The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 95

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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 95

“Then we’ll proceed that way.”

At the President’s order, the Chief Presidential Secretary for Political Affairs bowed and exited the office.
Left alone with Cheon Myeong-guk, the President broke into a smirk.

“The situation is unfolding quite entertainingly, wouldn’t you say?”
“……”
“I wish I could see this firsthand. I’ve rarely regretted missing the National Assembly like I do now. There’s bound to be absolute chaos breaking loose in there right about now.”
“Your tastes are rather peculiar, sir.”
“What else can I do? They’re the sort who kick away their own fortune. I need at least the pleasure of watching. The Equal Application Act went too far.”

The President clicked his tongue. Cheon Myeong-guk agreed on that point as well.
The global trend was increasingly moving toward deregulation of Awakened Ones. Though crimes committed by Awakened Ones had emerged as a serious social issue, the threat posed by monsters exceeded it by far. The fact that Awakened Ones could simply relocate to other nations if treated poorly had played no small role in this shift.
To prevent this, several multinational coalitions had outlawed the poaching of superhumans from other countries, but the practice still occurred covertly behind closed doors.
The desperation to secure superhumans had reached that fever pitch.
Some nations were even willing to join hands with villain organizations if it meant reducing the monster count.
From that perspective, the Equal Application Act was an unmistakable relic of an earlier era.
That said, it wasn’t as though this law had been crafted with sufficient field experience and consultation, as the current controversy might suggest.

“Choi Jun-ho doesn’t grasp how reckless a power struggle like this is. I thought Ji Chang-yong could keep him in check, but his head’s grown considerably since becoming party leader. He’s usually the most perceptive one, which is why I helped him. But it won’t matter—they won’t accept it anyway. Now we wait and see what happens. Once we determine which side has the upper hand, then we can mediate. However.”
“The party’s cooperation will be necessary, though.”
“I know. That’s why I even sent the Chief Secretary to show good faith, didn’t I? Not that they’ll accept it. Whatever the outcome, this is the time to observe. Once we can judge which side stands stronger, only then can we negotiate properly. The one thing is—”

The President spoke with assured conviction.

“Choi Jun-ho’s argument is thoroughly reasonable. How the ones caught under the suspension law will react is entirely predictable.”
“I share that opinion, sir.”
“I must say, Choi Jun-ho’s political acumen seems considerable. He’ll be troublesome to deal with.”
“Ah……”

Cheon Myeong-guk, who hadn’t immediately grasped why that sympathetic gaze was directed at him, suddenly understood that he was the one who would have to contend with Choi Jun-ho. He exhaled in resignation.
Damn. His stomach was beginning to ache.

* * *

The Ruling Party side was thrown into complete upheaval by Choi Jun-ho’s remarks.
Since the bill had been initiated under the Ruling Party’s leadership, his statement sounded like a declaration of war.
The Chief Presidential Secretary for Political Affairs attempted mediation, but predictably, it fell apart.
The Office of the President’s move to shield Choi Jun-ho only fanned the flames of the ruling party members’ fury to ever greater heights.

“This is mockery of us!”
“Choi Jun-ho! How dare that man challenge the National Assembly!”
“We must push ahead at once! Let’s apply pressure to the Office of the President!”
“Party Leader! Please make a decision!”
“……”

Party Leader Ji Chang-yong kept his eyes closed, listening to the National Assembly members shout.
The noise of pitiful fools.

‘The President must be clicking his tongue right now. I can’t afford to fall out of favor over this.’

Ji Chang-yong, who had served as a member of the President’s faction since his days as party leader, sensed how the winds were shifting.
His attempt to suppress Choi Jun-ho had been the fatal error. He should have read the situation correctly when the Office of the President moved to shield him, but he’d made his opening misstep by treating their relationship as a distant one.
The problem was that final responsibility ultimately fell on him as well.
In the Lunchbox Incident, Choi Hyo-jik’s son-in-law had been left a cripple, and he resented being excluded from the party’s endorsement slate. Choi Hyo-jik may have been the principal culprit in the irregularities, but he believed that neither himself as party chairman nor Han Jung-moon as Seoul’s mayor should suffer such treatment.
Once the sword is drawn, even grass must be cut. But the possibility of things going wrong had to be weighed as well.
Ji Chang-yong watched the veins bulging in the necks of the heated representatives before he spoke.

“Representative Kim Young-jun, Representative Ha Sang-woo, Representative Kim Seul-hye—it was you three who said we needed to put the noose around the Superhumans’ necks. Since Superhuman Choi Jun-ho’s opinion is reasonable, wouldn’t it be wise to see the scene firsthand?”

The Equal Application Act had been introduced with these three as its driving force. They had torn through the National Assembly, complaining that Choi Jun-ho’s conduct was unacceptable.
The three representatives, suddenly singled out by name, flushed crimson.

“Chairman! Are you abandoning us now?”
“If we go to the scene, he’ll try to kill us! Have you forgotten what kind of man Choi Jun-ho is?”
“Chairman, this is capitulating to Choi Jun-ho!”

None of them were saying they’d go even if it meant death.
Ji Chang-yong felt a snort of derision rising inside, but maintained a grave expression on the surface.
The real problem was what would happen afterward, even if the representatives went courageously.
Could they possibly return unharmed?
Why did he have a feeling that no one would come back alive?
That very sensation—the way Choi Jun-ho could inspire such dread—was what made him truly terrifying.
Many Superhumans had appeared in South Korea thus far, but never one like this. The others had actually hoped to join his inner circle, to become part of the cartel. The Red Snake, Kim Young-hwan, had been most faithful to that logic.
His greed had eventually become such a burden that he was difficult to manage, yet at least he spoke the same language.
But Choi Jun-ho was different.
He had no lust for money, no hunger for fame. When the numbers didn’t add up, he’d raise his hand against anyone regardless of rank. Yet victims kept mounting because so many people clung to the thought, “Surely not me.”
Choi Jun-ho was already a time bomb in the hands of the entrenched powers, its fuse unknown.
Somehow, they had to find a way to control him.

“Then what options do we have left?”
“We gain practical experience by avoiding Choi Jun-ho!”
“Why should we follow Choi Jun-ho’s proposal at all? Let’s just push through with numbers.”
“The President’s Office will exercise its veto. How is that even possible? Do you have the confidence to persuade the President?”
“Can’t we just ask the Chairman to handle that?”

This was a complete mess.
With one move from Choi Jun-ho, they were splitting apart and fighting among themselves. How could they possibly win?
As the arguments grew increasingly fierce, a young man who had been quietly observing raised his hand.

“Chairman.”
“Representative Yu Jung-ho.”

It was Yu Jung-ho, a second-term representative. He spoke with unshakable confidence.

“I will go meet Superhuman Choi Jun-ho myself.”
“Him?”
“Yes. While Superhuman Choi Jun-ho came on strong, I’m certain there are points we can negotiate. I’ll meet him directly and persuade him.”
“I know Representative Yu’s negotiating skills, but Choi Jun-ho is… well…”

If even the President’s Office had given up on persuading him, what hope was there? Moreover, Choi Jun-ho was notorious for not meeting with National Assembly members. More precisely, he simply had no interest. Many representatives were frustrated by the complete indifference they received.
And yet, if the silver-tongued Yu Jung-ho stepped forward, might the situation not reverse? A faint hope did kindle.
Ji Chang-yong changed his mind. If Yu Jung-ho succeeded, he could leverage his standing to check the other representatives.

“Let’s have faith in you.”
“I’ll bring back results that satisfy you.”

Yu Jung-ho spoke with utter confidence.

* * *

As my interview had become a hot topic, my sparring match with Jung Da-hyun was drawing considerable attention as well.
Especially the praise for Jung Da-hyun’s beauty was extraordinary—so much so that Jin Se-jeong offered me consolation, not-quite-consolation, saying that women were naturally preferred over men in internet broadcasts anyway.
For the first time, I realized that breaking through my limits could be this easy.
Should I tell Lee Se-hee about this next time?
Separately, reeling in Choi Yun-hee proved remarkably smooth.

“I can get my hopes up, right?”
“Yeah, get your hopes up.”

Having secured an excellent scapegoat, I found myself hearing about internet broadcasting even when I met with Lee Se-hee.
Lee Se-hee, who was ordinarily aggressive about her own PR, surprisingly refrained from discussing broadcast appearances.

“I have to think not just about myself, but about the group’s image too. I can’t help but be cautious.”
“I see.”
“With so much to protect, maintaining what I have can’t help but be conservative.”

I found myself thinking that Lee Se-hee, carrying such weight on her shoulders, must be rather exhausted.

“And I like doing things hardcore the way I do now. It doesn’t suit being on broadcast.”
“Fair point.”

It was Lee Se-hee who sometimes cried out for me to push her harder, even when I thought it might be too much.
Even as I understood, I felt a pang of loss — a sign that I’d grown rather fond of broadcasting myself. Then again, just considering hidden-camera content with Choi Yun-hee probably proved the point.

“Does Jung Da-hyun usually go easier than that each time?”
“Of course I push harder.”
“That’s what I figured.”

Lee Se-hee nodded and shifted the conversation to the Equal Application Act. She complimented me on framing it well, but truthfully, I hadn’t calculated that far ahead.
My thinking had been fundamentally grounded in principles — I was simply considering whether gaining field experience would be wise if I were going to propose legislation.
A death or two would likely make people realize they’d been in a genuinely dangerous environment.

“But multiplying enemies isn’t ideal.”

In the old days, I would’ve said just kill them all and be done with it.
But I do develop as a person.
I’ve learned that the more enemies you kill, the more allies you keep alive, the better.

“What would be the best approach?”
“The best thing would be to increase the number of National Assembly members who follow you. They’d reflect your views in the Assembly.”
“I have to reflect my views?”
“For basic defense. The real point is preventing them from proposing bills that hurt you.”

Like the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my ally — opposition for opposition’s sake shapes this world. Lee Se-hee’s words deserved consideration. Even if I didn’t participate directly, I understood they’d be useful to me.
As someone who’d seen presidents up close, I understood that a person who could understand my mind was a useful tool.

“Somehow this feels like I’m being used.”
“Not quite used — more like joining forces. I’ll help you.”

Lee Se-hee spoke of executing a strategy where everyone gets what they want.
Since it wouldn’t hurt me either, I agreed.
However, there was one thing about my relationship with Lee Se-hee that I needed to address.

“And you’re comfortable with this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lee Se-chan.”
……
“I know there are rumors going around. If it feels burdensome, you can keep your distance for a while.”

If Lee Se-hee asked whether I was the one who made Lee Se-chan look foolish, I was prepared to answer honestly.
He’d crossed a line in front of me, but I thought his removal would smooth her path forward.
That conviction remained unchanged even now.
But Lee Se-hee might see things differently.

“You’ve always harbored mixed feelings toward me. Once I became an adult and started achieving results, your hatred grew darker. I knew it would become a problem, but I didn’t have the courage to sever that tie decisively. That’s why I’m grateful for the situation now.”

Lee Se-hee held my gaze.

“It doesn’t matter to me how you acted, Jun-ho. I’m going to look forward and live in the present.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Admirable? There’s a bit of escapism mixed in there. And are you insane? Telling me to stay away from the Goose That Lays Golden Eggs? Absolutely not. It’s mine.”

So I’d become someone else’s property without realizing it.

“My true feelings slipped out without me knowing.”

Lee Se-hee, laughing a little awkwardly, changed the subject as if trying to shift the mood.

“Now that the Big Bang Series has gotten established, isn’t there another good business opportunity out there?”
“I’m not sure.”

The Big Bang Series itself was something I hadn’t even known was commercially viable until Lee Se-hee revived it.
I don’t have a business sense to begin with.
Yet Lee Se-hee’s eyes sparkled with such intensity that it felt burdensome as she pursued me relentlessly.

“There’s definitely something out there. You’re the Goose That Lays Golden Eggs, after all!”
“All right, I’ll think about it.”

···Somehow, I had a feeling I’d need to come up with something even if nothing existed.

* * *

The response to the interview wasn’t dying down as time passed—it was burning brighter. Not only sitting members of the National Assembly, but commentators on television were stepping into the fray one by one.
Some condemned me, while others criticized the National Assembly for rushing ahead recklessly.
I’d tipped off Cheon Myeong-guk that behind the scenes, a power struggle was unfolding between Cheongwadae and the National Assembly.
Power was truly terrifying. Even though Cheongwadae and the National Assembly were on the same side, their jockeying was ultimately about dominance.

“No wonder it’s easier to just kill them all.”

Various opinions were surfacing, but my position hadn’t changed, of course.
If you’re going to enact a law, field experience is essential. That’s why I set the condition: experience the actual site conditions firsthand, and if you reach the same conclusion, then I’ll support it too. If there’s a noble intention rather than ulterior motive, you’ll step forward.
But looking at how things were developing, it seemed clear that the intentions weren’t pure.
It was time to back off now that I’d passed the ball.
A National Assembly member from the Ruling Party came to see me.
I usually decline such meetings, but the name was familiar, and a gut instinct made me accept, as if urging me to see this person.
Where have I heard that name before?

“It’s an honor to meet you, Superhuman Choi Jun-ho. My name is Yu Jung-ho.”
“Pleased to meet you.”

Yu Jung-ho was a young rising star within the Ruling Party—elected at thirty-five and serving a second term. The fact that early-forties is considered young talent makes the National Assembly feel like stagnant water.
Superhumans grow weaker with age, but National Assembly members accumulate seniority and transform into monsters.

“I’ve come because of the Equal Application Act. I was worried you might harbor ill feelings toward the Ruling Party.”
“Isn’t the Ruling Party leading this?”
“Not everyone shares the same opinion. I certainly don’t.”

He came all this way just to appeal that?
Then I’ll give him the answer he wants.

“I bear no ill will toward the Ruling Party.”
“Then I’m relieved. Some people are trapped in old memories and see Awakened Ones as something to be controlled, but I believe we must move forward together.”
“I see.”
“Yes, I believe supporting Awakened Ones is work for the nation’s future. Moreover, I think it would be good if Awakened Ones participated actively in national governance as well.”

Yu Jung-ho revealed that he himself, though not particularly talented, had risen to Level 5 as an Awakened One. But from what I could gauge, he seemed to be Level 6, not Level 5.
After emphasizing that he was an Awakened One like me, he subtly criticized the representatives who had proposed the Equal Application Act while elevating Awakened Ones in the process.
At this point, their ideology was fundamentally different — so why were they in the same party?
Whether I questioned it or not, Yu Jung-ho passionately continued laying out his views.

“Awakened Ones are being oppressed. Due to the current social atmosphere, we’re losing opportunities to develop our true capacities. That’s why I—”
“Ah.”

It came back to me as I watched him speak with such fervor.
No wonder his face seemed familiar — I did know it.
I’d seen Yu Jung-ho’s face on television before, roughly ten years older than he looked now.
Yu Jung-ho — a future presidential candidate.
A spy for the League.
That revelation had turned South Korea upside down.
The prey had walked straight into the net of its own accord.
Yu Jung-ho, unable to make sense of my reaction, wore a bewildered expression.

“I’m not sure what you—”
“I’m just glad to see you.”

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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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