Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Han Geon-ju (7)
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Every time he opened his mouth, it was lies. Every time he took a step, it was kidnapping.
Honestly, if Sa-yoon had gotten out of the car in front of the gate, eyes wide open from just waking up, and said they were heading into an S-rank gate right then, my rock-bottom opinion of him would have stopped at "Isn't this guy totally insane?" with a gasp of horror.
But instead, he didn't let me down and just gunned the engine straight toward the gate entrance. The rippling portal loomed like it was about to swallow us whole, but he didn't bat an eye—as if this was routine.
I screamed in terror at his madness, "Are you crazy?!" But my shriek, more like a howl, didn't slow the car down; if anything, it seemed to excite him more.
Hearing my yell, Sa-yoon whistled and laid on the horn like crazy.
Dawn breaking across the landscape, that blaring horn echoed everywhere—the most unforgettable car horn I'd ever heard in my life.
That turned what could have been "Isn't this guy totally insane?" into an endless plunge: "How the hell is this lunatic even functioning in society?"
Not just any lunatic, but one thriving in society. No exaggeration—I was genuinely worried if someone like this should even be out in the world. Three of him could probably wipe out a whole country without breaking a sweat.
Was this really the leader of the world's largest crime info guild?
Thanks to Sa-yoon, I learned that even top-tier crime guilds don't qualify as "ordinary madness" at that level.
His antics were shocking enough, but who could've guessed they were tame compared to what was coming?
Every time I thought, "Surely it can't get worse," he updated his record with jaw-dropping insanity.
He'd skip the crucial gate briefing because he didn't need it, carry me around like a keychain while battling S-rank monsters, and when that wasn't enough, he'd start slashing away.
Unheard-of events unfolded right in front of me constantly, but the most shocking part was how casually he did it all—like eating a meal or using the bathroom. Natural as breathing. And while he did, his lips twisted in excitement. That was the creepiest bit.
He handled all the crazy stuff himself, still getting his thrill fix. At that point, I had to be grateful he didn't pitch a tent mid-fight.
Was an S-rank gate some kind of leash-release key for him?
Sa-yoon went berserk like a fish in water—utterly uncontrollable.
But if you're asking if he at least trained me properly? Nope. I'd thought it before, but he had zero talent for teaching.
He'd demonstrate something impossible to copy, toss me some gear, and say "Give it a shot." If I couldn't replicate it perfectly, he'd stare at me like I was a total idiot.
His eyes screamed insults: "Why can't you do this?" To me, Sa-yoon should've been a professor, not a hunter.
At least then I could've vented somewhere.
Being a hunter made it impossible to badmouth him behind his back. Get caught, and I'd vanish without a trace.
Never imagined I'd learn the importance of career choices like this.
The problem was, the lesson Sa-yoon meant to impart wasn't that.
He gave me enlightenment on pointless crap, but in actual combat—where it mattered—he was useless.
People shouldn't speak with forked tongues, but Sa-yoon spouted three lies for every word. I couldn't tell which advice to follow and nearly died multiple times.
If he was gonna flip-flop that much, he should've named himself Flip-flop Sa-yoon. Teach properly or don't bother. Every time I slipped up, he'd just thump his chest.
All talk, no real help.
My combat reactions improved not because of his advice, but because my instincts kicked into survival overdrive. That says it all.
But who knew even that was the tame part?
Dragging me silently into an S-rank gate and dumping me in front of monsters? Calling that "mild" takes a special kind of crazy, and Sa-yoon pulled it off.
I thought nothing could shock me more, but he had no limits—in every sense.
Anyone would pick nagging battles over being hurled off an endless cliff.
Even rolling in shit beats hell; at least you won't die.
"I'll protect you," my ass.
Should've never gotten tangled with him.
* ♟ *
Damn it all.
Feeling the wind scrape his skin like claws, Geon-ju ground his teeth in curses.
How high was this cliff? His flashback had taken a while, yet he was still falling.
At least smashing through thick branches had slowed his descent, but cracking ribs in the process sucked.
Bouncing off trees twisted his trajectory—and his bones. Breathing hurt; his organs felt crushed. One more hit, and he'd die before hitting ground, he thought.
Then, a strange sound.
A sound absent from the cliff top.
Even kicking off the rock face toward the canopy hadn't revealed it. But now, faint noises sharpened in his ears, widening Geon-ju's eyes.
Rushing water grew clearer. A river or ravine ahead.
"……!"
Whatever—salvation. Water skyrocketed his survival odds. He twisted his head. Blood-blurred vision confirmed: a ravine.
Not full joy, but stronger than mere relief—his dark eyes gleamed.
Yeah, dying after all this would be too unfair; he couldn't even cross to the afterlife.
Even in death, he'd slap Sa-yoon first.
Recalling the man who'd mocked him into a rage—"Come hit me"—Geon-ju held his breath. Clearing the dense canopy, his body plunged straight for the ravine.
The tree impacts had been a stroke of luck.
Splash!
Water engulfed him, body sinking deep. Not like freefall. Better than scrapes and bruises. Hitting bottom, Geon-ju pushed off, surfacing with a gasp.
Coughing, he gulped air—then sharp pain stabbed. Every muscle and bone screamed. Nothing hurt-free.
A flat rock nearby. Forcing numb arms, he swam. Sinking midway meant swallowing water—unavoidable.
Finally reaching it, he coaxed his howling body up.
"Cough, cough!"
Water poured from mouth, nose, ears as he retched. Clear liquid dripped. Soaked head to toe.
Eyes stinging, he blinked rapidly for relief while rummaging for Sa-yoon's potion.
Finding the madman's scrap of conscience: a small vial. He checked wounds. Best on injuries, but intact skin was rarer now.
No hesitation—he uncorked and chugged. Potions halved in effect when drunk, but half was better than nothing; it spread faster.
Survival instinct sated, exhaustion crashed. Couldn't lift a finger.
Collapsing on the rock, he stared at the gray sky. Sa-yoon's face flashed; Geon-ju scowled, hurling the empty vial.
Fine. I admit it.
Sa-yoon was crazier than I'd thought, an unpredictable wildcard. Plus insanely strong. Uncovering his secrets? Like stripping naked for laughs.
Handouts were nice, but not worth the risk. I'd die before learning anything.
Or live forever as his puppet.
No thanks.
"About a month, right…."
Recalling the estimated clear time, he clenched a fist. Potion kicked in; energy returned. Pricey stuff—even half-effect outdid regulars. Worth every penny.
Once healed, climb back up.
He wanted to hole up till Sa-yoon cleared, but with fancy potions in hand? Untrustworthy psycho or not, S-rank was S-rank. Might as well reap benefits from this gate.
Not like S-rank gates were casual jaunts.
Best setup possible. So, hit A-rank here as planned.
Then bail immediately.
Secrets? Big deal.
Power? Thrills?
Chasing them meant dying young. Skipping S-rank awakening sucked, but A-rank in a month? Grateful. S-rank later, with my own grind.
Post-gate priority: escape.
Let's see you squirm.
Me quitting the secret hunt wouldn't change his need for me. Losing a key asset? He'd flip.
Unfair if only I lost my mind daily.
Imagining Sa-yoon's smug face crumbling already cheered him. Maybe better than seeing his shocked secret-reveal face. Feeling bones realign, Geon-ju gritted through pain.
Just endure a bit.
Pain ends, then back up top to slap Sa-yoon.
He said it himself—no payback.
New goal and revenge fueling him, he focused on recovery. Blood-tanged breaths, but post-gate mood? Best ever. Aches everywhere, yet laughter bubbled up.