The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 71
—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————
Episode 71
The styling Jin Se-jeong had suggested I try, playing along with him, turned out to be absolute torture.
All day long—trying on different outfits to see what worked, finding the right tone for my complexion, then applying the makeup.
I half wondered if the League had sent some unnamed assassin, but when Jin Se-jeong cheered and Lee Se-hee exclaimed “Excellent,” I had no choice but to accept it silently.
That’s how I ended up going to the event in disguise.
For me, it was just another day, but the world had transformed entirely.
When I got home, Yun-hee’s reaction was even more dramatic.
“What on earth did you do? Wow, seriously. It’s really you, right?”
“Who else would it be?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying! My own brother was a mega-star idol this whole time?”
Yun-hee, who’d been muttering about mega-villains and cosmic demons, kept glancing between my face and her smartphone.
Was the change really that dramatic? If I’m being honest, wearing all that makeup did feel like putting on a thick mask.
I’d just finished removing the makeup that had been covering my face cleanly.
Even taking it off was no small task.
“Explain what happened. Now.”
“Well, we decided to hire a professional this time…”
When I mentioned that Jin Se-jeong had taken over managing my image, Yun-hee gasped.
I thought she was sympathizing with my suffering, but that wasn’t it at all.
“Jin Se-jeong? Are you serious? This guy’s the real deal! He’s legit!”
“You know him?”
“Of course! He’s a top-tier director—made Super One a hit, plus Black Khan and Carpe Diem. Ultra-ultra-first-class!”
Judging by how Yun-hee spoke, the man’s credentials were solid, but I couldn’t figure out why he’d always looked like a predator ready to devour me.
Still, since the results were undeniable, there wasn’t much I could say.
Building a world concept, performing like an idol and all.
It embarrassed me too much to confess those details to Yun-hee.
Wait—how does she even know all this?
“Those things you mentioned—were they all idols?”
“Yeah, idols I used to be really into.”
“How deep was this obsession exactly?”
“Well, it’s not like—”
Yun-hee’s words stammered out, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.
Did she think I’d just drop it? Not a chance.
“What’s Black Khan’s world concept?”
“Seven boys with the traits of beasts across a wasteland where only darkness exists, and—wait!”
“What about Super One’s?”
“Nine men trying to destroy the world, pooling nine superpowers into one, suffering in the agony of destruction and creation, and—no, stop!”
But she’d already spilled everything.
Carpe Diem was still left, but the way she was about to seal her lips shut, I decided to stop here.
Just how much had this girl been obsessing over these people?
“…Don’t tell Mom. These people made my school days beautiful.”
“Fine.”
I should let her know through a message instead. Lee Young-hee deserves to know what kind of person her daughter really is.
Yun-hee, realizing she’d been cornered, tried to change the subject.
“Anyway! This is a real breakthrough. The reaction’s completely different this time.”
She held up her smartphone to show me the news feed, and I wondered why it looked like that—my story had moved from the usual current affairs section straight into entertainment.
“Why’s the news in here?”
“I have no idea. But the response is insane.”
Yun-hee said the real highlight was when I swept away the flying monsters that had appeared in the sky during the event.
They were only Hazard Level 1 creatures, but they’d been howling loudly and disrupting the festivities—and when I swung Nuri and scattered Force to eliminate them all at once, apparently the crowd went wild.
I hadn’t changed, but the reactions were so polarized I could barely adjust to it.
“You’re going to keep doing this from now on?”
“That’s what they told me to do.”
Thinking of Jin Se-jeong’s words about periodically changing my style left me in a foul mood.
Yun-hee, though, seemed to have different ideas.
“Now you’ll finally look like an actual person when you go out.”
“What?”
“I mean, think about it—wearing just that one charcoal-grey formal suit and only putting on skin lotion to every official event doesn’t make sense. Appearance is a competitive asset too!”
“Appearance doesn’t keep you alive.”
“But it gives you popularity!”
……
Since I was beginning to taste the power of popularity firsthand, there wasn’t much more I could say.
Was that absurd plan Jin Se-jeong had sketched out actually coming to fruition?
“The female fans were cheering like crazy—didn’t that bother you?”
“I nearly drew my sword out of surprise.”
“…Don’t you ever do that. Understood?”
Faced with her icy tone, I could only nod in agreement.
“Once you keep dressing like this, your fan base will grow and they’ll protect you, and public opinion will just flip on its own. What’s next?”
“Opening a channel.”
Jin Se-jeong said he’d film snippets of my daily life to boost familiarity and deepen understanding of my world concept.
Would that even help?
Who exactly was curious about watching me eat or going about ordinary routines?
But after hearing the whole plan, Yun-hee nodded thoughtfully and kept marveling.
“That’s Jin Se-jeong for you. He really knows how to aim.”
“Is this right?”
“Yeah, since Jin Se-jeong’s going to make you into a cosmic-class Hunter, just sit back and play along.”
……
This was bleak.
* * *
In Lee Se-hee’s office sat three people who had no previous connection to one another.
Lee Se-hee, General Manager of Sacred Guild operations; Jin Se-jeong, who now directed Team Choi Jun-ho; and Ko Ye-jin, a reporter from Media Force.
Ko Ye-jin, who hadn’t expected to be summoned here, kept reading the room before apparently deciding to shift the mood, and she greeted them with a loud, cheerful voice.
“Hello! I’m Ko Ye-jin from Media Force! It’s a pleasure to work with you all!”
“I’m Jin Se-jeong, and I’m now directing Team Choi Jun-ho. I hope you’ll forgive me that we don’t have other team members yet.”
“Oh, not at all! I was actually shocked to learn that this Choi Jun-ho Superhuman project was directed by you, Director Jin!”
“Ah, you’ve seen it?”
“Yes! It was deeply impressive. Truly, Jin Se-jeong at his finest!”
Jin Se-jeong burst out laughing at the dramatic reaction. The hearty sound mellowed the entire atmosphere at once.
“The reason I invited Ko Ye-jin today is because Choi Jun-ho asked me to. I was wondering if we might be able to work together?”
“Yes! I understand. You have work you’d like me to do.”
“More precisely, I’d say it’s a collaboration. Choi Jun-ho mentioned that among all the journalists out there, Ko Ye-jin writes with the most compelling flair. So I looked into her work, and… well, the phrase ‘truth lives up to its reputation’ came to mind on its own. Just reading the headlines, I knew: this is someone we need to bring on board.”
“I—I’m deeply grateful!”
Ko Ye-jin’s face shone with emotion at having her talents recognized. Online, she’d been perpetually nominated to lists like “The Journalist Most Worth Ignoring” and “Makes You Want to Throw a Punch Just Looking at the Headline,” branded as some clickbait merchant reincarnated. But to be acknowledged like this in real life—she’d never imagined it.
As she absorbed this, Jin Se-jeong continued.
“We’re launching a channel for Choi Jun-ho, and we need your particular talents.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Thumbnails people can’t help but click on. That’s what we need.”
“M-me? Really? I just worry that given Choi Jun-ho’s standing and reputation, maybe I’m not the right fit—”
“I understand what you’re thinking.”
“Of course I want to help, but I’m starting to wonder if you’ve made a mistake about who I am.”
“That’s not it.”
Jin Se-jeong shook his head with conviction.
“What Choi Jun-ho needs right now is relatability. He has all the elements to appeal to younger audiences—he’s in his twenties, the youngest Superhuman—but he’s not leveraging them properly. So lowering the barrier to entry is absolutely crucial. And you’re the person who can do that.”
“Will no one object?”
“I’m willing to stake my reputation on it. Oh, and let me be clear upfront—I can’t offer you equity in the channel. We’ll pay you per project.”
“Let me do it! I won’t let you down!”
Just as Ko Ye-jin’s enthusiasm burned bright, another voice cut in.
“Before we go ahead, I’d like to give you a skill test.”
It was Lee Se-hee, who had been quiet until now.
Ko Ye-jin, blazing with enthusiasm just a moment before, shriveled like a turtle withdrawing into its shell at the sound of her voice.
“Don’t be so nervous. It’s just a simple test to see if you’re capable of doing this.”
“Y-yes! What would you like me to do?”
“How about you create a simple thumbnail using the Big Bang Series? How much time do you need? An hour?”
“Five minutes is all I need!”
Ko Ye-jin’s eyes lit up as her demeanor shifted to complete focus.
* * *
‘Honestly, I’m not convinced.’
Lee Se-hee watched Ko Ye-jin and mentally clicked her tongue. The woman may have clawed her way through a tough childhood, but at heart she was just another journalist churning out sensationalist headlines.
When Choi Jun-ho was with the National Guard, she’d pumped out articles dripping with criticism. Lately she’d done an about-face, spewing praise so overdone it made people cringe.
Lee Se-hee had been burned by the press enough times to harbor her own bias.
‘No matter how important shock value is, why her?’
Couldn’t they go about this with more dignity?
But Jin Se-jeong had argued that getting even one more person to click mattered more than dignity—that what mattered was an “Aggro” headline that drew attention. So she’d gone along with it, though doubts lingered.
Honestly, this restraint was the only check she could exercise.
Jin Se-jeong had already proven his competence decisively. He’d orchestrated an unlikely partnership between Choi Jun-ho and the idol World Concept, generating an enormous synergy that shocked even her.
The complete reversal in public opinion between yesterday and today—she’d never witnessed anything like it. Yesterday’s fears that sentiment would only worsen were no longer necessary.
Would Jin Se-jeong’s magic work just as powerfully with Ko Ye-jin on board?
“I’m done.”
Ko Ye-jin spent five minutes explaining, but finished the headline in just one minute.
“Where….”
Lee Se-hee’s expression hardened as she took the tablet.
‘What? If there’s a shortage, the licensed manufacturers should just increase production to fix it, right? But why is the American President here? Was there some clash with Congress? And the FDA? They have nothing to do with Big Bang Series approvals.’
It was a messy headline full of holes.
The problem was that it made you want to click. Why was there a shortage of the Big Bang Series in America? Why had the U.S. President gotten angry at Congress? And where did the FDA suddenly come from?
Ko Ye-jin’s headline had a raw, primal quality that hooked curiosity despite its sloppiness.
To this extent, Lee Se-hee had to admit it. If this headline hadn’t been improvised on the spot—if she’d known the content was absurd—she would have clicked anyway.
“What do you think?”
“…It’s not bad.”
And Lee Se-hee didn’t push back; she conceded readily.
“But please refrain from overly cheap phrasing. This involves the dignity of the Superhuman, so the thumbnail text should contain only the truth. That’s my request.”
“Yes! I’ll use the most refined language possible and focus only on the facts to draw attention!”
“At this rate, we won’t have any trouble getting the views.”
Watching Jin Se-jeong interject with a grin, Lee Se-hee could only nod.
Was this really the right call?
But when it came to driving clicks, it would definitely work.
This should go well.
In the end, Lee Se-hee gave up thinking about it.
* * *
Because the change has been so dramatic in such a short time, my mind’s been busier lately.
I haven’t changed, so why are people suddenly so obsessed with me?
Today, I felt what it meant for the world to change overnight.
Just weeks ago, public opinion about me was split.
Those who supported my actions as justice being enforced.
Those who condemned me, saying there was no difference between my fists and a Villain’s.
I didn’t worry too much about either camp. I believed that if I kept acting by the standards I’d set, the results would speak for themselves.
But in a corner of my heart, there was a small anxiety. The thought that if my actions didn’t end up being recognized, I could be written off as a Villain.
When people turned their guns and blades on me, would I be able to resist being consumed by madness? Could I respond rationally without lifting a hand?
But after meeting Jin Se-jeong, many things in my life shifted.
My image flipped in an instant through interviews where he polished certain details and hit the right notes.
“I still don’t understand it.”
How did it flip like this?
Especially the videos posted on the channel—the response wasn’t hot; it was frenzied.
Why are people so interested in my self-introduction, where I work, and what I eat?
And the viewcount for that video of me training broke Korea’s 24-hour record.
At Jin Se-jeong’s suggestion, I’d actually taken off my shirt and shown sweat, and just that one thing created this kind of effect?
“It’s something only you can do, Superhuman Choi Jun-ho. I simply applied the right technique to the finest material.”
Jin Se-jeong said this with a show of humility.
One thing was clear.
Lee Se-hee’s advice to form Team Choi Jun-ho had been exactly what I needed, and Jin Se-jeong was a skilled operator who’d turned around my faltering public image.
Today, after finishing the Superhuman broadcast, an interview about tax payments was scheduled.
A few days ago, the first settlement from the Big Bang Series had come in.
The taxes I had to pay on that settlement came to just over one trillion won.
Everyone pays their taxes.
I was just going to pay mine, but Jin Se-jeong said we couldn’t let such a good opportunity slip by. So we brought in Ko Ye-jin and decided to make it a special interview feature.
I didn’t understand—I was simply paying what I owed. What made it a good deed?
Or maybe… I just hated having to frame it this way instead of simply paying.
The interview was conducted through Ko Ye-jin.
“Hello! I’m Ko Ye-jin from Media Force! It’s an honor to interview you, Choi Jun-ho!”
“I’m Choi Jun-ho.”
“Today I have truly remarkable news! Can you believe it—Choi Jun-ho has declared that he will pay over one trillion won in taxes without any tax optimization! Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“Is there a particular reason?”
I don’t think tax optimization is wrong. But the line between legal and illegal is murky, and I saw no reason to complicate things just to save a bit more. If someone places greater value on money, I respect their meticulous approach to paying the minimum. That’s their choice.
But I’ve never been one to split hairs over it.
“I simply paid what I owe.”
“How admirably straightforward of you, sir!”
“I was just doing what’s obviously necessary. Paying taxes is a citizen’s duty, after all.”
“Ha, haha… yes, of course.”
Why was she laughing so awkwardly?
“But don’t most people find it… wasteful?”
“I don’t find it wasteful. I simply hope the money is used well. Though…”
The fact that people praise you for doing something obviously necessary suggested that most weren’t doing it at all.
“From what I hear, there’s considerable resistance to taxes. I’d like to see a society where people pay willingly, without complaint.”
But what should society do with those who don’t pay their taxes properly?
If people refuse to pay what they owe, the nation loses revenue that should be collected, and we waste administrative resources trying to enforce it. Isn’t that eating away at the country itself? Doesn’t that make them villains too?
Even as I was thinking this, I suddenly became aware of a thick silence settling around me.
“Did that… come out loud?”
“…Yes.”
Everyone watching the interview had frozen.
—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
