“Being a system administrator—even a provisional one—has so much to learn, it’s wonderful.”

I smiled broadly at the Mermaid Queen.

“It’s almost a shame the lesson is ending already. I’ve long wanted to name a skill and write its description myself—there’s one I dislike. ‘Chick Class’—what does that even mean?”

I wondered if the Mermaid Queen knew my keyword buffs had stacked and transferred via Final Boon. She smiled slowly, her eyes soft and almost affectionate.

“I’m glad you’ve shown such active interest, Honey. I think you have great aptitude too.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I have no intention of going full-time. Above all—”

Fifty keyword targets, stacking Final Boon... If they intend to abuse that, I must protect myself.

“I can’t leave alone—my children would be left behind. You know about Droplet Seed before my return. I can’t survive on my own.”

I gestured as if to ward off comfort.

“Honestly, I never thought I’d survive then. I ended up here by chance, but if that happened again, I’d never make it through.”

It was a probe, but also my truth. My jaw tightened.

“I won’t be taken again. If I lose something once more, I’m finished too.”

“You have so much love to give, Honey.”

The Mermaid Queen said, as if it were nothing.

“We too want to protect everyone dear to you.”

“...Thank you.”

Her words felt hollow. If they killed all keyword targets to stack Boon... I would never obey them. The Pariahs must know that.

‘...Is there another way they plan to use me?’

Maybe a pre-signed contract, or... With dozens of memories flooding me, could I remain myself? Surely they aren’t after that. Surely not.

“So we’ve prepared special rewards for your crops, Honey.”

The Mermaid Queen smiled. “Special rewards” felt empty. I wanted to ask what they really planned. But she would not answer—these were the ones who’d deceived me. They’d continue hiding motives and using me.

“Extra lives.”

“...Excuse me?”

“The safety of the system administrator, Honey, and non-Chain participants is not guaranteed.”

What drivel was this? I stepped forward reflexively.

“Isn’t safety the bare minimum you must guarantee?!”

“Honey, the practice is over. This wager is like a dungeon raid.”

The Mermaid Queen spoke calmly.

“A defense to protect your world. Isn’t there no dungeon that guarantees safety?”

“Well, that may be... but—!”

I’d thought it would be like the Chatterbox party—so naïve. That couldn’t be.

“Depending on the crops’ grade and quantity, Chain receives two lives, and you four. You may allocate all to one or use none.”

“Song Taewon, Moon Hyunah.”

Seong Hyunjae named them without pause.

“...You decide so easily.”

Had I been in his place, I’d have hesitated over those two. He glanced at me.

“It’s not taking—it’s giving, so it’s easier.”

“But these are extra lives, not trivial items. Mari and Samir farmed too.”

“If measured by contribution, I’d deserve both. Still, no problem.”

Blatant and confident. Not untrue—Seong Hyunjae handled fertilizer, temperature, moisture—everything but planting and harvesting.

“Han Yujin, it’s the same for you.”

“I had plenty of help.”

“Three of the four lives will be entirely yours.”

...Had I not used growth buff, I might have earned only one. Still, his words rang true.

“Even so, the sub-team trusted me and came.”

“What you offered them was the Chatterbox vault’s items. Did you promise safety?”

“...Not exactly.”

I’d made them sign a contract guaranteeing nothing.

“You’re not responsible for every choice they make.”

“Still, I want those I brought to be safe.”

“Do your best.”

“Excuse me?”

Golden eyes cast a long shadow over me. His half-lidded gaze was deeper than usual.

“No great leader can protect everyone perfectly forever.”

Seong Hyunjae said—one who’d lost countless things, even his own death.

“But the effort to not lose them is never wasted, even if you fail.”

...Is that why he stands here when he needn’t? I clenched and unclenched my fists. A happy ending where no one dies is nearly impossible in reality. People die in peacetime, let alone war. Knowing that, I still couldn’t nod in acceptance.

“Death is a natural part of life.”

“Hah!”

Cool scales slid across my back. A snake’s body, sleek and gleaming, coiled around me from behind. The sensation was chilling—I gasped. My fear resistance was down, my heart raced.

“You, who’ve been to dungeons, know this well.”

The voice fell from above my head. My mouth went dry. Wrapped and near swallowed by the serpent, I felt like prey.

“Of course, I know. I’ve lost many times before.”

Too many times. Dungeon hazards felt more brutal to me than to most S-rank Hunters.

“So you hate it even more.”

“But I am not a Regressor. Regressors lose sense of reality—they can undo losses and simply start over, giving up easily. They think they can begin again.”

The snake’s voice hissed near my ear.

“But you cannot give up—because it never truly was undone.”

If Yuhyun had fully returned to the past, I might feel lighter. With regression as a last resort, you can start anew.

But I left my brother behind. Everything I do continues in the present, and regression is not omnipotent.

“Stubborn, aren’t you? Yet all the more... admirable.”

“Let me go.”

“Your grass scent is wonderful.”

The Devourer King murmured with satisfaction. He had no intention of releasing me.

“Weren’t you a carnivore?”

Why was he so drawn to grass scent? Herbivores are supposed to like it!

“I grew up on the plains, where grass was abundant—and so was prey.”

“Oh. I suppose I’ve become quite a fragrant air freshener.”

The Mermaid Queen, from the sea, showed no interest. I struggled to free myself and looked to her—but she made no move to help. Seong Hyunjae merely watched.

“How will you allocate yours, Honey?”

“...To Yuhyun, Yerim, and Noah—one each.”

As Seong Hyunjae said, it wasn’t taking; I couldn’t refuse. Three were effectively spoken for. But the last one... my mouth wouldn’t open.

‘What about Peace?’

Though intelligent, he was still a monster. Logically, I should choose Riet or Chatterbox—human over beast. Yet I hesitated.

Peace doesn’t fully understand words and came because I called him into danger.

“Yujin, prioritize your own safety.”

Myeongwoo’s voice cut in.

“You’re the team leader. If you fall, defeat is certain. Protect those you most don’t want to lose.”

“...All right.”

I exhaled. Myeongwoo was right: for my team’s sake, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° I must survive.

“My final life... I’ll give to Peace.”

Even more than the others, losing Peace would hit me hardest. Human or monster, he’s family and has been with me far longer.

“Understood, Honey. Extra lives apply only to deaths related to this wager.”

“Could it work outside as well?”

“No.”

Ungenerous. I sighed again—but the reward itself was generous. Our farming effort bore fruit. If only I’d resolved to guard them more fiercely.

The Devourer King vanished first. The Mermaid Queen’s presence also faded. As she fully disappeared:

[Will you accept the Heir title?]

A whisper brushed my ear—it referred to Yerim’s title. What presumption to send her that title!

[Honey, come with us.]

The Mermaid Queen’s remaining presence dispersed. Come with them? What then? I couldn’t leave the title unused.

“As I said, safety can’t be guaranteed now.”

Myeongwoo spoke to us.

“You two will survive.”

“There will be uses for you yet.”

He fell silent mid-sentence. Heavy, brief quiet.

“A few hours remain—rest.”

Myeongwoo vanished, leaving only Seong Hyunjae and me.

“Guildmaster Haeyeon could forfeit instead—what do you think?”

“Someone else would just take the slot.”

“He’d be easier to beat.”

“And Han Yujin would lose.”

“You underestimate me.”

“Whoever the opponent.”

Seong Hyunjae spoke as if the outcome were fixed. He returned to his room. I remained alone, staring at the floor.

The Mermaid Queen and the Pariahs don’t want me to win. I was certain of that.

“...It’s too cruel.”

The Devourer King felt more like an ally than they did. At least he’d be fair in contest. Feeling as though perched on a vast precipice, I returned to my room.

Whack! A Hunter’s body collapsed forward as a strong hand struck the back of his neck. Hwangrim stretched out an arm, gently lowering the Hunter to the floor.

“Jina, this was ordered by your adorable son, you know.”

Hwangrim joked, “Don’t be mad at me,” as behind him stood pouty Han Gyeol.

“Although Gyeol’s the team leader, he was invited by Chatterbox’s Hunters—be careful.”

“Yes, young master.”

“At ease—take the picture now.”

“Yes, sir.”

At Han Gyeol’s command, Seong Hyunjae flew up holding a smartphone. He had fairy-dragon wings now—Han Gyeol had created them by applying Gyeol’s power to himself.

Sticking close to the ceiling, he approached the security camera and sent a weak current through it, momentarily freezing its feed. In that window, he snapped a photo matching the live image. Hwangrim then printed it on his portable printer.

They returned to us; Seong Hyunjae replaced the camera’s feed with the printed photo. A fixed-direction security camera would hardly notice.

“For a treasure vault, the guards are weak.”

“It’s a vault only Daddy can open. And Chatterbox’s Hunters are strong!”

“Of course—they’re four S-ranks at Haeyeon.”

“Three, actually.”

“If you omit anyone, Peace will pluck out all my hair.”

Han Gyeol nodded at Hwangrim’s words.

“Peace is strong too.”

The room housing the vault was, in fact, the former Chatterbox hotel in Manhattan—now owned by Dodam. The vault sat in its basement. Impregnable by force or intrusion, only a few Hunters from Haeyeon and security cameras guarded it.

The Hunter outside the vault door was subdued quickly. Hwangrim unlocked it with the stolen key.

“There’s the camera. Go, ‘Daddy Fairy’!”

“Don’t call me that!”

Han Gyeol kicked Hwangrim’s leg as Seong Hyunjae, smartphone in hand, spun playfully in midair.

“Our young master really takes after his father. Jina’s father, that is.”

Hwangrim dodged the kick, waving a hand.

“She must have inherited that charming personality.”

Han Gyeol giggled at the comparison to me. Once Seong Hyunjae finished tampering with the camera, the three of them entered. A large photo covered the vault door—no keyhole or fingerprint scanner in sight.

“...Can Gyeol really open it?”

Dark mana pulsed across the door. Han Gyeol muttered as Seong Hyunjae settled on his shoulder.

“If Gyeol wishes it.”

“But I was told only the owner can enter.”

“Consider Gyeol’s nature—he can become anything.”

“...He can’t become everything.”

“But he is Han Yujin’s child—strongly connected to him.”

Though independent now, Gyeol was born by my power—a Chainling, a fairy-dragon species. Seong Hyunjae flew to the vault and placed a small hand on the handle.

“With Chatterbox’s death, the vault’s power waned. Still, it maintains mana that even S-rank Hunters can’t breach—except if Gyeol feigns the owner.”

Han Gyeol approached the vault, and Seong Hyunjae spoke to the boy.

“You feel Yujin’s power more directly than anyone, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Gyeol had absorbed my skills when he transformed into a kitten. Gyeol’s hand gripped the handle.

“Be Daddy.”

A Chainling can become anything—especially the one who nurtured him. And then—

“...Ah!”

Gyeol’s body passed through the door into the vault. His wide eyes took in the neatly arranged items within. For a moment he stood frozen, then began diligently placing treasures into his inventory.