It's Not Kimchi Jjim
The sensation of something draining out of a corner of my mind came hand in hand with a burst of heat near my heart.
The memory of my life's greatest shame — the one my sister never let me live down — was fading away.
Well, that's a relief.
Guess I won't be having nightmares about that anymore.
Wasn't this the definition of killing two birds with one stone? Saving the day and getting rid of that?
And the price I paid could honestly be called unconventional, too.
Foo-wahaaak!
A bluish blade carved straight through the spider's carapace.
A cutting force that sheared through thick armor and tough muscle in a single stroke.
Two of the spider's legs shot up into the air as pitch-black fluid came gushing down.
Kiiiieeeek—!
I stomped down on the nape of the shrieking, thrashing monster and launched myself up onto its back.
Perched on the crown of that massive skull, I gripped the hilt of my sword with both hands.
And then I poured every ounce of my body weight into the very tip of the blade.
Crunch, crunch, crrrunck…
Dozens of eyes went dark all at once, and the mountain of a body sagged, twitching.
Instant death.
Shhhk—
I wrenched the sword free of the corpse and drew a long breath. But there was no time to rest.
Gu-gu-gung!
From beyond the wreckage of a collapsed building at the far end of the intersection, a pack of monsters came pouring in, eyes blazing with killing intent.
At least a few dozen of them, by the look of it.
What should I offer up this time?
The memory of falling in the school hallway and splitting my knee open in elementary school?
Or maybe the memory of swallowing the three thousand won I'd borrowed from a friend and never paying back?
The memory of getting my glasses locked up in the school office?
Whatever. I offered up those kinds of useless, trivial memories.
Payment has been approved.
Thirty minutes later.
The four-way intersection had fallen silent, as if it had all been a lie.
Tat-tak. Ta-da-dak.
Only the crackle of flames leaping from a burning car wreck and the slow drip of sticky blood hitting the asphalt echoed through the ruined street.
"Haaah… Phew!"
Panting, I leaned my sword against the ground at an angle.
I was soaked head to toe in blood.
The monsters' revolting fluids and dark stains had seeped into every inch of my clothes without mercy.
At my feet, the dismembered corpses of dozens of monsters lay piled up like a hill, reeking to high heaven.
"Ugh… the smell. God, the smell."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose with the back of my hand, my brow scrunching up on its own.
How did I even fight, again?
The memory of the past thirty minutes of swinging my sword surfaced in hazy fragments.
I couldn't tell whose throat I'd cut first, or how many times I'd swung the blade. All that remained was a faint, after-the-fact sense of it — that I'd swung, and the things in front of me had fallen.
Maybe I pushed myself too deep into the zone.
Made sense, honestly. I clicked on the portable radio clipped to my chest.
Crackle, hiss.
"This is Hunter Lee Hyunwoo, dispatched for field support. Route 7 battle area — the entire monster swarm, including the spider-type mutant, has been exterminated. Situation resolved, so send the corpse disposal team and the decontamination unit ASAP."
A brief silence followed — then an electrified voice burst through the radio.
"A-alone?! Hunter Lee Hyunwoo, you cleared a swarm that size ALONE?! Outstanding work, sir! Thank you for your service!"
"No injuries, so I don't need the medical team. I'm exhausted, so I'm heading back. Clean up the rest."
"Understood! We'll deploy the disposal team immediately!"
Exhausted didn't even cover it — I genuinely felt like I'd pass out the second I lay down.
I sheathed my sword and trudged back the way I'd come.
I rounded the corner, and just as I reached the intersection in front of the commercial building whose rooftop I'd leapt off of not long ago—
"Huh?"
The mother and son I'd assumed had fled to the shelter were still there, waiting for me behind the rubble of a shattered streetlight.
They must have sensed my presence, because both of them looked up — and the instant they took in my state, they flinched and sucked in a breath.
"Are you… alright?"
The mother asked, her voice trembling.
The boy, too, was staring up at me with hollow, unblinking eyes.
"Oh, kiddo. You still haven't left?"
Trying to loosen the tension frozen on the kid's face, I reached out on reflex to ruffle his hair.
But when I spotted the sticky blood caked on my palm, dripping off in globs, I froze mid-reach and quietly withdrew my hand, wiping it off on my pants instead.
I tilted my chin up awkwardly and went on.
"Well, this much is a warm-up, really. As you can see — not a scratch on me. That's what an A-Rank title is all about, no?"
I gave a light shrug, then put on a deliberately stern voice and lectured them anyway.
"That said, next time don't just stand around gawking at this stuff — run straight for the shelter. I get wanting to watch hunters fight, believe me, but all you get out of it is trauma. There's nothing good about it, nothing at all. You two could've been seriously hurt today."
At my scolding, the mother pulled a strange expression.
"I'm sorry…."
She nodded, her voice low and subdued.
Just then, the little kid hiding behind his mother's skirt peeked out cautiously and took a single step forward.
"Um, Hyunwoo-hyung?"
"Hm? What is it?"
The boy wavered, lips twitching like he wanted to say something, then balked and swallowed it back.
"N-nothing, it's… uh, could I get your autograph?"
"Autograph?"
"Yes! This!"
He pulled a notepad and a pen out from inside his jacket and held them out.
Careful to keep the blood on my hands off the paper, I took the notepad—
And I couldn't help but freeze.
Because there, right in the middle of the open page, was a handwriting style I knew all too well.
Don't give your mom a hard time — A-Rank Hunter, Lee Hyunwoo
Oh… so this was the kid who'd already gotten my autograph once before!
"You're really my number-one fan, huh? You carry this thing around with you? When'd you even get this?"
He must have dug it out from some event he'd attended a while back.
"What was your name again? Shinwoo, right?"
"Yes. Park Shinwoo."
Shinwoo's smile came out a little crooked and unsure.
It was so endearing that I grinned and raised a fist in a light little cheer.
"Shinwoo! Right, Shinwoo it is. I swear I'll remember your name for sure this time. When you're all grown up, come find me and remind me you knew me first."
The instant the words left my mouth, the kid's face went rigid.
"What, you think I'd forget? I'm pretty sharp, you know — for all this, kiddo."
I tossed it out as a joke, and the mother standing beside him clapped a hand over her mouth.
Uh… why are you reacting like that?
"Um… sir? You really saved our lives, and I'd really like to give you some token of gratitude, even a small one. If you could just give us your phone number or your bank account, we'd love to repay the—"
"It's fine."
I waved my hands and stepped back.
"Just take it as goodwill. If I started accepting payments for every single rescue, my house would be buried under gifts with nowhere to walk. And besides, nothing good ever comes of getting tangled up with an Awakened like me. So please — both of you — just live the rest of your lives safe and peaceful. Besides, I'm loaded, you know?"
Only then did they manage to muster faint smiles.
"Thank you. Truly."
"Get going. Traffic's going to start flooding in soon."
I left the mother and son bowing deeply behind me and trudged off down the road.
I took the sedan the Association had rushed over and made it back to my place.
I'd wiped the blood off my face with wet wipes in the car, but there was no getting rid of the stench of dried blood and monster gunk clinging to my clothes.
The me in the elevator mirror was, in a word, an absolute wreck — dead tired, the exhaustion hanging under my eyes, every joint in my body aching.
I punched in the door lock code and opened the front door.
"I'm dead. Genuinely dead."
The moment I stepped inside and kicked off my shoes, a rich, savory, oily aroma hit me in the face.
Deep toasted sesame oil, and a sweet-savory sauce sizzling away over a hot pan!
I looked toward the kitchen.
My sister, wearing a yellow checkered apron, was busy working a spatula in front of the gas stove.
Amid the clatter of dishes, she whipped her head around.
"You're back? Rough day, huh."
"Yeah. You haven't slept yet, noona?"
She gave me a slow once-over and clicked her tongue.
"Judging by the state of you, you had a grand old time rolling around a Gate again today. You're not hurt?"
"Fine as you can see. Just trashed the clothes."
"Whatever, you're home in one piece. Go wash up quick. I'm making your favorite — you had a long day, after all."
"Oh… seriously?"
The exclamation popped out of me on its own.
My favorite food.
It felt like every ounce of today's exhaustion was melting away at that single sentence. That feeling-of-a-feeling, you know?
I darted into the bathroom and cranked the shower on.
Hot water washed away the caked-on blood and sweat, sending red-tinged foam swirling down the drain.
I scrubbed my hair, then lathered up head to toe until the smell of blood was gone.
I toweled off roughly, changed into a comfortable pair of gray sweats, and came out to the living room.
The table was already set — steaming plates piled high, freshly cooked rice, and a spread of neat little side dishes.
I sat down.
"Thanks for the mea—"
And then I laid eyes on the main dish, and I couldn't help but furrow my brow.
What was heaped onto the wide white plate was bulgogi — glistening strips of beef, marinade shining under the light.
Enoki mushrooms, onions, and carrots mingled together in a colorful medley, giving off the sweet smell of soy glaze.
It was, without question, a beautifully made dish.
But it was not my favorite!
There was no way my sister didn't know that.
Bewildered, I fiddled with my chopsticks and opened my mouth.
"…It's not kimchi jjim?"
"Huh? What did you say?"
"No, it's nothing… It's just, you said you were making my favorite, so I figured you meant kimchi jjim. That's my favorite, remember? It's always been."
Did I say something weird? My sister's face had suddenly gone a shade pale.