My Father's Funeral
"You don't seem surprised?"
Uncle Taesoo wasn't surprised either.
"You're dead, sure—but that doesn't mean you're gone. Cheap wordplay doesn't faze me."
"No fun. You could at least pretend to be shocked."
An ordinary man with no qualifications had forcibly awakened as a Paladin, and the price of that miracle was this: one day he would have to abandon his physical body and return to the holy sanctuary of the goddess Nihera in Elysion.
Elysion summoned only the most carefully chosen souls. Father had never been one of them, yet he forced his way into that place through sheer will alone—because there was something he absolutely had to do.
Having promised to return, he had no choice but to answer the goddess's call when it came. He just hadn't expected it to be today.
Uncle, who had served as Father's butler in all but name, naturally knew the truth. It was Uncle who had quietly spread the lie about Father's chronic illness years ago, precisely to soften the blow when he vanished without warning.
"The funeral will be a three-day Hunter's ceremony. I'll send a car, so get here fast."
When I agreed, he added one more thing.
"You're going to be revealed as his son. That's what Jiwoong wanted, so I have no say in it."
"He left without even telling me why, didn't he?"
"That's right. I asked him, but he just said you'd understand."
He said he'd figure it out and hung up. My eyes landed on an envelope sitting on the desk—something Father had sent me a few days ago.
Nihera would never summon Father's soul without warning. She must have told him to come today in advance, so he'd written down everything he wanted to say to me and mailed it before leaving.
The moment I picked up the envelope, a voice-spell spilled out. It was Father's voice.
"Read it after I'm gone."
Blunt as ever, with zero context.
He was like this in Elysion too. He'd decide everything himself and hand me a single-line notice as if it were a done deal.
"That's just what parents are," he'd say, striking every cool-guy pose in the book, and I could never argue back.
He'd gambled his own lifespan on the agony of forced awakening to save my life. Then, returning a full year before me, he'd carved out a foothold in a Korea overrun by gates—just so I'd have somewhere to come back to.
He knew I'd become a tremendous power once I returned, yet he never once called me into a guild or the Association. Because I wanted to live an ordinary life, and he honored that wish.
Though he never could just walk past a gate about to burst open.
Somehow, I felt that the moment I opened that envelope, I'd never be able to keep playing the friendly neighbor again. If it was Father's dying wish, though, I'd have no choice.
I reached for it, then hesitated. I had no idea what was written inside, but if I read it now, I'd spend the entire funeral turning it over in my head.
Better to play the chief mourner first, then read it after.
[I assume Nihera has summoned her Paladin. That seems awfully sudden, doesn't it?]
"His borrowed lifespan must have run out. She never told me how long he'd last here."
There's one thing even Uncle Taesoo, who knows my family inside and out, doesn't know. A secret shared only between Father and me.
Twenty-two years ago, my father wasn't the only one summoned to the otherworld of Elysion.
CRACKLE, CRAAAACK—!!
"Hagh! I-it hurts…."
When the sparks coiling around my whole body finally faded, an unfamiliar landscape spread out before me.
An intricate sigil etched into the floor. Soaring pillars covered in murals. Stained glass windows. I felt like I'd wandered onto the set of a fantasy film.
We'd definitely just left the house to go out for dinner… where on earth was I?
"Woojin! WOOJIN—!!"
Dad sprinted over and wrapped me in his arms. Thank god I hadn't fallen into this bizarre place alone.
"This is a problem. We've dragged in a soul with no qualification to be here."
"Wh-who's there?"
A woman appeared.
Strands of hair that refused to lose their light even in the darkness. Eyes like embedded stars. An exquisite nose line tracing past her philtrum down to softly moist lips.
"Welcome to the otherworld of Elysion."
That was the first meeting between me and the goddess Nihera. With my father, dragged along by pure accident, thrown into the bargain.
Just as he'd said, Uncle made the official announcement of Father's death and the existence of a son. It was an unavoidable step if I was going to stand as chief mourner.
I scrolled through the portal site in the restroom, reading every headline from top to bottom.
A few articles stuck strictly to the facts, but the vast majority were sensational clickbait that smelled blood in the water and went straight for the views.
I'd read the comments out of curiosity about the public reaction, and they were exactly what I expected. People love talking big about other people's lives—it's practically a national pastime.
Hunter General Hospital Funeral Hall —
The funeral hall felt less like a space for mourning the deceased and more like a vast social arena where everyone sized each other up and jockeyed for position.
Wreaths lined the corridor wall to wall, each inscribed in gold leaf with the names of hunter association presidents and guild masters from around the world.
Members of the National Assembly, government officials, senior bureaucrats from the Hunter Bureau, and high-grade hunters whose names alone opened doors filed past in an orderly line to burn incense.
And in a corner of that twisted theater stood I, dressed in black mourning clothes.
"What a terrible tragedy about your father. And with so much left for him to do."
A man who looked like an executive from one of the large guilds grasped my hand and offered his condolences.
He threaded mana subtly into his grip and pushed it toward me. An ordinary person would have gasped and had their breath cut short. I simply bowed my head in silence.
The man frowned. That wasn't how an ordinary civilian reacted—yet he could detect no trace of awakening, no mana circuits whatsoever.
[He's annoying me. Can I cut him?]
It's a funeral. You can carve him up later—now keep quiet.
[Tch.]
Quite a few mourners had tested me the same way, and each time I'd let it slide. Until I learned what Father truly wanted, I couldn't afford to reveal myself.
"Odd reaction, but he doesn't seem awakened at all."
"A cat born from a tiger of a father. And him the President's son, no less—what a shame."
"What happens to the Azure Dragon Guild now? They've been waiting for the President to retire forever."
"More curious about who takes over as President. The Hunter Bureau's been sharpening its teeth. The Secretary-General, maybe?"
"A career second-in-command becoming President? Please."
Whispers drifted from every direction. Not a single warm gaze, not one sincere condolence—at least, not in this room.
Uncle Taesoo, who'd been greeting guests at the entrance, made his way over to me.
"Looks like all the bigwigs have come and gone. Go inside and get some rest—you've been on your feet this whole time."
"A funeral without the chief mourner isn't a funeral. You should be the one sitting down, Uncle. Your leg, remember?"
He'd taken an irreparably crippling wound during a Red Gate raid. He'd lost a leg entirely—but if Father hadn't saved him, Uncle wouldn't be standing here at all today.
"You brat. You're the only one who still worries about me. The rest of them don't spare it a single thought."
"That's because you move too perfectly, Uncle. Even I forget it's a prosthetic half the time."
A custom piece from Laplace Magitech Engineering. Beyond the staggering price tag, it was a treasure only a hunter in the very top tier of rank and raid credentials could even purchase.
Something about rare artifacts that only drop from high-grade gates being irreplaceable as the core material.
"Nobody but Jiwoong could've bought it. My own track record was middling at best, but when South Korea's first-ever EX-rank offers to guarantee the purchase, how do you say no?"
[That thing's supposed to be precious? All I see is a tin can.]
Everything's a tin can to you. Learn to compare properly.
[Hmph. At least you haven't forgotten my worth.]
He loves soboro cream bread, and a little flattery turns his mood around instantly—this friend of mine is Cherubim, the Sword of Paradise.
He chose me as his partner back in Elysion, and now, in his transform state, he's bonded to my arm.
A truly peculiar parasitic blade—he shares my senses yet thinks and communicates as an entirely separate being.
He's also the one who shattered Demon King Gargantua's core in Elysion.
[Yes, remember well the tale of my glorious exploits. And never forget it again.]
He reads my thoughts as easily as he shares my senses.
By nightfall, everyone had cleared out except the old guard of the Association.
The VIPs had only come out of obligation—stamping their presence and vanishing. Everyone else had been cowed by their oppressive presence and the wall of tight security, unable to linger.
I decided it was finally safe to rest and slipped into a small room behind the chief mourner's seat.
Sitting down, I pulled the note from my pocket. It had been inside the envelope Father sent.
He'd attached a voice-spell for the important instructions, yet the actual message he wanted to convey was pure analog—handwriting, at its absolute finest. I honestly couldn't pin down Father's tastes at all.
"Take good care of your younger sisters."
Younger sisters…?
The existence of sisters I never knew about was shocking enough—but plural? More than one?
Mother had passed away before I was old enough to remember her face. After that, Father never remarried and raised me on his own.
Well—he never remarried. He never lacked for women. My own looks were, after all, a slightly improved copy of his, and no woman alive was going to leave an unattached beautiful man alone.
"Don't worry about getting a stepmom. I'll end things before it ever gets that far."
Having grown up early, I stayed out of Father's love life entirely. A stepmother wouldn't have bothered me either, and since he insisted it'd never happen, I took him at his word.
But younger sisters I knew nothing about? This I absolutely could not let slide.
I spread my palm and focused my mind. A mana formation began to take shape.
[Summoning Yuno?]
"Yeah. I need to hear it from her directly."
Mage-type hunters draw the mana they need for spells by cycling the mana circuits that form inside their bodies upon awakening.
But I'd had mana formations etched across my entire body in Elysion. Nihera said they were absolutely necessary to seal Gargantua, and the process had hurt badly enough that I thought I was going to die.
Those formations connect to other dimensions and draw mana in directly, which means I can use mana-dependent skills anytime, anywhere, regardless of circumstances.
What I'm about to do is summon Yuno, the Fairy of Dimensions.
Since she serves as a messenger who crosses between dimensions, I intend to send her with a voice-spell for my father, who's on his way to Nihera's holy sanctuary.
Hey, old man. Explain yourself.
The moment I focused my mind into the mana formation, something went wrong.
Huh?
Thin threads of mana slipped in through the gap under the door and spread to envelop the entire room.
An ordinary person—no, anyone short of a high-grade hunter—couldn't see mana threads at all. But to my eyes they were as vivid as spiderwebs strung between tree branches.
Someone was weaving a barrier out of a massive quantity of mana threads.