When faced with an unthinkable reality, most people respond in one of two ways:

Shock or denial.

For Baonic Lerak, it was the former.

The moment he heard the word "reincarnator," he froze, his jaw slack with disbelief.

He remained like that, staring blankly, until Yeomyeong's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Baonic Lerak."

It was a flat, emotionless voice. Only then did Baonic snap to attention, jolted into the present.

“I’m giving you two choices.”

It was a unilateral statement, with no room for argument or refusal.

Baonic understood then—whatever choice Yeomyeong presented, there was no escape.

"W-What choice…?"

With no way out, he had to confront it. Summoning every ounce of courage, he asked.

In response, Yeomyeong extended both hands, each clenched into a fist.

"I don’t plan to share this world with anyone else."

Baonic’s lips tightened, recognizing the same words he had scribbled in his notebook.

“…But I’m not so crazy as to kill a useful dog.”

A useful dog. There was no need to ask whom the insult was aimed at.

Was it degrading? Not really. Insults only held weight when exchanged between equals—or at least close enough to be comparable.

A lion does not insult a rabbit, just as a strong one does not insult the weak. Overwhelming power makes words unnecessary.

Baonic tried to see the situation positively. If he could survive by being a “useful dog,” he’d bark or grovel if needed.

"Now choose," Yeomyeong said.

“C-Choose what?”

“To live or to die.”

Yeomyeong opened his fists.

There was nothing in his left palm, but a single red pill rested in his right.

“What… is that?”

“A last chance.”

He extended his empty left hand, adding, “If you take my left hand, I’ll grant you a painless death. Quick and merciful.”

Those cold golden eyes lingered on Baonic’s throat, prompting him to instinctively pull his neck back, shielding it with his hand.

He could still feel the bruising ache in his neck from Yeomyeong’s grip earlier.

“And… the right?”

“A leash for a dog.”

Yeomyeong offered no further explanation, as if inviting Baonic to imagine it for himself.

As he stared at the pill, countless theories flitted through Baonic’s mind.

What was this pill, exactly? A miracle drug? A poison? A curse?

The most likely answer was poison—a delayed poison.

One that, without continuous doses, would eventually release toxins dormant in the body, forcing the user into a lifetime of slavery.

‘Damn it. A latent poison… and it’s not even Chapter 2 yet.’

True or not, the thought of swallowing it repelled him.

But he had no choice.

With trembling hands, he took the red pill and brought it to his mouth in front of Yeomyeong.

Just as he was about to swallow it, Yeomyeong spoke.

“Don’t swallow it—chew it.”

Was he worried Baonic might try to hide it under his tongue or in his cheek? Or was it just sadism? Baonic dared not ask.

He obeyed, biting into the pill.

The taste was horribly familiar, like a strawberry-flavored children’s cold medicine.

‘What the…’

Though he couldn’t confirm its exact nature, he had no trouble guessing the creator’s identity.

The “Maggot Princess” who appeared much later—a depraved alchemist with a penchant for infusing strawberry flavor into poisons. No one else could have concocted such a thing.

After chewing and swallowing, Baonic looked up at Yeomyeong.

There was no emotion in the golden eyes looking down on him—not satisfaction nor sadistic pleasure.

‘So, he planned this from the start? Damn.’

Baonic held back his curses and kept his gaze low, too afraid to meet Yeomyeong’s eyes.

The silence was short-lived.

Baonic broke it, unable to withstand the oppressive quiet.

“Is… is this all, then?”

He stammered, tasting the bitter residue of the pill.

“Am… am I allowed to live now?”

“Baonic.”

“Yes… yes?”

“You’ll receive the next dose in two months.”

Damn. So it was a delayed poison. Baonic clenched his eyes shut.

Yeomyeong picked up the notebook lying on the ground, then issued his first command.

“Your first task: within two days, write down everything you know about the academy.”

“…Everything?”

“Yes. Hidden pieces, important figures, future events, internal politics… anything that might be of use.”

“But… I already wrote that in my no—”

Before he could finish his excuse, Yeomyeong’s foot pressed down on his chest.

“Did I permit objections?”

“Argh… fine… p-please… please, take your foot….”

“If you’re thinking of lying, I’d advise against it. I’ll cross-check with the notebook. If I find discrepancies… you’ll regret surviving today.”

Only after Baonic had surrendered did Yeomyeong lift his foot.

Baonic coughed, saliva pooling at his lips, trembling too much to even lift his head, looking like a frightened rabbit.

Yeomyeong observed him for a moment, tucked the notebook into his coat, and turned to leave.

The sound of footsteps grew distant, allowing Baonic to finally breathe.

…I survived. It’s over.

Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.

Yeomyeong turned just before exiting the shelter and spoke, reminding Baonic of the harsh reality awaiting him.

“See you in our room. Roommate.”

 

With dusk settling, the academy’s winding path was bathed in long, stretching shadows.

Yeomyeong took a deep breath, reflecting on his actions in the shelter.

…Did it work?

On the surface, it seemed to have gone perfectly.

The terrified Baonic hadn’t dared to even look at him after taking the pill. That fear would hold for some time, ensuring Baonic wouldn’t even think of defying him.

Now I’ve resorted to scams….

Yeomyeong ran a hand over his face, assessing the deception he had pulled off.

The plan was simple—kidnap, threaten, deceive… and secure a loyal pawn.

Seti would probably have scolded him for the shoddiness of it all, but Yeomyeong couldn’t think of any other way.

At least… not any that allowed Baonic to live and still be of use.

Friendship or alliance had never been options. How could he ever view as equal a lunatic who believed himself one of the creators of this world?

Even if they somehow reached an understanding, how could he ever trust someone who had plotted to kill students on the first day?

Had Baonic’s notebook perfectly matched reality, Yeomyeong wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him.

But paradoxically, the notebook’s inconsistencies had given him pause.

Was the notebook truthful? Or did it contain falsehoods?

And why had it omitted people like Seti, her sisters, Wesley, and Jeon Yunseong—individuals prominent enough to affect “fate”?

…Seti.

She wasn’t alone. Her sisters, Wesley, Jeon Yunseong—all of them were high-achieving students who should have been mentioned.

Why weren’t they? No matter how many times he examined the notebook, Baonic himself didn’t seem to know the reason.

At the end of the notebook, a tentative note wondered if they might be “protagonists,” but that was pure speculation.

…Protagonist.

The term gave Yeomyeong an odd sense of déjà vu. The Player had said something similar once.

[There’s a protagonist in this world’s story, you know.]

In any case, Yeomyeong decided to keep Baonic alive to use him.

The question was how.

Pretending to be a fellow traveler from another world? Baonic wanted no one else in “his” world.

Blackmail alone? It’d be better to kill him outright.

Some kind of magic to enslave him? Yeomyeong didn’t know any.

After contemplating countless methods and even considering cutting off Baonic’s limbs to keep him around as a torso and head, he’d found the answer scrawled in the corner of Baonic’s notes.

A latent poison.

An unusual poison that didn’t kill immediately but lay dormant in the body. The poison’s unique quality lay in its dormancy.

Without periodic doses, it would eventually activate, forcing the user to become the slave of whoever controlled the supply.

Oddly enough, Baonic had even written a note about his plans to use it to enslave a certain “vessel.”

…This is it.

The moment Yeomyeong read that note, the idea for his plan came together.

Of course, obtaining the real poison was out of the question. There was no way to find such a rare substance here in the heart of the academy.

But if Baonic believed in its existence—and if he believed Yeomyeong was also from another world—then it was a plausible scheme.

If it failed, he could always resort to dismemberment.

With the plan set, Yeomyeong took Baonic to the underground shelter, then dashed to the infirmary to grab a suitable fake pill—a strawberry-flavored cold medicine.

It was a crude piece for a shoddy plan…

But in the end, it worked.

Everything came together as Yeomyeong had intended, aided by Baonic’s assumptions and fearful imagination.

When he held out the pill without a word, Baonic had been too terrified to resist, and upon swallowing it, he surrendered, with not even a trace of defiance.

Yeomyeong felt no remorse. He’d faced and would face far greater burdens than this to achieve his goals.

Though he couldn’t deny… there was a certain satisfaction.

Every con artist feels a sense of triumph when their trick succeeds.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long.

As Yeomyeong took another step down the path, musing over his hidden talent for deception, a familiar, unpleasant voice called out to him.

“Hello, dung beetle.”

“….”

“It’s been a while.”

Beyond the path, an empty stretch of air split apart, revealing a half-masked face.

Next came a blue coat that clung to every curve, and lastly, blue heels touched down, though her steps made no sound.

“…Blue Rat.”

The identity of the third pair of eyes that had persistently shadowed him was finally revealed.