Chapter 25: The Weight of a Confession

After several tens of seconds, Yoo Hee-ro finally spoke in a low voice.

[—Do you remember last time, when I couldn’t do mentoring because of some tests?]

“Friday? Yeah, I remember.”

He immediately recalled how he had struggled to finish that mentoring report. In the end, Hyerin wrote it for him, but still.

“But that doesn’t really explain why you went to the research wing, does it?”

At Sung Ji-woo’s words, Yoo Hee-ro answered with a timid voice.

[—Actually… this is something I’ve never told anyone before.]

“You mean you going in and out of the research wing?”

[—Yes… I wanted to explain it ahead of time so you wouldn’t misunderstand.]

From the voice coming through the phone, Ji-woo could feel Hee-ro’s emotions clearly. He was terrified. His voice trembled pathetically, like he was barely holding himself together.

What is he about to say…?

[—Please don’t hate me too much for not telling you earlier…]

Hee-ro kept laying down disclaimers, which only made Ji-woo tenser. Holding his breath, he waited for what Hee-ro would say next.

[—I… was born premature.]

“Okay.”

[—Because of that, my ability awakened later than everyone else. And I also suffer from a chronic incurable illness…]

“…I see.”

Hearing Hee-ro calmly confess his secrets made Ji-woo’s heart twist painfully. He hadn’t even heard the full story yet, and he was already regretting questioning him so harshly.

[—My family couldn’t afford treatment. Then a private foundation said they would cover all my medical expenses… in exchange for exclusively researching my illness.]

“No way… don’t tell me—”

[—Yes. That’s why I can enter the research wing. That private foundation is part of the school’s foundation.]

So his instincts had been right. Ji-woo lost his words. He felt as though he had dug into a wound Hee-ro had desperately tried to hide.

[—I became one of their research subjects. And the reason I struggle to control my ability is also because of the illness. I don’t know the details either. Even though it’s my disease, everything is confidential… and they’ve warned me never to talk about it.]

“…And you’re okay telling me something like this?”

At Ji-woo’s sorrow-filled tone, Hee-ro was silent for a moment before answering in a slightly brighter voice.

[—It’s much better to tell you the truth than to be misunderstood and hated. I was too scared to tell you before… maybe I should’ve told you that day instead.]

Just from his voice, Ji-woo could tell how deeply traumatic this was for him. He had held it in for so long, hiding his weakness. And now, for the first time in his life, he was revealing it—to him. Ji-woo’s conscience stabbed him.

I’m an idiot… Why did I let useless doubts take over…

The careless remarks from Shin Yoon-jae and Goo Min-ah had planted seeds of suspicion. And those seeds had grown into confirmation bias rooted in the knowledge that Hee-ro had once been a villain. Somewhere inside, Ji-woo had convinced himself Hee-ro would do something evil again—despite never seeing anything like that from him.

After mentally cursing at himself several times, Ji-woo carefully chose his words. While he stayed quiet, Hee-ro anxiously called out to him multiple times.

[—S… sunbae? Are you listening?]

“Oh—yeah. I’m here. Sorry. Did I scare you?”

Worried that his silence had startled Hee-ro, Ji-woo quickly apologized. He knew that every single word he spoke now would weigh heavily on him. It made it harder to talk—but not talking would only frighten Hee-ro more. Ji-woo sank into deep thought.

This Hee-ro is not the Hee-ro I knew from before.

He repeated that to himself over and over. To never make this mistake again. To never judge the Hee-ro in front of him using a past that wasn’t his.

[—It’s okay. Honestly… I feel relieved telling you. Until now, I never even considered telling anyone. Never thought I’d be able to.]

Who in the world talks like this…

Ji-woo found himself thinking that Hee-ro must have become a villain in his previous life because something had gone terribly wrong.

“…Really?”

[—Yeah. Not even once. I just wish I had met you earlier, sunbae…]

“…I’m nothing special.”

[—To me, you’re truly a ray of light.]

“Well… that’s not entirely wrong.”

He did literally use light, after all. Hearing Hee-ro laugh softly, Ji-woo felt the heaviness in his chest ease a little.

“Thanks for telling me. And I’m sorry. Since you’ve opened up… if things ever get hard, tell me, okay? You’re not in good health, and I’m worried I might’ve made you overwork.”

The moment he said that, the memory of the recent gate incident flashed in his mind.

“You lost control of your ability during that gate. Are you okay now? Your condition didn’t get worse, right?”

[—I went to the research wing a lot during that time. Fortunately, my health didn’t worsen.]

Ji-woo let out the breath he was holding. If Hee-ro’s illness had worsened because of him, he would’ve lost sleep for nights.

[—Actually… I think I’ve been getting better since then. My ability is easier to use now.]

“That’s great. Maybe your body finally learned how to use it properly.”

[—Maybe so.]

Hee-ro once again shyly said it was all thanks to his sunbae, making Ji-woo flustered.

At this rate, he won’t need rehabilitation or anything. He can just graduate peacefully…

Especially if the cause of his villainy had been his childhood trauma and the chronic illness that chained him down all his life. Step by step, he could free himself.

Stop being trapped in the past, and live in the present.

“Hee-ro.”

[—Yes, sunbae?]

“What do you want to be after graduation?”

Ji-woo finally asked. What Hee-ro truly wanted.

[—What about you? What do you want me to be?]

“…Obviously, a hero?”

[—A hero…?]

To Ji-woo, there was no job more fitting for someone living a second life after being a villain.

“Yeah. Your name is Hee-ro—hero—it’s basically fate, right?”

He remembered how shocked he’d been the first time he heard the villain’s name was Yoo Hee-ro. But now, he thought it suited the boy perfectly. He would grow into the meaning of his name.

[—Fate… fate, huh. You’re right. It must be fate.]

Hee-ro murmured in a quiet voice.

Ji-woo thought his words wouldn’t influence Hee-ro that much. After all, Ji-woo had always lived according to his own will. Letting that moment pass so casually would turn out to be one of Ji-woo’s biggest mistakes.

The chapter continues with the guild’s Friday dinner party, comedic banter from the guildmaster, Ji-woo and Min-ah giving hilariously short farewell speeches, the guild begging Min-ah to join after graduation, and the two exhausted interns returning home on the same bus, falling asleep like rocks.

At school, Ji-woo steps off the bus—still half-asleep—only to find himself blocked by a tall figure.

He moves left. The figure moves left.
He moves right. The figure moves right.

A shadow falls over him, and when he finally looks up—

“…Yoo Hee-ro?”

The familiar face is the same.
But the body—was absolutely not the same.

The Hee-ro standing before him smiles gently and says,

“Sunbae, did you get back safely?”

Ji-woo can only stare, stunned.