Chapter 2: Press Conference à la Ramen

The place Jin-yeop headed to after leaving the restaurant was the officetel he’d lived in before getting married.

It was a house he would have sold right after the wedding under normal circumstances, but this time, he hadn’t.

Honestly, he’d agonized over whether to sell it or not more than dozens of times.

This was the eleventh life he’d begun amidst countless doubts, but it was because of a nonsensical hope that, just maybe, this time might be different.

He’d thought that if a happy married life was what awaited him, there’d be no need to keep a place to return to.

But in the end, not selling it was the right choice.

In his past lives, which he’d always ended by suicide, this house would have been unnecessary, but now, wasn’t that different?

‘If I’d sold this house, I’d have nowhere to go.’

Just how much more miserable would he have felt then?

With a bitter smile, Jin-yeop entered the chilly bedroom and immediately locked the door.

Even though he knew there was no one who would come looking for him anyway, it was out of a wish that no one would intrude on his deep slumber.

Jin-yeop roughly washed up in the small bathroom attached to the bedroom and then buried himself under the covers.

The moment he closed his eyes, he fell helplessly into sleep.

It was a deep sleep, almost like death.

Without dreaming a single dream, without even a small toss or turn, Jin-yeop slept for a very, very long time.

Then, when he suddenly opened his eyes, the room was filled with dazzlingly bright sunlight.

When was the last time he had slept so soundly?

Without the headache he’d been carrying around, his mind felt clear and refreshed.

It was simply because he had let go of the impatience and anxiety he’d felt while agonizing over how to win Jung-hoon back.

Well, up until his 10th regression, he’d been waking up at the crack of dawn and tirelessly preparing breakfast.

Even breakfast for that bastard.

No matter how nicely he prepared it, the bastard hardly ever ate it.

Maybe once or twice if he felt like it.

Not knowing how wasteful it was to put rice into the mouth of such a bastard, he’d cooked and served it—he himself had been a madman.

“I should eat something.”

Jin-yeop muttered, rubbing his lower stomach.

He’d prepared meals for that bastard’s mouth without a single thought of it being a bother, so why was soothing his own hunger such a chore?

Staggering out of the room, driven by the hunger pangs, he saw the clock on the wall; it was already well past noon.

He had no idea how long he’d slept.

He’d come back from the restaurant last night, washed up, and lain down immediately, so he must have been asleep by nine at the latest.

“It’s weird that I’m not hungrier.”

But it had been such a deep sleep that he’d completely forgotten his hunger.

Lately, his mental state had been so severe that he couldn’t sleep without sleeping pills.

Jin-yeop felt, anew, just how deep the fatigue in his body and mind had been.

He let out a small sigh, clutched his empty stomach, and opened the refrigerator, but there was no way a house left empty for so long would have anything edible.

Eventually, deciding he’d have to order something, Jin-yeop turned on his phone, which he’d kept off, and simultaneously, dozens of missed calls and messages flooded the notification window.

It was probably just Kang Jung-hoon, whose pride wasn’t just bruised but buried deep underground, venting his anger through messages.

Thinking nothing of it, at that moment, his phone rang loudly.

Contrary to his expectation, the name on the screen wasn’t Kang Jung-hoon, but Noh Young, a long-time colleague and friend.

“Yeah.”

– Yeah?

What do you mean, yeah, you crazy bastard!

Why is your phone off, where the hell are you?

At the sharp scream piercing his eardrum, Jin-yeop narrowed his brow and held the phone away from his ear.

“Ask me one thing at a time.

One thing.”

Saying that, Jin-yeop switched the call to speakerphone and placed it on the kitchen counter.

“I’m at my place now, and I just turned my phone off.

Because I felt like it.”

– Your place?

What place?

If you’re at home, then why is that crazy bastard Kang Jung-hoon pulling this kind of shit show?

“What are you talking about?

I’m telling you, I’m at my place.

Kang Jung-hoon is probably at his place.”

Jin-yeop answered nonchalantly and started rummaging through various parts of the kitchen.

He remembered, on second thought, that when he’d briefly stopped by the house a few days ago, he’d bought a couple of packs of ramen.

“They say ramen is an emergency food supply, and that fits perfectly.”

Who knew that buying random stuff because he felt embarrassed handing over his card for just a 700-won bottle of water would turn out to be this useful.

He didn’t care what kind of fuss Jung-hoon was making; he needed to appease his own rumbling stomach first.

Noh Young was still saying something, but it wasn’t reaching Jin-yeop’s ears.

He immediately reached out, opened the upper cabinet, and took out a pot along with the ramen.

– Hey, are you listening to me?

“Yeah, go ahead.”

– Like hell you are!

Never mind, just turn on the TV and watch.

See for yourself what that bastard is doing.

“Later.”

Judging by how Noh Young was practically breathing fire, it seemed Jung-hoon was indeed throwing a massive tantrum.

Jin-yeop, unfazed, filled the pot with water and placed it on the gas stove.

Perhaps because it hadn’t been used for a while, the flame wouldn’t catch no matter how many times he turned the knob.

Jin-yeop frowned, then picked up the pot and reached his hand towards the burner.

Soon, a flame flared up from the tip of his index finger and immediately ignited the burner.

With a satisfied expression, Jin-yeop put the pot down and picked up the ramen packet.

– What the hell did you do at the restaurant yesterday?

“He said he wants a divorce.”

He answered casually while tearing open the ramen packet.

Then, he dumped both the seasoning and the noodles into the water, which hadn’t even started boiling yet.

“So, I’m getting a divorce.”

– You think I called because I didn’t know you were getting a divorce?

The whole world knows about this now.

“Then why did you call if you already know?

If someone says they’re getting a divorce, people should just accept they’re getting a divorce.

Weren’t you the one who was always going on about divorce this, divorce that?”

– Anyway, just see it with your own eyes and hear it with your own ears.

And the office is in an uproar looking for you, so talk to Director Im.

“Uh-huh, okay.”

Jin-yeop replied vaguely and quickly pressed the end button.

Even after the call with Noh Young, his phone kept ringing incessantly, but Jin-yeop flipped it over and didn’t answer any of them.

He just focused on boiling the ramen.

As the water came to a rolling boil, rising bubbles pushed between the noodles, creating gaps.

Jin-yeop stared blankly into the pot, then stirred it a few times with his chopsticks and carried it, pot and all, to the living room.

The hot pot handle didn’t burn Jin-yeop’s hand at all.

It was only natural.

While living bound by marriage, he himself had briefly forgotten, but he was an A-class Esper, one of the top-rated in his agency.

Moreover, he was a rare fire-type combat Esper.

However, Jin-yeop’s past life was that of a fool who, despite this, had prepared breakfast that wouldn’t even be eaten and, using family as an excuse, had willingly turned himself into a fixture stuck at home.

Jin-yeop pulled out a stack of old magazines, placed the pot on top of them, and plopped down on the floor in front of the sofa.

He turned on the TV as Noh Young had told him to.

Just as he was about to get up again to fetch his phone from the kitchen, realizing he’d forgotten it, a familiar voice flowed from the TV.

In an awkward half-rising position, Jin-yeop turned his head and stared at the screen.

There was Jung-hoon, impeccably dressed, sitting before microphones, enduring the bursting camera flashes.

“What’s that bastard doing?”

A hollow laugh escaped him.

It was obvious he was holding a press conference.

Watching the gaunt, pallid face of Jung-hoon on screen, which might have been achieved with makeup, Jin-yeop quickly got up, grabbed his phone from the kitchen table, and came back.

He was more worried about the ramen getting mushy than whatever that bastard was jabbering about.

<My divorce from Cha Jin-yeop is true.

Rather than any particular family discord…>

“Ha, he’s talking out of his ass.”

Every word out of his mouth is a lie, a complete lie.

Glaring at Jung-hoon on the screen, Jin-yeop picked up a strand of ramen with his chopsticks and slurped it into his mouth.

Then he put the chopsticks down with a clatter on the table, and picked up his phone, which was still ringing without rest.

People who never usually contacted him were now eagerly blowing up his phone.

Irritably, Jin-yeop set it to Do Not Disturb mode, entered a portal site, and started clicking on the articles filling the main page.

“He’s putting on quite a show.”

Every single article was about Jin-yeop and Jung-hoon’s divorce.

Moreover, each article had a link to a video from yesterday, showing the argument between him and Jung-hoon at the restaurant.

Chewing and swallowing the ramen, Jin-yeop leaned back against the sofa and scrolled through the comments with a blank expression.

[bwwe12] You guys made such a big deal and in the end, you’re breaking up too lol.

Acting like it was the love of the century, what a load of crap, in a bit they’ll be selling enzyme supplements on SNS

[tjha11] I heard those two caused a huge scene at the restaurant;;

How can they say there was no discord when they pulled that shit in a place full of people???

Seriously, stop lying.

The tone of the hundreds of comments was all similar.

Mockery that they had pretended to be such a happy couple, but it turned out they were a show window couple.

Jin-yeop snorted as he read the comments.

It was Kang Jung-hoon alone who pretended they were happy; he himself never did.

Everything was the doing of the attention-seeker Kang Jung-hoon.

Fifteen years ago, after the appearance of unknown entities called ‘Dungeons,’ ordinary humans began to awaken one by one.

New dungeons appeared every other day, and many people lost their lives.

Weapons like guns, grenades, and missiles became utterly useless.

Disaster alert texts poured in a dozen times a day, but no one knew how to stop the dungeons.

It was then that humans who had awakened special abilities voluntarily threw themselves into the dungeons solely to survive, and only then did people realize that the space called a ‘dungeon’ could only be stabilized through a process called ‘clear’ by ‘Awakeners.’

The state immediately intervened, making it mandatory for Awakeners to register, but that was all.

They didn’t know how to manage and train these incomprehensible superpowered beings called Awakeners, or by what standards to dispatch them to dungeons.

Many Awakeners died back then.

They didn’t even know their own rank, and it was a time when the relationship between Guides and Espers wasn’t even understood.

They died to monsters, or went into runaway from ability overload and were killed.

That’s how humans died, regardless of whether a dungeon was stabilized or not.

Humanity just kept losing.

But there were those who managed to survive anyway.

They were also Awakeners, but humans with transcendent powers.

So-called heroes who swept away all the monsters inside a dungeon before ability overload could set in.

Naturally, they couldn’t help but be noticed.

Because no movie, drama, or novel could beat a narrative of human victory.