Chapter 50

Chapter 50. The Goddess of Winter, Skadi

If not for that person.

She probably would have spent her entire life in that white, cold hospital room.

Unable to move either leg, never knowing hope.

Cursing herself at the ash-gray world visible through the window, she'd have ended her life in misery.

But a miracle happened.

A hand extended by a benefactor whose face she'd never seen.

Kim Jeong-seok.

Those three syllables had overturned Park Hayan's life completely.

She stood on two legs again, and beyond that, she'd gained the transcendent power to hear the voices of spirits.

All thanks to the new life he had given her.

"......"

A musty alley where sunlight barely reached.

Before the narrow staircase leading down to an old villa's basement.

Park Hayan clenched her fists.

She was still agonizing.

She'd mustered the courage to come all the way here, trusting nothing but an address on a piece of stationery.

Would it be rude to show up without any notice?

Would he find it burdensome?

She'd wavered dozens of times, hundreds of times.

She'd considered turning back.

But there was a clear reason she had no choice but to come in person.

'The letters stopped.'

It started precisely after she was discharged.

The replies that had trickled in before then had abruptly ceased.

Park Hayan had pressed her new address firmly into each letter she sent.

Just in case he couldn't reply. Just in case he couldn't find her.

But no reply came.

As though he'd evaporated from the world.

Not a single word. Not a trace.

'Did something happen to him?'

Her heart plummeted.

The world was chaos.

Since the Great Cataclysm, incidents and accidents were endless.

Every day, monsters appeared somewhere, the ground split, and people died.

A hellscape so deranged that even the Awakened couldn't guarantee their lives.

What if he wasn't an Awakened like her?

What if he was an ordinary civilian?

The possibility that he'd been caught in an accident, or that something terrible had happened, couldn't be ruled out.

"Hoo."

Park Hayan drew a deep breath.

She steadied her trembling heart.

She had to confirm.

Whether he was safe, or simply too busy to write.

She felt she could only find peace by seeing it with her own eyes.

She descended carefully into the villa's basement.

Damp, cool air met her skin.

Beep.

She pressed the worn doorbell.

A faint electronic hum sounded from within.

"......"

No response.

Not even a hint of a person behind the door.

Was no one home?

Out? Or truly.......

Stuck in limbo, unable to advance or retreat.

Park Hayan was biting her lower lip and staring at the door handle when—

"Who are you?"

Out of nowhere.

Someone spoke from behind her, at the top of the stairs.

A low, rough voice like sandpaper scraping.

"Eek!"

Startled, Park Hayan spun around.

A man stood at the top of the stairs, casting a long shadow.

A man in a loosely worn suit.

A pale face, color not yet fully returned.

But the eyes that glinted beneath it were ferocious beyond measure.

Park Jihun—the one who carried the makings of a Demon King.

Park Hayan flinched at the man's menacing appearance, but hope quickly flickered in her voice.

"D-do you happen to...... be the owner of this place?"

Could this person be Kim Jeong-seok?

Could he be the benefactor who'd saved her?

But at her question, Park Jihun's expression soured sharply.

Deep creases formed between his brows.

He shook his head.

"No. Who are you?"

Park Jihun's gaze sharpened.

Thick suspicion.

He descended one step, growling.

"Are you here for Boss?"

"......Boss?"

Park Hayan tilted her head.

Boss?

If this intimidating man called someone 'Boss,' what kind of person could that be?

Park Hayan carefully tried again.

"Um, the owner of this place...... is it Kim Jeong-seok?"

The instant those three syllables left her mouth.

SHING.

A spine-chilling scrape of metal.

Park Jihun drew the longsword he'd been hiding behind his back.

The atmosphere flipped in an instant.

The neighborhood-thug vibe from moments ago was gone without a trace.

The air froze solid.

A disciplined stance.

But the aura pouring off him was nothing short of savage.

'What?'

Park Hayan's eyes trembled.

Killing intent.

This was not the killing intent of an ordinary Awakened.

It was the absolute sword aura that only someone who had traversed countless battlefields and cut down innumerable lives could emit.

And for good reason.

World No. 394—the ruined 'Garsia.'

The soul of its last hero, the Sword Saint, had fused with Park Jihun's body.

Kim Jeong-seok had won the soul at the Secret Auction and bestowed it upon Park Jihun.

That eon-spanning fighting spirit now crystallized at the tip of Park Jihun's blade.

"Who sent you."

Park Jihun's voice scraped along the ground.

She knew Boss's name.

And she'd come all the way to this ramshackle hideout uninvited.

Lately, people in the underworld had been sniffing around, trying to get their hands on Boss's Relics.

A mole from Chairman Shim's side? Or some other piece of trash?

If she was a fly bothering Boss, he'd carve her in half right here and now.

"Answer me or I'll split you in two."

Park Jihun raised his sword overhead.

But.

HUMMMM!

An intense pulse erupted around Park Hayan's body.

She hadn't even called them.

Clear, luminous clusters of light burst from the air around her.

Wind swirled. The earth's energy surged.

Spirits of light.

Spirits of wind.

The avatars of nature that communed with her had materialized all at once to protect their contractor.

In an instant, the cramped basement corridor was flooded with the spirits' mana.

"......?!"

This time it was Park Jihun who flinched and halted.

Tension was written all over his face.

'A spirit arts user?'

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Spirit arts users.

Countless classes had emerged since the Great Cataclysm, but spirit arts users were an exceedingly rare class even on a global scale.

The exacting conditions required to commune with nature meant that most spirit arts users were scouted by the government the moment they Awakened, or so he'd heard.

And yet one had appeared in this narrow alley?

A monster who could simultaneously command this many spirits?

'Damn, is she a government leash?'

Park Jihun's mind raced.

He was underworld-born.

Getting tangled with government or association types meant nothing but trouble.

It could bring harm to the organization his father had built.

Above all, it would be a nuisance to Boss.

But he couldn't just back down either.

He couldn't let some rat who was lurking around Boss's doorstep walk away freely.

"What business does a government dog have all the way out here?"

"Government? I don't know what misunderstanding you're under, but......!"

Park Hayan didn't back down either.

A wind spirit circled her, whipping up razor-sharp gales.

A blade demon who had inherited the Sword Saint's presence.

And a transcendent who had sprouted the seeds of the Spirit Monarch.

With only a narrow staircase between them, the auras of two monsters collided head-on.

Sword aura about to fly, spirit magic about to erupt—a life-or-death standoff.

A tension so thick that neither dared even breathe pressed down on the corridor.

That was when.

"Both of you, knock it off and come inside."

CREEEAK.

The firmly shut iron door of the semi-basement swung open.

An indifferent, bone-dry voice.

At that single utterance.

Hsssh.

The Sword Saint's killing intent that had been pouring off Park Jihun melted away like snow.

Even the savage spirit mana swirling around Park Hayan dissipated as though it had never been.

A presence that crushed the momentum of two monsters with nothing but a voice.

Through the gap of the open door stood a man in a carelessly thrown-on hoodie.

In one hand, a freshly cracked can of beer.

"......Boss! You were home!"

Park Jihun, as though he'd never drawn a sword, bowed ninety degrees like a puppy wagging its tail.

He whisked the blade behind his back and plastered on an ingratiating grin.

"I thought you were out! You weren't opening the door!"

The man clicked his tongue at Park Jihun.

"Keep it down. You're disturbing the neighbors."

"Yessir! Zipping it right now!"

"......"

The moment the man scowled.

Mmph!

Park Jihun clapped both hands over his own mouth.

A genuine commitment to not making another sound.

The sight of him hunched over was rather comical.

But Park Hayan couldn't laugh.

If anything, she stared in wonder, eyes wide.

'That man...... is an incredible fighter.'

The spirits circling Park Hayan were trembling.

An instinctive wariness.

Even when she'd entered dungeons with her party, it hadn't been this bad.

Not even when facing high-grade Demonic Beasts had the spirits ever reacted this sharply.

And yet.

That terrifying man was wagging his tail like a puppy before a guy who looked like a neighborhood layabout.

—Answer me or I'll split you in two.

That had been mere minutes ago.

The savage killing intent and tone he'd used on her were nowhere to be found.

Even his way of speaking was completely different.

He was like a different person entirely.

'Then...... is he?'

Park Hayan's gaze turned to Kim Jeong-seok.

Disheveled hair.

A stretched-out hoodie.

An unremarkable face you'd find anywhere.

"Excuse me......"

Park Hayan swallowed dryly and spoke with care.

Her voice trembled faintly.

"Are you, by chance...... Kim Jeong-seok?"

Kim Jeong-seok sipped his canned beer.

He studied Park Hayan once with impassive eyes.

And then.

A light shrug.

Neither confirmation nor denial. An ambiguous gesture.

He turned around.

Plod, plod.

Without a word, he walked through the open front door and disappeared inside.

"Uh, um......"

Park Hayan hesitated, flustered.

Should she follow? Shouldn't she?

That was when Park Jihun, hands still clamped over his mouth, whipped his head around.

'What are you waiting for? Get in.'

His eyes flicked and his chin jutted, urging her to hurry inside.

Boss had left the door open and walked in—that was permission to enter.

***

Worn linoleum.

Mold-stained wallpaper.

The musty smell unique to semi-basement apartments.

Three people gathered in a cramped, shabby living room.

Park Hayan perched on the edge of the old sofa, half-seated.

Her hands were folded neatly on her knees.

She was visibly tense.

Kim Jeong-seok dropped into the plastic chair across from her.

Clack.

He set the empty beer can on the table.

"Why all the ruckus?"

A dry question.

His gaze was directed at Park Jihun.

Park Jihun leaped up indignantly.

"Boss! It's not my fault!"

He pointed at Park Hayan as though accusing her.

"That bi—that woman showed up out of nowhere and was loitering at the door!"

"So you drew a sword."

"She's gotta be a government dog!"

Park Jihun protested, veins bulging.

"She's even got spirits! The government must've sent her to snoop on you!"

Paranoia befitting an underworld heir.

But given the way that world worked, it wasn't entirely baseless.

Thanks to Kim Jeong-seok supplying all those Relics, Chairman Park had gained wings.

He'd raised an army of the strong and established himself as the de facto ruler of the underworld.

Naturally, plenty of people were curious about the source of those Relics.

They were hiding it desperately, but it wasn't impossible that the government had tracked down Kim Jeong-seok.

But Park Hayan was indignant.

"I—a government dog?!"

She shot to her feet.

"I'm not one of those people."

Park Hayan looked urgently at Kim Jeong-seok.

She was terrified his gaze might turn cold.

"I just...... came looking for my benefactor."

Her voice shrank to a whisper.

She'd rehearsed her words of thanks hundreds, thousands of times.

But her mind had gone blank.

She had no idea where to even begin.

How was she supposed to explain that she was the sole survivor of that plane crash?

Wait—was this even the right person?

"Um, I......"

Park Hayan's lips were forming words when—

"Sit."

Kim Jeong-seok jerked his chin.

Park Hayan flinched and gingerly lowered herself back onto the sofa.

Kim Jeong-seok's gaze drifted downward.

His impassive eyes settled on Park Hayan's legs.

Beneath her jeans—two legs without a single scar.

The image of the girl who had once despaired in a wheelchair was nowhere to be found.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, radiating healthy vitality.

"......"

Kim Jeong-seok gave a quiet nod.

"The surgery went well, I see."

A matter-of-fact remark.

As casual as asking about the weather.

"Good."

But the warmth hidden in those few short words.

Park Hayan's body jolted.

Her heart dropped.

It was him.

The person who had pulled her back from the edge.

The person who had let her walk again, live again.

The benefactor she'd drawn in her dreams every night.

"Ah......"

Park Hayan hurriedly bowed her head.

Her vision blurred in an instant.

She'd tried to hold it in.

She'd wanted to smile, to say 'thank you' with dignity.

But a fat tear splashed onto her jeans.

"Hkgh......"

Once the dam broke, it wouldn't stop.

Her shoulders heaved.

She covered her face with both hands and wept.

All those countless nights curled up alone in the hospital room, crying.

And the man before her, who had finally shattered that darkness and brought her into the light.

"Th-thank you...... hk, truly......"