed a diabolical individual beyond imagination. How the hell did he contact the government? Kim Kyung-hwan wondered to himself.
There was one more revelation Kim Kyung-hwan had gleaned from the contract. Compared to the magic embedded in the contract he had signed previously, this one exuded a more potent energy. It even hinted at the potential inclusion of mana for additional functionalities beyond the contract’s scope. Yet, he couldn’t voice this observation. Revealing the comparison would inadvertently expose the existence of his own contract, subjecting him to immediate penalties.
So, Kim Kyung-hwan maintained his conversation with the high-ranking government officials, skillfully concealing certain critical details.
***
After a while, the President proposed a short break. A National Intelligence Service agent, already in attendance, approached Kim Kyung-hwan as if he had been waiting and found a suitable pretext to escort him outside.
During Kim Kyung-hwan’s brief absence, most government officials remained in the situation room, engaging in hushed conversations.
“Mr. President, I can’t help but think it’s far too risky to sign that document!” voiced one concerned official.
“There’s simply no alternative at this point,” the President responded resolutely.
The situation had taken a worrisome turn. China had detected the presence of a wizard named Yoon Min-joon and was actively attempting to intervene. The United States, though not confirmed, had likely picked up on it as well.
South Korea’s unique advantage lay in their ability to contact the wizard. The President’s gaze remained fixed on the contract resting on the table.
He claimed that if we signed over there, we could establish contact. The President steeled his resolve before speaking.
“We now understand the capabilities of this wizard, we’ve witnessed the incident, and we’ve identified him. Leaving him unattended in this situation simply doesn’t make sense. We must, at the very least, ascertain his motives and intentions. We should strive to align our interests and prevent conflicts stemming from our ignorance of this adversary,” the President asserted with conviction.
“He wields more power than any wizard in history. The circumstances with China and the United States are extraordinary. They’re undoubtedly coveting him. What if they attempt to locate Yoon Min-joon and compel him to cooperate?” he continued.
The President’s unease extended beyond the mere loss of a powerful wizard.
“Their approach could be considerably more aggressive than ours. Furthermore, there’s a strong likelihood that the location will be within our territory. This puts our people’s lives and the security of our nation at grave risk. While foreign governments might prioritize differently, for us, it’s the utmost priority we can’t afford to relinquish. To safeguard this, we must take the initiative,” he concluded.
The President contemplated. An entity capable of obliterating a city in under a minute. Given that this wizard was a citizen of their nation and was currently believed to be within Korean borders, what course of action made the most sense? President Kang Min-ki reached a decision.
“He’s already given us a means to contact him. We can’t simply let it slip away,” he asserted.
“Then who should be the one to sign it?” someone inquired.
Kim Kyung-hwan had already foreseen the magical effect that would befall the signer upon completing the contract.
The risk was undeniable. The President was prepared to shoulder all responsibility for his decision. However, it didn’t mean that the President should directly affix his signature to this unidentified object.
The President couldn’t personally lead a special forces mission or take control of fighter jets just because he was the ultimate authority responsible for the war. If the President were to sign this document and, by some unfortunate chance, lose his life or get brainwashed while serving as the head of state and South Korean military commander-in-chief, it would spell an even greater disaster for the nation.
“Let’s determine who should sign and select an appropriate individual from among our government personnel. We should also make contingency plans for any unexpected outcomes. I fervently hope that such misfortune never occurs, but I also hope for prudence and success,” the President suggested.
With these instructions delivered, they awaited Kim Kyung-hwan’s return to the situation room. There remained one more matter to address.
Indications suggested that China was attempting to establish contact with Kim Kyung-hwan. There was a growing suspicion that there might be a connection between Yoon Min-joon and Kim Kyung-hwan. For the government to grasp the situation, the sole commonality between the two was their Korean nationality and their status as wizards.
Unfortunately, in this complex situation, the matter of contact had become an issue that couldn’t be ignored.
Yoon Min-joon and Kim Kyung-hwan stood out as the only two wizards in the country who had maintained both their physical and mental well-being. Yoon Min-joon was widely regarded as the most exceptional human wizard globally, while Kim Kyung-hwan was recognized as the government’s fastest-rising prodigy among trainees.
At this juncture, the government harbored suspicions as well. Though it was largely a matter of procedure, they had once intended to personally check it with Kim Kyung-hwan himself.
***
Kim Kyung-hwan returned to the situation room.
Numerous eyes were fixed upon him. Remaining composed, the young wizard located his seat and settled down.
A grave expression adorned Kim Kyung-hwan’s face, yet he didn’t feel overwhelmed even as he observed the nation’s top leaders gazing at him.
While he recognized the President and the head of the National Intelligence Service, most of the others were unfamiliar faces. Kim Kyung-hwan surmised they held significant ranks, given their collective presence. Knowing that, he just felt the elders dressed in suits and military uniforms sitting together.
Come to think of it, I’ve grown stronger. Kim Kyung-hwan mused to himself.
It was unthinkable compared to the days when he dropped out of high school and remained a recluse. For a considerable time, Kim Kyung-hwan had grappled with social anxiety, often succumbing to the urge to flee from attention.
It was unthinkable compared to the days when he dropped out of high school and remained a recluse. For a considerable time, Kim Kyung-hwan had grappled with social anxiety, often succumbing to the urge to flee from attention. The weight of their status and symbolism overwhelmed him.
Yet, Kim Kyung-hwan marveled at his current self, devoid of any anxiety, even when he now commanded the attention of the nation’s leaders.
In Hun-neung, I used to look down upon Kaifu instructors and trainees who could use magic, ignoring them. But here, in front of these elderly individuals without mana, I felt tension and nervousness. Kim Kyung-hwan recalled his days in Hun-neung.
Things were different recently. Despite having forcibly dismantled the self-confidence built on illusions and dispelling the arrogance that had gripped him, Kim Kyung-hwan felt no intimidation.
The experiences he had amassed were too peculiar and harsh for him to shrink from ordinary humans whose sole claim to status was their high rank.
Putting everyone else aside, their presences are different. Kim Kyung-hwan pondered.
In his mind, Kyung-Hwan Kim recalled the presence of Eraser he had encountered, the aura beyond the crimson sky that shrouded Hun-neung, and the appearance of Carraderina on the Busan Channel. In comparison, these people seemed smaller than ants.
As Kim Kyung-hwan was engrossed in these thoughts, the head of the National Intelligence Service raised an urgent matter.
“As a matter of fact, there’s one more thing to discuss with Wizard Kim Kyung-hwan today,” the head of the National Intelligence Service declared.
The 100-inch TV screen at the front of the situation room switched, seemingly signaling something.
“Who’s that?” Kim Kyung-hwan asked, puzzled by the intention. The immense screen showed a young man’s photo and personal details.
As he scrutinized the face on the massive screen, Kim Kyung-hwan muttered to himself. What’s wrong with him looking so gloomy?
The photo on the screen exuded a dark energy reminiscent of the time he’d spent holed up in his home, refusing to go to school. It carried an eerie feeling, much like that of individuals who led reclusive lives indoors.
“Do you recognize this person?” the head of the National Intelligence Service inquired.
Kim Kyung-hwan shook his head, and the expressions of those observing him seemed to shift oddly.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Kim Kyung-hwan replied.
In his thoughts, he mused. Those eyes look incredibly despondent. He’s around my age, but his face reflects someone who’s lost all hope.
“Take a moment to think. Have you ever crossed paths with him or had a conversation?” the head of the National Intelligence Service pressed.
Kim Kyung-hwan fell silent for a moment, sifting through his memories.
“I can’t say for sure whether we’ve accidentally crossed paths, but I don’t recall.”
Upon hearing his response, the head of the National Intelligence Service maintained a serious demeanor and continued, “That young man’s name is Yoon Min-joon. He is a citizen of the Republic of Korea.”
Kim Kyung-hwan regarded the head of the National Intelligence Service with an expression that seemed to convey, “So what?”
“Have you never heard of this name?” the head of National Intelligence Service inquired further.
“It’s a common name, but I don’t know anyone by that name,” Kim Kyung-hwan replied.
Senior officials and soldiers gathered in the control room exchanged glances. Then the head of the National Intelligence Service signaled, and the screen changed.
“Busan?” Kim Kyung-hwan questioned.
The new video displayed a scene that Kim Kyung-hwan found familiar. It was the severely damaged city of Busan.
One notable difference from the previously broadcasted videos was that the Busan he saw now was not a city undergoing restoration after the destructive event but a city still in the midst of destruction.
Kim Kyung-hwan realized. This was footage from the Busan incident.
The video resonated with a thunderous sound. In the sky, something resembling octopus tentacles, a mixture of blue and gray, lashed out like whips. As a result, the city’s streets cracked, and buildings crumbled.
“The only thing the press reported was footage taken from a distance. The city’s destruction was attributed to an unidentified tentacle-like extraterrestrial race.”
Kim Kyung-hwan wondered. That’s all I know. So, does it mean there was something hidden?
The video shifted to the next scene, a close-up of the previous shot. It revealed the source of those tentacles.
“Huh? What is that?” Kim Kyung-hwan blurted out without realizing it. “Isn’t that a person?”
The head of the National Intelligence Service nodded. “A tentacle emerged from the chest of a man floating in the air, and it was responsible for moving and wreaking havoc upon the city. This information is highly classified and has not been disclosed to the media.”
Kim Kyung-hwan was left in shock. The primary cause of the Busan incident was not an extraterrestrial race but a person?
The calm voice of the Head of the National Intelligence Service was soon followed by his explanation.
“It’s impossible to read his face with this image right now,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service calmly stated. “However, our government managed to obtain that person’s details through another source.”
“Is that… real?” Kim Kyung-hwan asked in disbelief.
“The person who appeared above Busan is a young man named Yoon Min-joon, the same one you just saw,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service clarified.
Kim Kyung-hwan’s thoughts were in turmoil.
“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense!” he exclaimed. It was hard to believe that a person could do such a thing.
Even if he’s a wizard, it’s common sense that... Oh, wait! At that moment, a thought flashed through his mind. No, that’s impossible!
He tried to deny the words of the Head of the National Intelligence Service as they echoed in his ear.
“Our government recently attempted to contact Yoon Min-joon, but he disappeared, leaving only that one contract,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service continued, his tone growing more serious.
Kim Kyung-hwan stared at the contract on the table with bewildered eyes. The government was now revealing to him how that contract had been obtained. However, the identity of the other person was completely different from what he had imagined.
Impossible! Kim Kyung-hwan felt on the verge of fainting, his thoughts circling like a squirrel.
It was unmistakably Eraser who had made this contract. Yet, the government had received this contract from Yoon Min-joon, an unremarkable guy of the same age as him. And it turned out that he was the cause of the Busan incident.
Eraser was human.
Yes, Eraser was human.
A human.
“Oh, my God!” Kim Kyung-hwan exclaimed, his voice filled with shock.
After pondering all this, Kim Kyung-hwan was overwhelmed with frustration at the reality he could no longer deny.
Even though he’s human, wasn’t he an unidentified recluse who had lived in isolation from history for hundreds of years? But with a registered birth in Korea and a registered family… Moreover, the same age as me?!
The conversations he had had with Eraser ran through his mind.
Happiness and a sense of superiority in the fact that Eraser had chosen only him from all of humanity. Respect and admiration for Eraser’s incredible power and knowledge that surpassed his own understanding.
Then one day, the night of Hun-neung arrived like a nightmare. After that day, he came to realize the truth—even the fear he held towards Eraser.
A jumble of arrogant memories and emotions swirled within him.
In the end, Kim Kyung-hwan let out a silent scream, his face contorted with an expression that conveyed a mix of anger and despair. That guy who is the same age as me… is Eraser?!
The National Intelligence Service agent had escorted Kim Kyung-hwan to the bunker beneath the Blue House, leading him to the situation room of the National Crisis Management Center.
Inside the situation room, high-ranking officials and generals had gathered, including President Kang Min-ki, the heads of the National Security Office and the Foreign Affairs and Security Office, the head of National Intelligence Service, the Joint Chiefs of Staff leader, the Minister of National Defense, the Prime Minister, and the chief of the secretary’s office.
“Welcome, Wizard Kim Kyung-hwan,” the President greeted.
Once Kim Kyung-hwan had taken his seat, they delved into the discussion centered around the contract resting on the table.
“It’s certain that this contract possesses magic,” affirmed the President.
Kim Kyung-hwan acknowledged the President’s statement with a nod and responded, “Indeed. Most likely, the signer will be compelled to adhere to the contract’s terms. Violating it would almost certainly trigger the stated penalties.”
It’s not just a probability; it’s an absolute certainty. Kim Kyung-hwan mused internally. This assertion stemmed from his prior experience with a similar contract. However, due to the contract’s binding provisions, Kim Kyung-hwan couldn’t reveal its details. Thus, he presented his insights as mere speculation, deliberately omitting his own involvement. It’s risky to delve into further details!
When the government had requested an analysis of the contract, they had not disclosed how they had obtained it. Nevertheless, Kim Kyung-hwan hadn’t inquired or pondered the matter, as the unique mana pattern imprinted on the contract was all too familiar to him.
From the moment he laid eyes on the contract, he already knew. It was Eraser. He was sure Eraser made this contract.
That certainty had exhilarated him. An enigmatic figure, masquerading as an extraterrestrial race, had approached the government, attempting to forge a contract similar to the one he had imposed on Kim Kyung-hwan himself.
Aah, he is indeed a diabolical individual beyond imagination. How the hell did he contact the government? Kim Kyung-hwan wondered to himself.
There was one more revelation Kim Kyung-hwan had gleaned from the contract. Compared to the magic embedded in the contract he had signed previously, this one exuded a more potent energy. It even hinted at the potential inclusion of mana for additional functionalities beyond the contract’s scope. Yet, he couldn’t voice this observation. Revealing the comparison would inadvertently expose the existence of his own contract, subjecting him to immediate penalties.
So, Kim Kyung-hwan maintained his conversation with the high-ranking government officials, skillfully concealing certain critical details.
***
After a while, the President proposed a short break. A National Intelligence Service agent, already in attendance, approached Kim Kyung-hwan as if he had been waiting and found a suitable pretext to escort him outside.
During Kim Kyung-hwan’s brief absence, most government officials remained in the situation room, engaging in hushed conversations.
“Mr. President, I can’t help but think it’s far too risky to sign that document!” voiced one concerned official.
“There’s simply no alternative at this point,” the President responded resolutely.
The situation had taken a worrisome turn. China had detected the presence of a wizard named Yoon Min-joon and was actively attempting to intervene. The United States, though not confirmed, had likely picked up on it as well.
South Korea’s unique advantage lay in their ability to contact the wizard. The President’s gaze remained fixed on the contract resting on the table.
He claimed that if we signed over there, we could establish contact. The President steeled his resolve before speaking.
“We now understand the capabilities of this wizard, we’ve witnessed the incident, and we’ve identified him. Leaving him unattended in this situation simply doesn’t make sense. We must, at the very least, ascertain his motives and intentions. We should strive to align our interests and prevent conflicts stemming from our ignorance of this adversary,” the President asserted with conviction.
“He wields more power than any wizard in history. The circumstances with China and the United States are extraordinary. They’re undoubtedly coveting him. What if they attempt to locate Yoon Min-joon and compel him to cooperate?” he continued.
The President’s unease extended beyond the mere loss of a powerful wizard.
“Their approach could be considerably more aggressive than ours. Furthermore, there’s a strong likelihood that the location will be within our territory. This puts our people’s lives and the security of our nation at grave risk. While foreign governments might prioritize differently, for us, it’s the utmost priority we can’t afford to relinquish. To safeguard this, we must take the initiative,” he concluded.
The President contemplated. An entity capable of obliterating a city in under a minute. Given that this wizard was a citizen of their nation and was currently believed to be within Korean borders, what course of action made the most sense? President Kang Min-ki reached a decision.
“He’s already given us a means to contact him. We can’t simply let it slip away,” he asserted.
“Then who should be the one to sign it?” someone inquired.
Kim Kyung-hwan had already foreseen the magical effect that would befall the signer upon completing the contract.
The risk was undeniable. The President was prepared to shoulder all responsibility for his decision. However, it didn’t mean that the President should directly affix his signature to this unidentified object.
The President couldn’t personally lead a special forces mission or take control of fighter jets just because he was the ultimate authority responsible for the war. If the President were to sign this document and, by some unfortunate chance, lose his life or get brainwashed while serving as the head of state and South Korean military commander-in-chief, it would spell an even greater disaster for the nation.
“Let’s determine who should sign and select an appropriate individual from among our government personnel. We should also make contingency plans for any unexpected outcomes. I fervently hope that such misfortune never occurs, but I also hope for prudence and success,” the President suggested.
With these instructions delivered, they awaited Kim Kyung-hwan’s return to the situation room. There remained one more matter to address.
Indications suggested that China was attempting to establish contact with Kim Kyung-hwan. There was a growing suspicion that there might be a connection between Yoon Min-joon and Kim Kyung-hwan. For the government to grasp the situation, the sole commonality between the two was their Korean nationality and their status as wizards.
Unfortunately, in this complex situation, the matter of contact had become an issue that couldn’t be ignored.
Yoon Min-joon and Kim Kyung-hwan stood out as the only two wizards in the country who had maintained both their physical and mental well-being. Yoon Min-joon was widely regarded as the most exceptional human wizard globally, while Kim Kyung-hwan was recognized as the government’s fastest-rising prodigy among trainees.
At this juncture, the government harbored suspicions as well. Though it was largely a matter of procedure, they had once intended to personally check it with Kim Kyung-hwan himself.
***
Kim Kyung-hwan returned to the situation room.
Numerous eyes were fixed upon him. Remaining composed, the young wizard located his seat and settled down.
A grave expression adorned Kim Kyung-hwan’s face, yet he didn’t feel overwhelmed even as he observed the nation’s top leaders gazing at him.
While he recognized the President and the head of the National Intelligence Service, most of the others were unfamiliar faces. Kim Kyung-hwan surmised they held significant ranks, given their collective presence. Knowing that, he just felt the elders dressed in suits and military uniforms sitting together.
Come to think of it, I’ve grown stronger. Kim Kyung-hwan mused to himself.
It was unthinkable compared to the days when he dropped out of high school and remained a recluse. For a considerable time, Kim Kyung-hwan had grappled with social anxiety, often succumbing to the urge to flee from attention.
It was unthinkable compared to the days when he dropped out of high school and remained a recluse. For a considerable time, Kim Kyung-hwan had grappled with social anxiety, often succumbing to the urge to flee from attention. The weight of their status and symbolism overwhelmed him.
Yet, Kim Kyung-hwan marveled at his current self, devoid of any anxiety, even when he now commanded the attention of the nation’s leaders.
In Hun-neung, I used to look down upon Kaifu instructors and trainees who could use magic, ignoring them. But here, in front of these elderly individuals without mana, I felt tension and nervousness. Kim Kyung-hwan recalled his days in Hun-neung.
Things were different recently. Despite having forcibly dismantled the self-confidence built on illusions and dispelling the arrogance that had gripped him, Kim Kyung-hwan felt no intimidation.
The experiences he had amassed were too peculiar and harsh for him to shrink from ordinary humans whose sole claim to status was their high rank.
Putting everyone else aside, their presences are different. Kim Kyung-hwan pondered.
In his mind, Kyung-Hwan Kim recalled the presence of Eraser he had encountered, the aura beyond the crimson sky that shrouded Hun-neung, and the appearance of Carraderina on the Busan Channel. In comparison, these people seemed smaller than ants.
As Kim Kyung-hwan was engrossed in these thoughts, the head of the National Intelligence Service raised an urgent matter.
“As a matter of fact, there’s one more thing to discuss with Wizard Kim Kyung-hwan today,” the head of the National Intelligence Service declared.
The 100-inch TV screen at the front of the situation room switched, seemingly signaling something.
“Who’s that?” Kim Kyung-hwan asked, puzzled by the intention. The immense screen showed a young man’s photo and personal details.
As he scrutinized the face on the massive screen, Kim Kyung-hwan muttered to himself. What’s wrong with him looking so gloomy?
The photo on the screen exuded a dark energy reminiscent of the time he’d spent holed up in his home, refusing to go to school. It carried an eerie feeling, much like that of individuals who led reclusive lives indoors.
“Do you recognize this person?” the head of the National Intelligence Service inquired.
Kim Kyung-hwan shook his head, and the expressions of those observing him seemed to shift oddly.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Kim Kyung-hwan replied.
In his thoughts, he mused. Those eyes look incredibly despondent. He’s around my age, but his face reflects someone who’s lost all hope.
“Take a moment to think. Have you ever crossed paths with him or had a conversation?” the head of the National Intelligence Service pressed.
Kim Kyung-hwan fell silent for a moment, sifting through his memories.
“I can’t say for sure whether we’ve accidentally crossed paths, but I don’t recall.”
Upon hearing his response, the head of the National Intelligence Service maintained a serious demeanor and continued, “That young man’s name is Yoon Min-joon. He is a citizen of the Republic of Korea.”
Kim Kyung-hwan regarded the head of the National Intelligence Service with an expression that seemed to convey, “So what?”
“Have you never heard of this name?” the head of National Intelligence Service inquired further.
“It’s a common name, but I don’t know anyone by that name,” Kim Kyung-hwan replied.
Senior officials and soldiers gathered in the control room exchanged glances. Then the head of the National Intelligence Service signaled, and the screen changed.
“Busan?” Kim Kyung-hwan questioned.
The new video displayed a scene that Kim Kyung-hwan found familiar. It was the severely damaged city of Busan.
One notable difference from the previously broadcasted videos was that the Busan he saw now was not a city undergoing restoration after the destructive event but a city still in the midst of destruction.
Kim Kyung-hwan realized. This was footage from the Busan incident.
The video resonated with a thunderous sound. In the sky, something resembling octopus tentacles, a mixture of blue and gray, lashed out like whips. As a result, the city’s streets cracked, and buildings crumbled.
“The only thing the press reported was footage taken from a distance. The city’s destruction was attributed to an unidentified tentacle-like extraterrestrial race.”
Kim Kyung-hwan wondered. That’s all I know. So, does it mean there was something hidden?
The video shifted to the next scene, a close-up of the previous shot. It revealed the source of those tentacles.
“Huh? What is that?” Kim Kyung-hwan blurted out without realizing it. “Isn’t that a person?”
The head of the National Intelligence Service nodded. “A tentacle emerged from the chest of a man floating in the air, and it was responsible for moving and wreaking havoc upon the city. This information is highly classified and has not been disclosed to the media.”
Kim Kyung-hwan was left in shock. The primary cause of the Busan incident was not an extraterrestrial race but a person?
The calm voice of the Head of the National Intelligence Service was soon followed by his explanation.
“It’s impossible to read his face with this image right now,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service calmly stated. “However, our government managed to obtain that person’s details through another source.”
“Is that… real?” Kim Kyung-hwan asked in disbelief.
“The person who appeared above Busan is a young man named Yoon Min-joon, the same one you just saw,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service clarified.
Kim Kyung-hwan’s thoughts were in turmoil.
“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense!” he exclaimed. It was hard to believe that a person could do such a thing.
Even if he’s a wizard, it’s common sense that... Oh, wait! At that moment, a thought flashed through his mind. No, that’s impossible!
He tried to deny the words of the Head of the National Intelligence Service as they echoed in his ear.
“Our government recently attempted to contact Yoon Min-joon, but he disappeared, leaving only that one contract,” the Head of the National Intelligence Service continued, his tone growing more serious.
Kim Kyung-hwan stared at the contract on the table with bewildered eyes. The government was now revealing to him how that contract had been obtained. However, the identity of the other person was completely different from what he had imagined.
Impossible! Kim Kyung-hwan felt on the verge of fainting, his thoughts circling like a squirrel.
It was unmistakably Eraser who had made this contract. Yet, the government had received this contract from Yoon Min-joon, an unremarkable guy of the same age as him. And it turned out that he was the cause of the Busan incident.
Eraser was human.
Yes, Eraser was human.
A human.
“Oh, my God!” Kim Kyung-hwan exclaimed, his voice filled with shock.
After pondering all this, Kim Kyung-hwan was overwhelmed with frustration at the reality he could no longer deny.
Even though he’s human, wasn’t he an unidentified recluse who had lived in isolation from history for hundreds of years? But with a registered birth in Korea and a registered family… Moreover, the same age as me?!
The conversations he had had with Eraser ran through his mind.
Happiness and a sense of superiority in the fact that Eraser had chosen only him from all of humanity. Respect and admiration for Eraser’s incredible power and knowledge that surpassed his own understanding.
Then one day, the night of Hun-neung arrived like a nightmare. After that day, he came to realize the truth—even the fear he held towards Eraser.
A jumble of arrogant memories and emotions swirled within him.
In the end, Kim Kyung-hwan let out a silent scream, his face contorted with an expression that conveyed a mix of anger and despair. That guy who is the same age as me… is Eraser?!
