Chapter 70
“This should be more than enough to fund your research, right?”
The uncle rubbed the spot between his nose and upper lip with his index finger.
For a moment, the righteous thief Im Kkukjeong flashed in my mind.
“More than enough. Thank you, Uncle.”
“Hahaha! It's nothing!”
“……Huh.”
The professor looked utterly dumbfounded.
Research space.
Research funding.
Research facilities (forthcoming).
Everything was in place. Now it was time for the researcher to show his stuff…….
Tap tap.
“What's up, dongsaeng?”
“Pay the meat bill upfront before you go.”
“……? Suddenly?”
“Yeah.”
What the hell.
Why was there so much distrust in his eyes?
Ah.
Thief A, planning to siphon research facilities from someone else's company. Thief B, who'd swept up mana stones handily from the gate.
“Ha.”
Haha.
Hahaha.
“Upfront.”
My dongsaeng gripped my wrist with his work glove-clad hand.
“No credit, buddy.”
Just like that, I'd been branded a thief.
* * *
“Come back again.”
My dongsaeng said as he handed over the change.
The POS machine swallowed my hard-earned blood money.
“Probably won't be around for a while.”
“Cheapskate. I overheard earlier—you're a landlord now, right?”
He wasn't a hunter, but his instincts were sharper than any awakener's. Superhuman, even.
My dongsaeng knew the truth: I'd become the owner of that Geomdan apartment complex.
“I'm not their landlord. I can just control access with the barricades.”
“That's what we call a landlord, buddy.”
He'd pieced it together perfectly without me saying a word.
“At least collect rent, and you won't feel so ripped off.”
“Forget it. A softie like you couldn't hound tenants for back rent. You'd need someone like my dad for that.”
I glanced sideways at the kitchen.
My dongsaeng's father was sharpening his knife, his eyes colder than the blade.
He might look tough, but he had a warm heart.
Every time I came, my dongsaeng charged me less, and his dad never complained.
On the contrary, he'd nagged his son multiple times not to take my money—according to my dongsaeng's endless grumbling.
Thank you.
This guy, his son, was the same. Then and now, my most trusted friend.
Even in my past life…….
I recalled fleeing my brother's funeral.
This guy had stood in for the pathetic mourner, greeting the guests.
His father had sent over free yukgaejang made from top-grade Hanwoo beef.
I owed these two a massive debt.
Even if it was from my previous life.
It might sound mercenary to say a debt of the heart was why I trusted them.
But for someone like me, who grew up to adulthood without a single blood relative, wasn't that proof enough of trust?
My dongsaeng spoke up.
“If dinner's like this, come for lunch too. Dad developed a new lunch menu item.”
“Sounds promising. What's on it?”
“Beef mushroom soup.”
And just like that, my weekend lunch plans were set.
I said goodbye to my dongsaeng and his father, then left the shop.
My companion on the way home was Uncle Choi.
Professor Kim had headed back earlier than us. He hadn't said why, but I could guess. He'd taken a bowl of soup to go. Looked like he felt bad about me footing the bill for a lavish solo feast.
“Ugh…… It's freezing.”
Uncle Choi sniffled.
The weather had turned sharply colder. Winter was right around the corner.
I stared at him for a moment, then asked Hemo for a favor.
Yes!
Even without borrowing Jangsanbeom's voice, Hemo's reply rang clear.
Hemo wrung out its fins slimly, then draped itself over Uncle Choi's nape like a heating pad.
“What the—? The chill's suddenly gone.”
Human blood is warm.
“Big temperature swings today. Gotta keep things variable.”
“I may not be educated, but I know temperatures don't spike in a minute flat, kid! Still, thanks. Whatever it is, you're thawing me out.”
No problem.
We kept walking along the riverbank.
Sporadic streetlights lit the path ahead.
But trash rolled around the base of every pole. Uncle Choi frowned at it, scanning around.
“Let's make a quick stop there.”
A convenience store in the riverside park was still open.
I followed without a word.
“Wait here a sec.”
He darted in and out just as fast, two bottles of hot drinks in hand.
“Sip on this while you wait.”
“What about you, Uncle?”
“Be quick.”
With that, he headed to the poles and started scooping trash into a bag from his pocket.
He finished one bag in a flash and reached for the second. I snatched it instead.
“Hey! I said wait!”
“Your hands are cold—the drink'll go flat fast. Better knock it out quick and drink.”
“Elite through and through—smooth as silk!”
He grumbled but grinned. I couldn't help smiling too.
We ended up cleaning the park in the dead of night. Together, it didn't take long.
We sipped our drinks gazing at the river. In the quiet all around, only the sound of cars crossing the distant bridge carried over.
“I'm not usually this neat freakish.”
Uncle Choi said.
“I don't toss cig butts on the ground, but I don't buy bags with my own money to clean up every time I see trash either.”
I just drank.
“You know I love baseball, right, kid?”
“Yeah.”
Our first meeting. Uncle Choi swinging a golf club at the Hangju Bridge Gate Break. One swing, and a goblin plunged into the river.
“There's this Asian player killing it in the States. Word is, he picks up trash wherever he goes. A reporter asked why, and he said?”
I'm picking up luck.
“A baseball player picks up trash for one more hit. Me? I'm a porter hitting gates from here on out. Gotta do whatever to stay alive, right?”
Uncle Choi looked at me.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Your lonely back filling that bag all alone deserved some company.”
“Not just that.”
He shook his head.
“Feels like I never properly thanked you. Not just this time—all the gates we've cleared together so far. Without you, raw stone kid, I wouldn't be standing here.”
“I've racked up way more debts to you, Uncle.”
“Doesn't balance out, you punk.”
“You let me pick trash with you today. Call it even for the irreplaceable luck you handed me—can't buy that.”
“You'd survive floating down that river, mouth flapping along.”
Uncle Choi pocketed his empty bottle.
I did the same.
His gaze shifted to the bridge where cars zipped across.
A nameless red-painted span. It vaguely resembled Hangju Bridge, where we'd survived.
“Did I ever tell you? I worked construction on a bridge site once.”
Uncle Choi chuckled suddenly.
“Building one ain't no joke.”
“Yeah. Steel girders over water and all.”
“Girders are easier than you'd think. The hard part's those cables. See that deck? Shaped like a person radical.”
“Goblins swung on 'em like jungle gyms.”
He giggled and continued.
“Erecting that deck and tensioning the cables to bear the bridge's weight without collapse—that's the killer.”
“Figures.”
“Sloppy work won't cut it. Snap a cable, and the upper deck crashes, taking the whole bridge down.”
Cables.
Red steel wires.
Too fast to even glimpse one while crossing.
Uncle Choi pulled his eyes from the nameless bridge and looked at me.
Then he let out a faint chuckle.
“Just saying.”
He patted my back and turned away.
“Heading out first. Gotta get home a minute sooner or the wife'll nag less.”
“Good luck, Uncle.”
“Yessir. Got it, Landlord. See ya!”
Uncle Choi left.
I lingered alone, watching the city lights flow in the river.
Brring.
My phone rang.
Thinking Uncle might've forgotten something, I checked quick.
Gija-ryeong?
At this hour?
I shook off the doubt and answered.
“Yes, Reporter?”
-Sorry for the late call. Didn't wake you, did I?
“A call from HTN's star reporter? I'd bolt upright from sleep to take it.”
-Joking around means you've shaken off that last gate's aftermath, huh.
“Something like that.”
It wasn't.
Inside, I was festering.
I'd jolt awake at night. Sweat stains outlined my body on the sheets.
Nights terrified me. Even a twinkling star made me wonder if the constellations were watching…… so I avoided them.
That's why I took the river park path, choked with city glow. Starlight drowned in the neon.
Act calm.
I had to pretend.
Couldn't show weakness to the constellations peering down from somewhere. They were always watching.
-Seen the news?
“Yeah. High heat on the brass, right?”
-Par for the course. The problem's elsewhere.
“Gwang-san Corp.”
A sigh rode the airwaves.
-They're pissed. Keep trying to make contact. Now the section chief's fielding their overtures…….
“Won't be long before it turns to threats.”
-Getting scary. You nail everything you say.
“Blind squirrel finding a nut.”
Big guilds all pulled the same crap.
I was just a senior who'd previewed their reign of terror for the next decade.
“How's the top brass holding? Caving to Gwang-san's pressure?”
-Section chief, maybe. But deputy? No way. She's called the Joan of Arc of broadcasting.
“Lucky boss.”
-Right? Oh, right. After Geomdan Gate, I did what you said.
A smile tugged my lips.
“Hand your card to a Gwang-san employee?”
-Yeah. No word yet.
“Coming soon.”
-When?
What to say.
Felt like tip money was due.
Already paid, maybe.
HTN, led by Gija-ryeong, was chipping away at Gwang-san Corp's reputation.
Their backup was priceless hush money.
“When their overtures to HTN turn to pressure.”
That's when.
“Gwang-san'll reach out to you, Reporter.”