When Jo Yi-shin left his seat, one by one, others withdrew as well.

The spacious reception room had been filled to capacity with people, but now only five of the clan remained.

Hwangho, Jeokho, Cheongho, Heukho, and Baekho.

Usually, Jeokho would have accompanied Ungnyeo or Kim Sinrok, saying he would see them off, but he stayed, making an excuse that he hadn’t finished his drink yet.

Hwangho looked at his close friends and thought.

‘They must have stayed because they were worried about my condition.’

He gave a bitter smile.

Today, Jo Yi-shin had decided to share what he knew about the demon realm scenario, so he was prepared for it.

As they mentioned the land heading toward its end, lives fading away, and the collapse of Eun Gwang High, Hwangho’s negligence and passivity inevitably became exposed.

Jo Yi-shin had said back when Hwangho entered Class 0 in his second year and approached the protagonist’s group, “You weren’t just standing by and watching either.”

‘But stopping at that level of involvement was not enough. With my position and the power I have, there were many incidents I could have reduced damage in or prevented entirely.’

Regardless of Hwangho’s intentions, it was clear that he ultimately failed to make much of an impact.

If anything, the last time he was seen was at Andain’s hidden event.

He did stop the couple from killing Andain to save their child, but that achievement alone was not enough to absolve him.

His close friends silently stayed by his side, as if understanding Hwangho’s complicated feelings.

“Heukho, your bowl is empty, why are you still fiddling with your spoon?”

“Huh? No, there’s still some left.”

When Hwangho asked playfully, Heukho was caught off guard.

He glanced at the bowl as if pretending to eat honeycomb ice cream, but it was already completely empty.

Even scraping the bowl thoroughly only left a little melted ice cream clinging to the tip of the spoon.

Seeing that, Cheongho took out two cup ice creams from the ice bucket, including one for himself.

Hwangho, watching his close friends happily eating again, asked.

“Jeokho, how was I in the replay?”

“...Haven’t I already told you several times?”

Jeokho answered calmly.

At Hwangho’s request, he had clearly relayed when and what conversations they had during the replay.

Since he only met his son once after his death, it wasn’t difficult to recount.

“After losing my son, I visited you only once. You didn’t make any excuses and only listened to me.”

Jeokho’s reason for not giving up on life was solely for his son.

Having lost love and committed an unforgivable mistake, he wanted to atone through death.

What held him back was his son’s existence.

Hwangho prevented Jeokho’s death by declaring that if Jeokho died, he would be treated as a descendant of the Ung clan, not the Ho clan.

Jeokho contracted with Hwangho solely to protect his son, enduring the pain of the crimson frame for a long time, and after the interdimensional clash, he handled all the dirty and troublesome matters for the Ho clan.

When he lost his son, Jeokho was not in his right mind.

If his will for revenge had disappeared, he would have immediately followed his son.

—I couldn’t keep the contract. Sorry, Jeokho.

Jeokho unleashed his anger on Hwangho, who was apologizing.

Hwangho made no excuses.

He didn’t even express condolences, but Jeokho didn’t give him the chance.

—I cannot forgive your negligence. I will avenge my son. You keep neglecting as you please.

That was the last conversation between them.

In the replay, Jeokho never sought Hwangho again.

Also, the orders the Ho clan gave to Jeokho disappeared.

Since Jeokho, who was like a hostage, had died, it was natural that no orders came, and Jeokho didn’t find it strange.

“After I finished telling the story, I never sought you again. You didn’t seek me either. That’s the end.”

Hwangho quietly watched Jeokho.

Looking at the close friends left beside him, he reviewed the situation in the replay.

Jeokho left and met his end on Christmas Eve.

Heukho, though unseen, remained by his side as part of Cheonik Mountain, but perished along with the land that was dying without even realizing it.

Cheongho was briefly together as a classmate, but ultimately didn’t notice and Hwangho disappeared first.

‘And Eunho must still be sleeping underground in Eunhui Pavilion. If he hadn’t come to this world as Cheonseongheon to find Jo Yi-shin, he would never have returned.’

Hwangho’s gaze then lingered on Baekho.

Baekho had a fairly significant presence in the game, so his actions inside Plmago were the most clearly revealed, but thinking about the situation before the game started was complicated.

‘That game is a kind of simulation assuming no one comes to this world. In other words, Baekho at that point had already transcended worlds and granted protection to Jo Yi-shin. That’s why even in the game he has no true name.’

It was confirmed that Baekho’s true name disappeared around the time of the interdimensional clash, about a hundred years ago.

Considering Jo Yi-shin’s actual age, the timeline was slightly off, but it could be explained by differences in the process of world travel or the flow of time.

Even Hwangho couldn’t gauge how much time or power would be required for Baekho, who could barely reach worlds like Plmago only by dream, to physically travel.

‘For this world to proceed like in Plmago, Jo Yi-shin shouldn’t have come to this world. If we assume that...’

Jo Yi-shin dies in another world, Baekho fails to reclaim his true name and loses the one who granted him protection, and Eunho doesn’t come to this world.

Just imagining it felt like the land beneath him was collapsing.

Assuming that the game Plmago itself didn’t even exist, Baekho would have no information at all.

Rather, having lost such a mentally tightly connected existence, it would be impossible for Baekho to be psychologically normal.

What remained for Baekho was probably only the chess skills he gained while facing Jo Yi-shin.

“Baekho.”

When Hwangho called him, Baekho silently turned his head and looked at him.

The slight lift of his head looked arrogant and made Hwangho slightly choked up, but he decided to take it as a good sign since he looked much healthier than the imagined close friend.

Instead, he decided to ask what he really wanted to know.

“In the game, you were a staff member at Eun Gwang High. How was it? Did you ever contact me?”

Although Baekho didn’t do the replay, he shared his mind with Jo Yi-shin, who played Plmago to the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} end.

Baekho surely held all the situations of Plmago in his mind.

He couldn’t experience those situations from his own perspective like the replay, but he would at least know about the situations dealt with in the game.

Especially since whenever Baekho appeared on screen, how focused he must have been was clear even if unseen.

“There was no scene in the game where I met you.”

“Is that so? At the second-year point, you were staff and I was a student, so there should have been plenty of opportunities to make contact.”

“Jeho is my student. Even after losing my student and seeing him torn apart by the media, you did nothing. I’m sure it was hard for me to forgive you too.”

Baekho’s cold words froze the atmosphere.

Overwhelmed by the mood, Heukho began to choke and cough painfully, and Cheongho glared at Baekho while patting Heukho’s back.

Cheongho didn’t speak out loud, only glared because he somewhat understood.

He just thought it was unnecessary to say it so bluntly.

Hwangho didn’t make excuses, just quietly stared at Baekho, who lightly added.

“Or maybe you believed that my close friends had some thoughts and waited for you to make the first move.”

That comment eased the air in the reception room.

Hwangho chuckled.

“Hah, Jo Yi-shin must be considering that possibility too.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.”

After that, they had some trivial conversation with close friends before standing up.

Hwangho recalled the people who had filled this large space until just now, as well as the annexes filled here and there.

Jo Yi-shin and collaborators, descendants of Eunho, divine beasts, the Andain family — none of them would be here if Jo Yi-shin hadn’t come to this world.

Hwangho compared his current self with the one in the game.

‘...I must have been alone there.’

Leaving the Tiger Mansion, he headed straight to the school.

Two accompanied him.

Yong Jegun and Cheondongha.

Both had experienced the replay.

“Welcome back, did you finish talking?”

“Everyone’s here!”

In the student council building’s conference room, Yeom Jun-yeol and Ma Jinseung were already waiting.

Though it was the weekend and both were about to graduate, they still came to school today.

Yeom Jun-yeol was relaxed, having effectively already been admitted to university early, and had come to help with student council work.

Ma Jinseung hadn’t decided on his future path yet but came to assist with preparations for a charity event.

Cheondongha asked.

“What about the others?”

“I booked a separate conference room from the start. They said they had something to talk to Jinseung about, so they kindly moved aside.”

Since everyone knew about the one-sided conflict between the two, they had apparently created space on their own.

The real reason for this meeting was to discuss whether or not to use the replay, among those who had experienced it.

In Yong Jegun’s case, the replay use time differed by about a year, but it was thought that the teacher’s perspective would be helpful, and since they would come anyway even if not invited, he told them to come from the start.

“First, I’ll speak. I oppose using the replay for Kyunggu and Chaeah.”

Cheondongha seemed to be against it.

Yeom Jun-yeol frowned and asked.

“I thought you’d be in favor, Dongha. That’s surprising.”

“It’s inefficient for gathering information. I don’t think Kyunggu or Chaeah gathered more information than I did in that world.”

“But they survived longer, didn’t they?”

“Only a few months. There was no opportunity in that time for either to gain crucial information. Also, the demon realm changes constantly, so the structure Chaeah understood doesn’t mean much.”

“You saw how Jinseung and I grew. Replay will be a good opportunity for Kyunggu and Chaeah.”

They exchanged their opinions more fiercely than expected.

Ma Jinseung didn’t seem to understand what they were talking about but inserted a cheerful “I see!” every time, seeming to agree with both sides.

Yong Jegun watched them with interest, as if seeing such a split for the first time.

“Kyunggu and Chaeah aren’t weak. I believe they’ll overcome.”

“It’s okay to check with Kyunggu about using replay, but not Chaeah. If I think it helps even a little, I’ll accept it, but the cost outweighs the benefits.”

Is there a reason why Gwak Kyunggu is allowed and Heo Chaeah isn’t?

Cheondongha seemed to have a reason for thinking that way.

Among those who did the replay, Cheondongha gathered information most diligently in that world.

Could it be that Cheondongha knows something we don’t?

Thinking that, he recalled something.

“In that world, Choi Pyeondeuk tried to unseat senior Gwak Kyunggu and promote senior Heo Chaeah as student council president. Though he failed.”

When the name Choi Pyeondeuk came up, Cheondongha’s brows knit slightly.

In this world, Heo Chaeah had served excellently as president of the total club federation, but maybe Choi Pyeondeuk had other reasons for wanting the competent and righteous Heo Chaeah as student council president.

“Maybe senior Heo Chaeah had something happen that could be used against her in that world? Senior Cheondongha seems worried because he knows about it.”

Cheondongha nodded in response to my words.