Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples

Blink. Blink.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Cielo blinked stupidly at the unfamiliar ceiling above him.

“I’m pretty sure I died…”

Amidst his hazy memories, there was one thing he could clearly remember: blocking the demon’s path for the sake of Lee Eunwoo, the person who had taken over his body.

“I wonder… if he managed to live well.”

He had held out as best he could, but he wasn’t sure how many days he had managed to buy.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was the demon’s eerie voice: “The more you try to stop me, the more curious I become.”

“Anyway…”

Shaking his head to dispel his thoughts, Cielo slowly looked around.

In a black, box-shaped object, people in strange outfits were shouting. Right next to it was a long pole and a thin needle stuck into his forearm.

“…Ah.”

This was a world completely different from the one he had lived in—a world that had existed only in the memories of Lee Eunwoo, who had once inhabited his body.

“Is this… a dream?”

But even if it were a dream, would he really need to dream based on Eunwoo’s memories rather than his own? As he tilted his head in confusion, short hair brushed against his cheek.

“…Hm?”

Feeling something strange, Cielo raised his hand and gently touched the hair that had grazed his face.

“What is this…?”

Out of habit, he moved to cover the back of his neck to hide his scars—worried someone might see them—but then he noticed something very different.

Large hands and a slightly broader frame. This body was completely unlike his own, which had once been pitifully thin and weak.

“…No way.”

Looking around in a panic, Cielo quickly got out of bed and approached the mirror not far away to check his reflection.

“Ha!”

The face staring back at him in the mirror was no longer the one he knew.

Dark brown hair with a reddish tint and deep brown eyes—

It was unmistakably the face of Lee Eunwoo, the one he had only ever seen in memories.

“Why am I…?”

He had once told Eunwoo he would take over his body if needed.

But that had only been to calm Eunwoo down—it was never meant to be taken literally.

“I didn’t think I’d actually end up here…”

Cielo let out a short sigh and held his throbbing head.

Still, it didn’t feel bad at all.

A life given back to him.

Even in this form, the fact that he had been given a new chance brought him joy.

He knew Eunwoo hadn’t lived a happy life, but it didn’t matter.

It was better to be given a second chance with all his memories intact than to vanish into nothing, having done nothing at all.

“…I’ll take good care of your body, Eunwoo.”

Just in case his voice might somehow reach him,

Cielo—no, Eunwoo—whispered quietly and lowered his gaze.

He hoped Eunwoo wouldn’t think he had stolen his body or stolen his chance at happiness.

Just as he was thinking that—

The door opened without a knock, and a man strode in. As soon as he entered, the man looked toward the bed and raised an eyebrow.

He glanced around the hospital room as if looking for Eunwoo, then widened his eyes when he spotted him standing in front of the mirror.

“Are you alright?”

The sudden question made Eunwoo blink.

“Who is this guy? Do I know him? I don’t remember anyone like that.”

Unable to answer right away, Eunwoo stared at the man warily.

If he had been someone from Lee Eunwoo’s memories, Cielo might have been able to guess who he was—but this man didn’t appear in any of those memories.

“Can’t speak?”

Muttering with a puzzled tone, the man walked up and started checking Eunwoo’s body. He lifted Eunwoo’s arm, and even pulled up the patient gown, causing Eunwoo to grab his arm in surprise.

“…Wh-what are you doing?”

At his flustered tone, the man quietly looked down at him. His eyes, even darker than Eunwoo’s, held an unreadable intensity.

“So you can talk.”

“…”

“I asked who you were. I’m the guy who almost killed you.”

Only then did Eunwoo let out a short gasp.

From the way he said “almost killed you,” this man must have been the truck driver from Eunwoo’s memories—the one behind the wheel during the accident.

“Oh… the truck driver?”

“…Truck? Ah. It was dark—maybe my car looked like a truck to you.”

“…”

“Well, the type of car doesn’t matter. More importantly—how’s your body holding up?”