Chapter 702 – The Right to Know (2)

How miserable people can be.

“Grandfell, you…”

I stared into your Evil Eyes reflecting Seoul, suppressing my emotions.
In the end, I pushed everything onto you again—because of my own lack of ability.

‘If only I’d been a bit more thorough.’

If I had sensed the signs sooner and hunted Agares down decisively—
or at least noticed the wrongness in you when you appeared—
then Agares’s authority would never have turned upon you.

‘Why do you go this far?’

The mire of emotion.
What dragged me to the deepest depths was the memories of previous iterations.
Thanks to the recovered arrangements, I remembered dimly—
in every cycle, it was always me, Lee Hoyeol, who committed the sins.

“They say you have no pride.”

It was me who led the Arcana continent to ruin.
Me who became a butcher remembered throughout history.
Me who betrayed everyone in the very end.

All of it—my choices.

And yet, at the end of every cycle, it was always you, Grandfell,
who took on the role of the villain.
At least, in every cycle I remember, you…

“Over and over, again and again…”

You bore the sins in my stead.
And perhaps that’s why I’m sinking deeper into these emotions—
because I’m beginning to see the truth of the “setting.”

“I was such a fool to think so simply.”

Scribbles in a notebook don’t become reality.
Unless, of course, you were the one shouldering my actions from the previous cycle.
That’s why I could only grit my teeth.

“How absurd.”

The reason I could be your only understanding ally—
wasn’t because I was special.
Paradoxically, Grandfell, it was because you were my only understanding ally.
You’re the only one who remembers that Lee Hoyeol is the great sinner
who destroyed countless worlds over and over again.

“Get a hold of yourself…”

I muttered, but my mind wouldn’t return.
It felt twisted inside.
Even now, Seoul was roaring—
burning its endless hatred toward your Evil Eye floating high above,
intoxicated by Agares’s power.

“…Urgh.”

The sight turned my stomach.
It reminded me how weak I truly was.
After all, the reason I was gagging—was because I’d foolishly thought I was the one being hated in your place.

‘You were right.’

You must’ve thought I was like a child left helpless by the riverside.
Though the aftereffects of struggling for dominance with Agares hadn’t faded,
I moved away from the window.

‘I have no intention of collapsing here.’

Now, only one of the Ten Thrones remained, Vasago.
Because of the unearned reward, I came to know Vasago even better.

‘No… not quite.’

It was thanks to you again.
Though I had obtained the title of [Tyrant] and recovered my previous arrangements,
the cost of that fell squarely on you, Grandfell.

In a single word—sacrifice.
So, to keep your sacrifice from being in vain,
my task was simple:

‘To keep the promise we made in the green tea fields.’

For that, Vasago had to be hunted.
The moment I retrieved the arrangement embedded in the Tyrant title,
I recalled fully—Vasago’s true identity.

‘Vasago. That thing’s true form is…’

Knock, knock.

The sound at the door broke my thoughts.
To get the best view of Seoul’s skyline,
I’d unconsciously stepped into the Chief’s office of the Magic Tower.

“There’s no need to announce yourself to outsiders, Marcello.”

From beyond the door, Marcello’s voice answered.

“How could I ever do such a thing, my lord.”

The office was just as I’d left it.

‘Marcello’s consideration, no doubt.’

A gesture of leaving the seat open for my return.
He had even created the title “Honorary Chief” for me, after all.

“Come in.”

There was no real need to wait for permission,
but only when I said the words did Marcello finally open the door.

As expected—

‘Truly remarkable talent.’

Reversal Magic.
I had overturned Marcello and the senior mages—not to defeat them,
but to grant them enlightenment by reversing the flow of their mana.
I’d thought it would take months to adapt, but…

“You seem to have already grown accustomed to the new flow, Marcello.”

At this rate, even reversal magic should be easy for him now.
After all, as the founder of theoretical magic, backward manifestation should be child’s play for him.

But Marcello waved his hand.

“Accustomed? Not at all, my lord.”

I couldn’t help but smile inside.
It was a genuine smile I hadn’t seen from him in previous cycles.
But from the faint look in his eyes, he’d noticed something.

“My lord, your complexion doesn’t seem well.”
“Nothing has changed.”
“No, my lord. You can’t deceive my eyes.”

…Determined, isn’t he?

“You’re very different from your usual self, my lord.”

I hadn’t checked a mirror, but I could guess.
My face probably looked terrible—at least the eyes were surely swollen.

Of course, Marcello wasn’t talking about my appearance alone.
From his perspective, my actions must’ve been incomprehensible—

Breaking into Mugan without permission.
Defeating the Magic Tower’s leadership.
Then fighting the Ten Thrones in Seoul,
and now raising a silver Evil Eye in the sky.

But Marcello, ever the dignified Tower Master, continued.

“Of course, with my limited understanding, I cannot hope to comprehend all of your actions. Even this time, when I collapsed before Mugan, I truly resented you, my lord.”

I remembered that look on his face.

‘Liar. You never meant it.’

Marcello’s face of “true resentment”?
That was the one I’d seen in previous cycles.
So I simply watched him, silently,
as he continued his well-meant lie—for my sake.

“But now, belatedly, I’ve come to understand your true intent. So I humbly ask—no, as Tower Master, I order you, Honorary Chief.”

…Excuse me, Tower Master Marcello?

‘That’s new.’

There was a hint of mischief, but even so, it was a side of him I hadn’t seen.
He pressed on, steadfast.

“Tell me.”

Tell him—

“About you, my lord.”

About me.

“And about that silver evil eye.”

About Grandfell, too.

“I know that as someone who has only just grasped the thread of reversal magic, I’m not yet ready to fully comprehend such knowledge. I know my limits better than anyone. But still—”

Marcello looked straight at me, his eyes unwavering.

“I will understand it. No matter what.”

Then, with sharp resolve, he added:

“Because only then can I follow in your footsteps.”

And I realized—

‘If nothing else, I’m blessed with good people.’

Maybe that was why.
Now that I knew what my past self had done to those who followed me,
I could no longer face them the same way.
I didn’t want to deceive them again.
I didn’t deserve to.

So, colder than ever, I spoke:

“That’s unfortunate, Marcello.”
“…My lord?”

Because—

“You are not qualified.”

I wonder…
when you spoke in this tone,
did you feel the same way I do now?

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.

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Thud.

Outside the Chief’s office, Marcello closed the door behind him and steadied his faltering heart.
Perhaps invoking the Tower Master’s authority had been a mistake.

“When did he even learn the regulations for the Honorary Chief…?”

Naturally, one only feels hurt the first time.
Though he’d been firmly rejected, Marcello wasn’t wounded.
He only felt regret.

‘It is only my own shallow insight that I resent, my lord.’

Because he couldn’t even begin to understand the sorrow in the man’s eyes.
Yet, Marcello still had an opportunity—one he didn’t even realize he possessed.

-“For now, you’re completely cut off from outside news. Naturally, you’re not allowed to leave the Magic Tower, either.”
-“Miss Clee, I’m the Tower Master—surely that’s a bit much…”
-“Keep talking like that, and I will tell Senior Bellier, you know?”

Thanks to Clee’s strict supervision, he had been quarantined in the Healing School’s side chamber.
And because of that, Marcello had not been caught up in Agares’s power.
That meant he still had a chance.

‘A chance to learn what past he bears.’

The past between Hoyeol and Grandfell.
A chance to understand both of them.
And such opportunities often began in the most unexpected places.

“…?”

In the Tower Master’s office, Marcello paused while removing his black robe.
A thin silver strand clung to it.

“Ah.”

It must’ve fallen when the lord left the Chief’s office earlier.
Thinking little of it, Marcello plucked the hair between his fingers—then froze.

“…!”

A faint black aura rippled through the strand—something never seen before.

It would be some time yet before Marcello learned that there existed a thing called “hair dye”
capable of coloring a person’s hair in the real world.

*

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read only on pindang

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Demon World.

“Still, we mustn’t let our guard down.”

A voice from one of the Akshan demon hunters.

“…I give up, this is insane.”

What rhythm are we even supposed to follow here?!

Their very attire reeked of madness—
but their actions and words were even worse.
From talk of favoritism to grief—
now they claimed we were basking in mercy because of it.
And yet, they still warned us not to relax.

“I’d sooner trust you than them.”

Leonie muttered.

Nam Taemin gave a sarcastic laugh.

“Wow. Thanks, I guess.”

Akshan—they inspired so little trust that even Leonie’s rare “compliment” rang hollow.
So why was the Holy War Alliance even following them?

Shahin Dune gave a calm assessment.

“Whatever else they may lack, their bravery isn’t false.”

Indeed, the Akshan were walking several steps ahead, clearing a path through the Demon World.
Now that they had entered the Claudi Territory, none could predict what ordeal awaited next.

At times like this, they truly missed the broken system.

“Ugh, it’s been acting weird since the Mosaic patch.”
“Think that idiot Raymon Sean broke something again?”
“Forget it. The system’s just numbers now anyway.”

Nam Taemin calmed his grumbling guildmates and kept his eyes on the front—then felt it. A strange disturbance.
Instinctively, goosebumps crawled up his skin.

“…It’s coming.”
“Eh? Coming? What is, Master?!”
“Something… unusual.”

Even Shahin, sharp as ever, looked puzzled.

“Strange.”

If it were the Akshan at the lead,
they should’ve sensed it long before even the adventurer Barbarian could.
So why were they saying nothing?

“Those bastards…!”

Just as Leonie and the others turned toward the demon hunters—
one of the Akshan finally spoke.

“So. They’ve finally earned the right to know, have they?”

Still, their words were incomprehensible.

“Though I do wonder if they’ll endure it.”

And then—

“But every great journey begins with a small first step.”

From their lips came that name.

“I wonder… will you truly be able to understand ‘Lee Hoyeol’?”

“…?!!”

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[Entering the curse: “The Last Adventurer, Lee Hoyeol.”]