Chapter 9: What the Snake Dreams Of

Ion ran his finger over the statue. The writhing Galligy had turned into dull gray stone.

Saeon had awakened two skills, but only one was known to the world.

Medusa’s Kiss.

It summoned nine snakes, and their bite turned anything—monsters, trees, flowers—into stone.

‘He’s loved snakes since we were kids, and now he’s got a snake-related skill.’

The undisclosed second skill was likely snake-related too.

Crack. Stone fragments fell from the edge of the Galligy statue.

Ion brushed off his fingers and turned away.

“Did I foresee this incident and come today? Nah, come on. Pure coincidence. The events we foresee are catastrophic, thousands dead—not trivial stuff like this. Reporters, use your brains before asking.”

Saeon was being interviewed by reporters, slouching arrogantly. If you could call it an interview.

He was always tall, but his once-lean frame had bulked up, likely from training. His once-black hair now had a reddish-purple hue, slicked back neatly, long enough to cover the back of his neck. Paired with a flashy shirt, he looked like a loan shark.

His thin lips curved into a smile, but his snake-like eyes glinted with irritation.

When his gaze met Ion’s, the irritation vanished, replaced by sparkling curiosity.

Thankfully, Saeon didn’t acknowledge him publicly.

As Ion tried to slip away, someone grabbed him.

“Ion, Corps Leader!”

It was Kim Minjun.

“Yes, Team Leader.”

Kim Minjun’s face screamed he had a lot to say. He opened his mouth hesitantly.

“…Your skill.”

“…”

“You said you have one skill. Weapon summoning.”

“Yes. The dagger you saw.”

“No shield skill?”

“None.”

“Really? Truly? You’re not hiding anything?”

“Nope.”

“…”

Was he suspicious? Ion’s delicate brow furrowed, his eyes wary. Kim Minjun sighed.

“Look, Corps Leader Ion. I don’t have any hidden abilities. I know my skill’s limits. That shield earlier should have melted under the Galligy’s fluid. Someone did something to it.”

He switched between casual and formal speech freely.

“Then why ask me? Check with your colleagues. I didn’t do anything.”

“Thanks for saving us.”

“…”

“I’ll mark you as B-rank, as a courtesy. Thanks for the save.”

Kim Minjun extended his hand. Ion flinched and stepped back.

“Just a handshake. Why so jumpy?”

Seeing the empty hand, Ion still didn’t take it.

“You’re misunderstanding. I didn’t do anything. I was just hiding behind you.”

“Then take this.”

Kim Minjun held out a small piece of paper—a business card.

“You might need a government worker’s help someday. I’m giving it to you because you’re like a brother. Take it.”

“…”

Kim Minjun forced the card into Ion’s hand and walked away.

Ion considered crumpling it but slipped it into his pocket instead. Lingering would only cause trouble, so he left the agency.

Outside was a sea of onlookers. Ion headed to a secluded path behind the building, lined with large trees. Thankfully, no one was around.

He sat on a bench and looked at the sky. The sun was setting, painting it red.

Teacher used to marvel at red skies, saying, “Isn’t it beautiful?” But Ion never found sunsets beautiful.

They looked painful, like blood spreading, the sky screaming. How could anyone find it beautiful?

‘No time to stare at the sky. I need to find tonight’s dungeon.’

Berating himself for his distraction, Ion turned on his tablet.

He registered for a dungeon in Wonju tonight and searched for others, but Kim Minjun’s words kept resurfacing.

“Thanks for saving us.”

Gratitude was the last thing he should accept.

If a character meant to die survived and disrupted the story… Ion might have to take his life someday.

‘I just want the novel to end soon.’

The long road ahead weighed heavily on him.

Some time later, the person he’d been waiting for arrived.

“Our Onon. Waiting for your big brother? Good boy.”

Saeon approached with a sly grin.

That “Onon” nickname hadn’t changed.

“Onon, your big brother’s so worried about you.”

“What’s your problem now?”

“Teacher wasn’t a kind savior. He kidnapped and abused us. When will our Onon accept that? I’m so worried.”

“Stop calling me Onon. My name’s Dam Ion.”

“Sure, sure. Onon.”

The other orphans called Ilon and Saeon by their proper names, but always called him Onon or “baby.”

“Don’t call me that. Why does everyone treat me like a kid?”

Ion grumbled. Saeon sat beside him, chuckling.

“What’s with you all of a sudden? Want to be treated like an adult now that you’re grown? You’ll always be our baby.”

“We’re the same age.”

“That we’re all the same age is that jerk’s lie. You were a head shorter than the rest of us from the start. Even as kids, we could tell you were younger. Time to accept you’re the baby, no?”

“Don’t call Teacher ‘that jerk.’ And I’ll never accept being the baby. Second youngest, maybe.”

Teacher didn’t name the orphans at first, calling them “you” or numbers—1, 2, 3… When only six remained, he named them.

“Alright, time to assign names. Line up. Run when I count to three. Names will be given in order of arrival, so do your best.”

In the 200-meter race, Ion came second, becoming Ion.

“In order: Dam Ilon, Dam Ion, Dam Saeon, Dam Saon, Dam Daon, Dam Yeon. Ion, you were the first I took in, yet you missed first place. Did you slack on physical training because of your magic? I’m disappointed.”

That day, Ion dedicated himself to physical training, a memory still vivid.

Saeon, meanwhile, seemed pleased with his name, almost as if he aimed for fourth to get the “sa” for snake.

“Second youngest, huh? In a way, that’s true. The five of us are the same age, and you’re the baby.”

“Enough. If you called me here for this nonsense, I’m leaving.”

When their eyes met earlier, Saeon had brushed his chin with his finger—a signal to meet and talk. That’s why Ion waited.

Saeon draped an arm over Ion’s shoulder with a serpentine smile.

“Our Onon, still so prickly. You’re only like this with me. You’re all sweet with Yeon.”

“…”

“Don’t go. I really have something to talk about.”

Saeon’s arm tightened, holding Ion in place. Despite Ion’s irritated glare, he grinned and got to the point.

“Met Jin Seongha recently?”

“…”

“That plant enthusiast Jin Seongha ran into. It’s you, right? Ji Pyeongseop’s been looking for you.”

“You’ve got spies in Horizon?”

“Of course, we’ve got them everywhere. No need to get mad. Horizon’s probably got informants in our guild too. They’ve got that capable assistant, after all.”

He meant Dam Daon.

“After a year of solo mercenary work, you’re finally making moves? If you’re stepping up, why not join us?”

“What nonsense. You’re trying to ruin Teacher’s will.”

“Oh, as expected, you’ve got a big misunderstanding about me and Sis.”

“Misunderstanding?”

“We want the novel to end too. We desperately want the Demon King defeated and peace restored. If you’ve got a truth-detection skill, go ahead and test my words.”

Even now, Saeon was probing for Ion’s skills. Ion responded by shoving his arm off. Saeon laughed, “That hurts,” but his narrow eyes glinted sharply purple.

“If you want Jin Seongha to defeat the Demon King, why go after the Moniti Dungeon?”

“Onon, I never said I want Jin Seongha to defeat the Demon King.”

“…”

“I don’t want to join the protagonists’ boundary. I want to build a separate force and save the world with it.”

“You want to be a hero? But people already hate you.”

Saeon smirked.

“What a naive comment. Whether they hate us now or not… once we conquer an SS-rank dungeon, they’ll sing our praises, forgetting the past. That’s how the masses work. You know that, Onon.”

His tone was like talking to a child. Ion replied coldly:

“You’re the naive one.”

“What?”

“Get a grip. This is a novel’s world, and we’re less than extras—scraps. Even if you save people by conquering S-rank dungeons, you’ll never be heroes. People will instinctively see us as ‘nothing’.”

Ion unleashed his pent-up thoughts. Saeon wasn’t shocked or surprised, just lowered his eyelids with a bitter smile, as if he’d expected it.

“I knew you’d say that. Our Onon was the most dominated by Teacher.”

“It’s not domination—it’s education.”

“Think about it. Even if this is a novel’s world, we’re alive. Calling us scraps when we have desires, emotions, thoughts so vivid? Why are we ‘nothing’? Why live like we’re dead, just for the protagonists?”

“You’ve got it backward. We’re alive because of the protagonists. We exist because they need us. Don’t overstep your place.”

“…Dam Ion. Don’t you feel wronged? Kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath, regardless of our will?”

“Dam Saon.”

A pitying light flickered in Ion’s cold green eyes.

“You feel wronged because you think you’re alive.”

“…”

“This bench was made for people to sit on. These clothes were made for people to wear. Benches and clothes don’t feel wronged about it. We were made for the protagonists, so don’t think you’re alive—just accept you were made for them. Once you do, there’s nothing to feel wronged about.”

Plants can’t move.

Not when thirsty.

Not when starved for sunlight.

Not even when they realize their surroundings are a den of bugs eating them.

Once they sprout and take root, movement is impossible.

They accept their environment, adapt their growth, and live humbly.

It’s the same for us.

Even if we rage or grieve at being insignificant scraps, unable to influence this world… what can we do?

Like plants, we must humbly accept reality and live on.

Ion pitied Saeon and Ilon for harboring dreams beyond their station.