Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Exam (3)
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"You speak Korean incredibly well."
That was the first thing I said as we climbed the mansion's stairs. Ichie’s uncle, wearing thick brown sunglasses, chuckled and nodded at my words. Trailing behind us were men in black suits, following like a pack. Ichie’s uncle replied,
"Ichie... from Korea, to speak that well, we decided to use Korean here too. Please take good care of Ichie."
"No, actually, Ichie’s so capable that I’m the one getting help from her."
Ichie’s uncle burst into a hearty laugh at that, then said something to Ichie in Japanese. She shook her head vigorously, frowning, and at that sight, he grinned even wider and nodded. It felt like such a warm family exchange that even I started to feel all fuzzy inside.
Though they looked like a straight-up Yakuza crew.
"Come on in. It's a bit humble."
I figured "humble" meant modest. I nodded and cautiously stepped into the entryway. A spotless floor gleamed underfoot, leading to a tidy interior. Warm carpet lay over light yellow marble flooring, with a large TV and a single sofa arranged inside. There was a separate kitchen, complete with a big dining table for multiple people.
The uncle gave a nod, and one of the men in black suits behind him unfolded the table wide before taking positions on either side of the room. It was exactly like greeting a department store VIP, so I couldn't help but hesitate. Seeing me pause, the uncle laughed and said,
"Don't worry. These guys aren't suspicious. Our... bodyguards. Like bodyguards."
Ichie nodded in agreement. The uncle turned to the suited men and asked,
"Right?"
"Yes! That's right, boss!"
The man at the front answered on behalf of the group. The atmosphere stiffened in an instant. A sense of "we messed up" spread among the suits. Amid the chilly tension, the uncle smiled and said,
"Like... family, like real family, so they call me boss."
The black-suited men nodded again at his words. I just nodded silently in response. Glancing at Ichie, she said,
"They're good people."
"...I see."
I decided not to say anything more. Carp tattoos peeking out, fierce faces, greeting everyone as "boss"—sure, they might not be Yakuza. At this point, thinking otherwise felt like jumping to conclusions, so I'd go with "not Yakuza" for now.
We picked up the conversation again. The uncle seemed very curious about academy life—things Ichie hadn't told him. I mentioned how diligently she'd been attending classes and that she'd placed third in the recent written exam.
"Oh, third place. Good job, Ichie."
Ichie thanked him in Japanese. A warm vibe flowed between them. In the midst of that relaxed, heartwarming tone, the uncle's face sharpened again as he nodded to one of his subordinates. The man jolted with an "oh crap" expression, scrambling from his seat to the kitchen to prepare teacups and a teapot. The uncle said,
"Sorry for the late tea. Getting it ready now."
"Thank you."
The suited man hurried over. He looked a bit flustered. The uncle said to him with a generous expression,
"Take it slow. No one's scolding you."
"Yes! Sorry!"
Even after replying, he seemed to realize his mistake, swaying unsteadily in panic. Every time he tilted while holding the tray, the other subordinates watching made dizzy faces or flinched, silently praying nothing spilled.
Finally regaining his balance, the man carefully approached the table and set the tray down. At the same moment, a cleaver clattered out from inside his jacket. A sheathed cleaver with a carp tattoo. Even sheathed, anyone could tell it was a blade.
The perfect size to grip in one hand—and to stab someone with. The man froze holding the tray, while the uncle stared at the cleaver with a smiling face. He picked it up naturally and said,
"Fruit... for peeling fruit... will bring fruit quick."
The subordinate started to respond out of habit but nodded instead and dashed quietly to the fridge. Thinking he'd smoothed things over, the uncle smiled and said,
"Knife... from gift shop... souvenir shop."
Ichie chimed in.
"It really is pretty, Uncle."
"You think so?"
The two shared a light laugh. At the same time, the surrounding black suits chuckled lightly, fostering a harmonious mood. Maybe I should just say I figured out they're Yakuza? But they'd probably deny it flat-out, and it'd sour the atmosphere. I'd tell Ichie privately later.
"Here you go."
In the meantime, the subordinate who'd fetched fruit from the fridge placed two apples on a plate in front of the uncle. Smiling, the uncle drew the cleaver and inspected the blade this way and that. It was razor-sharp blue steel—seemed like it'd slice skin on touch. After seriously examining it and nodding, he began peeling the apple.
The uncle had surprisingly delicate hands, like a women's cosmetics model, with manicured nails. What was this guy? He hummed and nodded with a smile, handing me a beautifully carved rabbit-shaped apple.
His craftsmanship was better than expected. Nodding, I said,
"Thank you. I'll enjoy it."
"No problem. Please take care of our Ichie."
Munching the crisp apple, ignoring his greeting, I noticed Ichie seemed to love apples too, munching hers with a little shoulder wiggle. As we ate, I asked,
"Are you here in Korea for tourism?"
The uncle nodded. He replied,
"Sightseeing. Gangnam, Myeongdong, all good."
"Ichie says Japan has tons of fun stuff too. I should visit sometime."
The uncle perked up at that, pulling a business card from his pocket. It had a lipstick design with Japanese text embossed in pink—super cute. But I couldn't read it. He said,
"My shop, so come play when in Japan."
I leaned toward Ichie and showed her the card. She glanced at it, twitching an eyebrow before looking at the uncle. He nodded, so she read it aloud.
"Virgin Killer Karen-chan."
"...What kind of killer?"
"Uncle's bar. He's the madam there, 'Karen-chan'."
"...Uncle is Karen-chan?"
What? What the hell did that mean? Ichie pointed below and said,
"This, okama bar."
"No way..."
I nearly cursed out loud. Drawing on the mental fortitude from my training with the Omnipotent Being, I barely held back the profanity.
The uncle seemed to catch on late, reaching out to take the card from me. He fumbled hurriedly in his inner pocket, handing me a different one while taking back the first. Raising both hands toward me, he said,
"Many businesses, got mixed up. Not that one, this. Play here."
The new card from the uncle had a normal bar name. High-quality paper, name in gold lettering. Ichie said,
"Ichigaya Noboru. Uncle's real name."
"Show that name, free drinks. Service for Ichie's friend."
"Ah, thank you. Definitely stopping by if I'm in Japan."
The uncle roared with laughter. I decided to keep the card safe. You never know when it might come in handy.
The sunset blazed red at the end of the straight alleyway. A few sparrows flew toward it, their bodies turning pitch black against the light. I had to walk toward that shimmering edge to head home. Coming out after such a fun chat left me feeling strangely drained.
Ichie followed me down to the first floor. Standing beside me, she said,
"How was it today?"
"Your uncle and everyone seemed like good people. You grew up really loved."
"Yeah. They're all good people."
I looked at Ichie. Her expression seemed a bit awkward. I realized it was time to say it. We'd had fun today, but no need to hide next time—they didn't have to act different. I wouldn't hate or distance myself because they're Yakuza; just be yourselves. I opened my mouth.
"Ichie, um, there's something I've wanted to say since earlier..."
"What?"
"Your uncle and family... they're... Yakuza... right?"
Ichie returned to a calm expression at my words. She'd been so excited from our fun chat up till now. Her face, lit straight by the sunset, glowed crimson. That's why I couldn't quite read her expression facing me.
Probably, Ichie couldn't see my face either, backlighted by the sunset. My silhouette must have looked utterly dark. She said,
"...Not Yakuza."
"So, then..."
I couldn't help but smile. She'd clearly misunderstood me. Thought I was pushing her away, hating her for being Yakuza. I needed to explain clearly. We're a team no matter what—won't abandon you over background or family.
Ichie said,
"Dad said our family’s different quality from your average street Yakuza. Not Yakuza."
"...I see. Not Yakuza then. Sorry for the misunderstanding."
I deflated. She hadn't even planned to hide her family? I was about to turn and go.
Ichie looked at me and grinned. Then she suddenly rushed over, hugged me tight, and spun around. For a split second, the dazzling sunset filled my vision. I closed my eyes. So I couldn't see her face. Ichie said,
"Still, thanks for not hating it."
I stroked her head and said,
"We're a team. Won't push you away over that."
Ichie's voice came.
"Yeah. We're a team."