Chapter 51

Chapter 51. The One Imbued with the Sword Saint's Soul

The tears wouldn't stop.

Her shoulders trembled.

Park Hayan wept with her face buried in her hands.

She'd tried so hard not to look weak.

Ever since the accident, people's gazes had always been the same.

How pitiful.

What a poor child.

Those sympathetic eyes had been thorns piercing her entire body.

Every single day had been despair.

Staring up at the frigid hospital ceiling, waiting for nothing but death.

The verdict that she'd never walk on her own again had been a death sentence for a young girl.

And then she saw hope.

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

She'd grabbed that hand and clawed her way out of the mire.

Her beloved parents were gone, it was true.

But she remembered clearly.

Inside the cabin.

In that hellish instant when the fuselage split in two and gravity vanished.

The couple who had held her hand until the very end, comforting her.

—Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon.

Their warmth.

The thread of fate that ran from them had miraculously reached all the way to Kim Jeong-seok.

The surgery that would have been impossible without his support.

And the single name he'd shared through a letter.

'Mayon.'

The sweet, skin-crawling temptation of the dark spirit.

Even the nightmare that had tried to gnaw her away—she'd escaped it with the single True Name he'd given her.

It was a miracle.

If all of this wasn't a miracle, what else could anyone call it?

'I have to get stronger.'

Park Hayan had vowed it countless times as she left the hospital.

She had to grow stronger. As the sole survivor, she had to live enough for every person who'd perished in that crash.

She'd become an unyielding tree that no one could trample or shake.

So she'd listened to the spirits' voices and thrown herself into dungeons at the risk of her life.

And yet.

Standing before Kim Jeong-seok, all those vows felt hollow.

She was endlessly fragile.

Before his indifferent yet warm gaze, the dam she'd pressed shut on her emotions had burst.

"Gkhhh, hk......"

Inside the cramped semi-basement room.

Only Park Hayan's weeping hung heavy in the air.

Park Jihun scratched the back of his head with an awkward expression.

"Uh, Boss. Should I at least get her a tissue?"

"Leave her be."

......I took another sip of canned beer.

I didn't try to comfort Park Hayan.

Clumsy consolation was more poison than cure.

Better to let her pour out everything that needed pouring.

I waited for the clots of anguish in her heart to wash away with the tears.

A long time passed.

Park Hayan's sobs subsided.

She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.

A face soaked in tears.

But within those eyes sat an unbreakable resolve.

"I don't...... know how to repay you."

A trembling voice.

Park Hayan bowed her head again.

"You saved me. My legs, my soul...... you rescued all of it."

She steadied her breathing and continued.

"I will never forget their kindness, or yours. Even if it costs my life......"

"Not necessary."

I cut her off.

Park Hayan flinched and raised her head.

I set the empty can on the table with a clack.

"Don't throw around grand words like 'my life.'"

I leaned forward.

I looked her straight in the eyes.

"There's exactly one thing I want from you."

"......What is it?"

"Live well."

Park Hayan's eyes went wide.

I continued evenly.

"Don't get hurt, don't bow to anyone. Live on your own terms, with the power you have. That's the only condition, and the only repayment you need to make."

That was all.

Before the Regression, I remembered the 'White Devil'—the woman who had been consumed by darkness and forced herself to keep living.

I didn't want her shackled by that terrible fate again.

If she grew strong the right way and could protect herself, that was enough.

"Aah......"

Park Hayan bit her lip.

Tears welled again.

'He truly is a great man.'

He didn't ask for anything in return. A single phrase—just live—and he wiped the slate clean.

Could there be another person like this in the world?

But Park Hayan didn't yield.

If anything, the resolve in her eyes only hardened.

She clenched both fists.

"I can't accept that."

"......What?"

"That isn't enough."

She looked me dead in the eye.

"I know it's stubborn of me. But I can't just write off this debt by 'living well.'"

"......"

"Anything at all—just give me something I can do. Please let me be of help to you."

Stubborn to a fault.

Once she bit down, she never let go.

Fitting temperament for the future Spirit Monarch.

Park Jihun, standing off to the side, shook his head in disbelief.

"Wow. The nerve of her, talking back to Boss. That girl's no joke."

"Quiet."

Park Jihun let out a yelp and clamped his mouth shut.

I looked at Park Hayan again.

She was sincere.

If I didn't give her a role here and now, she'd trail me for the rest of her life, insisting on repaying the debt.

And.

'It's not a bad offer.'

I stroked my chin.

Park Hayan had overwhelming talent.

Judging by the texture of the mana I sensed, she was Awakening at a top-tier pace.

If she continued growing like this, she'd become my stalwart shield—and an excellent card for keeping the Avatars prowling the globe in check.

"If you insist."

I spoke.

Park Hayan's face brightened.

"Let me ask you one thing."

I leaned back.

The mood shifted in an instant.

I was tense too, truth be told.

It was time to hear a truth I'd been pushing to the back of my mind.

A conversation I also needed to steel myself for.

"......Do you remember that day?"

"Pardon?"

"The day of the plane crash."

Park Hayan's shoulders stiffened.

I knew.

It had to be a horrific memory.

A nightmare she'd want erased from her mind forever.

I was fully aware that asking a survivor for the truth of that day was a cruel thing to do.

"I'm sorry, but."

I continued, voice flat.

"I know you don't want to relive it. But if you truly insist on repaying me, then tell me everything that happened inside that plane."

The truth of the day of the crash.

The most critical puzzle piece I needed.

Had it been a simple freak weather event?

Or the result of someone's 'Authority' intervening?

The Typhoon That Rends Flesh from Bone.

I had to verify whether there were similarities to the destructive wind that Heimdal's Divine Armament had unleashed.

"Even the smallest sense of wrongness is fine. Everything you saw, heard, and felt. Leave nothing out."

I waited for her answer.

In my past life, I'd never been able to ask Park Hayan this question.

She'd been the one called the 'White Devil.'

There was a chance she would have weaponized the question itself against me.

But the Park Hayan of now was different.

She was not a devil.

She was a woman who had overcome her trials and sought to repay a kindness. An upright human being.

Park Hayan's complexion turned momentarily ashen.

Her bloodless lips trembled.

But then.

She clenched both fists.

As though resolving herself, she slowly nodded.

"......All right."

And she began to speak.

Drawing out the truth of that day, fragment by shattered fragment.

***

Park Hayan retraced her memories.

There were far too many oddities for a simple accident.

The sky that day had been unusually clear.

An endless, cloudless blue stretched beyond the window.

A family trip after a long while.

She'd pressed her cheek against the plane window, marveling at the dazzling scenery.

And then.

The anomaly struck without warning.

SCREEEE!

The sky tore open.

Literally—the clear, empty sky split down the middle as though sliced by a blade.

RUMBLE!

With an enormous boom, pitch-black thunderclouds poured through.

At first, she'd assumed it was thunder from a sudden weather change.

But it was nothing like thunder.

A bizarre, eardrum-shredding rupture—like the howl of some colossal beast.

"H-huh?"

"What's happening?!"

Passengers panicked and peered out the windows.

Crew members frantically shouted for everyone to remain seated.

And then.

The plane began shaking violently.

CRASH! BOOM!

The fuselage crumpled like paper.

Windows shattered outward. Flesh-flaying winds invaded the cabin.

Oxygen masks dropped, but they were useless.

Damage everywhere.

Seatbelts snapped and people were sucked into the void.

Screams.

Wails.

Pandemonium.

The plane was no longer flying.

Wings broken, it was plummeting straight down.

CRACK-CRASH!

The aircraft was ripped in half.

Split in two midair, debris scattering.

Everyone had either lost consciousness or vanished without a trace into the raging storm.

Park Hayan was no different.

Amid the pressure, the terror, the agony of bones breaking, her consciousness was fading.

Her vision flickered to black.

But.

Just before losing consciousness.

Through the shattered fuselage, beyond the gaping sky.

Park Hayan had seen it clearly.

'A person......?'

Someone was floating in the air.

Without any equipment, hovering at the center of that colossal typhoon, arms folded, looking down.

Wearing an expression of extreme displeasure.

***

"......"

I narrowed my eyes.

I could barely breathe.

My heartbeat turned erratic.

"That man."

I asked, voice low.

I fought to keep the emotion down.

"Do you remember what he looked like?"

"......"

"Even a distinguishing feature. Could you draw him?"

Park Hayan nodded slowly.

Park Jihun, reading the room, hastily rummaged through a corner and produced a pen and scrap paper.

Park Hayan took the pen.

Her hand shook faintly.

But she took a deep breath, reached into her memory, and began drawing lines on the paper.

Scratch. Scratch.

The man from that day, seared hideously into her memory.

With every line, his shape grew clearer.

A massive build.

Wildly swept-back hair.

Arrogantly raised eyebrows.

And that characteristic expression—bored, annoyed, gazing down on everything as though it were beneath him.

"......It's done."

Park Hayan offered the paper carefully.

I took the drawing.

My eyes locked onto the paper.

In that instant.

"......"

I couldn't even breathe.

My jaw clenched rigid and twitched.

I couldn't help but crease my brow.

Inside my head, the taut wire of reason snapped with an audible click.

My vision flooded red.

Killing intent boiled over.

Every ounce of rage I'd been suppressing threatened to erupt like a volcano.

'Ha.'

There was no denying it.

I couldn't dismiss it as coincidence or write it off.

Park Hayan's drawing.

It was too clear. Too horrifyingly accurate.

No matter how I looked at it, that face was.

'Heimdal.'

The Ruler of All Things.

The God of Typhoons.

......It was him.

The one who had torn my parents apart.

The culprit who had shattered my ordinary world to pieces.