Chapter 100
Chapter 100
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Episode 33. Lair Theme Park (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
He took a few staggering steps, wings flapping feebly. Blood trickled down each time his broken neck jerked.
The crow spirit lost its balance in less than a few seconds. It crashed headfirst into the desk and collapsed. Once the spirit stopped moving, it never stirred again.
What did this mean?
"……."
Jean-Luc Wenger raised his trembling hand and pulled a glasses case from his pocket. Then he put on the artifact glasses.
Fortunately, the office was empty. Simon and his attendants had stepped out for personal business, leaving only Wenger here in his capacity as proxy.
"……."
He decided to think it through step by step.
1. The opponent was in the outskirts residential area of Hate Ling. Hate Ling was currently flying over the Pacific skies, on the opposite side of the Earth.
2. The crow spirit's neck was snapped, but its inherent tough vitality allowed it to fly all the way here.
In other words, the opponent had broken the crow spirit's neck just short of killing it. As if wishing for it to reach here before dying. The reason was likely the note's return and a warning. Don't mess around.
What? Snapping a spirit's neck right up to the brink of death? If someone had told him that, Jean-Luc wouldn't have believed it.
There was something fishy. The old man thought that far for now.
3. [Little Red Door, 60 Rue Charlot, 75003 Paris, France]
The office where Simon and Jean-Luc were wasn't the address written on the note—the café.
Another superhuman was currently at the Little Red Door Café. If someone showed up, they'd report it, and only then would Simon go out. The reason was simple: they didn't want to reveal this office's location.
The crow 'Crow' was trained to head to the nearest outpost first. So normally, Crow should have stopped by the café—relatively closer than the office from Hate Ling—before coming here.
And if it had stopped by the café, there should have been some kind of report.
But there was no report.
Crow came straight here.
"……."
His gaze turned to the window.
A numb tingling ran through the old man's fingertips. A terrifying thought flashed through his mind.
He called someone on his watch.
The signal tone continued.
The other side picked up.
"Arthur?"
― Yes. Arthur speaking.
"……."
― Mr. Wenger? Arthur on standby. What is it?
"…No, nothing. Forget it."
Jean-Luc put the trembling glasses back in their case.
Then he reconstructed the situation from the beginning.
Conclusion: The opponent knew Simon's office location from the start. Crow's neck was snapped closer to the office than the café, so it flew here. Therefore, the opponent was nearby right now.
Perhaps… watching him from somewhere outside the window.
"Damn it all…."
The old man spat out a curse and drew the curtains.
His wrinkled hand moved. He pulled the note from deep in the crow's beak. It was soaked in the blood that had burst from its broken neck.
The moment he unfolded the note and read it, the wrinkles around Jean-Luc's eyes deepened further.
Three circles.
The first one was crossed out with a red X.
Who were the other two?
"……."
The old soldier's instinct told him.
Each note would add another X. So if Simon didn't see this note, unnecessary conflict could be avoided.
And he had to stop the conflict at all costs.
So, how?
The old soldier closed his eyes.
This was all because the war had ended long ago, dulling his instincts. Back in his prime….
Damn it. Getting old and sentimental. Excuses coming first—what bullshit.
Today, he wanted to smack the young master's face. The silver lining was that Simon wasn't by his side. If he'd seen Crow like this, persuasion would have been nearly impossible.
But he still had to hide Crow. Simon would return in 20 minutes. What excuse could he use to hide a trained spirit…?
That was when it hit him—like a bolt of lightning.
Come to think of it, Crow went wild once a year.
When was Crow's mating season last year…?
The old soldier opened his eyes.
The moment he saw a way out, a wave of regret crashed over him.
He sincerely apologized to the spirit that had labored for them for over a decade. It flew to its master even in death, but the master would never know of its passing.
"This is my failing…."
He decided to hide the crow's corpse.
"Sorry."
There was no other way.
"…Understood."
Finishing his words, Myeong Yong-ha relaxed his tense expression like a snapped thread and chuckled dryly.
"Haha, sorry. I was putting on a needless serious act."
He shook his head. His reaction just now could even be seen as restrained for a soldier.
"You're still my benefactor. Here's my card. Call this number anytime you need help, no matter what it is."
Yoo Ji-tae took the card. On the white background were just a three-letter name and a phone number.
Myeong Yong-ha winked.
"It's not my manager's number—it's mine."
The private talk ended there.
Returning to the table, Professor Myeong Jong, Bom, Winter, Myeong Yong-ha's eldest son, and his wife Jeong Ha-won were chatting amiably.
Myeong Yong-ha, scooping seven servings of ice cream, handed them out. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry—Winter got strawberry. His son Myeong Jun-il glanced at his dad and shook his head.
"Why, why? My boy."
At that shy age, Myeong Jun-il just shot him a look without clear words. Myeong Yong-ha smiled slyly and swapped their ice creams. Now Myeong Jun-il had the strawberry.
"You don't like strawberry."
"I, I like it now."
"Aww, really, my boy?"
Wahaha! Myeong Yong-ha boomed with laughter, giving Winter a knowing glance.
After that, Myeong Jun-il would nod or shake ambiguously, and Myeong Yong-ha uncanny knew what his son wanted.
The regressor found Myeong Yong-ha fascinating. How did he know so well?
Sitting down, he looked at Winter. The kid, devouring sticky gelato messily, turned at his gaze.
Why can't I tell what you're thinking?
Yoo Ji-tae wondered silently.
Winter's eyes widened round. After hesitating, he scooped strawberry ice cream and offered it to Yoo Ji-tae.
"……?"
"I'm fine."
Shake, shake.
What?
"Even if you say that, you need to eat."
Shake, shake.
He still couldn't quite grasp what the kid wanted.
Winter blankly watched Myeong Yong-ha and his wife.
Their gazes held something special.
Was it his imagination?
Winter tilted his head.
No, it wasn't. It was when the wife was feeding ice cream to her eldest son. Myeong Yong-ha's eyes, flicking between wife and son, seemed to brim with emotion.
"……!"
Winter wanted to know what that special gaze was.
Myeong Yong-ha hummed cheerfully, resting his chin on his wife's shoulder. "What about me?" he whined cutely. She grumbled, "Ugh, why?" Her tone was clear refusal. Yet her eyes on her husband brimmed too.
That gaze extended equally to her son—and even while bottle-feeding the baby.
"……."
For some reason, Winter found their family utterly endearing.
"……."
He felt the boy over there staring, but whatever.
Winter grew curious.
So he scooped strawberry ice cream with his tiny hand and turned to Yoo Ji-tae.
Then, just like he'd seen, he carefully offered it.
"You want me to eat it?"
"…Yeah."
Expecting eyes.
As Yoo Ji-tae reached for the spoon, Winter slyly pulled it away.
When he withdrew his hand, the spoon came back out.
In short: he'd feed it himself.
Whatever meaning it held, Winter watched with eager eyes. Yoo Ji-tae had no choice but to accept the strawberry ice cream.
"……!"
The kid's eyes went wide.
Thrilled, Winter kept scooping and feeding Yoo Ji-tae. No end in sight—Yoo Ji-tae just kept eating.
After a while, Winter's bowl neared empty. Glancing over, Bom was holding back laughter.
Why?
"Huh? No reason."
Then she giggled again.
Come to think of it, he'd eaten too much. Winter's bowl was empty.
"…Ah."
Suddenly aware, Winter stared at his bowl with a glum face. Too focused on giving, he hadn't noticed it run out.
Bom, catching Winter's expression, whispered in Yoo Ji-tae's ear.
"Uncle, feed Winter some ice cream too."
What?
"Quick. He'll love it."
Bom smiled confidently.
Unfamiliar, but not the first time. The regressor hoisted Winter onto his lap and fed him chocolate ice cream. A question arose.
Not a grand gift. No spectacle. Just feeding ice cream.
Is this enough to make you happy?
As he thought that, he offered the spoon. Only Winter's nape visible, no expression. Winter slowly took it in. His head bobbed. Licked clean, cheeks puffed as he chewed.
After swallowing, Winter turned to Yoo Ji-tae. Staring clearer than usual.
The regressor met the child's gaze.
"……."
Several seconds of blank eye contact. Winter took a deep breath and nodded firmly. What was so satisfying…?
A proud smile played on the kid's lips.
Then Bom whispered again.
"See? He likes it."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"So… whose turn now?"
What?
He turned to Bom. She opened her mouth with an "Ahh—."
Yoo Ji-tae felt awkward. Bom burst out laughing.
After parting with Myeong Yong-ha's family.
Wandering the theme park with Bom and Winter.
"How about the haunted house?"
"…Haunted house?"
"Yeah. Seems fun."
The regressor thought briefly.
Haunted house. Haunted house….
He or Bom might not like it, but Winter just might.
On the way, Lair mascot costumes handed out flowers and candy, greeting people.
Cat. Dog. Zebra. Deer. Chick. Tiger, etc.
One stood out: reptilian blue body and face, horns and whiskers on head, bony plates from neck to back.
A dragon from imagination.
Winter, in Yoo Ji-tae's arms, eyes sparkling, reached for the dragon mascot. Let's go there.
Approaching quietly, Winter touched the dragon's face. Gentle touch—or maybe the cute kid—the mascot didn't pull away.
After petting the whiskers a while, Winter turned to Yoo Ji-tae. Then pointed to the other mascots.
"…Kitty."
He nodded.
"…Puppy."
He nodded.
Zebra, deer, chick, tiger—finally, pointing at the dragon:
"…What's this?"
The regressor chuckled wryly.
A bit absurd.
Then a woman's voice from the costume.
― It's a dragon. Our pretty friend!
"…Dragon?"
Winter beamed and turned back.
Then to Yoo Ji-tae:
"…What's a dragon?"