Regression Guidelines For the Supporting Character-Chapter 260

Cover glanced sideways at Eun Woojeong.

He was loosening up his shoulders with lazy rolls, exuding complete nonchalance.

If someone like that—someone who bought and sold information for a living—were to find out that Cover was actually Cha Seohu?

“I’d rather it be Kwon Taehyuk or Ryu Sunghyun.”

He at least trusted those two to keep his secret, no matter the cost.

“But that bastard Eun Woojeong? I wouldn’t even be surprised if my identity popped up on the 9 o’clock evening news.”

Cover pressed his hand to his forehead.

“The fragile-looking SS-rank Supporter turns out to be an S-rank Dealer?!” Just imagining a headline like that gave him a migraine.

It was still dark inside the dungeon, so a bit of delay wouldn’t matter yet—but the real issue would be once they got out.

“If I step outside and sunlight hits me and I transform into Cha Seohu...”

And if Eun Woojeong saw that—

The thought alone made him squeeze his eyes shut.

“Okay... calm down.”

Normally it took three or four days to clear a dungeon, and longer for ones with no guides. Still, there were two S-ranks here—surely they could figure something out.

Cover started calculating fast.

“It was just past midnight when I ran into Eun Woojeong. We talked for a bit, spent maybe an hour getting here... So generously speaking, it’s probably around 2 a.m. now. Sunrise is at seven—so five hours left.”

He had to get out of the dungeon before morning, no matter what.

“If that’s not possible, I’ll just knock him out cold and leave him behind.”

Clenching his fist, Cover came to a rather aggressive decision.

“You gonna keep sitting there?”

Eun Woojeong was already on his feet, brushing dust from his clothes as he spoke.

“There’s only one path. Let’s go, unless you want to make friends with the centipedes crawling around on the floor.”

“......”

Cover finally came to his senses and stood up, doing his best to keep a neutral expression.

“You go first.”

“I was going to, even if you didn’t say so.”

Walking ahead, Eun Woojeong asked curiously,

“You’re not seriously planning to avoid using your skills in here too, are you? I get it, but your life should matter more than secrecy.”

“You bastard. You dragged me here on purpose, didn’t you? Just to force me to use my skills?”

“I might be a great actor, but even I don’t put on a show in a situation like this.”

Cover wanted to argue—but there was no evidence to prove otherwise.

Tch. He clicked his tongue inwardly, glaring at the back of Eun Woojeong’s head.

“If this is a dungeon, there should be monsters. But it’s too quiet.”

Cover, walking behind, looked around as he responded.

Dark stone walls, a slightly damp floor, and a narrow corridor that stretched forward in one direction.

This kind of dungeon layout was common—maybe even the most typical.

But the utter silence and eerie stillness were definitely abnormal.

As S-ranks, they should’ve been able to sense monsters from quite a distance, but there was absolutely nothing.

“If even that bastard Eun Woojeong isn’t picking up anything, then it’s not just me.”

Just in case, Cover unsheathed his sword and tilted his head.

The way this dungeon appeared in the first place was already suspicious.

A hidden underground lab, a floor switch—and suddenly a dungeon gate appears?

It screamed trap.

“Which means... these cult freaks are capable of controlling dungeons now.”

Just like when the Rift opened above Gyeongbokgung.

Even if that religious cult was a collection of every maniac under the sun, they were still human.

And humans, opening dungeon gates and tearing rifts through space?

“Fuck, they’re insane.”

A chill ran down his spine.

“How the hell could they even do something like that—”

Clang!

A metallic rattling sound halted Eun Woojeong in his tracks.

“Hmm. Looks like a prison.”

He brushed his fingers along the rusted iron bars, then grabbed and pulled them.

Creeeak. A high-pitched screech echoed down the hallway.

Beyond the bars was a large rectangular room.

Like the corridor they had just passed through, the walls were stone and the floor was damp. Something was piled high in the center.

Before they could even make out what it was in the dark, a stench hit them—so vile it felt like a physical blow.

“Ugh, gagk—!”

Even Cover, who had a strong stomach, couldn’t endure it. He hastily covered his mouth and doubled over.

It was a horrific smell. His guts twisted instinctively, and dry heaving followed despite his efforts to hold it back.

“Goddamn... what the fuck is this...”

“Smells like rot. Really bad rot.”

Even Eun Woojeong, who had maintained a casual air the whole time, showed a rare flicker of disgust at the sight of the mound of corpses.

Groaning through his cramping stomach, Cover finally straightened his back.

“I’m gonna fucking die.”

“Did you throw up?”

“Almost. Shit, that smell... Fuck...”

He thought he’d seen it all. But this?

The sheer stench meant an enormous number of rotting corpses. It also meant those bodies hadn’t just been dumped—they’d been decomposing here for quite some time.

“The ones on the bottom are completely decayed, but the ones on top are relatively intact. Though... they’ve been chewed.”

Whether it was the mask or his composure, Eun Woojeong leaned in calmly to examine the bodies up close.

Cover, holding a hand over his nose and mouth, stepped closer to inspect them as well.

“The decayed ones make sense, but these bite marks...”

So there were monsters in this dungeon after all?

“Hey. You think these are the same bodies that were moved from China to Korea?”

“Yeah. I was wondering why they brought corpses from a big-ass country like China all the way to Korea. Looks like they just dumped them in a dungeon and fed them to monsters. What a thoughtful recycling program.”

Cover leaned closer to study the bite marks.

“There are two large holes, each about a palm wide. No signs of damage between them. So it has fangs, but no other teeth?”

There were traces of a dark liquid leaking from the punctures.

Didn’t look like blood. It was thicker—and purple.

“Poison?”

A type of monster that injected venom through its fangs? A few candidates came to mind.

He reached toward a body to inspect further—when something white caught his eye.

“...What’s this?”

It looked more like string or thread than dust.

Rather than risk touching it, he nudged it with the tip of his shoe. It fell to the floor, glistening with sticky fluid.

“......!”

Seeing that, he got a rough idea of what kind of monster inhabited this dungeon.

He looked up, intending to share the discovery—but Eun Woojeong was gone.

“Where’d you go?”

“Over here.”

“You bastard. You just wander off without saying anything?”

What if you got ambushed or something? I’d be the one stuck dealing with it.

Grumbling, Cover followed the direction of Eun Woojeong’s voice. Was it just his imagination, or was it getting darker?

“Hey, I saw something on the bodies—wait, what the hell is this?”

“Surprised, right? I was too, so I’ve been checking it out.”

A large desk. And on it, stacked in layers, were old televisions.

“What, someone needed to watch movies in a dungeon?”

Eun Woojeong knocked on the underside of the desk. A large box was stashed there, stuffed with videotapes.

“I figured they just cleared the bodies out. But looks like they hid some other evidence too.”

“All of this...”

“Probably videos of things they don’t want anyone to see.”

Eun Woojeong pulled one tape out of the box and turned it over in his hand before shrugging.

“Not like we’ve got anything better to do. Let’s watch one.”

He slid the tape into the VCR placed at the center of the desk.

Whirr.

Click.

The player made several sounds as it accepted the tape, and one of the TVs flickered on.

“Looks like this is the only screen that still works.”

In today’s world, footage this grainy was nearly impossible to find. The video began.

The first thing that appeared on screen was a cold, metallic bed that made your skin crawl just looking at it. And lying on it was a child.

Still as if asleep, the child didn’t move at all. Two men stood nearby, talking.

『Vitals?』

『Stable for now.』

『Then we can push the dosage.』

『And if he dies? We’re running out of test subjects. We have to be cautious.』

『You’re too careful... Fine, raise it one level. Make sure he’s strapped down—don’t let him self-harm.』

One man checked off something on a clipboard and began fastening leather straps to the child’s limbs. The other, holding a syringe, stepped closer.

Clack. Rattle.

The footage ended.

Eun Woojeong stared blankly at the screen and furrowed his brow beneath the mask.

“Old human experimentation footage. The rest are probably similar.”

Gruesome, yes—but not particularly shocking. They already knew the cult Cover was chasing had done this kind of thing.

He figured it would be better to take the other tapes and examine them slowly later. As he turned to say as much—

“Cover...”

But he didn’t finish.

Cover’s face had gone pale. His eyes were wide. Sweat streamed down his jaw.

He looked frozen in place, as if struck by some massive shock. Even Eun Woojeong dropped his usual teasing tone.

“What’s wrong?”

“......”

Cover opened his mouth, then shut it again without a sound.

He moved his lips a few times, saying nothing. Then, slowly, he lowered his head.

Blinking rapidly, he whispered something—barely audible—and then dropped to his knees.

Clatter. Clatter!

He began frantically rummaging through the box of tapes.

He checked the numbers on each label one by one until finally, he pulled out a tape buried deep in the box.

“Mr. Cover...”

Still silent, Cover removed the previous tape from the player and inserted the one he had found.

Whirr.

Click.

The VCR began playing.

A new video started.

Clang!

A thick steel door swung open.

Men in lab coats entered.

『No... No, please...』

A child’s trembling voice came from somewhere.

The camera moved slowly, rising over the shoulders of the men in coats.

They all stood around a single child, who cowered in a corner, body curled up tight.

Curly ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) black hair. A face that felt all too familiar.

The eyes weren’t green—they were black, like the hair. But that didn’t matter anymore.

As he stared at the terrified child’s face on the screen, Cover forgot how to breathe.