Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: If Yesterday's Chicken Goes Bad (2)
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* * *
Throb, throb.
Feeling a pain in his upper stomach, Seonal slightly raised his eyebrows.
‘That’s weird...? Did the chicken from yesterday go bad?’
No way.
Chicken was at its most delicious after a hellish overtime shift, wasn’t it? Freshly delivered piping-hot chicken couldn’t possibly have spoiled.
So why was his upper stomach hurting?
“…Seonal? Are you feeling unwell?”
Terisha, his colleague from the fairy race sitting next to him, asked quietly.
Her petite frame, barely taller than where her arms folded, was hidden behind the partition.
“Yes.”
Seonal answered cheerfully.
He was extremely uncomfortable right now. With this seat, sorting documents, coming to work, even just breathing.
“Really? Where does it hurt?”
Something like dragon horns appeared, and Terisha peeked over the partition.
Her wings fluttered elegantly along with the gaze she fixed on him.
A sudden thought crossed Seonal’s mind, and he forcibly lowered the corners of his mouth that threatened to curl up.
“It feels that way. I should use a sick day on a day like this.”
Seonal rose from his seat with a triumphant smile.
Irang from the goblin race watched his retreating back, intensely curious about how brave Seonal’s gambit would turn out.
Their eyes met Terisha’s, and Irang shook his head.
Terisha nodded in return.
Failure?
Yeah.
Catching the meaning at a glance, Irang shook his cup.
Coffee?
Terisha nodded.
Nothing kicked off the morning quite like coffee.
* * *
“…I refuse.”
Edinal stated flatly.
“Then I’ll refuse your refusal.”
“In that case, I’ll refuse your refusal of my refusal.”
Seonal had started the childish back-and-forth himself, but now it was getting on his nerves.
“No. Why not? You said to use sick leave anytime you feel ill.”
“Here’s the thing—you don’t look sick at all. I hope it’s not just my imagination, but it feels like our Seonal came here solely because he wants to go home.”
“My upper stomach. No, my stomach’s a bit queasy.”
“…Really?”
Edinal’s expression shifted completely.
“Does it hurt bad? How bad?”
“…Why are you acting like this?”
Seonal had already taken two steps back.
Wasn’t Edinal being weirdly nice just from hearing he was sick?
“What do you mean? Our Complaints Department’s precious maknae is under the weather—of course the team leader’s going to worry.”
“I’ll hand back the ‘maknae’ title for now. There’s still an open spot, isn’t there?”
A sudden chill prickled his skin, forcing Seonal to rub his arms.
Maknae.
The word alone made him want to bolt from the room.
“You are the maknae. For now.”
Edinal beamed, propping his chin with both hands.
“I’ll… head to the hospital later when I get a chance.”
“No sick leave?”
“Yeah. A worrying thought just crossed my mind.”
He pictured Edinal asking “you okay?” a million times today, each laced with “maknae.”
That’d be torture in its own right.
“You’re spot on. I love calling you maknae.”
Seonal pushed his glasses up as he turned back toward his desk, eyeing Edinal’s smile.
“Team leader.”
“What’s up, maknae Seonal?”
Seonal’s brow furrowed on the spot, and Edinal chuckled soundlessly.
“Team leader.”
“I’m listening.”
“Is that vampire getting a proper investigation right now, free from any outside pressure?”
Yesterday in the Liben-dong slums, he’d met a pureblood vampire run out of town just for claiming to be a mage.
Pureblood vampires had been surprisingly hard to encounter, and he’d had no idea their lives were so insular, with zero entanglements.
But yesterday’s events made him reconsider.
It wasn’t a lack of entanglements—even if they happened, they’d bulldozed their way out with sheer power.
Edinal mulled over Seonal’s weighty question before replying.
“Yeah. I swear it on my name.”
Every time he heard lines like that, Seonal’s curiosity about Edinal spiked.
Just how big a deal was this guy’s family?
That vampire was pureblood too, yet he’d sunk to the slums.
Still, Seonal didn’t pry. There had to be some reason Edinal had become a civil servant.
“Hm. Seonal.”
“Yes?”
“Might as well give you a heads-up.”
“A warning?”
“Even if I block what I can, I doubt this mess ends pretty. Not sure when, but some unwanted visitor might come knocking for you. Strictly off the record.”
“An unwanted visitor... you mean they might even kidnap me?”
“Could be.”
Edinal’s dead-serious tone left Seonal embarrassed.
“…I was kidding.”
“I’m not. Don’t sweat it, though.”
“I can just magic my way out?”
“Nope.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Just keep in mind who you helped yesterday.”
Seonal blinked at Edinal’s loaded words, then dipped his head slightly.
‘Who’d I help? Keron and Loren.’
The fraternal twin vampires.
He recalled dashing off without a proper goodbye.
“Anyway, Seonal—let me know when you head to the hospital. Oh, and no need for half-day leave.”
“Got it. I’ll slip out to the hospital when the moment’s right.”
“Our maknae…….”
Seonal, usually slow as a tortoise, bolted out faster than anyone at those words.
Click.
Edinal blinked at the closing door, then broke into laughter.
Hehehe.
Teasing Seonal was so addictive he might keep it up all day.
‘…Not that he’s wrong.’
Seonal was vital to his team. The Mage Association branded him cursed—who gave a damn?
The hassle it took to recruit him.
Nobody.
He’d never forgive anyone messing with his team.
Edinal dialed somewhere.
“Clean up the pests tailing Seonal. He’s quick on the uptake, so no mana—keep it undetectable.”
Edinal issued the order in a silky tone, lips curling up.
* * *
Ding-dong.
The previous complainant departed, and the number popped up.
59.
A sharply dressed man entered, someone in tow.
His striking looks had already drawn sidelong glances from the crowd.
But Seonal stared vacantly into space for a beat.
‘Even more than yesterday? Should’ve gone earlier.’
Barely past lunch, and already number 59.
―Go now. Might not get a break later.
Terisha’s impassive face contrasted with the worry in her remembered voice.
―Exactly. Did a quick fortune this morning—said we’d be swamped.
He’d snorted inwardly when Irang mentioned fortunes, but damn if it wasn’t spot-on.
‘If I’m hitting the hospital, end of shift’s still best.’
Overtime sucked no matter the day.
“Hello.”
Seonal swallowed his regret and flashed a professional smile at the pair.
Both suited up, but one man pulled out the chair for his companion, stepping aside with hands neatly clasped.
High-ranking types were the only ones who rolled with secretaries like that.
Seonal eyed the seated man.
Early forties tops, but his aura stood out.
Raw dominance radiating without shame, skin strikingly pale.
“What brings you here?”
Seonal asked.
A deep voice rumbled from the man.
“Got scammed by mages who figured I’m loaded.”
“Sorry, but that’s outside our purview. Police station would be quicker.”
“Fine, let me rephrase. Vampires are all assumed to be rolling in it. Not everyone’s wealthy, though. Mages apparently agree—they jacked up the price on the same item.”
Seonal couldn’t shake the deep skepticism.
Sounded like he was talking about someone else entirely.
“Please state your complaint precisely.”
He pointed to the visible advisory sign.
•Race-related complaints only, please. Pranks or fabrications may incur penalties based on verification. Proceed with caution.
“Don’t you find the standards vague?”
The man said.
“Which standards?”
“What I just described is discrimination, isn’t it? Mages pulled a scam banking on the stereotype that all vampires are rich.”
“Did this happen to you personally?”
“Nope.”
“Regrettably, we don’t handle proxy complaints.”
“Then answer me this: is it discrimination or not?”
“If someone like you shows up with an entourage looking loaded, and they hike the price on that basis—yes, discrimination. Anything less is murky. We’d need to confirm they knew the vampire race and targeted only vampires. Receipt would help, honestly.”
Seonal laid out the scenarios.
The man’s tale was words alone—no proof, and he wasn’t the victim. Tough to log.
“So you only act on what’s blatant?”
“Correct. I pointed you to the police because it’s faster for cases like yours.”
“Then why help our grandchildren?”
Keron and Loren.
Their names flashed in Seonal’s mind at “grandchildren.”
“Just because they were kids?”
Seonal knew exactly who this was from the man’s question.
Didn’t look the part, but grandfather to Keron and Loren.
“Not just that. There was desperation, evidence it might be legit, grounds to probe—and they were the victims.”
“What if that evidence was just kids messing around?”
The man’s relentless line of questioning felt like an interrogation, but Seonal brushed it off casually.
“I’d have been relieved.”
“Relieved...?”
“It wasn’t real—how’s that not a relief? Even en route, I hoped it was all a fib for their sake.”
A staged stalker incident like that—how traumatic for kids.
The man had crossed into complainant territory, so Seonal crossed back.
“I know it’s presumptuous. But as their guardian, keep a closer eye. Sending unfamiliar faces to beg for help? That’s worth reflecting on.”
He braced for anger, but the man’s face softened slightly.
“Thank you.”
The man bowed his head. Seonal’s lip twitched.
What now?
“Too busy watching the door, ashamed I missed what’s inside.”
“Then take a look now.”
The man drew a neatly folded paper from his pocket.
“I’m a civil servant.”
“A letter from my grandchildren. On my way back from chewing them out for ditching school yesterday.”
‘…Figures.’
It cleared up the mystery of why Keron and Loren had lounged around with their ticket number. Seonal felt a weight lift.
“They earned it. School matters. Did they cry?”
“Expected waterworks, but they just grinned.”
A faint smile ghosted the man’s lips before vanishing.
“Belated intro. Pleased to meet you. Dwenn Tichia.”
‘…Tichia?’
Rang a bell.
‘Where from...?’
Seonal offered his ID badge from around his neck while racking his brain.
“Seonal.”
“Folks call you curt—it checks out.”
Dwenn rose, gaze brimming with profound gratitude toward Seonal.
“But my grandchildren... they’re my life. The Tichia family aids its benefactors without question. Need anything, just speak your name.”
With that, Dwenn turned and departed.
Seonal watched him lead his secretary away, then dropped his eyes to the letter.
―Thank you so much. I’m okay. Since I’m okay, I hope you come play again sometime. Let’s eat something tasty together next time.
Keron’s phrasing echoed in his head.
―Hi! Helloooo! Seonal, let’s play again. Promise. Promise! And thank you. Thank you! Thank you so much!
Loren’s boundless energy sprang to life before his eyes.
Seonal smiled faintly at the letter before tucking it into his bag.
‘Alright. Let’s muster some motivation.’
Ding-dong.
The display flipped to 60.
Seonal reshuffled his paperwork and lifted his head to match the footsteps.
A dullahan in a sharp suit clutched his own head, scanning warily before approaching at a crawl.
Black smoke wafted from the neck stump, faintly linking to the face’s edge.
Bowler hat on the face, suit screaming old gentleman—but younger than expected.
Whatever had him so cautious, creeping along like that, the letter’s warmth infused Seonal’s smile with a spark of soul.
“Hello.”
“Hello... there.”
The dullahan greeted haltingly.
He glanced around once more before easing into the chair.
“What can I do for you?”
At Seonal’s question, the dullahan set his head on the desk.
Always a sight.
Some days, Seonal wondered what lurked in that rising smoke.
But he averted his eyes. Staring was rude to dullahans.
The head on the desk worked its jaw.
“Come closer, if you would.”
Seonal leaned down at the request.
“What is it?”
Up close, the eyes brimmed with seasoned depth.
“Well...”
“Yes.”
“I was passing by the hospital...”
The word “hospital” made Seonal nearly grab the manual but hold off.
“Yes. Passing the hospital.”
“And there... that...”
The dullahan’s pupils quivered.
“My chest...”
Seonal’s eyebrow arched.
Time for the manual after all?
“My chest... it throbbed.”
Seonal’s freshly stoked enthusiasm went flat.