The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 22

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 22

The situation surrounding Choi Jun-ho was spiraling beyond control, and Jung Ju-ho covered his face with both hands, groaning as he watched it slip through his fingers like sand.

“In the end, there’s no stopping it.”

From the moment “above” directly pointed to Choi Jun-ho, to uncovering the Brainwashing application, to American interest—by now the major guilds and foreign governments were certainly scrambling to analyze this new player, the one they called “Head Breaker.” The intelligence apparatus never slept.
Frankly, Choi Jun-ho was a catch far too big for the National Guardian Bureau to hold onto.
Even with his own backing, the treatment would be pittance compared to the man’s actual value.
His strength was almost certainly Level 8, and at an age still in his twenties—barely more than a kid—he had a future that blazed with possibility. Anywhere in the world, he would command the highest compensation. He was an irresistibly attractive commodity.
Jung Ju-ho wished he could bind him in chains, but as a mere departmental director within a single ministry, he had no leverage whatsoever.

“But that man is dangerous.”

The real problem was that Choi Jun-ho was a liability.
He was a civil servant in the Villain Task Force, yet there were moments when he felt more dangerous than any actual villain.
The saving grace was that he didn’t pursue wealth, fame, or power—those tired ambitions of ordinary men. But his brutal methods and unsettling logic more than compensated for that advantage, and then some. His thinking chilled the spine.
Could the world truly accept that?
And if he clashed with the powerful, with the masses?
All that brilliant potential would become darkness descending upon the world.
Honestly, he seemed more unhinged than the Berserker himself.
Jung Ju-ho simply refrained from saying it aloud because the man served under him.
He’d struggled to keep the situation around Choi Jun-ho from spiraling into violence, but now it had escalated beyond his ability to contain.

“To think I, who don’t believe in God, would find myself praying to one.”

If only the world could accommodate this monster.
Jung Ju-ho worried not for Choi Jun-ho’s sake, but for the world that would be defenseless against him.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in.”

His subordinate entered, bowed his head, and began to report.

“The necessary information has been prepared, sir.”
“Already? What’s the status of the villains?”
“Well, that is… that…”
“Speak plainly.”
“They’ve all ended up in the same state as Manager Wang. One of them tried to confess, but he was speaking in Chinese, so… we were too late. My apologies.”
“Huh. I see.”

It had been foolish to hope that the use of Brainwashing would end without casualties.
The most terrifying thing about Choi Jun-ho was his complete absence of mercy toward those he’d classified as “evil.”

“And there’s another directive that came down from above.”
“What kind of directive?”
“A report on the process—specifically how the information was extracted.”
“So Choi Jun-ho’s identity has been exposed after all.”

Was this Yeom Gi-cheol’s doing? The man had certainly ribbed him plenty over the marriage. But they were both married men now, so couldn’t he accept it as mutually assured embarrassment? Petty bastard.
Jung Ju-ho dialed immediately, and Yeom Gi-cheol’s voice exploded through the line.

—It wasn’t me!
“You’re sure?”
—I was the one trying to protect security, actually. I was going to keep him under wraps and squeeze a few more uses out of him, but so much for that. Tsk.

The call went dead.
It was impossible to definitively pin the culprit on Yeom Gi-cheol. Choi Jun-ho must have stirred things up far and wide.
And perhaps it was luxury to hope that perfect security would hold after that.
Jung Ju-ho’s expression darkened as he realized they were accelerating toward the finish line.

* * *

The movements resulting from contact between the Berserker and the Puppeteer began to materialize in earnest. When he asked about the Holy Guild’s situation, he was told it was similar.

“There’s already talk about it inside the guild. Cutting back on hunts affects the guild’s revenue.”

What Yoon Hee said was pure economics.
Monster hearts and byproducts brought in by hunters of the Holy Guild were scattered to workshops and factories across the country, reprocessed, and transformed into high-value goods.
Fewer hunts meant industry stagnation, lower sales for the group itself, and reduced market vitality. The phrase “economic recession” was a magic word that could overcome any regulation when disaster struck. In times like these, large-scale villain sweeps could be justified.
At least that would be reasonable.
Known villains aside, the villains themselves hunt monsters from time to time and stockpile a fair amount of hearts and byproducts.

“In your opinion, is the reduction in hunts really that serious?”
“Two troublesome villains joining forces is definitely dangerous. But if you’re afraid of villains, you can’t hunt at all.”
“That’s exactly what I think. We’re finally starting to pull our weight, and suddenly this? It’s driving me crazy. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it watching government policy, but why are there so many restrictions? It’s infuriating! Oh, but that doesn’t mean I have complaints about the National Guardian Bureau.”
“That’s just how government works.”

The National Guardian Bureau and other operational organizations moved swiftly. But the politicians dabbling in the hierarchy above them were inefficiency incarnate.
Politicians are best handled with regular turnover. Just eliminating everyone on the list in the ledger would be enough to clean things up.

“I think our side has too many dependents, so people won’t reduce hunts unless there’s forced obligation.”
“So you’ll hunt actively, then.”
“Of course. The market’s rising lately too!”
“That’s when it gets most dangerous. Always stay cautious.”

No amount of preparation is excessive when hunting monsters. It’s when hunters hold back and fail to commit fully that unexpected accidents happen.

“I don’t do that when hunting. Don’t worry.”
“And they say the Puppeteer keeps an eye on talented hunters. Be careful.”
“So if the Puppeteer chooses you, you’re talented?”
“Is that a good thing?”

Who did she take after to be so reckless? Despite my reproach, Yoon Hee answered with confidence instead.

“Either way, I’d have been chosen. Though I’d have to run immediately when I saw her, of course.”
“Did the Holy Guild give any warnings about the Puppeteer?”
“The Puppeteer’s identity has never been revealed, and they handle multiple puppets with different purposes—that’s all we know. Oh! If you encounter a corpse that used to be Level 7 Jung Hae-sol, run immediately. Even if it kills you, it’s just a puppet so there’s no real loss.”
“That’s probably the best option.”

I’d never encountered the Puppeteer when I was a Blood Species, so it was hard to give advice.
One thing was certain: nothing good ever came from anyone hiding in the shadows. Though that didn’t mean those who stepped forward were any better either.
In the end, they were all things meant to die.

“Wear your Bracelet when you’re out. Contact me immediately if anything happens.”
“You’re so overprotective. Got it. I’ll do it.”
“Remember this. Even if I help you, what you have to trust in times of danger is your own skill. Find whatever means necessary to survive until I arrive.”
“I understand.”

Yoon Hee nodded, no longer joking around.

* * *

As plans to capture the Berserker and the Puppeteer were being formulated and elite forces were being selected from each department, an unexpected guest visited the National Guardian Bureau.

“How delightful to meet the future leaders who will brighten South Korea. I am Kim Young-hwan.”

An elderly man with a severe expression and serpent-sharp eyes, his frame lean and austere.
By appearance alone, one might mistake him for a man of difficult temperament, but the weight his name carried was never light.
Kim Young-hwan, Honorary Minister.
His alias: the Red Snake.
Known for his relentless precision and ruthlessness, he had earned a fearsome reputation among Villains and major Guilds in his youth—the sole Level 8 Superhuman belonging to the government.
Jung Ju-ho, upon hearing of Kim Young-hwan’s arrival, bolted from his office and bowed deeply.

“Welcome, Minister. I had no idea you would visit in person. It is an honor.”
“It’s been a while, Ju-ho. Have you been well?”
“Yes, I have, thank you.”
“I’ve come to brief you on modifications to the operation. I hear the National Guardian Bureau has been performing well lately? So after all that stubbornness, you’re finally learning how to deliver results.”
“Please, come inside.”

Once inside the office, Kim Young-hwan looked around as he spoke.

“Isn’t it about time you pushed toward Level 8? You’ve been at your current level quite long enough. You should be preparing to succeed me.”
“Hah, that stage is far more difficult than one might expect. These days, I confess I’m half resigned to my limitations.”
“A pity, though knowing one’s place has merit. It seems you’ve made peace with yours.”
“There are so many who blunder about without self-awareness. Isn’t it better to have at least one person who understands their own station?”
“By the way your tongue moves, I’d say you haven’t entirely surrendered.”

Jung Ju-ho, pretending not to hear, recalled what had been said moments before and asked carefully.

“But you mentioned modifications to the operation……”
“I’ve conceived of a better strategy. An efficient method to capture both the Berserker and the Puppeteer simultaneously.”
……

Jung Ju-ho felt a chill at that parched smile. He realized that for Kim Young-hwan, minimizing casualties simply did not exist—only ‘efficiency’ mattered.
Kim Young-hwan was power incarnate, still drawing breath. A cold-blooded man who would not blink an eye at sacrificing others to seize yet more control.
Indeed, ten years prior, in an operation that Kim Young-hwan had personally commanded, over a hundred government Hunters had fallen.
Had they exercised patience and taken more time to deliberate, the casualties could have been significantly reduced. But it was rendered moot by Kim Young-hwan’s stubbornness—his insistence on securing results before the fiscal year’s end.
With such a track record, whatever revisions he brought would be dangerous.
Whether or not he sensed Jung Ju-ho’s thoughts, Kim Young-hwan offered that parched smile once more.

“I’ve heard there’s quite a famous name these days. Head Breaker, isn’t it?”
“Ah? Yes. Just a junior still learning the trade.”
“Even so, I ought to offer my junior some words of encouragement.”

Jung Ju-ho’s expression hardened, unable to interpret the remark as anything but ominous.

“First, let me outline the operation. I’d like to brief everyone present—gather them in the conference room.”
“Understood.”

Seized by a sense of foreboding, Jung Ju-ho summoned the Hunters of the National Guardian Bureau to the conference room.

* * *

The ugliness of unchecked ambition.
That is how I see Kim Young-hwan.
At seventy years old, he ought to be considering retirement, yet he remains relentlessly active, wielding his Honorary Minister title to sustain his influence without hesitation.
The government, despite knowing his peak years have passed, cannot bring itself to suggest retirement—precisely because he remains the sole Superhuman under state employ.
In fact, I suspect Kim Young-hwan is deliberately obstructing the emergence of new Superhumans.
In the future I glimpsed, Kim Young-hwan remains active in the field for another ten years before stepping down at eighty.
He is a man obsessively devoted to standing in his own spotlight, willing to accept any sacrifice to seize credit. At seventy, his reputation with women is equally formidable.
Such an old man would hardly overlook Jung Da-hyun.

“Heh, have you been well? You’ve grown even lovelier.”
“…Yes.”
“You’ve grown considerably. But you’re starting to bump against a ceiling now. It’s important to work hard and push yourself, but this is the time to make strategic choices—to focus on what matters.”

Jung Da-hyun flinched under that gaze, slick and suffocating as a serpent’s coil. The old man strutted about, oblivious to how hollow his words truly were.

“Visit me sometime. Nurturing talent like yours is a hobby of mine, after all.”
“Thank you.”
“Minister. What exactly is this revised operation plan……?”

Jung Ju-ho cut in, unable to stomach the insinuation any longer.

“The current operation isn’t terrible, but I’m unconvinced we can secure both targets definitively. So I’m going to revise it myself and take personal command. Under my strategy, we’ll catch not just the Berserker, but the Puppeteer as well.”

His words carried such conviction that unease settled across every face in the room.
From what I understand, this old man’s command ability is below average at best.

“First, we’ll establish a massive encirclement with our numerical advantage, then commit our elite forces up front with overwhelming firepower.”

Kim Young-hwan explained the revised operation with supreme confidence. He was certain they could capture the Berserker and the Puppeteer, yet the faces of his audience remained clouded.
He’d split the elite forces in half to engage both targets, then at the critical moment step in personally to hunt the Berserker, riding that momentum to capture the Puppeteer.
It sounded plausible on the surface, but stripped of its dressing, it was simple: use the government hunters as expendable material, whittle down the villains, then monopolize the credit for yourself.
Jung Ju-ho zeroed in on exactly that.

“There will be significant casualties.”
“When two villains combine their strength, some casualties are unavoidable. We have to take them down while we have the chance, regardless of collateral damage.”

Like he’s the only one who’ll walk away with the credit.
Sacrifices are regrettable, unavoidable—that’s true. But peel back the packaging and what he’s really saying is: you lot sacrifice yourselves so I can weaken them and finish them myself.
Is shamelessness this transparent really a mark of talent? Honestly, I lack the nerve to pull off something like that. Even if someone ordered me to, I couldn’t.
I’d just step in and break the bastard’s neck myself.

“Some of you may not make it back. But don’t worry. I stake my name on it—I’ll send those two straight to hell.”
“…….”

The shamelessness defied imagination. I couldn’t help but marvel at it.

“Bullshit elevated to an art form.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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