The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 6

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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 6

After the team dinner, I settled into the job without incident, my transition smooth and unremarkable.
Jeong Da-hyeon, who’d taken it upon herself to mentor me, walked me through every facet of what a civil servant Hunter was expected to do.
Like any profession, hunting Villains full-time didn’t mean you only hunted Villains.
There were endless discussions about strategies to suppress Villain emergence, reinforced security measures, containment protocols for Monsters approaching the city limits both from within and without—and I had to master the paperwork, coordinate seamlessly across departments, and verify that each piece of the machinery meshed together as intended.
With an array of surveillance assets in place, the system that emerged meant that when an incident broke out in Seoul, nearby units could arrive within five minutes, with full deployment happening within thirty minutes.
There were inefficiencies, certainly, but the architecture had been designed to protect the city’s safety. Had the mandate been “elimination” rather than “apprehension” of Villains, the efficiency would have been dramatically higher.

“……So, establishing cooperative frameworks with other departments is absolutely paramount.”

Jeong Da-hyeon stressed the importance of collaboration repeatedly.

“But doesn’t cooperation mean sacrificing speed?”
“Exactly. That’s why fieldwork judgment is so critical.”

And it was civil servant Hunters who possessed that judgment. That was precisely why they were granted Public Authority.
It was Public Authority—whether you had it or lacked it—that drew the line between a Hunter and a Villain.
I had no intention of seeking cooperation from other departments, not like Jeong Da-hyeon suggested. Villains were entities that needed to vanish; as a civil servant Hunter tasked with minimizing casualties, speed was everything.
This was surely the ordinary mindset of a civil servant Hunter sworn to protect citizens.
And I genuinely liked how qualification was decided by a single test.

“Shall we grab lunch?”

Checking the time, I realized it was the lunch hour. Jeong Da-hyeon and I stepped outside and walked to Baekban Restaurant, a small place a short distance from the National Protection Agency. Their mushroom miso stew was excellent, so we’d been eating there all week.

“Don’t you think catching Villains in the field is better than just building systems?”
“It’s not as simple as it sounds.”
“What do you mean, not simple?”
“A Villain hiding in the city is far more cunning than you’d imagine.”
……

I honestly couldn’t grasp what she meant.
Seeing my expression, Jeong Da-hyeon smiled faintly.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

* * *

While I was settling into my civil servant Hunter routine during work hours, my evenings went to coaching Yoon Hee through her training.
Not just because she was my sister—she had genuine talent.
Her fluid footwork, her affinity for Force, her adaptability, her control—all were exceptional.
My instruction was grueling enough that she’d grumble about it, but watching her abilities grow, she gritted her teeth and pushed through.
The stronger she became with each training session, the more satisfying it was to drive her. And being her older brother, the urge to bring her to her fullest only burned brighter.
Watching her, I was reminded that it was I who’d once blocked Yoon Hee’s path forward.
She’d been the fiery, open-hearted type—beloved by our parents and her friends alike.
Because of me, her dreams had shattered. She’d been condemned to a lifetime under surveillance. And all I could do was watch her from a distance, unable to face her.
I lacked the courage to confront her directly, but what if I had?

“You’d probably just nag me, right? Tell me my useless older brother let himself become a Villain, ruined everything. The best decision in my whole life was you taking that civil servant Hunter test.”

That was her answer when I once asked what she’d say if I ever became a Villain.

“Don’t you dare even think about pulling any Villain crap. Just stick close to Jeong Da-hyeon. Then at least you’d be something in between, right?”

She seemed to trust Jeong Da-hyeon more than me. And when had she started calling her that way? The thought brushed past me, but I didn’t press further.

“Thanks for worrying about me, little one.”
“Wait, hold on! Why are you grinning like that? Don’t come near me!”
“Who’s tormenting you? We’re just going to train—fun training.”
“What’s fun about training? Mom! This guy’s trying to grab me!”

He’d scrambled to find his parents in the countryside, but it hadn’t taken long for that effort to fade.
When you’re exhausted enough, you don’t have the luxury of desperation anymore.

* * *

Level Measurement.
It was a mandatory process for anyone becoming a hunter.
Level was the measure of power itself, and high-level Awakeners were assessed and treated as critical national assets.
Active-duty Awakeners typically ranged from Level 4 to 5, while Level 6 to 7 were classified as superior Awakeners, and Level 8 as transcendent Awakeners.
Particularly, Level 8 Awakeners were considered the supreme force—no nation except the United States possessed more than ten of them.
The Republic of Korea officially held four Level 8 Awakeners.
With a systematic cultivation system and the emergence of exceptional prospects, the nation was counted among the world’s elite Awakener powers.
Because of this, those who nurtured prospects didn’t believe in the existence of geniuses who “appeared like shooting stars.” True genius was forged from childhood—carefully revealing talent and honing it through relentless refinement.
But today, that common sense shattered. Jeong Ju-ho stared at Jeong Da-hyeon, his face rigid.

“…Did you know about this?”
“I didn’t expect it to be this high either.”
“Level 7? Do you believe it?”
“I have to.”
“Right. We have to. The measurement device doesn’t lie.”

Level Measurement didn’t represent all combat potential, but it was the most widely recognized method and boasted high accuracy.
Today’s measurement had confirmed that Choi Jun-ho reached Level 7.
Suspecting an error, they’d run several more tests with different devices, but the results were identical.
Level 7 on the first measurement after Awakening. A growth trajectory that defied probability. And an application to become a public servant hunter.
Nothing made sense from beginning to end.
If someone in his mid-twenties reached Level 7, guilds would tear down mountains to recruit him.

“What kind of person is this Choi Jun-ho, in your assessment?”
“Like blank paper.”
“Blank paper?”
“Yes—pristine white paper. Innocent in a way that doesn’t match his age.”

She sensed something worn about him too, but chose not to mention it.
Choi Jun-ho was a person who required careful handling. The more you criticized his recklessness and pressured him to restrain himself, the more he’d rebound violently in the opposite direction.
One misstep could leave humanity facing a catastrophe unlike anything it had encountered before.
That’s why Jeong Da-hyeon chose the path of sheltering him.

“But blank paper is blank for a reason.”
“You mean it can be painted on.”
“Yes. That’s dangerous.”

He could become a dutiful civil servant hunter, or—with a single wrong turn—a Villain more dangerous than anyone else.
That was Jeong Da-hyeon’s reading of Choi Jun-ho.

“I need to be by his side.”
“I trust you, but his complete lack of history concerns me.”
“We’ll learn more as time goes on. If I’d harbored any ulterior motive, I wouldn’t have approached him like this.”
“Fair enough. All right—watch over him from close by for now.”

Jeong Ju-ho was ready to end the conversation, but Jeong Da-hyeon pressed on, catching something he might have overlooked.

“And there’s one more thing you should know.”
“What is it?”
“The Level Measurement Device… it can only measure up to Level 7.”
“…Surely not.”

Jeong Ju-ho shook his head firmly. But goosebumps prickled along his arms.
To measure Level 8, you needed the device housed at the Central Government. With a standard meter, even a Level 8 Awakener would register as Level 7.
Jeong Da-hyeon’s hypothesis was absurd. Yet it was a possibility they couldn’t ignore.

“It’s not possible, right?”
“I was just thinking out loud.”
“This needs time. We’ll report it to the higher-ups, but let’s hold off on announcing his Level for now.”
“Understood.”

* * *

Two weeks as a civil servant Hunter.
I’d completed the handover of internal operations and finished the Level measurement.
My Level was 7. After internal discussion, they’d settled on announcing my public Level as 5.
I didn’t obsess over my Level, but it differed from how I’d been rated in my past life, which struck me as odd.
In my previous existence, I’d watched countless high-Level Villains who’d boasted their rankings across the nation get their heads blown open by lower-Level Villains.
That’s why I don’t put stock in Levels. The true measure should be the output of power one can actually exert.
Today I’d gone into the field with Jeong Da-hyeon. Finally, fieldwork.
She’d insisted we couldn’t let our guard slip, so for lunch she’d ordered braised pork belly instead of soybean stew—I wasn’t sure what difference it made, but the solemn atmosphere came through loud and clear.

“You mentioned before that it would be better if we caught more Villains out in the field, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“The truth is, we don’t avoid it because we don’t know how.”
“Then?”
“We can’t do it. More precisely, we can’t catch Villains.”

We can’t catch Villains? That was hard to process.

“There aren’t enough Awakeners dedicated to hunting Villains compared to the city’s size. Most are preoccupied chasing Monsters and calculating byproduct value. This seemingly peaceful city is actually riddled with holes like Swiss cheese.”

I nodded. The afterimage of those Awakeners who’d hunted me relentlessly was vivid, but there wouldn’t have been enough personnel to cover every two-bit Villain.
I’d been mad—I’d killed openly—but I’d never seen a Villain strolling around exuding murderous intent before an Awakener with eyes wide open.

“Numbers aren’t the main problem, though. This is.”

Jeong Da-hyeon pinched her cheek and stretched it out.

“Fake Face?”
“Exactly.”

Fake Face, the false visage, was similar to Infimansugu—a disguise tool crafted from the processed skin of humanoid Monsters. It’s a staple item for Villains. Though toxicity keeps you from wearing it long-term, it’s invaluable within the city.

“We don’t have enough Awakeners, and Villains hide their identities. Even with coordination across multiple teams, we can only focus on damage control rather than prevention.”
“Is there no way to detect Fake Face?”
“You’d need facial recognition at close range. But that…”
“Would face heavy opposition.”
“Because there’s already backlash against Awakeners.”

Awakeners were objects of admiration, but they were also a new class structure. Citizens envied their immense power, their wealth and prestige, their authority.
Yet the underlying inferiority complex was the problem.
The general public wanted Awakeners kept in check, and they were wary of a privileged class composed entirely of them.

“So we work through systematic networks to suppress Villains as quickly as possible when they cause incidents. That’s our best option.”
“I have a question. Between eliminating Villains and protecting citizens, which does Director consider more important?”
“Citizen safety.”
“Even if a surviving Villain becomes a catastrophe in the future?”
“…Facing reality taught me you can’t have everything. If I can’t have both, citizen safety comes first.”

Clear eyes fixed on me. The same eyes I’d seen in my past life. The eyes he’d worn right up until the moment he died by my hand.
I don’t dislike people who try to adapt to reality in order to hold on to their convictions.

“I believe that arresting one Villain is what keeps a hundred citizens safe. That belief hasn’t changed.”
“Your way of thinking could easily create innocent victims.”
“Then I apologize. But isn’t that better than refusing a vaccine because you’re afraid of side effects? Take that person walking over there, for instance.”
“What?”

I moved toward the target my senses had locked onto.

“W-what is this?”

The ordinary-looking man who’d been standing there blankly looked startled when he saw me, but instead of answering, I reached out and yanked his face forward.

Rip!

The plain face transformed into a vicious visage covered in scars.

“This is how we find Villains.”

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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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