Chapter 140
Chapter 140
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: Homecoming (3)
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The thick paper envelope handed over by Albireo also contained a slip of paper with the address of the house where Siwoo would be staying.
I had no idea what it was originally used for, but there were a total of ten places in Korea, three in Seoul, and one in each major city of the provinces.
Looking at it like this, it felt like becoming a National Intelligence Service agent and receiving safe houses.
The place Siwoo headed to by taxi was in Sinchon, specifically a brand-new two-room officetel near Ewha Station.
How did I know so well? Because it came with photos and detailed explanations, as if a briefing was planned.
For reference, the monthly rent, including management fees, was 140,000 won.
While riding, he gazed at the scenery flowing past outside the taxi window, taking in the changed world.
He hadn't visited Sinchon much even on vacation, except when meeting friends, but the streetscapes and changes stood out easily.
True to its reputation as a street of youth and trends, Sinchon was sensitive to fashions, making the differences pop right away.
There were more busking singers than before, and people wore snug wireless earbuds instead of ones with cords.
Before coming, he'd gotten a smartphone at a phone shop, and the designs had changed a lot.
Four more series had come out since the last smartphone he'd used.
"Phone's Samsung, huh."
Fiddling with the phone, he stared mesmerized at the nostalgic cityscape, and before he knew it, they arrived.
Siwoo's place was the top floor of a residential-commercial officetel.
It wasn't a penthouse or anything fancy, but as a new build, it was spotless and well-equipped for living.
He was a bit surprised to find not just furniture but even kitchen utensils fully stocked.
"Whoa, they even stocked beer."
Siwoo pulled two cans of beer from the fridge.
Standing by the living room window, he took in the city below for a moment.
Close to the Gyeongui Line and Line 2, transportation was incredibly convenient.
But the view outside the window was bleak and desolate, as if traded for that convenience.
Of course, to Siwoo fresh from homecoming, even seeing cars circling the rotary made his heart swell, so it didn't matter much.
After enjoying the view roughly, Siwoo tossed his bag onto the sofa and pulled out his newly activated smartphone.
"Home really is the best."
It was activated under Siwoo's alias, but he wasn't sure if it would keep working without 'initialization.' Still, he didn't worry much.
He could just reactivate it then.
"Whatever, it's not even my money."
Hadn't Count Albireo said it? Buy everything except the private jet.
Nothing beats the news for seeing what's changed.
Savoring the feeling of a released prisoner, he searched curiosities with his beer.
"Whoa, this game really tanked."
The game Siwoo had played five years ago, the one people called trash, had truly flopped.
"My name's really gone."
All the interview articles bragging about him as a math prodigy or genius, like he was their own kid, had vanished.
He also searched the plane crash from the day he'd been kidnapped to Gehenna, but nothing came up.
A plane crash should've been big news, yet even scouring foreign media yielded the same—erased entirely.
"Damn, I should've bought some of this back then."
The cryptocurrency he'd only known existed had skyrocketed hundreds of times, sparking a cyber gold rush.
What if he'd bought 500,000 won worth back then?
Siwoo lost track of time, eyes glued to the screen, digging through everything.
Lounging on the sofa, sipping beer, watching news—this simple bliss felt incredible.
So much to do first.
Movies he'd missed, dramas he'd skipped midway, innovative papers in between, places to visit.
Right now, the most important.
"Time to eat."
Food.
Gehenna's cuisine was excellent, but it lacked the salty, spicy, stimulating kick of Korean food.
Siwoo installed a delivery app and piled in whatever caught his eye.
Pork belly, braised kimchi, kimchi stew, bossam, jokbal, chicken, pizza, gopchang/makchang, yukhoe, tuna sashimi, jjimdak, sushi.
He grabbed anything that looked appetizing.
Delivery ringing the doorbell dozens of times, he spread it all on the floor, turned on the TV to news, and devoured the longed-for hometown foods.
The tangy spicy sourness of aged kimchi danced in his mouth with the mild short ribs.
He layered five pieces of pig's feet reeking of herbal medicine on lettuce with raw garlic, one big bite.
Shoved delivery pork belly stir-fried with mushrooms into his cheeks till they bulged.
Smashed gopchang and makchang with chive pickles, big spoonful, then soju chaser.
He didn't like soju usually, but tonight it clung perfectly to his tongue.
"Kugh...! Good, good."
His ethereal body needed no food sustenance.
And it didn't age to death.
He couldn't feel that yet, but one immediate perk hit now.
No matter how full, food kept sliding down.
"Whoa, fucking delicious."
Siwoo's feast lasted a full five hours.
2.
The cabin in the oyster tree forest.
On the bed where Siwoo often fell asleep with her.
Siwoo, gazing at Amelia with burning eyes, pressed his lips to hers.
His tongue, thicker and softer than a woman's, slipped between her lips, and Amelia clung to him as if waiting.
Even as an act of affection and love, it was exchanging saliva.
Utterly unhygienic and filthy.
Yet no revulsion rose in her strangely racing heart.
Thick arms wrapping her waist, gripping the back of her neck.
Thick palm squeezing her breast.
Not a thread between them, she felt his presence everywhere they touched.
"Siwoo.... Siwoo...."
Calling his name brought gentle eyes in return.
His tender touch coiled like a snake around her body, fingers teasing her nipple atop her breast.
Each time, electric jolts sparked in her gut.
Swelling heat like a balloon and fever mixed into hot sighs.
"Haa.... ha...."
Siwoo pinched Amelia's erect nipple with his sharp nail tip.
"Ah, it hurts...."
The sharp pain digging into her breast like punishment soon turned to intense pleasure, and Amelia writhed under him on the bed.
She didn't reject his touch.
Instead, she thrust her chest forward as if begging for more, and he pinned her floating waist down.
"Still.. more, do more... Siwoo...."
Amelia muffled her mouth and nose with Siwoo's worn shirt, like fleeing a fire.
Smell ties closest to memory among senses.
With Siwoo gone, unable to smell him directly, his scent lingered thick in the fabric.
Breathing it deep evoked happy days, tricking her into feeling cradled in his arms.
"Siwoo.... ngh... ngh...."
Her other hand kneaded her breast, nails scraping the nipple, and her body began to tremble slowly.
In just a flimsy nightgown under moonlight, her smooth legs thrashed as if enduring agony, knees rubbing against novel sensations.
Each time, silken pubic hair rustled softly.
"Hng... heup...!"
Amelia clamped the shirt over her mouth hard, stifling moans.
A gushing sensation from her nipple flooded her with ecstasy ringing head and womb like waves.
"Haa..... ngh..."
Her tightly shut eyelids fluttered open, revealing hazy sky-blue eyes.
No touch below, yet her petals dripped thick nectar like split ripe fruit.
Soaking the lifted sheet beneath her hips, but no time to care.
Among Amelia's special perfumes by the bedside: 'Dreamlike Perfume.'
It blurred imagination and reality, inducing trance.
Thus, with slight imagination and focus, Amelia felt truly in Siwoo's arms.
Even magic-obsessed Amelia used Dreamlike Perfume when night rose with the moon.
Only then could she set aside her torments.
"........"
But once the heated air cooled, as always, abyssal emptiness and helplessness returned.
Since Siwoo left, Amelia shut herself in the cabin again.
Like after losing her master, curled in her room researching magic.
The only change: occasionally kneading her breasts alone.
Otherwise, same as her lifelong routine.
Most familiar to Amelia.
Her greatest confidence.
Hadn't she lived over a century this way?
Amelia cleaned herself with magic and curled on the bed.
Opposite her gaze, in the cupboard for teacups, lay a neatly twice-folded white paper.
Sophia had visited a week ago, delivering it as Siwoo's left-behind letter.
Like her master's unopened will, Amelia couldn't unfold it.
Reading it would decide everything.
No room for imagination or faint hope—the end fixed.
What letter from Siwoo, who left with such resentful eyes...
It haunted her mind all day, yet fear of finality paralyzed her like viper venom in veins.
Honestly, she thought he couldn't forgive.
More weight on it as breakup notice than last hopeful plea.
"I'm... a coward...."
She understood his righteous anger.
Recalling Siwoo holding back tears, calling her horribly selfish—she'd spent regret-filled days mulling it.
From her view: realizing her beloved master tormented her obsessively for years.
That betrayal and loss needed no elaboration.
Unfit to call it clumsy love, she fled—and kept fleeing.
Amelia reached for the perfume vial again.
Dabbed drops on wrists, neck, behind ears, lay back on bed.
Eyes closed, back to pillow—Siwoo returned.
His hands kneaded her naked body possessively, sweetly claiming lips.
"Siwoo...."
Torment and anguish deepened with night.
Followed by Amelia's plaintive breaths, like boiling longing, echoing quietly with crickets.