The Stalker Named Kim Minchul

What the hell, do they know each other? Should I give them some space?

Despite the appearance of a suspicious thug whose every angle screamed trouble, there were several reasons I could stay this calm.

First, that man had just mentioned the goddess standing beside me by her exact name.

In other words, this thug was an acquaintance of hers.

Thinking of it that way, the reason for his menacing getup made a certain amount of sense too. Anyone who knew this woman would almost certainly be a public figure, after all.

If he was worried about the media's eyes, that outfit was the correct answer. It looked a bit awkward, but as far as camera countermeasures went, dressing like that was actually the safer bet.

And second.

The thug before me was human.

As I'd mentioned before, the most powerful of the authorities Goddess Tiamat possessed was the ability to bestow blessings.

Turning the blood of the eleven children she bore alone into poison, or granting dominion over the universe to the monster commanding those eleven children — those stories were all part of the same power.

And like any other monster, this goddess's ability functioned exactly like the authority recorded in myth.

Which meant there was a very real possibility that this thug was a monster disguised as a human, or one of the goddess's servants.

Of course, if that had been the case, the blade of rage I'd held back for years would have burst into flame on the spot — but since it wasn't, I had some room to be lenient.

No, the room was still there.

So I was half-considering stepping away if the two of them wanted a private word... but the goddess herself didn't seem to want that.

No, "didn't want it" was putting it too simply.

The fingertips of the goddess cautiously clutching my sleeve were trembling far more finely than my senses could account for.

I get it, so let go, you crazy woman.

That's what I wanted to say, but there was no way I could in this atmosphere.

So I, too, had no choice but to nod quietly.

Maybe because of that? I could feel the goddess's trembling gradually subsiding.

But wait — what's she planning, keeping me around?

It's a bit awkward to say, but I didn't think my staying would actually help.

Feeling like she might suddenly launch into political discourse, I carefully scanned the ground. Partly in the hope that a line of ants might pass by.

Fortunately, thank god, the conversation passing between the two was extremely private in nature.

Which is to say, it was hard to understand.

"And yet he listens to you quite well, doesn't he?"

"Silence. You — why are you here?"

"That's harsh, Goddess. I'm a citizen of the Republic of Korea too, you know?"

"If you intend to spout nonsense, know that I have no intention of listening quietly, either."

"Haha, it seems you're as healthy as ever. I'm glad, Tiamat."

"...And so?"

"Ah, how cold you are. But the reason I've come to see you is none other than this."

With those words, the man unfolded the object he'd been clutching without hesitation.

It was a newspaper.

Seriously.

Unlike the motion that had suggested he might pull out a blade or poison gas, the sight of a man shaking a crumpled, folded newspaper left and right looked downright comical.

At the same time, beyond the darkness of night that no ordinary person could pierce —

my hunter's unique eyesight caught the contents of the article.

But.

The article's contents were equally ordinary.

Only, for me, it was unavoidably unsatisfying reading.

Because what was written there was an article about me.

To be precise, an article about Seoa's former guild, which had been blown to pieces.

Naturally, that wasn't something a man who'd treated me as a lackey until just now should be showing me.

What the hell is this out of nowhere.

"What is this?"

Wondering if there was some hidden meaning, I squinted at the rice-grain-sized print, but nothing else caught my eye.

All that remained on the distorted newspaper was a photo taken by reporters who had chased Seoa's trail after her transfer to teaching and reluctantly made their way to the school.

"I was simply overjoyed to learn that the Goddess's sacred body has been in good health after so long."

However, what the man was pointing at was not Seoa's photo.

More precisely — directly above the article about the guild, in one corner of the photo Seoa appeared in.

The man's finger was pointing at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly that spot.

There, a small, somehow familiar back of a head had been captured.

Flamboyant crimson hair. Above all, a shape that made me want to smack it right this second.

Not that I was hiding it — one casual glance and that back of the head was right there in front of me.

It was the result of her avoiding media exposure as much as possible, since we still wanted to hide the fact that she was cooperating with us.

Honestly, if the Association ever figured it out, they'd faint dead away.

Since her hiring wasn't even confirmed yet, it was presumably under the pretext of "respecting the instructors' human rights."

I remember laughing without thinking at the word human rights being used in a situation where non-humans were mixed in.

Anyway.

Despite all her efforts to dodge the press, she'd somehow ended up captured in the corner of a photo.

Huh?

No, wait a second.

But he recognized her from just that?

Didn't she just go on about her sacred body being in good health or whatever?

Suddenly, goosebumps crawled up the back of my neck.

The sensation of every hair on my body standing on end.

Only then did the man's clothing register with me.

A ragged sheet wrapped around his entire body like a coat.

And a hood pulled down low to hide his face.

Is this a next-generation trench-coat flasher?

Or a perverted stalker.

It was the kind of appearance that left no other conclusion.

Who the hell is this guy, and how did I end up saying "at least he's not a monster" about that...

While I was grumbling inwardly about the goddess and her irresponsible remarks, the man neatly folded the newspaper he'd so proudly unfurled and tucked it into his coat.

"Still, judging by that reaction, it seems coming to visit without any preparation for a reunion was a bit hasty of me."

"As long as you remain unchanged, it will be the same for a lifetime."

"How disappointing."

A strange greed.

And an obsession beyond even that, glistening in his voice — with those words, the man hunched his shoulders.

Then, for the first time since this conversation began, he turned to me.

"Well then, I suppose I should be heading back."

"Huh? Ah, yes. Of course, go ahead."

That startled me.

No, why are you asking me?

That's what I honestly wanted to ask. But where in this whole wide world is there anything good about getting tangled up with a lunatic?

For now, I offered a polite bow, pretending to treat him with courtesy.

And then — silence.

A brief stillness settled between me and the man.

Apparently he hadn't expected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that kind of reaction.

No, don't ask in the first place, then.

If he hadn't been a lunatic, I definitely would have said that.

I felt a little wronged, but whatever. Honestly, I didn't want to get tangled up any further anyway.

As if asking whether I had anything left to say, I blinked back at him shamelessly.

I felt like an idiot, but the effect was better than expected.

"Ha, hahahahaha!!"

Because the very next moment, the man burst into roaring laughter.

What could possibly be that funny — the man guffawed heartily.

Eventually, with a mock gesture of wiping his eyes, the man spoke again.

"You've taken in a rather cheerful servant, I see."

"Right?"

"Yes, then I shall take my leave. It was a pleasure to speak with you after so long, Tiamat."

While suppressing my right arm, which was itching to smack the back of the goddess's head as she began preening of her own accord, the man spoke in a leisurely voice — and then swiftly concealed his figure into the shadows of the night.

It was an impeccably clean exit.

Only then could I slowly exhale.

As you know, there was a monster right next to me, so I couldn't exactly smack her.

"...He's gone."

"Told you. So who the hell was that lunatic?"

"A man called Kim Minchul."

"What a disgustingly old-fashioned name."

"You're not one to talk."

"Be grateful I don't have a single glove on right now, seriously. What? Servant?"

"Aing, tsk tsk tsk. Don't fuss over every little turn of phrase. Isn't that petty of you?"

I genuinely want to smack her.

If I'd only been certain the madman who'd just vanished wouldn't come back, I'd have started brawling on the spot.

But instead of firing off shots now, I just wanted to catch my breath.

No matter what, I didn't want to get tangled up with a lunatic like that.

"...Are you not going to ask what that was about?"

The goddess, who had been sneaking glances at me, finally spoke.

The trembling in her voice had mostly stopped as well.

"But even if you ask~"

"...Well, I am curious."

Partly the guilt of having dumped a monster on Choi Seungjun while calling myself a goddess's ally — but more than that, I was interested in the conversation that had just taken place.

When your counterpart is a lunatic, not getting involved is the wise move, but just hearing the story should be fine.

Above all, there were parts that bothered me.

I organized my thoughts.

Just from the conversation we'd overheard, there were several things I could infer.

For example, this goddess had called that man Kim Minchul.

It was a distinctly Korean name, and judging by his pronunciation, it wasn't the awkward Korean of a foreigner either. Nine times out of ten, he was a native Korean, born and raised on this soil.

But the name Kim Minchul didn't exist in my memory.

Of course, I couldn't claim even in jest that my connections were broader than anyone else's.

Still, setting that aside, there was one important point.

Within the Association, only famous figures whose names anyone would recognize upon hearing them were granted private audiences with the goddess.

In fact, that's what I'd assumed at first, too.

In other words, the odds were low that he was some lunatic who fell for the goddess while requesting a private audience.

Which left only a handful of possibilities.

And factoring in this woman's reaction and Kim Minchul's attitude?

Someone who was once very close to her, but whose ties have since been severed.

That was probably as far as I could reason for now.

And then.

I recalled the man's posture as he'd unfolded the newspaper at a considerable distance.

A gap at which checking a single photo would be impossible for anyone but a hunter.

Of course, it posed no problem for me or the goddess, but given how naturally he'd taken up that hunter-specific distance, Kim Minchul was almost certainly a hunter as well.

Pushing the speculation a step further, one could even guess he might be one of the hunters Tiamat had once blessed.

Perhaps someone she'd been personally close with?

Above all, the intimacy Kim Minchul had just revealed was far too thick to be the product of some passing brush of a sleeve.

Not that "he's a stalker" would explain it away either, I suppose.

"Hmm, and?"

"Uh... he came because he's interested in you?"

In other words: none of my business.

A knife-sharp line drawn in the sand.

Even by my standards, it was a work of art.

At those words, the goddess's shoulders slumped in a way that was painfully obvious.

I'd been planning to fire off a jab, but this woman seemed more deflated by my words than by my attitude.

"Honestly, it's uncomfortable."

"No, extremely uncomfortable."

She could have just sworn like usual, honestly.

"...And you don't seem very willing, either."

In the end, I added that in an unsatisfied tone.

It was an attempt to smooth over the awkward atmosphere, but it wasn't very effective.

So, unsatisfied, I added it after all. With the intent of defusing the awkwardness.

Well, all I'd learned was that this woman might have a stalker, I supposed.

Conversely, it wasn't a subject worth digging into any further.

"We're rather alike, aren't we."

"Thanks."

"If there is anything you wish to ask, I shall tell you myself, in my own time."

"Huh?"

"Because you have the right to hear it."

What right is that supposed to be, you crazy woman.

Was this lunatic planning to communicate with me only in riddles?

It felt like she was deliberately conversing while excluding all proper nouns.

But.

"I can tell you."

That was a pretty strange reaction for a stalking victim.

Above all, that profile of hers.

Longing. Bittersweetness. Anguish. And sorrow.

Faced with that expression, a jumble of all those emotions, I couldn't easily crack a joke either.

And so.

The night, which had stretched far too long to be called a mere company dinner, gradually drew to a close as well.

And the moment the next day dawned, I called Lee Joongoo.

No, I was curious~

Tiamat, the person in question, had said she'd answer anything I wanted, but nine times out of ten I'd end up tangled in something troublesome.

No matter what, I didn't want to poke my head into other people's private affairs. I'd rather go slay a monster.

As expected, a background check was the answer.

It did bother me a little, but now that he'd appeared right in front of me, ignoring him would be hard too.

Baby baby, I'm baby Park Woochan. I love irresponsible pleasure.

Fortunately, Lee Joongoo also seemed to know the name Kim Minchul.

There couldn't be that many Koreans named Kim Minchul connected to Tiamat, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nine times out of ten it was the same person.

However, the answer Lee Joongoo gave to my question was, frankly, unexpected.

Huh.

What the actual hell.

I started feeling like something had gone seriously wrong.

No, wait a second.

Son of a bitch.

Frankly, it felt like stepping on a landmine.

But the story Lee Joongoo poured out was, even for a third party like me, genuinely fascinating.

I could see that hanging up immediately would be better for my personal safety. But instead, I slowly raised my next question.

"Not famous? Why?"

"What, does he have connections or something?"

Is this what it feels like to step into a bottomless swamp?

The genuine stalker who'd caught the goddess's back in a scrap of a photo. A former Association terrorist on top of that.

And an ideological criminal, no less?

Ah, how am I supposed to hold back from this~

"An ideological criminal? What, is he some remnant of North Korea or something?"

"What?"

But.

The very next moment, the word Lee Joongoo mentioned was something even I couldn't laugh off easily.

An ideological criminal.

And the special circumstance that the government was pouring everything into covering up his crimes.

Finally, even that gaze — the one that had watched me with amusement as I'd urged her to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leave quickly when she said she was going.

Apparently, that stalker was a far more serious lunatic than I'd imagined.