Chapter 72

“It really is you, Hayan.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then what’s your name?”

“Blackie.”¹

We met in front of a Hambugi franchise near Ground Zero.

Even though I was wearing a newly bought mask shaped like a swirling black vortex, she recognized me instantly.

If she were just a typical believer of the Outer God of Salvation, she would’ve made a scene about having divine insight or receiving a revelation from her Outer God.

But since she knew my true abilities, she didn’t look the slightest bit surprised.

“You really look like Patel right now. You know, that dark mage…”

“…”

“Hayan? Why are you shaking like that?”

“I–It must be because this style’s trendy these days! Anyway, let’s get to the payment first!”

I was, of course, not shaken.

As promised, I got a Hambugi Set out of it.

True to Seoul’s reputation for franchises that reflect demonic trends faster than the Administration Bureau, the latest toy included in the meal was a ‘Descendant of the Dream Demon, Norkel’ figure powered by a mana stone.

My real goal was the 500,000 Blue Mana Stones that came as an in-game currency coupon for Monster War, included with the toy. So I offered the figure to my constellation.

Clang! Clank!

As my Outer God began wrestling with the Norkel figure that had started moving on its own inside my sleeve, Moon Ah-rin asked just as I was about to bite into my burger.

“So, what exactly are you planning to do now?”

“Well, since it seems you burdened by your current reputation, I plan to lower people’s expectations a little.”

“You do realize that this whole situation is your fault, right?”

“It’s not very admirable to shift blame onto others. I—no, he merely helped you awaken your latent instincts, fufu.”

As I pulled my hood lower and spread my arms dramatically, a few nearby customers flinched and whispered whether they should call the Special Unit.

She wasn’t wrong. It was me who turned Moon Ah-rin into the Saint of Salvation.

At first, it was simply because I needed someone to take ownership of the Tartaruga, and she just happened to be there at the right time.

But as time passed, her value skyrocketed. Before we knew it, she’d become one of the Special Unit’s key assets—something even she now seemed conflicted about.

Every time I saw her, it made me sick with envy. Just hearing her name somewhere was enough to ruin my sleep. Still, I decided it was time to bring her reputation back down to earth.

And luckily, I had just the plan for it.

“I’ll say this in advance—don’t ruin my reputation. No spreading weird rumors, or like last time, dumping your own mess on me.”

“Don’t worry, nothing like that will happen this time. Just sign here first.”

“What’s this?”

“A written agreement stating that you won’t hold me responsible for anything that happens.”

Moon Ah-rin hesitated but eventually signed, looking uneasy. I pocketed the agreement and pulled out another piece of paper from inside my robe.

“What’s this?”

“A travel ticket.”

“Where did you even get something like this?”

“I received it by… coincidence.”

It was a hot spring trip ticket I’d gotten from No Yeon-hwa—a ticket that required two people to share one room.

Apparently, she’d “coincidentally” won it at a street raffle, and since all her friends “just happened” to be busy, she had no choice but to pass it on to me.

At first, I doubted she even had friends, but after listening to her whisper for nearly two hours, I concluded that “No Yeon-hwa had no reason to lie to me,” “everything she said was true,” and “a man and woman sharing a room on a hot spring trip wasn’t strange at all.”

Now that the Gyeongbu Line restoration was finished and we finally had time off, I would’ve loved to go myself.

But for this plan, the one who needed to stay out of sight wasn’t me—it was Moon Ah-rin. So, holding back tears, I handed it to her.

Because…

“For the next three days, I’ll be acting in your place, Ah-rin.”

I was going to live as Moon Ah-rin, using the Tentacle of Mimicry.

It was much more effective to become her myself and break people’s delusions firsthand, rather than letting weird rumors spread behind my back.

“What!? How are you going to do that?”

“The details are a trade secret. By the time you come back, you’ll be able to return to a normal life, so don’t worry—just enjoy your trip.”

And so, after taking her smartwatch, I began my operation the next day.

The Saint of Salvation’s first task of the day—was to attend dawn prayer at 4:30 a.m., before sunrise.

『Fear not?』

“I’m trying to lower expectations, yet I’m going to morning prayer?”

I usually stayed up late gaming on my smartwatch and woke up around lunchtime, but today I got ready with unusual energy.

My Outer God, who had crawled out of my sleeve, frowned. The robe’s texture must’ve felt different, and seeing me this lively clearly unsettled her.

“If someone who prays every morning suddenly stops showing up for a few days, what do you think people would say?”

At worst, they’d assume she was busy—or maybe she overslept.

Since Moon Ah-rin was part of the Special Unit and often called for urgent or classified missions, people would easily understand her absence.

“The public’s expectations for the Saint of Salvation are so high that a little flaw won’t even scratch it. To really shatter their illusions, I’ll at least have to drop a 500-won coin into the offering box.”

『Fear… not…?』

My Outer God was clearly horrified that I, someone who had never once joined morning training in my life, was getting up this early over something so petty.

If even the Lord of the Void and Master of All Tentacles feared my plan, that only proved how wicked it was.

With the blood-red 500-won coin in my pocket, I headed to the Gangnam branch of the Salvation Prayer House—one of the largest in Seoul.

Since the ‘Outer God of Salvation’ was connected to the White Tower, Moon Ah-rin sightings were a regular occurrence there.

“The Saint has arrived!”

“Oh, no, that title’s too much for me.”

“I heard from Deputy Commander Shim Ha-yul that you’ve been conducting confessions for the Special Unit lately. If it’s not too much trouble, could we ask for your time after the service as well?”

Ugh. I only came here to drop a coin in the offering box, but now I was getting roped into work.

Still, I had promised not to outright curse or ruin Moon Ah-rin’s reputation, so I couldn’t refuse.

“Of course.”

“Truly?”

“Tending to believers is part of my duty. I’m the one grateful for this opportunity, especially as a member of the Tower.”

“Ohh…! As expected of the Saint!”

So, like it or not, I ended up sitting in the confessional after the prayer, offering “counsel.”

Even though I’d been on Earth for quite some time now, I still struggled with social interactions.

So I’d just post what the believers said in the Special Unit Bamboo Forest forum and give them whatever advice the comments suggested.

Before leaving, I made sure to drop the 500-won coin directly into the offering box.

“Thank you for your service, Saint.”

“Oh, no, thank you. Here’s today’s donation.”

“Ah…! Saint, wait—what’s this—?”

“I’ll be going now! I’ll be late for work!”

Ignoring the Prayer House director trying to stop me, I rushed toward the Ability Management Bureau—arriving exactly on time.

The first thing I did after scanning the access card was attend the morning meeting under Moon Ah-rin’s name.

The Gyeongbu Line restoration had been a success, but there were still small issues scattered across the route.

The meeting was led by Park Mu-cheol, the deputy commander of Division 2.

Since it was a gathering of executives, not a formal briefing, he spoke with a casual tone.

“We’ve temporarily secured the safety of the railway zones, but maintaining that stability is another matter. Especially in areas that old guilds avoided—those could easily be retaken by monsters.”

“Wouldn’t it help to dispatch some of our members for management?”

“There aren’t many who can stay outside Seoul for long. And since Daegu is close to the Busan border, it’s too far—sending the Special Unit there every time wouldn’t be efficient.”

When the Gyeongbu Line was first restored, the Administration offered guilds local autonomy in exchange for managing nearby Gates.

That deal allowed guilds to claim the resources—and more importantly, ownership—of those Gates, so many responded positively.

Still, even if every Seoul guild marched south, conquering every Gate across the country would take time.

And honestly, there was already plenty of profit to be had nearby, so few were willing to risk heading as far as Busan.

Especially since Daegu had recently seen the appearance of the Archduke of Fire, most guilds wanted nothing to do with it.

“The ideal solution would be to deploy more of the Red Tower’s improved siege turrets. But as you all know, there’s one big problem.”

“What is it?”

“Money, obviously.”

Siege turrets didn’t come cheap.

Each one cost at least ten billion won.

Back during my entrance test, Cheon So-baek himself had said it would take tens of billions just to repair the turret I broke.

Even if the head of the Firepower Support Unit also served as the Red Tower’s vice master, manufacturing those things demanded an absurd amount of resources.

In short, the Ability Management Bureau needed more tax revenue to keep the Gyeongbu Line operational.

“Commander Ha Yeri will probably propose a budget bill to the Assembly, but the amount’s too big—they’ll likely reject it. So, anyone have a better idea?”

“Another way to make money…”

“What about auctioning off some of the Gates owned by the Bureau?”

“Not a bad idea. Some of them still hold economic value.”

The Bureau wasn’t a profit-driven organization, but if it wanted to, there were plenty of ways to make money—like reclaiming funds from criminal organizations or selling Special Unit day-pass experiences.

As everyone shared their opinions, I struggled to keep my head from drooping lower and lower.

Promise or not, these long bureaucratic meetings were unbearable.

Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one fighting off sleep.

The Deputy Commander of the Archduke Extermination Unit—Spear of Lightning, Kang Cho-won—was clearly nodding off too.

“Deputy Commander Kang Cho-won. You seem deep in thought—care to share?”

“Huh? Me? You mean me?”

Caught off guard, he quickly wiped the drool from his chin and pretended nothing happened.

Then, as if struck by inspiration, he clapped his hands and shouted.

“I’ve got it! A great idea!”

“What is it?”

“What if we rent out equipment obtained from Gates to civilians and charge a usage fee? I heard we’ve got plenty of relics collecting dust in the Special Unit storage!”

What!?

His words jolted me fully awake—tentacles I’d been counting in my sleep snapping to attention.

“Hmm, not a bad suggestion. It might not raise funds immediately, but it could become a long-term business model.”

“There’s the issue of potential theft. How would you handle that?”

“Oh, easy! Just slap them with massive fines if they get caught—”

“That’s not allowed!!”

I shot to my feet and cut him off before he could finish.

There was no way I could let that proposal pass—not when I was wearing the Elder Lich’s robe I’d acquired during the irregular Gate incident.

“Who are you?”

“Uh, pardon?”

“Where’s Hayan?”

“Oh, um…”

At that same moment—

Moon Ah-rin was meeting No Yeon-hwa at the bus terminal where the hot spring tour was set to depart.

When Yeon-hwa heard that Hayan had sent her in her place, she froze as if struck in the head, then let out a long sigh.

That reaction wasn’t unfamiliar—it was exactly how Moon Ah-rin herself would respond whenever Hayan did something completely unexpected.

“I messed up. I should’ve added a command spell saying ‘Don’t ever transfer the ticket to anyone else.’”

“A… command spell?”

“Not directed at you, so don’t worry. Anyway, what do we do now?”

Though both were part of the Special Unit, they were from different divisions and had never been assigned to the same mission.

They only knew each other by name and face, and weren’t even smartwatch contacts. So the two women just stood there awkwardly, staring at each other at the bus stop.

It was No Yeon-hwa who finally broke the silence.

“I already took vacation leave. And from what you’ve said, you’re not supposed to be seen wandering around outside right now, right?”

“Yes… that’s right.”

“Then… want to go? To the hot spring?”

Feeling an odd sense of shared misfortune, the two of them set off on a strangely awkward trip together.