The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 97

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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 97

The revelation that Yu Jung-ho was a League spy unleashed an enormous backlash.
The ruling party leadership, taking full responsibility, resigned en masse. The discovery of a League spy within the party was a catastrophic event that threatened the party’s very existence.
The President’s statement managed to contain the damage with well-timed intervention.
He apologized for failing to prevent the spy’s infiltration, expressed stern remorse, and solemnly pledged to prevent any recurrence.
The President had once been the ruling party’s chairman.
He should have taken a heavy hit from this, but surprisingly, the impact remained modest.
The reason was that Cheongwadae had been the ones to expose Yu Jung-ho as a League spy.

“People are viewing Cheongwadae and the ruling party as separate entities.”

Lee Se-hee attributed this shift to the discord between Cheongwadae and the ruling party.
Cheongwadae, which held the reins of power, and the ruling party, which needed to maintain continuity, had similar yet subtly different interests.
After several clashes over competing interests, the public began to see Cheongwadae and the ruling party as distinct entities.
As a result, uncovering the League spy actually caused approval ratings to rise.

“Bringing Choi Jun-ho into Cheongwadae was a masterstroke for them.”

The leadership that had been subtly at odds with Cheongwadae then resigned, and the selection of a new leadership began—one filtered through Cheongwadae’s influence.
Support for restructuring the ruling party under Cheongwadae’s direction reached sixty-five percent overall, and eighty-one percent among the party’s core supporters.
With the President’s will being carried out, the National Assembly would stop pestering us with complaints—a convenient turn of events for me.

“They’ll be less troublesome from now on. That works in my favor.”
“That’s the result Choi Jun-ho created.”
“The Opposition is still around, though.”
“They’re not in their right minds either at the moment.”

Normally, the Opposition would seize on such favorable news and hammer the government’s approval ratings. But they too couldn’t escape responsibility.
Yu Jung-ho, who had built a reputation as a young reformist politician, had maintained active exchanges with Opposition members as well.
Fearing the backlash might land on them, the Opposition could only offer lukewarm commentary.
Lee Se-hee explained the current situation to me.

“There’s talk that all of this was Choi Jun-ho’s scheme.”
“I didn’t plan it deliberately. It’s just that coincidences aligned perfectly.”
“You know that whenever you say things like ‘coincidence’ and ‘perfectly aligned,’ it doesn’t feel like the truth?”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, then.”

There was no need for me to beg her to believe me.
It really was coincidence. Pure coincidence.
It was coincidence that memories of Yu Jung-ho suddenly surfaced, coincidence that the President resolved it without me using Brainwashing, and coincidence that Jin Se-jeong stoked the flames by leaving malicious comments on every article, escalating the pressure. All of it—purely coincidental.
But in all this, something had fallen through the cracks.

“It’s a shame, really.”
“What is?”
“I wish the National Assembly members had experienced firsthand how much Awakened Ones struggle in the field.”
……

Lee Se-hee stared at me blankly, at a loss for words.

“Did you mean that seriously?”
“Of course I meant it seriously.”
“···The members probably thought you were laying a trap to kill them.”
“Everyone thinks their own life is important. But just because you go Hunting doesn’t mean you die. Only in rare cases do unfortunate things happen.”

Then they should understand the hardships Awakened Ones endure at the front lines. These politicians—all they care about is themselves.
Should I just tell the President and have him forcibly bring her in?
But something told me she wouldn’t listen even then.

“There’s no helping it.”

I had no choice but to give up.
Separate from that, Lee Se-hee was right—this situation was indeed significant.
With the Ruling Party leadership stepping down en masse, Cheongwadae’s influence had only grown stronger, and word was that a political realignment would follow, making Cheongwadae and me the ultimate victors.
But why was I even mentioned in that narrative?
All I’d wanted was for things to become easier.
There’s no predicting how these things unfold.
After our conversation ended, Lee Se-hee suggested a meal, saying it had been a worthwhile discussion. I politely declined.

“At least grab lunch before you go.”
“I have something more entertaining lined up.”
“What might that be?”
“A hidden camera.”

The target was Yun-hee.

* * *

“Man, do you think I can pull this off?”
“You’ll do great.”

Yun-hee and I were heading to the office.
Today was the day we’d planned a collaboration broadcast.
The difference was that my side was a hidden camera while hers was supposed to be a drinking broadcast, or so she believed.

“Da-hyun got huge numbers with her episode, right? If my appearance doesn’t get much of a reaction, it’ll be awkward.”
“You have a fresh charm about you—I bet you’ll do even better.”
“Really? I didn’t know you rated me so highly.”
“You’ll do great. Don’t worry.”

Once the hidden camera is revealed, it’ll show on her face.
I’m looking forward to it.
Yun-hee’s expression brightens, oblivious to what’s running through my mind.
Strangely, I don’t feel a shred of guilt.
Wouldn’t a normal person feel sorry about something like this?
But the fact that I feel nothing but satisfaction instead suggests I’ve been holding onto quite a bit of resentment.

“By the way, you know there’s someone who tracks down all your articles and leaves malicious comments?”
“Really?”

I had a pretty good idea who it was.

“Yeah, they’re so vicious that your fans are absolutely furious about it. They keep sending screenshots, but they haven’t caught the person yet.”

Well, that would be me.
I’ve even watched myself write those comments.

“Anyway, they’ve got some nerve.”
“Tell me about it. If they get caught, their head might explode.”
“Wh—what?”

Yun-hee startles.
When I turn my head, she quickly looks away in panic.
Why the evasion?
It wasn’t difficult to infer from her instinct, her usual behavior, and that last reaction.

“Are you leaving malicious comments too?”
“What? No way. You know I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”
“Really?”
“Of course! What, you don’t trust me now?”

I didn’t trust her one bit.
My gut was pointing straight at her as the culprit.
Yun-hee shifted her gaze away, and an awkward silence settled between us.
We arrived at the Office Parking Lot in the meantime.

“Let’s head up.”
“Yeah, but seriously—it’s not me.”
“Sure, sure.”

She’d left comments, and I’d set up the Hidden Camera. We’d call it even.
That would settle it.
When we arrived at the Filming Location, Yun-hee’s expression went blank as she took in the empty space.

“Huh? Where’s everything? Where’s the food? I’m starving.”

I’d instructed Yun-hee to keep her stomach empty.
She’d followed the order faithfully, thinking this was a mukbang broadcast.
The fasting instruction was simple enough to give.
Can’t have her throwing up during a Sparring Match.

“This content is—”
“Hm?”
“A Hidden Camera.”
“What?”

When she heard she’d be Sparring with me, all the color drained from her face.

* * *

Jin Se-jeong felt a rush of joy at the explosive reactions flooding the chat, yet at the same time found herself shifting nervously as she watched the scene unfold before her eyes.
Was this really okay?
Today’s content was Instruction Sparring led by Choi Jun-ho, playing on the chemistry between true siblings.
But there was a small twist to it.
As a nested content layer, Choi Jun-ho had unleashed the Hidden Camera on Choi Yun-hee. She’d shown up thinking this would be a mukbang broadcast.
What followed was hellish training. Under Choi Jun-ho’s merciless instruction, Choi Yun-hee spent more time rolling across the ground than standing upright.
Thank goodness she’d kept her stomach empty—at least she wouldn’t be throwing up.
The way they thought completely differently struck her as absurd, yet at the same time she found herself grinning as she squeezed the content for all it was worth.
Choi Yun-hee hurling insults and Choi Jun-ho genuinely delighted—the authenticity was palpable. The chat was exploding with enthusiastic responses.
Finally, the Sparring Match ended.
Drained of all energy, Choi Yun-hee lay sprawled on the ground in a wreck. No one watching could accuse this of being staged or going easy on her.
Jin Se-jeong approached the camera where Choi Jun-ho stood and asked carefully.

“Um, Superhuman… do you think this is really okay?”
“Is something wrong with the footage?”
“Oh, no. It’s not that, but… doesn’t it seem a bit much?”
“I was just doing the usual thing.”

Choi Jun-ho turned his head slightly. On the ground lay Choi Yun-hee, sprawled in the shape of a Chinese character, gasping for breath and muttering, “Choi Jun-ho, I’m killing you. I’m going to kill you. I’ll murder you.”
It was a curse so bone-chilling just to hear.
Yet the one being cursed wore a perfectly calm expression.

“I’ll just give her some pocket money later.”
“Pardon? That’s all it takes?”
“Peace between siblings is maintained through pocket money.”
“Somehow I doubt the usual amount will cut it. Could you tell me how much we’re talking?”

Jin Se-jeong, listening intently to Choi Jun-ho, nodded at once after hearing the amount.

“Couldn’t you run me through it as well?”

The question came reflexively—a measure of how desperate things had become.
Even Choi Yun-hee, who had hurled curses throughout the sparring match, returned to the group without complaint once her strength had sufficiently returned, performing cooldown exercises.

“There’s no getting around it. My brother’s in that state, so I have to adapt. Besides, I know you’re not wishing me harm.”

Listening to her speak, he found himself thinking what an extraordinary sibling pair they were.
Choi Yun-hee was herself a highly promising Hunter affiliated with the Shin Seong Guild, though she remained overshadowed by her brother’s reputation. Her skills and accomplishments exceeded what her Level suggested, and her standing in the guild was exceptional.
She was talented enough that it seemed almost tragic her brilliance went unnoticed in her brother’s shadow.
Choi Yun-hee’s true talents shone brightest when she redirected Choi Jun-ho—who had been about to settle on Soybean Paste Hot Pot for their after-party meal—toward a Korean Beef Restaurant instead.
At their first Korean beef gathering, the entire team erupted in cheers.
Once everyone’s bellies were sufficiently slicked with beef, Choi Yun-hee approached Jin Se-jeong.

“You know I got thoroughly caught in a trap today, right?”
“Yes. I wasn’t involved.”
“I know—the scheme had that blockhead’s fingerprints all over it. So here’s the thing: next time, help me pull one on him.”
“How would I help you do that?”
“Since I fell for it, it’s my turn to set one. Please?”

A Hidden Camera targeting Choi Jun-ho himself, when he owned the channel in the first place.
That was a genuinely brilliant idea.
Suddenly, countless possibilities flooded his mind.
Jin Se-jeong played up his hesitation with a dramatic whimper.

“I could actually get fired for this, you know?”
“My brother’s not like that. Trust me. Understood?”
“Understood.”

They laughed as they plotted their mischievous scheme.
Then his eyes met Choi Jun-ho’s, who’d been watching them the whole time.

“Ah……”
“Team lead?”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”

He couldn’t bring himself to admit it was all over.
And the very next day.
Under Choi Jun-ho’s relentless interrogation, Jin Se-jeong confessed everything.

“When Yun-hee mentions it, please tell me at that point. Understood?”
“…Yes.”

Poor Choi Yun-hee.
Jin Se-jeong apologized to her mentally millions of times over.

* * *

The President, who now held the keys to the Ruling Party’s restructuring, wore an expression more vibrant than ever.
Politicians, after all, wither when they cannot seize power; perhaps for the President, now wielding authority with such vigor, this was his golden age.

“It’s all thanks to the Superhuman Choi Jun-ho.”
“I merely played a supporting role.”
“I appreciate you saying so.”

I knew the President had summoned me for a reason, so I waited quietly for him to broach his real purpose.
We were both seasoned players; there was no point in concealing our intentions from each other.
Sure enough, the President cleared his throat awkwardly before beginning to speak.

“Actually, I called you here because I have a favor to ask. It’s a request that came from Japan.”
“Please tell me.”
“Japan is currently at war with the League. Things had been fairly evenly matched, but apparently they managed to land a decisive blow this time.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“But the League is preparing a counterattack. Two Superhumans are expected to arrive in support, and one of them is reportedly a member of the 12 Zodiacs.”

The League’s 12 Zodiacs.
The term referred to twelve Superhumans, excluding Samak who founded the League—those considered the highest-ranking members among all Superhumans.
They were known to possess martial prowess comparable to the strongest Superhuman any major power held, which meant the arrival of two such beings would inflict catastrophic damage on Japan in an all-out war.

“I believe you rejected their request for assistance before.”
“Now that the 12 Zodiacs are involved, the situation has changed. In fact, rather than being in genuine crisis, Japan wants to pool resources and strike a blow against the League.”

The problem was that Japan, forced to remain vigilant against Monsters, couldn’t commit all its forces.

“You believe we should help them, then.”
“That’s right. When I consider national interest, I think assisting is the wise choice.”
“It seems you’ve been promised quite a lot.”
“Of course—I intend to share whatever we gain with you, Jun-ho.”

A request for assistance from Japan.
Argos’s words still echoed in my mind.
He said I was born to become a Villain.
Throughout my past life, I’d struggled desperately to escape that bloodline, regret consuming me every moment.
It infuriated me that his mere words could negate all that effort.
Who was he to call me a Villain?
I needed to correct his attitude—make sure he never uttered such a thing again.

“I’ll help.”

It wasn’t as if I’d be staying long anyway. I’d simply go for a brief period when needed.

“Thank you.”

The President smiled broadly as well.

* * *

A woman in her late thirties with chestnut hair entered the room, radiating sultry charm.
Her gaze settled on Argos, who sat in the chair.
No matter how many times I saw him, his features were sculptural—impossibly handsome.
With a playful glint in her eye, she embraced him from behind and spoke.

“Long time no see, Argos. Have you been well? You look handsome as always today.”
“Release me, Konstantina.”
“I’ve told you that you can call me Tina instead. And a little physical contact between us is only natural, isn’t it?”
“This is an official setting.”
“You’re such a stickler.”

Konstantina clicked her tongue lightly, then released him and settled into the seat across from Argos.
The furniture arrangement still betrayed absolutely no aesthetic sense whatsoever.
She clicked her tongue inwardly before moving to business.

“You have something you want me to do?”
“I’d like you to go to Japan.”

Konstantina tilted her head.

“You mean to take that place for yourself?”
“No. I’m going to set a trap. I need your power.”
“Sounds like you want someone dead.”
“That’s right. I need your curse.”

Witch Doctor Konstantina.
A member of the League’s 12 Zodiacs and a Superhuman.
Her direct combat ability was weak, but the curse she unleashed when conditions were met wielded a power more terrifying than Samak itself—she was a Superhuman whom all Superhumans feared.
She was precisely the Superhuman everyone despised.
Argos had never made such a request before, which is why Konstantina was rather taken aback.

“Who is this person our darling wants dead? Just say the word. I’ll kill them for you.”
“Head Breaker, Choi Jun-ho.”

Konstantina’s head tilted again.

“Isn’t that the person you said you absolutely had to bring in?”
“Once, yes.”
“It sounds like that’s changed.”
“My thinking has changed.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a Villain.”
“What?”

Konstantina’s expression became bewildered. If he was a Villain, shouldn’t they recruit him instead?
The League had grown its ranks by exploiting the animosity Villains held toward nations and individuals.

“Look, the world calls us the apex of Villains, doesn’t it? You who founded the League and I who devoted myself to it—we’re both Villains. So how can you say Choi Jun-ho must be eliminated because he’s a Villain?”
“Because he’s a Villain we cannot contain.”

A Villain organization rejecting a Villain—an unprecedented crisis.
Yet Argos remained resolute.

“Choi Jun-ho will inevitably become a Villain someday. He possesses everything a Villain must have. I thought if we took him in, we could rule the world. But······.”
“But?”
“If he joins us, the League will be destroyed instead. He has to die before that happens.”

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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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