Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Moving (3)
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"He was a fool. Sorry to say it about Mom's husband, but he should have married someone stronger and tougher."
Defender gave a brief assessment of his father.
"He lived in a flower garden and died in one too."
His younger sister's words were even sharper.
Defender sighed and continued.
"Dad was what you'd call a good man. He couldn't say no to anyone. He loved lending money he knew he'd never get back. When Mom complained, he'd argue that people's hearts mattered more than money."
The moment he finished, his sister pulled a face like she was seriously fed up and chimed in.
"I really hated Dad. Toward the end, I couldn't even look him in the eye. How could anyone be such a pushover?"
I could picture the type.
The kind who doesn't harm strangers but drags his own family down.
Defender, who killed without hesitation if crossed, and his father were polar opposites.
Defender spoke slowly of his father, his eyes distant with the past.
It was exactly as I'd imagined.
A kind-hearted guy.
Carefree, always looking out for others.
But he never looked after his own interests, and in the end, no one helped him as he sank lower and lower.
The very people he'd helped pointed fingers, but he turned a blind eye.
"He never saved a dime his whole life. The inheritance from Grandpa was all he had. And with three siblings? Forget owning a home—he bounced from full-term rentals to cheap monthlies in neighborhoods even I didn't know, scraping by. Things got even tighter. My sister even hesitated about college."
"No prep for war, then."
Defender glanced my way.
"Know what that guy said?"
"No idea."
"War doesn't start that easily. I know the Chinese—they're a peaceful people."
Defender snorted.
"Missiles raining down, no clue what to do. Power out, water gone, government telling everyone to hit the bunkers—and the bunkers had nothing. Sis, what was it like there?"
"Yeah, nearly got dragged to the bathroom and raped."
"That's the hellhole they lived in. Then the landlord—the one I mentioned—called."
"The owner of your old place?"
"Yeah."
"What was the connection?"
"Dad's college buddy. Lived a totally different life, though."
I thought of Defender's mansion.
Run-down, unrepaired cracks everywhere, dirty—but traces of serious wealth lingered.
Makes sense. The opposite of a father who gave everything away would have piled up a fortune.
"He'd call Dad now and then to rub it in—back when Dad was doing better. 'Bought my kid a Porsche. Got him an apartment. Family trip abroad. Divorced and got a mistress now.' Total materialist prick."
Defender's face twisted in open contempt.
"After the war started, he asked if Mom and my sister were okay—and offered a standalone house."
"..."
"In exchange for playing servant in his cushy place instead of ruined Seoul. Cooked meals, cleaned, did repairs. But doesn't that sound off?"
Defender examined his honed knife, turning it under the light.
"When we got there, only men. Dark-skinned ones at that."
I'd read the landlord's intent the moment he offered the house while asking after wife and daughter.
Too common, too predictable.
Post-war tragedies where the comfy life lured in the desperate, only to devour them.
Victims were usually women and kids.
Koreans' vaunted morality wasn't so different from anyone else's, though they'd hush it up.
"I told Dad we had to leave. Bad vibes. My sister said it too."
"I was in the bathroom when they came knocking like they'd been waiting."
"But that idiot blew up instead. Said we couldn't reject kindness like that. First time I'd seen him that mad. First time he slapped me. And then the worst happened..."
Defender's sister, lounging diagonally on the tarp, sat up straight and brushed back her fallen hair with a finger.
A nasty scar etched her temple.
"By the time I got there, Dad was beaten and tied up. Mom was dead, bludgeoned with a shovel. Sis was out cold, head smashed with the same, while guys stripped her clothes."
"That 'son' of his couldn't even unhook a bra."
His sister sneered.
"So what happened?"
"What do you think."
Defender grinned, spinning the razor-sharp knife on his fingertip.
"Killed them all. Landlord, his brother, friends, legit son, mistress's kid, even the dogs."
"..."
"Dad collapsed crying, but I felt no pity. His foolishness ruined our family over and over, right to the end. I treated my sister, buried Mom, disposed of bodies—but he didn't lift a finger."
Defender sighed, gazing at the sky.
"Dead the next day."
Defender looked at me, relieved.
"That's the story. Satisfied?"
Defender got out of the car.
A cigarette was already in his mouth.
"Stay put. I'll circle back."
"..."
He had his reasons.
We're close now, no doubt.
He'd said it at the theme park: family stories come after friendship.
Not a fun tale.
Peering into someone's stains.
Won't top the Viva! Apocalypse! boards, that's for sure.
Adding one more tragedy to a world full of them is like pouring water into the sea.
Lost in bittersweet thoughts, his sister poked my shoulder.
"Ow."
I turned, wincing, and she shoved her tablet in my face.
[Oppa still loves Dad.]
"What? What're you talking about?"
Her fingers flew.
[That's why he can't even collect the body. Scared to face it. Because he loved him so much. Or more precisely, feels like he killed him. You know? Like if he'd said one thing, it might've changed.]
"..."
[Does Skeleton have a dad?]
"Orphan."
"Ah."
[Figured.]
"What's that imply?"
[Anyway, help Oppa. He's more sensitive than he seems. He'll regret it big time later.]
"Help how?"
"Something soul-stirring?"
She stared at me intently.
First time she'd looked me in the eye so long. Desperate, pleading even.
"I know. You're the no-fun beatboxer hanging with weirdos like John_nenon, but deep down, you're insightful."
She flushed, looked away.
"I have a good eye for people, y'know."
She shook off the blush and met my eyes again.
"Even if 197cm, 100kg, 30cm sounds off."
"Drop that already."
I smirked inwardly.
A word to Defender?
From the team leader who couldn't even keep his squad together?
She'd misread me bad.
But why this urge to try?
No guarantees it'd work.
I'm no good with people—could even wreck our bond.
But she asked.
And a decent idea sparked like Edison's bulb.
"Alright, be right back."
I unbuckled.
"What?! Where?!"
"I'm no silver-tongued devil."
"S-so?"
"Fetch your dad's body first, then decide on the move after settling in. Problem solved."
"Makes sense, but..."
"There's a carrier rig, right?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Grab it."
We'd driven far, but straight-line distance?
13 minutes walking.
5 running.
The theme park in sight proved it.
Might run into soldiers, and hauling a corpse? Unappealing.
But my best shot.
I lost my family to monsters—memories are thin.
Hatred filled the void.
That's my power source.
But for those with family still warm in their hearts? Must be precious.
I remember: cold, ruthless Defender detouring just to avoid his father's face.
Not plain contempt, as sis said.
Loved as much as he hated—stuck, unable to act.
If he truly loathed him, he'd have dumped him like Old Man Kim's kids.
"Hey, Skeleton, what're you doing?"
Defender's voice crackled over comms.
I ignored it.
"Heard from sis. Know it's pointless? Family business. I like you, Skeleton, but meddling? Tough to swallow. Come back before it gets messy."
"One question."
"What?"
"Might sound like shade, but your dad was a lousy father, right?"
"Yeah. Lousy dad."
"But a bad one?"
"That's..."
I say no.
Binding these heartless siblings even in death?
That's all from me— no flair for words.
Nothing left to say or want to.
"Skeleton."
Defender again.
Made up his mind.
"Appreciate it, but family matter. Turn back now..."
"Know why Dad loved it there?"
Sis cut in.
Caught even Defender off guard.
"Darling."
First time calling her that in front of me.
"I hated Dad, but I get why he went—and stayed. Memories."
"Memories?"
"Remember holding hands, going to the amusement park below?"
"...That."
"Dad said it was when he could treat us best—our family's peak."
"So what?"
"Dunno. Don't buy superstitions. But maybe Dad missed it too? Thought staying might bring those days back? Just my take."
Defender went silent.
No breathing—mic off.
I see the corpse now, bathed in moonlight through the clouds.
"Sir. That's how it is..."
The body— one arm hacked off— swayed gently like a palm frond, overlooking the theme park below.
I lowered it, wrapped it, loaded the carrier.
"Hoo."
Head back fast.
Scanning the downhill path with night-accustomed eyes, Defender's voice returned.
"Fanatics."
He tsked.
"Damn. Awakened mixed in too."