After successfully defending his secrets through a combination of violence, threats, and feigned innocence, Sa-yoon waited until Han Geon-joo had finally run out of “Whys?” before tossing him aside and checking his condition. The fever was completely gone. His pulse and breathing were normal. It was as if he had never been sick at all.

When asked if he had received all the know-how from his past life’s will, Han Geon-joo said no, but explained they had agreed to conduct future lessons only while he was asleep. He assured Sa-yoon there would be no more prolonged, agonizing illnesses like this one. After confirming this fact multiple times with Lee Jae-hee, Sa-yoon finally looked at the clock with a profound sense of relief.

Han Geon-joo had woken up safely. Now, as planned, it was his turn to take the baton.

When he told Geon-joo about the Past Life Incense, he expected an argument. Instead, Geon-joo, while looking slightly uneasy, seemed to accept it.

“You’re right, it’s going to be tough to prepare for the war in your current state. You also need to reset and reorganize, hyung.”

Having convinced himself, Geon-joo, now an “experienced user” who had directly confronted his past self, began to meticulously explain the various advantages and points of caution. Sa-yoon wasn’t entirely sure he needed to be this careful—he was, after all, just going to peek at his past, not awaken an entire consciousness like Geon-joo—but he listened to it all out of respect for the man’s earnestness. To think the day would come when he’d be taking advice from Han Geon-joo.

“When are you planning to light the incense?”

“After I watch you eat.”

The man ate and slept well, yet he hadn’t had a single proper meal during his illness; he had to be starving. Sa-yoon called for Jongsik to prepare a meal. After finishing dinner with the executives—who had scrambled up from the basement the moment they heard Geon-joo was awake—he informed them of his own plans. He warned them that he would be locked in the room for two days and was not to be disturbed. The four executives simply nodded in agreement.

It was so strange that none of them asked why that Sa-yoon found himself staring. Gyeongjin, idly chewing on a coffee straw, just shrugged.

“If you were going out somewhere, that’d be one thing. But you’re just staying in your room. You know what you’re doing. Besides, you’re taking Jae-hee-hyung-nim and Han Geon-joo with you, right?”

“I’m planning to keep them nearby, just in case.”

“Then we’re good. It’s those two, not just anyone.”

Their reaction was one of complete trust, as if Lee Jae-hee and Han Geon-joo’s diligence was even greater than their own.

What is this, some kind of mirror therapy?

He was sure that when he’d first returned from the Predestined Tower, they had been ready to follow him into the bathroom. Now, they were acting as if that time was a distant past life. A nagging suspicion made him wonder if they were just putting on a show, planning something behind his back. He called Jongsik over to interrogate him. The bear-like man just scratched his head.

“It’s not a scheme, sir. I think… everyone has just let go a little.”

“Let go of what?”

“Of worrying about you, hyung-nim. That’s not to say we don’t worry about you anymore, but… you’re already carrying enough, aren’t you?”

The hand that had been scratching his head dropped to his side, and Jongsik stood straight, looking Sa-yoon directly in the eye. In that steadfast, honest gaze, Sa-yoon caught the dual meaning in his words.

If you’re going to act like a child, be a child forever. If you’re going to pretend to be an adult, then be a mature adult. Why do you have to keep switching back and forth and making us all anxious?

Honestly, every last one of them was someone he had raised, yet he still couldn’t figure them out. Sa-yoon clicked his tongue and waved his hand, signaling he understood. Jongsik bowed his head gently.

“It’s just… we’re all acting this way because we trust you, hyung-nim. No matter what.”

“Who said I didn’t know that?”

“I’m just saying. Please take care of yourself and come back safe when you’re done. We’ll set the stage.”

The stage. The one that would allow Sa-yoon, his business concluded, to once again stand at the chaotic center of public opinion. To prepare it, the Night Rats executives were already moving fast.

Sa-yoon declared that when all this was over, he would raise their salaries by twenty percent. Jongsik just smiled, saying Gyeongjin would be thrilled. The man, exuding a quiet loyalty to the very end, turned to leave, only to pause at the doorway and look back.

“Hyung-nim.”

“What now?”

“I’m happy. It feels like my name will soon be able to fulfill its purpose.”

“…?”

Sa-yoon’s brow furrowed in confusion. In stark contrast, Jongsik, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest, beamed and bowed before exiting the room, leaving only three of them behind.

“What was that about?” Sa-yoon wondered, but he quickly shook off the cryptic remark. It hadn’t felt ominous, and seeing Jongsik smile so brightly, it was probably a good thing. Whatever. Let him be happy.

“Will you begin immediately?” Lee Jae-hee asked, his long brown hair—untended for lack of time—now tied back low.

Sa-yoon nodded and pulled the incense from his inventory. Lee Jae-hee observed it intently, his eyes shining with a strange light.

“What, is there a problem with it?”

“No.”

“Then why are you staring at it like that?”

“Hmm…” Lee Jae-hee’s eyes darted back and forth as if organizing new information. “I was just thinking this is a good opportunity. Sa-yoon-ssi, do you know what your current error progression rate is?”

The question, dropped so suddenly, was a raw nerve—a personal ‘reverse scale’—for both Sa-yoon and Geon-joo. The atmosphere in the room instantly froze. Sa-yoon frowned, trying to recall the last number he’d heard.

“…Eighty-two percent?”

He had used more power than expected in the Abaddon Gate and hadn’t had a moment’s rest since, guarding Geon-joo. That number felt about right. Han Geon-joo’s eyes widened in shock, suggesting the actual number was worse. Lee Jae-hee just shook his head, his voice level.

“Eighty-five percent.”

“…”

A frigid silence filled the gap left by his death-sentence-like pronouncement. Sa-yoon rubbed his lips, replaying the System’s messages in his head.

There were at least two more SSS-Rank Gates to clear before the war began. He had already run his mouth in front of those reporters, so he couldn’t just back out now. But he also couldn’t just send Han Geon-joo in with the guild members. Eighty-five percent was not a stable number. It was a dangerously high state, especially considering the second Gate would be harder than the first, and the third harder than that.

Can I really maintain a level below one hundred percent while clearing the remaining Gates?

He couldn’t guarantee it. Honestly, just surviving until the war would be a miracle. At best, he had one more SSS-Rank Gate in him. If he survived that, he would almost certainly hit one hundred percent while attempting the third one. Even if Han Geon-joo awakened his powers before then and minimized Sa-yoon’s involvement, he wouldn’t last until the war.

“…This really wasn’t a situation where I could just relax, trusting it was all a ‘set board.’”

He had assumed that if he just won the war, the trait deletion would take care of itself. He was still sure of that. But now, the challenge had become surviving until the war. Sa-yoon clicked his tongue and mentally calculated his Karma.

Even with the amount he’d had before buying the incense, purchasing the trait deletion was a distant, impossible dream. No matter how much Karma the System insanely threw at him, he would never be able to afford that item within the time limit.

He swallowed the bitter realization and steadied his breathing. Still, it wasn’t hopeless. If it were, Lee Jae-hee would never have brought it up.

“Keep talking. You have a solution, don’t you?”

As Sa-yoon regained his composure, Lee Jae-hee’s lips curved in a loose smile. He looked, for the first time, almost relaxed.

“Sixty percent.”

“…What?”

“If you use the Past Life Incense and everything goes smoothly, your error progression rate will drop to sixty percent. By strengthening your mind and body with the power of your past life, your physical form, which has been precarious from the frequent clashes, will be able to find temporary stability. Your past life’s power isn’t an omnipotent cure—it can’t erase all the progression—but you will at least be able to escape this time-bomb state of not knowing when you’ll just… detonate.”

Sa-yoon blinked, processing the information.

So, you’re saying… this incense can drop my progression rate, which is dangling at eighty-five percent, all the way down to sixty?

Lee Jae-hee was not a man who made empty promises. He was brilliant, and he could read the heavens. The words coming from his mouth didn’t sound like baseless fantasy. Sa-yoon’s eyes lit up, and he stared at the incense in his hand with newfound satisfaction.

No wonder I had such a strong feeling I had to buy this.

He didn’t have a ‘survival instinct’ skill like Han Geon-joo, but he did have a gut feeling, one honed by an endless cycle of death and resurrection. And just as it had every time before, that gut feeling had just saved his life. He tossed the incense in the air and caught it with a grin.

“I like the sound of that.”

He was getting sick and tired of this, of having to hold back, control his skills, and hide in the rear to “conserve his body.” If his error rate dropped to sixty percent, he could finally fight properly again. As he mulled this over, Han Geon-joo, who had been watching him with a visibly relieved expression, immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t even think about overdoing it just because your progression rate dropped.”

“…I didn’t say I would.”

“You didn’t say it, but you were thinking it. You think I don’t know you, hyung?”

The look on Geon-joo’s face was a strange, subtle mix. He looked faintly exasperated, yet at the same time, clearly pleased with himself for knowing Sa-yoon so well. Hmph. Sa-yoon cleared his throat and pointedly looked away from Geon-joo’s gaze.

That uncanny bastard. At this point, he really had to wonder if their Fated Pair link included a mind-reading feature.

“Anyway, this means using the incense will solve everything. My progression rate, and the lack of firepower I’ve been feeling.”

“In simple terms, yes.”

“Then what’s to hesitate about? Good things should be enjoyed quickly.”

Sa-yoon whistled, placed the incense, and tore the scroll for the skill he’d purchased alongside it. A strangely sacred-feeling energy washed over him as the paper ripped, the Safe Zone skill embedding itself in his body. He gave Jae-hee and Geon-joo one last warning not to wake him no matter what, then activated the skill, designating only Lee Jae-hee, Han Geon-joo, and his executives as people who could freely enter his domain.

The skill wasn’t SS-Rank because it was inherently that level, but because it was a disposable SS-Rank. The description had said it would exhibit L-Rank power. As the ability activated, a golden-hued energy enveloped the entire villa, creating a wide-area Safe Zone centered on Sa-yoon.

He slammed his fist against the wall with all his strength. His effort was pointless; his hand was repelled instantly. It was a skill well worth its Karma.

Duration: 49 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds.

The duration floating in his vision was more than enough time for the incense to finish. Satisfied, Sa-yoon lit the incense and lay down. Just as the blanket enveloped him, a slightly bitter, herbal fragrance wafted to his nose, seeping into his lungs. The scent filled his chest, and his eyes drifted closed.