ACJ 15

Episode 15

When the shadow of <Galmel> was looming over him, what was Lee Cheoeum doing?

‘Something doesn’t feel right.’

He was lying like a corpse under the pavilion on the university lawn, lost in thought.

Despite Hayan’s warning and her order to stop counseling, Osalo had ignored it completely… The undercurrent was beginning to feel dangerous.

‘Feels like people are going to start digging into me.’

Cheoeum rubbed his forehead. Out of all things, that was the one problem he could not afford.

Let’s pause here and look at Cheoeum again.

He had no intention of publicly revealing himself, but at the same time, he didn’t make a desperate effort to hide either.

What was he thinking? Did he have a plan?

Park Gildong and Jireum once tried to understand him, but after four years at his side, they came to one conclusion:

“The most useless waste of time in the world. He literally doesn’t think about anything.”

And they were right. Cheoeum had no goal, no plan.

Wasn’t the reason he hadn’t joined the Apostle world yet because he didn’t want to live as an Apostle? You might ask—wasn’t wanting to live as a normal person a kind of goal?

‘Not really.’

In a world where calamities constantly descended, normalcy and safety were castles built on sand. If that’s what he truly wanted, he wouldn’t be risking his neck counseling Apostles he didn’t even know.

So did he have greed? A will to survive? A grand cause?

Something—or someone—he wanted to protect?

‘No.’

• Ah, actually, he used to?

No. He didn’t.

Cheoeum lived just cleaning up the moment.

He was dragged along by circumstance like a dog on a leash. Every action was merely a reaction to what was happening.

No emotions as sails, no thoughts as rudders, no heart as vessel—just drifting on the waves of circumstance.

Since he had no destination, it didn’t matter where he ended up.

And yet, the reason he didn’t just rot away at home but still went to university, still did counseling, was because…

[Six days have passed since your last meaningful counseling.]
[Six days have passed since your last meaningful counseling.]
[Six days have passed since your last meaningful counseling.]

‘This damn “counseling log” is worse than any school assignment.’

The Counseling Log.

A unique function in Cheoeum’s Toledot. It was a surreal device that forced him to dig into the inner suffering of Apostles through counseling.

‘Objectively speaking, it’s ridiculously useful.’

Through it, he could read the tendencies, emotions, and thoughts of his counselees.

And the counseling effects he could bestow were powerful enough to tempt anyone.

But so what?

‘I don’t want to do counseling, damn it.’

To progress in his log, he had to have deep conversations with others. Just the thought disgusted him.

‘And the counseling effects benefit them, not me. What do I get out of it?’

Sure, if he sold those effects to high-rank Apostles, he could lie in a pile of money for life without lifting a finger. But he didn’t want that either.

‘Just want to ignore its existence and live quietly.’

Like a farmer ignoring the jewels buried in his land. His land, his choice.

[Your body’s durability is deteriorating.]

But the problem was… these “jewels” were ticking time bombs if not mined.

[Your sense of self is weakening.]
[Your power is becoming unstable.]

“Ugh—”

Still lying under the pavilion, Cheoeum gagged and retched.

The metallic taste of blood surged up his throat.

He had to write his counseling log.

Because if he didn’t, he would die?

If that were all, he’d have gladly gone to the afterlife arm-in-arm with laziness.

No—the reason he couldn’t neglect the log was because…

[The world is calling for you.]

If he didn’t write it, the world itself would end.

‘Son of a—’

There was no way to think about this without swearing.

‘Greetings, Adventurer!’
‘Huh? Who are you?’
‘Congratulations! You’ve been blessed! We’re giving you a legendary sword that everyone will envy!’
‘I’m not planning on adventuring, though.’
‘This sword can be fused 6 times, awakened 6 times, transcended 6 times, and it will slay every enemy!’
‘I said I don’t plan on fighting anyone.’
‘Oh, it also has a self-destruct device. If unused for a certain time, it explodes and—’
‘Fine, whatever. I’ll just blow myself up, then.’
‘—And in that moment, it transforms into the Sword of Judgment, bringing down divine fire and ending humanity!’
‘You bastard!!’
‘Kyaaa, so cute~’

That’s what his situation was like. Get it now?

What drove Cheoeum wasn’t the merits of writing his log, but the explosive demerits of not writing it.

Creak.

So even though he wanted to just lie there coughing blood, Cheoeum forced himself up.

‘Can’t have anyone digging into me right now.’

That’s why he had gagged Hayan with a vow.

Because…

“Jireum.”

Cheoeum turned his head.

Beside the pavilion, Jireum was doing push-ups on the grass. He looked up.

“Help me. Just once.”

Jireum stared at him silently, then sighed.

“I told you before—better to eat protein than those worthless pills.”

“You did.”

“And they didn’t even work. They just caused you more problems.”

Every calm word struck deep.

“Fine. If you don’t want to help, I’ll deal with it myself.”

“…Forget it.”

‘After all, I owe you.’

Jireum swallowed his inner thought, stood, and said:

“Do what you have to do.”

His gaze dropped to Cheoeum’s hand.

A capsule case filled with colorful candies.

It was the one thing that had ever made Jireum, usually calm, visibly angry.

The candies Cheoeum always ate during counseling weren’t normal sweets.

“While I buy you time, erase the records and dump those damn stimulants.”

…They were illegal stimulants from the black market.

‘If this ever gets exposed, I’ll end up in jail.’

Now, Cheoeum had to avoid prison.

2020, post-calamity.

Not all Apostles fought for justice. In a rough society where survival justified anything, there were plenty who chased dirty money.

The black market was filled with illicit goods made using Apostle powers. And “those damn stimulants” were one such item.

The government didn’t heavily regulate them for normal people.

But for Apostles? A serious crime.

‘Should’ve spent that money on rice soup instead.’

Cheoeum scratched his head with dead eyes.

Any Apostle, regardless of type, found possessing black-market drugs was breaking the law. The risk was too high—because if an Apostle lost control under the influence, the disaster would be far worse than with any normal person.

And yet, Cheoeum had bought and tried them anyway.

Why?

Because they were drugs that stimulated emotions.

‘Thought they might help with counseling.’

He had to act as a counselor because of his log. But how could he counsel without energy to converse or the ability to empathize?

‘Even cow dung is medicine sometimes.’

He had hoped stimulants that boosted emotions might help him…

But no.

‘They didn’t work.’

All they did was make him nauseous and thirsty. Expensive, disgusting, and disguised as candy.

Clatter.

Cheoeum dumped the last of them into the toilet and flushed.

Leaving the bathroom, he pulled up his phone.

Aside from Park Gildong and Jireum, there was only one person he had meaningful contact with.

[Can you erase the records for me?]

The reply came quickly.

[Dam: First time you text me in a month, and this is what you ask?]