The Runaway
I'd declared that I wouldn't appear on any official broadcasts until the Korean government punished those involved in covering up the incident and uncovered Walpurgis's true objectives. But something changed my mind shortly after arriving in Korea.
We'd finished an early dinner and were deep into a paper study session with Professor Cheon when the doorbell rang. Opening the door revealed a hefty delivery box sitting there. Checking the sender, I immediately called Master Baek Bong-gon.
The line went dead abruptly. I tore open the packaging to inspect the portable transmutation circle writer he'd made me.
A norigae? The traditional pendant usually worn on a hanbok jacket. This was a samjak norigae, three pendants tied to one cord. Heavier than usual. Looking closer, a magic stone formed the core in the center, with gyroscope sensors in the knots and main bodies. The threads were pure mana fiber from start to finish, serving as the wand's circuits.
I clipped it to my pants pocket and headed to the living room to test a simple spell.
"Portable Cast: Light"
I took three steps forward.
"Oh."
Without adjusting the coordinates, the magic circle poured out steady bright light at the same intensity. No mana amplification or storage for spell structures, but it executed exactly as ordered. The coordinate adjustment was flawless, and optimal injection reached 95%—for a miniaturized product, not worth haggling over a few million won. It wouldn't violate Academy Tournament rules and would suit Ji-hye perfectly.
I cut the mana and turned to the other package.
Isn't this a pearl? The lustrous purple gem was eyeball-sized. Faint mana leakage suggested it was a mana stone variant. The spiky gold ornament evoking a sun around it didn't look like a ring or bracelet.
Calling Master Baek again got me the answer.
I swapped hair ties right away. He'd even included a hairpin. The master was such a tsundere. The generous payment I'd sent circled back like this—he was stubborn that way.
With the wand in hand, I decided on unscheduled special training and messaged Ma Ji-hye and Han Se-ri to meet in front of the house.
Barring unregistered ghost infants, every Korean citizen gets a biometric chip at birth.
While Ji-hye's mom paced anxiously, wondering if she should file a missing person report, she finally picked up, averting a bigger mess. An eight-year-old runaway doesn't have many places to go—maybe loiter near home or hide at school.
"Hello, security uncle. Seen my friend? Bobbed hair, glasses like this."
Han Se-ri asked the academy guard, who quietly pointed toward the elementary section. We found Ji-hye forlornly swinging alone on the playground.
I texted her mom that we'd found her and would send her home safe later.
"Ji-hye! What're you doing out here, Ma Ji-hye?"
Se-ri bounded over and hugged her neck.
"Ack, stop!"
The usually sweet Ji-hye snapped and shoved her off.
"Eek... she's mad. What now?"
"Ji-hye, what happened?"
She jumped off the swing at the sight of me.
"You didn't tell my dad anything, right? Please..."
"He doesn't know you ran away?"
"Yeah! He absolutely can't!"
"Probably not. I haven't said a word."
"Phew, good..."
Her dad was a detective, after all. Her fear made sense. Red-rimmed eyes showed she'd cried a lot. Best to cheer her up first—I popped a peach Eclipse candy in her mouth, her favorite.
"...?"
Then stuck a Pokémon bread sticker on her hand.
"Whoa... this is super rare."
Finally, I showed her the wand that had just arrived.
"Here, your wand, Ji-hye."
"A wand? This is really a wand?"
"Shape's a bit unique, but same use. Feeling better?"
"Yeah... thanks... really..."
She didn't grasp the wand's value, fixated on the sticker instead. Whatever.
"Your mom was worried sick."
"..."
"We were gonna train with Se-ri, but head home today, okay?"
"No need for training."
"Hey, what? We've been coming to school every day to help, and now—"
"I might transfer far away. Dad... told me not to go to the academy anymore."
Tears welled in her eyes, glinting red in the sunset.
"I'm home."
Academy students' lives are mostly grueling. Without cram school from elementary, keeping up is tough—no real breaks. Ji-hye wasn't top-tier smart but had decent brains, so she plugged away with effort. She loved her academy friends, dreaming of their class someday, trudging to cram school silently.
Sweaty from cram school, her mom greeted her. But her dad—face more grim than stern—was home unusually early.
"Ji-hye, wash up in the bathroom and sit here."
"Okay."
"Wash your face too."
Violent crimes detective meant constant overtime. Early mornings, but weekday 4 PM homecoming for Detective Ma Beom-il was rare.
By the time she finished washing, her parents were arguing loudly. If only on repeat topics—they always found new ones. Mom, much smaller than dad, held her own in the verbal sparring.
Ji-hye sat awkwardly.
"Ma Ji-hye, where've you been wandering on break?"
Detective Ma, already iffy on cram school, asked. Mom snapped that he butt out of child-rearing he knew nothing about.
"Tournament gives extra points—she wants to practice early. What's your problem?"
"I'd study more for finals instead."
"She's at three cram schools already. Can't you see she's trying? You threatened no cram school before."
"Ma Ji-hye, look at me. Studying hard? Teacher says you're zoning out constantly."
"Yes... I am trying..."
"Top the class next semester?"
Ji-hye's eyes widened. First place? Impossible with NoName like a god there.
She shook her head uncertainly. Dad pivoted.
"Tenth?"
Tenth impossible too. Yoon Si-hu, Seo Yu-na, chaebol kids—56th place was miles off.
"Twentieth even hard?"
"Yeah... twentieth too..."
Missing half-scholarship minimum, Detective Ma crossed his arms firmly.
"Transfer then. I'm skeptical about this academy."
"Seriously! It's Seferon!"
"Middle and high combined, ten years till college! Grades dropping—might not even advance. Live apart as family? No, Incheon all together."
High school prestige now trumped college in his mind? No—college still king to him.
"Incheon? Why suddenly, Dad?"
"Ji-hye, go to your room. Mom and Dad need to talk."
"Talk's over! Ma Ji-hye, drop the sparring crap, focus on cram school. No more duels, got it?"
"But I'm good at duels—I can beat seniors...!"
"Ji-hye, just listen to Dad. Can't live dangerously forever. Honey, make her stick to cram school. Three's already too much—wasting money!"
"Ji-hye, go to your room."
Mom shoved her in. Kitchen table left with the childless couple.
Detective Ma clutched his throbbing head, sighing.
"So, Incheon posting when?"
"September earliest. Handovers done—basically vacation. Told not to meddle in gaps."
"What kinda mess? Kicking Gangnam folks to Incheon? Cops ain't military."
"Who knows. Brass's whim..."
Seoul Violent Crimes Unit 2 faced reorganization storm. Anti-corruption: transfer vets over eight years. No regard for job similarity or entry paths—internally furious. But orders were orders. Gripes swirled, pinning blame on one: Ma Beom-il, ostracized. His sin? Private contact with Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho unreported, fodder for politics. Bribery rumors worse.
"Damn ungrateful rotters... wanna quit this crap. Goin' out for a smoke."
"Dump the food waste too."
"...Console Ji-hye. Hear her crying."
The girl's sobs tangled Detective Ma Beom-il's heart like knotted threads.