Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Chapter 145 - #31_도시생활(5)
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: City Life (5)
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1.
The aimless stroll through the night streets suddenly gained a purpose.
It was detecting the presence of homunculi.
He knew full well this was presumptuous, dangerous behavior.
There was no assurance that Siwoo could single-handedly eliminate every homunculus that had slain countless witches.
But wasn't this better than sitting around doing nothing, just watching events unfold?
Endlessly dwelling on the negative wouldn't change a damn thing.
"Good thoughts, good thoughts."
Homunculi had a certain chance of dropping new magical knowledge.
For Siwoo, who'd hit a wall trying to punch through barriers on his own, they might offer a fresh breakthrough.
Siwoo forcibly reassured himself and adjusted his sunglasses.
Someone might call him insane for wearing shades on a nighttime walk, but pinpointing homunculi required reading mana flows first and foremost.
He couldn't just flaunt his eyes like a billboard screaming "Stigma in my left eye," so this was a stopgap measure.
"Hard as hell to see like this."
Did celebrities put up with this hassle every time they stepped out?
He shelved the idle musing and let his feet carry him wherever.
Truth be told, there weren't any major finds.
He'd scoured every corner for about two hours a day, only to learn that even this teeming neighborhood hid plenty of shadowy nooks.
Dim alleys in the one-room district, deserted citizen parks, neglected underground garages and parking towers.
The rotary in front of the university strip had three massive buildings tied up in prolonged liens, plus a strip mall stripped bare of shops, awaiting demolition.
"That about covers it, huh."
He'd combed Sinchon to Hongdae like some citizen patrolman, but no ominous signs anywhere.
A frustrating mix of relief and unease.
Relief that he no longer had to throw his life on the line for total strangers.
Unease wondering if he'd overlooked something due to a flawed search method.
The tangle left a nagging itch he couldn't scratch.
Siwoo plopped down on a nearby bench.
Ever since Gehenna, he'd developed a condition where skipping cola was fatal—he was guzzling 5 liters a day in place of water.
He flapped open the sweat-soaked collar of his shirt and lit a cigarette.
Before him flowed the neon glow of modern city life.
Office workers scrambling onto the last train after overtime, college girls trudging from the library to their nearby rooms after cramming for exams.
"Wonder how the twins are holding up."
He regretted not spending more time with them before Countess Gemernai forced their parting.
About four months in this world now—to see them again, he'd probably have to endure this cycle fifteen more times, if that.
They'd started as pint-sized terrors, but he'd grown genuinely attached.
Sweet-natured at heart, and bursting with that spunky charm.
Even here, few bonds ran as deep.
When they officially inherited their stigma and ventured out, he had a packed list of must-try spots ready to whisk them to.
The area brimmed with dessert shops they'd adore.
Ironic, really.
He used to stare across endless plains, yearning for this very scene—now here he was, smack in the middle of it, homesick for Gehenna ties.
"And..."
One memory led to another.
Right before returning here, Yeobin had gifted him that sultry, eager romp...
Looking back, she really was something special.
Opening a clinic for Gehenna's citizens—what witch would dream that up?
Takasho crossed his mind too, surprisingly.
With cockroach-tier adaptability, the guy would thrive anywhere.
No clue on the time difference, but if synced, he'd be blissfully tangled in some witch's bed right now.
Siwoo chucked the drained cola can into a distant bin, only to confront a long-buried memory.
Amelia Merrygold.
Even now, she was the type to cleave your skull in two.
Captured by slavers and thrust into caretaker duty at Trinity Academy, she'd barged in demanding night service on the spot.
Flustered refusal sparked her epic tantrums, tormenting everyone.
Peak absurdity: ordering him to hunt a deer in the southern deer woods.
No overt magic allowed, just a shovel for tools.
He'd chased that deer's tail all day, gnashing his teeth.
If Sophia hadn't passed by, heard the tale, and bagged one for him, Amelia's scolding would've doubled down.
Over five years of chaos, Amelia softened bit by bit.
The starkest shift came when Ea Sadalmelik left Siwoo half-dead, regressing him to boyhood.
Memory wiped, she treated him with uncharacteristic tenderness, like her own apprentice witch.
Stargazing together, sketching, swimming.
Blissful days in that cabin deep in the gulpin woods.
Then memory flooded back.
Those joys shattered into jagged shards—betrayal and love-hate.
Siwoo's unforgivable crux: her gall asking if restored memories meant no pardon.
Of course, he knew better.
From his timeline, they'd shared a lifetime since childhood—it stood to reason.
That lofty, finicky Amelia was clumsier than she let on.
Not toying with his blank slate.
Still, intellect and heart didn't align.
Unsure how to face her, he left a note and slipped away.
She'd read it by now.
Her take was her business.
"This is why I hate it."
Siwoo reined in his wandering thoughts.
Dwelling on Amelia just stirred up turmoil.
All these pangs meant he truly missed people.
-Tuk tuk tutuk
A damp pat on his head—he glanced up to find rain kissing his cheek.
"Ah, no umbrella."
The fierce wind had been a warning; now a downpour hammered down.
Gray skies spat fat drops at first, soon unleashing a weeping torrent.
"Hitting that sentimental spot."
How long since a real chat—beyond orders, math, or mutters?
A twinge of loneliness crept in.
Folks popping umbrellas in haste, huddling under eaves till the squall passed.
They all had destinations.
Siwoo hung in limbo.
Awkward rootlessness twisted into raw discomfort.
"Huh?"
Gazing skyward, a ripple caught Siwoo's eye.
Across the rotary loomed the Sinchon Gyeongui Line station.
Adjacent, a five-story station building linked it—prime real estate gone to seed with sky-high vacancies, save the rooftop cinema; a virtual ghost structure.
He'd poked around it repeatedly, convinced a homunculus lurked.
There—on the outer wall, a black shadow slithered upward, cresting the parapet.
Siwoo bolted upright.
Found you.
He sprinted straight there—no magic amid prying eyes, but flat-out dash.
Weaving protest containers at the entrance, he bolted up the emergency stairs.
From here, no onlookers mattered.
Water lizard steps propelled him rooftop-bound, practically airborne.
Closing in unveiled the translucent veil; city clamor from the open stair window cut off.
This was the homunculus's self-spawned backside boundary domain.
"Appear."
Siwoo's incantation unleashed shadow plate from his back, coiling serpentine around him.
Smoother now with practice.
Gauntlet clanged onto the rooftop latch.
Wouldn't budge—locked, but trivial.
Borrow the armor's might, and that iron slab tore like tinfoil.
The real issue loomed elsewhere.
Did this homunculus pack punch Siwoo could fell?
He loathed innocents dying enough to play vigilante, but death resolve? Dicey.
-Clank!
"Worst case, bail."
Still, he wrenched the lock free.
Satisfying snap as it shattered, door swinging wide.
Nothing fancy about the rooftop lay.
A ring encircled the station proper.
It radiated from the homunculus thrashing in frenzy.
"Grng... krrng... krrng..."
Whining like a dog desperate for a dump, furiously self-licking—eerily familiar.
Identical to the citizen park path beast.
Hulking hound build.
Inky hide textured like sculpted sludge.
But he'd slain it for sure?
Watched it crumble to crystal.
Homunculi varied in form, he'd thought—misinfo?
Siwoo armed up amid bewilderment.
Full plate, helm, shield, longsword—same loadout.
Matched last foe; no fleeing needed.
Stay cool, prevail.
Siwoo inched closer.
Yet yards later, no charge—just obsessive grooming.
Five meters out, truth dawned.
Its flank gaped wide.
Tarry fluids bubbled out, slicking the deck.
Even nearer, mere growls—no fight; half-corpse already.
No shred of pity, naturally.
Just pondering: trap?
Then—a shrill screech from behind.
"Hey! No clue where you crawled from, bitch. That's mine!"
A piercing, nerve-grating woman's voice.
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