Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: This Damn Love
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'Airplane?'
My eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar sight.
My body was lying on a plush seat in a space that looked exactly like the inside of an airplane.
On top of that, the faint engine noise and the occasional jolts from turbulence fully snapped my groggy mind awake.
"Mr. Hyuk, did you sleep well?"
"Huh! Wh-who are you?"
A spacious seat as comfortable as a heavenly bed.
Before I could even collect my thoughts, a woman with long blonde straight hair and stunning beauty approached in a stewardess uniform, greeting me kindly.
"My name is Marso."
Her bright smile resembled Jeon Ji-hyun's beauty.
Even amid the surprise, those slender legs caught my eye.
My face heated up.
"We'll be arriving at Incheon International Airport in one hour."
"Yes? In-Incheon International Airport?"
The words "Incheon International Airport" pierced my ears sharply through her kindness.
"Hoho, you slept for a full fifteen hours."
"Fifteen hours?"
'What the hell? What on earth happened? Why am I lying here?'
My last memory was lying on the massive magic circle that Master had prepared.
And then, countless shadows of light piercing through my mind.
I only remembered that a jumble of unidentified things had burrowed into my head, but I had no clue what they were.
'Wait, am I speaking French right now?'
I could handle English conversations to some extent, but French was far from my reach.
Yet Marso was clearly speaking French.
And I was responding fluently in French without a hitch.
It was as natural as if I'd been born speaking it.
"Here is an item to be delivered to Mr. Hyuk."
As I panicked amid this string of unbelievable events, she handed me a white envelope.
The gold-sealed envelope was light.
'A letter?'
I tore open the seal and opened the envelope.
Just as expected, a letter and a single platinum card appeared.
'Rune language?'
Incredibly, the letter was written in runes, a language only mages could understand.
'How can I read this?'
During my training in 2-circle magic, I'd learned about 300 runes.
Runes, where even a single dot could change the meaning—like hanja—each had its own unique significance.
Master had told me that as one advanced to higher circles, the number of runes to learn reached ten thousand.
Even I, with my brilliant mind, only knew 300, yet runes I'd never seen before were being interpreted effortlessly.
'Did I get struck by lightning or something?'
Like those ridiculous tropes that popped up in movies sometimes.
How else could I use French and runes so fluently unless I'd been hit by lightning without frying my brain?
No matter how I racked my imagination, it was absurd.
I turned my head and began reading the letter, which was unmistakably in Master's handwriting.
To my beloved disciple Hyuk.
'Ugh!'
The shocking first line hit me, and I suddenly felt nauseous.
The three months I spent with you—why do they feel so regrettable? This Master misses you terribly, even after gifting you those brief memories upon sending you off.
'Is this guy insane?'
Every line was dripping with cheesy sentiment rivaling a marriage proposal.
The urge to rip it to shreds surged uncontrollably in my chest.
By the connection permitted by the goddess of fate, Paraan, this Master who met you was truly happy.
For 200 years, a continuous thrill(?) I'd never felt—you'll understand for sure if you ever take on a disciple like yourself someday.
'This... pervert old geezer!'
Even though he wasn't visible, the wicked face of Gandalf Master came vividly to mind.
Thinking of Master, whom neither law nor force could touch, made me feel like I'd need to crunch ice just to sleep.
Hyuk. But the gods do not permit our eternal love.
I wanted to leave you and craft a useful mage over ten or twenty years, yet fate's wheel has torn you and me apart like this.
My hands trembled.
'To this pure single guy's soul—eternal love! Arghhh! You pervert sea anemone, orc-cousin thug mage! Arghhhhh!'
If not for Marso smiling sweetly over there, I'd have screamed—but if I did, this plane would explode.
My enmity toward Master was greater than that toward the neighbor's shit-dog that bit me as a kid, turning us mortal enemies.
Our bond severed by the gods—I pen this letter enduring that agony.
Hyuk, my beloved disciple. Amid fate's cruelty, with no knowing when we'll meet again, this Master has left you a few gifts. The card you're holding now
is one of a kind in the world, with an unlimited limit. At any bank, you can withdraw as much money as you desire.
'Huh! U-unlimited limit?'
An unlimited-limit card I'd only heard of in legends. And one usable at every bank in the world? Absurd.
'Master, just what the hell is your identity?'
I knew he was rich, but I had no idea he was this obscenely loaded.
And the private jet you're riding right now is a modest gift prepared for you. Use it freely whenever you have somewhere to go.
'Pl-plane too? Holy shit!'
Master's gift transcended imagination. Suddenly, a warm breeze blew across my Siberian-tundra heart that had hated and despised him.
'Yeah, Master can't be that bad. How lonely must those 200 years have been to kidnap a guy like me as a disciple? Whatever, chalk it up to stepping in shit for three months.'
Our family motto was honesty. Behind those words, in tiny print visible only to family, were 128 detailed rules.
Rules of honesty, viewable only upon adulthood.
I'd discovered them recently while dusting our proud(?) motto during my parents' runaway stint.
One passage suddenly came to mind.
'He who turns down a freebie betrays his true heart—a hypocrite. He who accepts the freebie without refusal and loves the giver from the depths of his heart—that man alone is the true honest descendant of the boundless Kang clan.'
Others included: cherish women like gold, covet your neighbor's goods to the best of your ability, flattery is a necessary evil for success, so use it honestly(?), and so on.
All the wisdom needed to navigate life was melted into that single word: honesty.
And I was an honest man.
This heart forgiving Master's unforgivable sins—even angels would kneel before me and beg for a lesson.
One final thing. No matter what happens from here on, do not hate or resent this Master.
All of this is merely this Master's noble love for you.
"Yes, sir!"
If Master were beside me, I might clear up our accumulated misunderstandings and give him a hot(?) embrace.
Human Kang Hyuk was not so petty a son of Korea.
'Next time we meet, gotta ask for the asset inventory. Managing the lifetime relics(?) left by one's sole master's living legacy is the tradition of an upright mage!'
"Kuhuhuhu...."
I tried to hold it in, but laughter leaked through my lips.
In this world, who at my age could own a private jet and wield an unlimited-limit card?
'My dream's finally coming true! Paradise, my eternal romance!'
As a kid, my dream was the idyllic paradise from myths.
A life of full belly, warm back, sharing with loved ones(?) in a peach blossom land.
With money, nothing was impossible in this era.
And I strongly felt that Paraan, the otherworldly goddess of fate, was on my side.
'Gotta offer her a shot of soju sometime. Kekeke.'
Engraving Master's final love deep in my soul, I lay back comfortably in the seat.
"Lady Marso."
"Yes, Mr. Hyuk."
The blonde beauty approached with a smile blooming like a sunflower at my call.
I gulped dryly without realizing.
"Haha! So this plane's mine after all. What's the model? It's pretty big—looks damn useful."
More than useful. Brown-toned seats of incredibly soft unknown leather, state-of-the-art equipment, luxurious interiors everywhere.
Large sofas in the distance, even a bar for drinks—it wasn't small by any means.
"It's an A380, specially produced by Airbus."
Marso smiled brightly, casually naming the aircraft.
"Cough! Hack hack!"
The cold fresh fruit juice Marso had given me went straight down wrong.
'A, A380! That terror jumbo passenger jet seating up to 800?'
A monstrous transport humanity built, priced at 400 billion won per unit.
I gaped blankly, thinking of Master.
'Ma, Master!'
This damn love stabbed right through my chest.
Before I knew it, I felt like I was truly loving Master from the heart.
"A380 landing out of nowhere? It never officially serviced our airport—what airline?"
"Dunno. They say it's private use."
"Wh-what? A380 as a private jet?"
Incheon International Airport's control tower and staff were thrown into chaos by the sudden A380.
Airbus's next-gen passenger jet had test-landed once at Incheon recently.
A moving 5-star hotel carrying over 800 passengers nonstop across the globe, now landing without notice.
And the notification: private purpose.
The VIP runway—reserved only for presidents, foreign heads of state, chief justice, etc.—had been booked in advance.
"It's here!"
Ruuuuumble.
The ten female staff from the airport corporation's VIP protocol team tensed up as they moved to gate 9, eyeing the massive fuselage approaching.
They were dying to know who was arriving in a 400-billion-won private jet to receive protocol.
Thud thud.
The plane taxied to a stop, and footsteps of unknown origin echoed faintly.
As the steps grew closer, the flower-adorned protocol women peered with curious eyes at the man slowly emerging.
"Ah!"
"Oh my!"
Low gasps escaped every one of them, discourtesy be damned.
"Haha! Hello, everyone!"
The protocol staff, who had imagined an Arab oil prince or at least a famous foreign celeb, froze at the sight of a sturdy young man—no, a student still carrying boyish vibes—speaking fluent Korean.
A personal mega-passenger A380 that no Korean tycoon could even dream of using.
And descending from it was a single high schooler with a nicely tanned, handsome face.
"P-please, come in."
They bowed lightly per protocol manual toward the student waving cheerfully with a grin like he'd won the lottery.
Then, booming from above their heads came the young man's flustered voice.
"Wh-where do I get my passport checked?"
The clueless high schooler scratched his head, apparently unaware even of VIP lounge protocol.
The staff's bowed faces subtly stiffened in embarrassment.
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Rustle rustle.
'It was real!'
Gandalf Master had meticulously forged even my passport, letting me land safely on Korean soil.
I'd exited the flashy, dignified VIP lounge for the first time in my life, but I didn't have a four-wheeled private ride waiting.
So I asked the protocol staff who'd escorted me out and headed to the ATM.
And began withdrawing cash.
'Those zeros... they're real?'
The card PIN was Master's simple style: 1111. Insert it, and endless zeros appeared.
At first, I thought it was a dud with no money.
But withdrawing, out came a casual hundred 10,000-won bills.
Holding my first wad of serious cash, my mouth wouldn't close.
'Kkkkkkk! Khahahaha!'
Seeing my dreamed reality come true made my heart feel like bursting—I was going mad.
Marso's prepared luxury jeans, white dress shirt, matching sunglasses, and accessories.
I could vividly taste the luxury life I'd only heard about.
'Let's go! Home!'
The season had shifted to late summer.
Basking in cool AC breeze, I strode confidently out of the airport.
And the dazzling August sunlight poured in.
The light of hope signaling the end of hardship and start of happiness shone brightly upon me.
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'No way they declared me dead on the family registry?'
I arrived home via limousine taxi.
Curious how my parents—who raised me like a safari breeding sim—had fared in my absence.
With their only son vanished, had they flown to Czech wailing, or trusted I'd return and lived peacefully at home? I was dying to know.
'Hmm....'
Thanks to my successful dad and mom, we lived in a pretty nice Gangnam apartment, top-tier stuff.
707.
It was Saturday, 5 p.m.—parents should be home.
Ding-dong.
Deep breath, pressed the doorbell.
But no sign of life.
'Where'd they go?'
They weren't the type to neglect life over a missing son.
'No key either.'
Electronic doorlock with interior double key.
"Who is it?"
Then came Mom's familiar voice, lacking strength.
'Mom....'
My chest suddenly ached.
Me, well-fed, well-rested, well-shat, growing like a weed. Her voice hinted at the hellish time spent over her son lost on a school trip.
"Who is it?"
Dad's heavy voice followed.
'They can see me on the door video—why the act?'
"Huh!"
As I'd guessed, Mom spotted me on the video feed, her intense shock blasting through the speaker.
"I'm home!"
I announced my return in the same spirited voice I used coming back from school.
Click.
The door opened.
"Haha! Dad! Mom! Your son has returned!"
Thinking of worried parents, I entered casually like nothing happened.
"....."
Parents stood frozen at the entrance.
Blank faces staring at the unbelievable me walking in.
'Tch, why'd you age so much?'
In just months apart, Mom's new eye wrinkles and Dad's starkly visible grays or whites.
My chest throbbed, hot something surging in my eyes.
"Son, you're late? Hohoho! Fun school trip?"
"Yes? Y-yes! A very, very educational trip."
Mom welcomed me casually, calling me "son" like always.
Rustle.
Mom ruffled my hair, now way taller than her.
"Grew a ton while gone? No contact—what've you been up to?"
They knew I'd vanished mid-trip, yet treated it like a vacation.
"Hehe, tried a runaway for the first time. No school trip, when else Europe?"
"R-runaway?"
Couldn't say I'd learned magic under crazy archmage Gandalf Master.
Truth? They'd ship me to a psych ward.
"Joking. Drank free drink from weird grandpa on Golden Lane, woke in some rural Euro village. Helped grumpy kidnapper grandpa a bit."
"Hmm, I see. Worth Dad raising you tough."
Dad nodded, claiming credit.
"W-well, yeah."
Dad had a point.
Without parents' 101 ways to toughen kids, I'd have offed myself under Gandalf ages ago.
"Son, thank you. For coming back."
Mom hugged me gently. No—buried in my arms, shedding tears.
'Ah, so touching.'
Chest stung like manly tears would flow.
If not for that one whisper in my ear, I'd have bawled in her arms for old times' sake.
"You didn't forget Mom's gift, right?"
"....."
The warm, heart-wrenching family reunion.
Colder than AC refrigerant, a chill swept through my chest.
"Oh! Nice shades? Ferragamo, right?"
"Oh really? As expected of our son. Busy but never forgets gifts. Hohoho!"
"Haha! The fruit of raising our kid strict."
The brief heartfelt reunion ended just like that.
Marso's gift bundle was soon divvied up steadily by Dad and Mom's hands.
'Sigh....'
And so, after three months, I was home.
I'd become a fake-rich mage not envying even lightning-struck lottery winners.
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"La la la, la la la...."
I'd never dreamed going to school could feel this good.
Thanks to Gandalf Master, the world brimmed with precious things.
Screech.
"Have a good day, Young Master."
"Driver Kim, don't be late for academy pickup."
Daehan High School, Korea's top private elite academy.
The massive gate styled after Independence Gate buzzed today too with rich kids piling out of cars.
'Kids, walking's prime happy exercise—why the flashy rides.'
Owning the world's largest private ride, school carpool envy was gone.
'Oh! Finally back! School! Kang Hyuk has arrived!'
Arms wide like a triumphant general, I passed through the gate.
To morning-sleepy me, school was once an endurance test.
"Oh my! Isn't that him?"
"Yeah. The first-year from the school paper."
"Wang Teacher said in class: her nutjob student's probably gypsy-dragged, begging in Europe by now...."
"Oh god!"
Whispers from girls reached my mana-sharpened ears. My raised-arm pose froze solid.
'Da-damn! Gypsy? Begging?'
Day after hot-yet-cold family reunion, I'd gone to school with parents.
Told my tale to Wang Teacher and rushed principal.
Pitiful saga of free drink from weird grandpa leading to abduction.
Somehow, it'd morphed into beggar downfall.
'Vulgar begging what! Die!'
Principal had teared up then, grateful I returned alive.
Thought teacher bonds lived in harsh world—chest touched.
But return was betrayal.
'Wang Teacher, you stabbed my heart.'
Thirty-five-year-old spinster English teacher Wang Seon-nyeo.
Terror Snow White, venting spinster grudges nonstop via mouth.
Her dreaded yap turned me into a wretched beggar boy.
'Won't let you off. Revenge... someday....'
Burning heart clutched a dagger.
Crime of loose lips, spreading false rumors.
Magic genius Kang Hyuk's volcanic fury—she'd shit herself in terror.
'Huh, why won't the shit-poison spell formula pop up?'
Home, freed from Gandalf's tyranny.
Nights, I madly trained magic in dreams.
Unread runes, formulas, basic theories, alchemy, high-circle formulas, etc.
Think of anything, associative recall brought formulas or spells.
'Body's weak. Time for century-old ginseng brew.'
Overflowing cash.
Endless spending spots.
"Kang Hyuk?"
Vowing revenge, heading to class—sweet, soft voice called.
Head turned naturally to my name-caller.
'Seo, Seo Ye-rin!'
Lily atop navy checkered uniform skirt.
White blouse with tiny blue ribbon tie.
Her skin, paler than the blouse, bloomed dazzling in morning sun.
"Y-you survived?"
Seo Ye-rin confirmed, eyes saying I looked like a dead ghost.
"'Course. Quick Euro backpacking trip."
Chest puffed, bluffed casual trip before Ye-rin.
"So glad...."
Nodding, joyful eyes.
'Holy? She worried about me?'
Parents never gazed that fondly.
Angel Seo Ye-rin gifting rare treasure morning-style.
Just add wings, she'd fly heavenward.
"Let's go in—Jung-hyun's been dying for Hyuk."
"Huh? Y-yeah. Let's. Guy misses big bro that much. Hm, gotta treat folks right while they're around."
With Ye-rin's bright smile, we walked campus to class.
"Um, Hyuk...."
Then, angel's cautious voice called.
'Kuh, really toying with my heart.'
"Why?"
Stared at Ye-rin's red lips, sparkling under warm gaze.
Sexy-cute lips—what joy next? Endless anticipation.
"Begging... fun?"
"Gah!"
Ye-rin's finisher blow.
Violent groan rattled my throat.
'Wow, Wang Teacher! Won't let you off!'
Revenge seed sprouted like Jack's beanstalk, rocketing skyward.
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"Hy-Hyuk!"
Spotting me enter, Jung-hyun bolted up, bellowing my name like a brute hero calling his girl.
Every eye in class turned to me.
"Hi, everyone!"
Beggar rumors sucked, but I was confident.
'Kids, shocked huh.'
I'd always lived unbending—smiled at their shock and fluster.
"Heh heh, rumors you gypsy-dragged beggar—survived well."
'Huh? Check this out?'
One slouched in chair, welcoming me fervently with his yap.
Grandpa-rich punk Hwang Sung-taek.
"Haha! Rumors are rumors. Believing that nonsense makes you the fool, right?"
Bellowed stiff laugh, seeking kids' agreement.
But not one nodded.
Even blood-bro Jung-hyun, ho-bbang-sharing bestie, dodged my eyes.
'You brats? Show a Fireball?'
One spell zap clears misunderstanding.
But somehow, no mood.
Unlike before, fat pockets. Wallet size expanded my heart to universe-scale.
"Retard shit, how you compensating us stuck hotel last day your fault? Dumbass, sleep in car if broke—why sightseeing?"
Roooar! Hwang Sung-taek's second gut-burning attack.
Trembling lips curved hot smile.
"Sorry about that. But one punk? Zero regrets."
School trip screw-up? Sorry feelings.
Not on purpose, but harmed kids clear.
Except one punk—no, three including his two loyal mutts—no sorry whatsoever.
"Hwang Sung-taek, watch the skies. No lightning on your stroll."
"Lightning? Puhahaha! Best threat you got is lightning? Childish shit."
Hwang Sung-taek, clueless on lightning profundity.
'You're toast! Fucker.'
Lightning thought drew 3-circle ultimate Lightning magic formula naturally.
Resolved to gift that sincere school-trip present via skybolt.
"Hoho! Hyuk, greeting the kids?"
Class hushed from tense Hwang talk—unpleasant woman's laugh rang.
'Wang Seon-nyeo Teacher!'
Spinster Wang entered open door, makeup-disguised.
Made me lowly beggar, flashed fake smile, pretend-buddy gestures.
"Greetings done. Heading to seat."
No need for more.
'Hmm? Tune Poison magic power right—could make shit herself.'
En route to seat, side-thought: twenty-one shit-inducing methods recalled.
No clue why stored in head, but damn useful knowledge for sure.