The Fifth World: A Father's Bloody Legacy
The fifth world was…….
…………
The Victory Goddess had sidled up next to me before I knew it. She looped her arm through mine, pressing our bodies together once more in that impossibly close embrace.
"That's the mark of a true hero," she said, looking up at me. "In the end, you seized the chance to show your heroic side—and you did. You sacrificed your life to give them the opportunity to save the world. Far more valuable than just selfishly muddling through the ordeal."
Her gaze shifted across the table. "I love that kind of heroic tale more than anything. Utterly adore it. Nothing like some backstabbing coward chasing cheap thrills."
Uh……
Anyone could see that was a direct shot at the Love Goddess. If it sounded that way to me, it must have hit her even harder. Her eyes sharpened instantly.
"You talking to me?"
"Who knows? If it stings, then that's your answer."
The Victory Goddess smiled. Their gazes clashed in the air once again.
Again……?
The air grew heavy. An invisible pressure squeezed in from all sides. Another staring contest was about to kick off.
Then—
"Ah, so that's it."
A sudden voice cut the tension. It was the Family Goddess. She set her phone down on the table and looked at me. "What is it you want?"
"Well……."
I hesitated for a moment. Finally, time for the main point. I had to phrase this right.
"I need power—something that lets me do anything. So for the next world, I want to start with some real strength."
The Love Goddess tilted her head. "Don't you remember Ma Hyuksu? That guy had a pretty ripped body."
Ma Hyuksu……
The body from Catalina's world. Yeah, it was muscular.
"No, Ma Hyuksu's case is different," I said firmly. "He was just a regular guy who'd worked out hard. But the place he landed was a cartel-overrun city in South America. What could a guy like that even do there?"
Nothing. In a real-world scenario without fantasy elements, fists were invincible. Muscles, martial arts—none of it mattered. Guns were the real power. Even a child could kill a heavyweight champ with one. Destructive force anyone could wield.
Just as the Love Goddess opened her mouth to retort—
"Not wrong," the Victory Goddess cut in. She looked at me. "I respect your drive. Even after failure and frustration, you don't give up—you push to improve. That's a hero's quality too."
She took my hand. "So I'll help you."
"For real……?"
It was an unexpected offer.
"Of course."
The Victory Goddess nodded. But the other two didn't seem thrilled.
"……Tch."
The Love Goddess clicked her tongue.
"Sigh, fine. Do what you want."
The Family Goddess let out a breath.
Ignoring them, the Victory Goddess continued. "We can't give you power on the level of Kang Haneul or Baek Sehee from the last world. But you'll at least have some solid physical abilities."
"Oh, oh……."
My heart raced. Was I finally getting a shot at doing something?
"But—" Her eyes gleamed. "Don't forget: greater power means greater trials."
"Huh?"
Greater trials? That wasn't something to brush off lightly.
"Trials? What do you mean?"
I blurted in confusion, but it was too late. Before she finished, her eyes blazed with blinding light. The glare right in my face swallowed my vision.
"Urgh……!"
I squeezed my eyes shut on reflex. But even through my eyelids, the light seeped in.
And soon—
Darkness came.
A darkness that felt neither heavy nor light, almost nonexistent. Consciousness sank slowly. Bodily sensations, thoughts—everything faded away.
Here we go again.
That final thought flashed through my mind.
Then everything drowned in the dark.
…………
Rrring—!!
Rrring—!!
Rrrrrrring—!!!
I thought thunder had struck. The ear-splitting, brain-rattling culprit was……a metallic screech.
Consciousness was yanked from the darkness. Heavily, slowly, painfully.
Rrring—!!
Rrring—!!
"Urgh……."
A groan escaped me. My head felt like it would split open. A dull ache pounded inside my skull like a hammer blow with every heartbeat.
This hellish screamer was an analog alarm clock on the bedside table. Its bell shook wildly side to side, belting out the noise.
I didn't want to move. Please, just stop.
Rrring—!!
Rrring—!!
But the alarm ignored my silent pleas. Annoyingly, it was just far enough that I couldn't reach it lying down. I had to stand to turn it off. No doubt placed there on purpose.
……This fucking shitty……
Irritation boiled over. I tried to spit curses into the air.
But what came out wasn't that.
"Ah, damn……."
……What?
I'd definitely meant to swear. Yet my mouth produced a mild lament. Weird. Something was off.
But I had no time to dwell on that trivial puzzle. The alarm roared on, and the noise made my head throb worse.
Rrring—!!
Rrring—!!
I sat up on the bed's edge and reached out. Fumbled for the button and pressed it.
The world went quiet.
"Phew. Finally feel like I might live……urk."
But the pain in my head didn't stop. If anything, without the noise, it sharpened.
My mouth was bone-dry. Tongue like sandpaper.
This……hangover.
Had to be. No doubt.
First……water.
I tried to get up. My body felt heavy. Limbs wouldn't obey properly. Barely managed to stand.
The room spun immediately.
"Urp……."
I choked down the rising nausea.
Water can wait……bathroom first!
I stepped off the bed onto the cold floor. It swayed. No—I was swaying.
Stumbled to the bathroom door and flung it open. Toilet, sink, shower stall crammed together.
Business first. Relief. At least that worked fine.
Flushed, then to the sink. Ran cold water. Cupped some in my hands, rinsed my mouth, then splashed my face. The chill slapped my skin.
Mind cleared a bit. Shut off the tap and looked up.
The mirror showed me.
……Hmm.
A middle-aged man. Suit and tie intact. Figured I'd look like a total wreck waking up drunk, but surprisingly decent.
Sharp features, thick brows, firm jawline. Hair neatly combed back, beard trimmed clean.
Not bad. Pretty good for a hangover face.
Well, a bit aged. Still, not too shabby……
I stared at the reflection.
Then—
Something surged up. Nausea? No, not that.
Revulsion. Vile, gut-wrenching, bone-deep disgust.
What……the hell.
Chest tightened, breath caught. Just looking at that face twisted my stomach.
Why? Why this feeling? The face wasn't ugly. Seemed fine, even.
This loathing felt unnatural. Like someone had force-fed it into me.
The original owner's emotions.
Had to be. This body's true owner must have hated himself that much.
I tore my eyes from the mirror. The disgust ebbed slowly. Wiped my face with my hand.
Didn't want to see it anymore.
…………
Back out of the bathroom.
Now……
Time to dig for memories. Fifth time now. Han Minseo, Yeoreum, Ma Hyuksu, Moon Yujin, and this world.
Routine. Search memories, gather info, assess the situation.
Closed my eyes. Breathed steady, pulling up what this body left behind.
This world……
Similar to Moon Yujin's. Modern Korea, Seoul. Awakeners existed.
But differences. No Dimensional Gates. No reptilians.
Instead—Villains.
What were mere strong criminals before were the top threats here. They raided streets, killed people, sowed chaos, even threatened national and global order.
Heroes too. Awakeners fighting Villains.
Hmm……
Familiar setup. Good vs. evil. Heroes vs. Villains.
And me—
Han Kang.
This body's name. Combat agent for the Special Security Management Bureau, enhanced by augmentation serum.
Ah, the Bureau handled suppressing and dealing with Villains. Government agency, unlike costumed civilian Heroes.
Years on the job……18.
18 years……
Recruited right after special forces discharge, Han Kang had worked a long time. Seen a lot, done a lot.
And stained his hands with plenty of blood.
Memories sharpened. Training, missions, gunshots, fights, killings, bodies.
And—
Family.
Chest tightened. Divorced. Han Kang was.
One daughter. Who'd moved out the second she hit adulthood.
Name……Sol. Han Sol.
A daughter.
It hit me. In the second world, as Yeoreum, there was Kim Bom. She'd claimed Yeoreum was her reincarnated dad, so basically her father.
Pure delusion, of course. Total fantasy.
But this time—
A real daughter.
Strange feeling. Ironic, maybe. At least blood-related.
Dug deeper.
Han Sol. Twenty-three. Probably in college, or graduated and working sharp.
Barely contacted her father—me, Han Kang. Maybe once a year.
Why? Hunting the reason—
……Gasp.
A truly horrific memory surfaced.
Han Sol was Han Kang's daughter. Legally.
But not biologically. Born from his ex-wife's……affair.
……Not biological?
The memory was an old scar. Faded but indelible.
Back when she was his wife, she'd cheated. Han Kang only learned after Han Sol started elementary school.
Divorced her. Took the daughter his wife didn't want.
And never told the girl the truth.
Just……raised her. Until she became an adult and left.