An Overpowered Genius Who Masters Spirits Too Well - Chapter 44: Father and Daughter on the Road
〔Yes. Here's the next update. Do you remember former congressman Ham Man-woo, who left a will donating all his assets to the Independence Merit Descendants Scholarship Foundation? Ham Man-woo, who had stepped away from public life due to chronic illness, has returned as the foundation's chairman, now leading its operations alongside his dedicated lawyer, Shin Heung-ryeol. He also held a press conference to address the recent controversies surrounding the foundation and outline future plans—〕
Not just the nurse Jeon Ji-hye, who had been the first to witness Ham Man-woo's full recovery, was stunned to see him on TV looking impeccably dressed and utterly normal.
"Oh my god. Oh my god! Isn't that the guy you were talking about the other day?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is."
Jeon Ji-hye nodded blankly as her friend, who was enjoying some beer and fried chicken with her at home, made a huge fuss. She truly hadn't expected him to return to the public eye so quickly and even appear on TV.
"I was so shocked when I heard he'd gone to a nursing hospital with dementia. I thought people who'd studied more than most wouldn't get it."
"No, even they get it. And it's often discovered later for them."
"Really?"
"Ordinary people panic when they can't recall a familiar word, and those around them notice something's off. But highly educated folks just pull out a synonym and keep going."
"Ah... so no one around them realizes how much they're forgetting?"
"Exactly."
"Whoa. But he looks totally fine now. Hard to believe he was a dementia patient just days ago... You think he faked it? Look at this. His kids are already wailing. Apparently, they did some shady stuff after he went to the hospital. He's not holding back—going after them legally. Like in dramas, right? Pretending to be sick to sniff out traitors."
"No way."
Jeon Ji-hye waved off her friend, who was showing her a news alert on her phone.
"He had all the tests before admission, and I saw it myself."
"So he really had dementia... Incredible. How'd he recover so completely?"
Her friend alternated between her phone and the TV before turning to Jeon Ji-hye.
"But seeing him jump right back in like this, good thing you didn't blab everywhere. Right?"
"Yeah... that could've been a disaster."
Unlike her initial impulse, Jeon Ji-hye hadn't spread the story about Ham Man-woo far and wide. She'd been about to post a detailed account on some forums when two thoughts stopped her cold.
First, stories of nurses and aides who'd gotten in huge trouble—fired or sued—for exposing patient info while venting about "difficult patients" or "entitled families" on public boards.
Second, worries that Kim Byung-gi, that prickly bastard, would hunt down anyone badmouthing the hospital now that it was gaining fame as a "miracle hospital."
Everyone at Happiness Nursing Hospital knew Kim Byung-gi only cared about keeping the beds full. The second a bed emptied—patient died or transferred—he'd throw tantrums in every direction, scrutinizing everything. But hilariously, while a famous hospital meant full beds and waitlists, he hated the spotlight.
Plus, Jeon Ji-hye had recently heard how Choi Du-cheon got chewed out by Kim Byung-gi for suggesting they leak the vegetative patient story after 11 years to advertise the hospital's greatness.
That fueled old rumors that the hospital was a money-laundering front.
For those reasons, she hadn't posted publicly anywhere. But her mouth itched unbearably, so she'd only spilled to close friends and family, swearing them to secrecy.
And yet—
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
Her phone on the table vibrated nonstop. Eyes still on the TV where Ham Man-woo fielded reporters' questions, she grabbed it.
And—
"—Gasp?"
She jolted at the flood of KakaoTalk messages.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
KakaoTalk kept pouring in, all variations on the same theme. Jeon Ji-hye panicked as she confirmed it.
* * *
I was bundled in layers of thick clothes, strapped into a wheelchair. Beanie on my head, scarf wrapped tight around my neck, mask over nose and mouth. Even safety belts securing my shoulders, waist, and lower body.
"There! Now we're somewhat safe! Wanted to slap a helmet on too... Nah, that'd be overkill."
Bin-i inspected me head to toe, then snapped a photo with her phone.
"Oh, gotta report to Mom like this. No worries about customers. It's not the official opening today—just soft opening for market folks we know. So, all good."
Today was the day Mom opened her new place. Right after the doc cleared me for two hours out, Mom and Bin-i whispered and set this up.
My first outing in 11 years—and Mom's fresh start with a new shop, new menu.
They'd beamed: "It'll be monumental!" I agreed.
[You're doing great. Stay vigilant.]
Amjeong grumbled warily, scanning around. Pungjeong had returned to guard treasures, so between Amjeong and Hwajeong, we'd sent Hwajeong with Mom. Any bastard likely to cause trouble at her shop was already handled cleanly. Market folks would pitch in too—no one would dare act up. And if they did, Mom's gui-mul ring would react before Hwajeong even stepped in.
Amjeong seemed a bit miffed about that.
[We took out the biggest threat last time. It'll be fine.]
[Master. Still. You never. Know.]
[Hwajeong learned plenty watching. She'll handle it.]
[Learned. Not enough. I think.]
I soothed the sulky Amjeong and looked at Bin-i.
"Oppa, you okay? Nothing uncomfortable?"
I nodded at her excitement, which outshone mine. No more nasal tube—nothing bothering me. Soon no diaper either.
Whew. Just two hours, but fresh air in this body? Bliss. Especially to Mom's new shop.
"Doc said avoid crowds. Catch a cold, disaster. So mask up tight, and if the shop's packed, stay outside. Deal?"
I pointed to my mask, then her.
"Duh, I'll wear one. Weather's flip-flopping—tons of colds going around. And I'm famous now, gotta manage my condition!"
Famous...? I raised a brow skeptically. Before masking up, she puffed her cheeks in a pout.
"Oppa, I am famous! Lab's making promo vids with me. Gold jewelry and coins featuring me. Oh, they'll clarify it's not Toyotomi gold! An Section Chief said—even zoomed, hard to spot features. Few know 'em anyway."
Hmm. Prepared, huh.
"Once that vid drops, everyone's begging me! 'Coronodon-nim! Hunt treasures with us!' Big streamers lining up for collabs. Heh heh heh. Not the old me anymore!"
She thrust out her chest, chin high. Yeah, for real—it could happen. Soon folks pleading for team-ups.
Hmm... Gotta ask her intentions later. But not directly—slip into her dreams as someone else.
Treasure hunter life? I'd back her fully. But it's no bed of roses. Fame and cash draw flies—direct threats or sly jabs, I could swat. But endless online hate...?
Ah. Wait. Internet stuff? Might have a fix. Need a certain jeong. Where to find that guy...
"Alright then—"
Bin-i gripped the handles tight. I tensed—recalling her wheelchair race mention.
"Go!"
With a hearty shout, she pushed—gently, rolling steadily. Faster than walking, but controlled.
Thought it'd bolt like mad...
Glancing back, our eyes met. She blinked wide—Why?—then Ah! and grinned.
"Wheelchair race? Later, when you're better. Smash into something now? Oppa so fragile—Mom said not to say that. Gotta be careful. Race next time!"
Yup. Still on her mind.
We rolled slowly down the hall, elevator to first floor, out—
"Kang San-ssi. First outing in 11 years. Congrats."
Gak Il-sik grinned. Van behind him—with wheelchair lift?
"Borrowed via connections for today. Pre-arranged for more."
"Thank you!"
Bin-i bowed. He smiled, operated the lift. Loaded me in, took the wheel; Bin-i shotgun.
We left the hospital, cruising. I watched scenery, passersby.
Early blooms fading, fresh green leaves. Varied people—but I saw their clinging wonryeong and akryeong.
Whew. Hospital limited views; out here, scanning... What a sight.
[Anything dares. Approach. Boom!]
Amjeong growled from behind, coiled tight. Resentful and evil spirits everywhere.
On an ordinary-looking man: wonryeong.
Kindly elder: akryeong.
Frail woman: both.
Can't judge a book by its cover. Who'd guess these chit-chatters bore grudges that'd make others weep blood?
Some walked light, unburdened... Still, chaotic world. Glancing around—
Car stopped at light. Subway entrance right: middle-aged man in shabby suit handing flyers. Haggard, sorrowful face; dark eyes; scruffy beard amplifying desperation.
People took them blankly. Few read closely. Most frowned—like bad morning start or annoyed hassle—glared, crumpled, tossed like trash, walked on.
He'd chase, pick up discarded ones. Ignored reactions, smoothed wrinkles meticulously.
Photo and bold text printed. He'd flatten the photo especially, stare wistfully, resume handing out.
"Sigh... Still at it."
"Know him?"
"Not personally. Daughter missing months, won't come home. Cops call it runaway, no priority—'cause she was a delinquent. Maybe shacked up far away with boyfriend, they say."
"Hmph. Harsh."
"Yeah. Some cops hustle, some just sit. Hope it's just runaway... With all the scary news lately..."
"True."
Listening to Bin-i and Gak Il-sik, I focused on the man—
Actually, the saryeong beside him.
<Dad! For real! Quit and go home already! Pointless!>
Screaming her lungs out next to him.
<Just go home! Why this now! Who's cooking for Yu-na! You didn't boil ramen again today, right? What if Yu-na gets sick alone!!>
Heavy makeup, age-inappropriate clothes—high schooler at most. Wipe makeup, school uniform: matches the flyer photo.
<Argh! Seriously! Why nowwww!!! Whyyyy!!!>
She raged, stomped, punched air—then whipped around, sensing something.
Our eyes met.
<Huh?>
Her eyes sparkled. Tilted head, zipped close, face in mine.
Ordinary person? Freak out. Me? Meh.
<Mister, can you see me?>
Not mister. I rolled eyes aside; she followed, tilted.
<Nah? Thought so...>
Kept tilting; I deliberately looked away far. She sighed deeply.
<Damn it!>
She spat the curse bitterly. I chuckled inwardly, about to reply—
[You! Dare! Bad words! Before Master!]
Bonk! Amjeong lunged, knuckle-rapped her crown hard.
<Ow!>
She clutched head, toppled. Amjeong held back—else, head gone.
"Hope he finds her."
"Me too."
Light changed; car moved. I alternated between the man handing flyers and the groaning saryeong.
Hmm... Bin-i said Mom sobbed watching missing kids shows. Losing a child hurts; not knowing if alive? Parents' worst agony.
Fate to see this. Let's hear her story.
[What's this?]
<Yowch?!>
The saryeong jerked up, startled.