Pungjin's Spring Day
A powerful surge of magical energy erupted somewhere nearby.
The moment Miwol sensed that the spell she had installed had been dispelled, she raced toward the prison where Shinji had been held. But all she found was an empty cell. She immediately shouted for Pungjin.
Pungjin had been sobbing uncontrollably, mourning his parting with the young lady. He snapped back to his senses and sprinted toward Miwol at full speed.
What awaited him was a merciless baptism of club strikes.
"You fucking idiot!! Whack! Whack! I told you to guard that bitch properly! Whack! Whack! Where the hell were you slacking off?! Whack! Whack! You finally show your face now?! Whack! Whack! Where did that whore go?! Whack! Whack! You let her escape, didn't you?! Whack! Whack! The prison was still locked from the outside! Whack! Whack! So how the hell did she get out?! Whack! Whack! How is that even possible?! Whack! Whack! You helped her escape, didn't you? You?! Whack! Whack! I always knew something fishy was going on between you two! Whack! Whack! Spit it out right now! Tell me the truth!! Whack! Whack!"
With every accusation came a full-powered, two-handed swing of the club. Pungjin had no idea what was happening, but he curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped protectively over his head, trying to shield his body as best he could. The beating was familiar enough that it didn't cause serious damage, yet the rare sight of Miwol this furious and unhinged left him even more desperate to understand what had gone wrong.
He had dressed Shinji, locked her in the cell, and handed the key straight to Miwol. If an escape had occurred, there should have been signs of a broken lock or forced door. But there was nothing. Not a single trace.
Pungjin endured the thrashing until Miwol's rage finally began to subside. When she was panting hard, her arms too tired to swing the club anymore, he seized the moment and quietly slipped away.
Miwol's anger at losing Shinji was now mixed with a creeping fear. If that woman returned alive, the revenge she would exact would be merciless. The thought left her too distracted to chase after Pungjin as he crept away. She merely glanced at his retreating figure.
Then a stray thought crossed her mind.
Wait, how is that bastard perfectly fine after taking all those hits?
Even if she was a woman, she was still a witch. Her physical strength and stamina were on an entirely different level from ordinary humans. Yet despite swinging with all her might until her arms gave out, he hadn't suffered a single broken bone. Logically, that should have seemed strange, but because she beat him every single day, she simply assumed he had gotten better at taking a beating and let the matter slide. Perhaps living so close to him had dulled her senses.
Regardless, she now faced a far more urgent problem: finding a way to survive the schemes of Shinji, the worst conspiracy theorist in all of Murim.
Both the time she had been defeated before and the recent effort it had taken to capture Shinji had been anything but easy. And now, because of one critical mistake, the woman had escaped. On top of that, the method of revenge Shinji would surely choose—having her own dog rape her while she was stripped naked—made Miwol's blood run cold. Her whole body began to tremble.
If Shinji truly returned for vengeance, there was no telling what horrors awaited her. Miwol swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
This was fear. Overwhelming, absolute terror.
Of course her magic and skill were superior. But waiting around for an attack that could come from anywhere, at any time, was pure stupidity. She still needed to sleep at night, didn't she? And if Shinji came for revenge, there would be no mediators, no mercy—just like Miwol herself had shown none.
Shinji would simply capture her, drain every last drop of her blood, then force her to drink vampire blood, turning her into a true vampire. A witch vampire! The idea sounded unique on the surface, but the thought of her senior and junior witches clutching their stomachs with laughter was unbearable.
Hahaha, Miwol! Want a drop of my blood? Don't you want to drink it?
Muhahaha!!!
How did a witch end up as a vampire lolololol!
The moment she imagined countless people—old connections, colleagues, blood relatives—mocking and ridiculing her, Miwol was seized by such fear that she left the house without a single word to Pungjin and vanished into the distance.
In this neighborhood, quick action was the only way to survive.
And that neighborhood was Murim.
Pungjin, who had been beaten to within an inch of his life, managed to escape using nothing but pure survival instinct. He carefully applied medicine to his bruised body while lamenting his pathetic existence.
The shabby magical knowledge he had secretly learned by peeking over Miwol's shoulder was limited to the most basic herbal recipes from Introduction to Medicinal Herbs. It wasn't even proper medicine—just folk remedies. The book had basically said, "People in the countryside use this stuff, but it's so unscientific we should reject it." Still, it was the best Pungjin could manage with the herbs he knew how to find in the forest. He had carefully hidden the ointment for exactly these moments when Miwol beat him black and blue.
After roughly applying the salve and avoiding the worst of the bruised areas, he lay down with a groan, trying to rest.
Tears came unbidden. He was hungry. His throat was parched.
Aah... Is this what it means to live? Is this really living... Socrates, my man?
He even found himself mentally asking a guy he had never been close to. For dinner he considered catching one of the old, useless hens that were no longer laying eggs. While idly pondering the menu, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Shinji.
Aah... the woman who took my first time.
Her name was Shinji. The first woman to embrace his cock with her hands, her mouth, and her pussy. He hadn't gotten a proper look at that last one, hadn't been able to fully savor it, and the regret stung deeply. Even more painful was the fact that he had never once managed to taste her lips—the part he considered most important.
He had almost succeeded at the beginning, only for Miwol to stop him at the last second.
As a hikikomori with zero experience with women, Pungjin basically found any girl attractive as long as she wore a skirt. The simple fact that Shinji had made physical contact with his cock was enough for him to fantasize that she was his eternal lover, his future wife, the one he would spend his whole life with. But what did it matter? Fantasies were free.
When evening came, he prepared dinner and entered Miwol's room, only to discover she had vanished without a trace. He was stunned.
This sudden disappearance was completely unlike her. Normally, even when she left, she would at least tell him roughly when she would return. She always packed several large travel bags with her precious cosmetics, underwear, and towels. Leaving without taking any of it was unprecedented.
At first Pungjin assumed she had simply gone somewhere nearby. But when she didn't return by nightfall or even by the next morning, real fear began to set in.
Did that insane witch run into some terrifying monster in the forest and get into real trouble?
Logically, any monster that met Miwol would be the one in trouble, but Pungjin's intuition—usually sharp in useless matters—told him something was very wrong.
Then, slowly, a different emotion began to rise.
She's gone.
The witch is gone!
This is my world now!
It was still just a hopeful fantasy, but the possibility seemed high enough to take seriously. He began carefully searching through Miwol's belongings, examining her magic potions and spellbooks. He had done this whenever she left for a day or two in the past, but this time he could take his time and study everything in detail.
Using waste paper and broken pens scavenged from the dump, he quickly copied every magic book he could find. He rummaged through the trash for anything useful. One day became two, then three, and still Miwol did not return.
Pungjin studied magic even more diligently, dug through the dump, and pored over her potions. The real jackpot came when he discovered her magic research notebook. The dates showed these were older notes she no longer considered valuable enough to carry with her. Whatever urgent matter had made her leave even this notebook behind, it must have been serious.
Thanks to the notes, he gradually gained a real understanding of the various magical reagents, materials, and tools in her laboratory. His comprehension of magic deepened with each passing day. The dump also continued to yield surprisingly useful items, allowing him to spend his time productively.
But of course, nothing good ever lasted without complications.
The problem was his cock, which swelled up at the most random moments.
The arousal spell Miwol had cast on him before leaving continued to torment him without end. He could rub it for some fleeting pleasure, but the inability to actually ejaculate only made the frustration worse. As a side effect—or perhaps for some other reason—his cock also seemed to be growing slightly larger each day.
Then one day, while he was once again suffering from the relentless swelling, someone came to visit.