Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: 7. ■■!(2)
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Yeoreum, unable to contain her excitement, was moving in earnest. It was the motion of a dragon truly intent on killing a single human.
Even adults would have a hard time calming the situation. When Sophia's guardian rushed in and shoved Yeoreum away, the referee threw himself over Sophia, intervening. Then the interviewers unleashed their skills. A purple glow formed a barrier protecting Sophia and the referee, while white mana tendrils extended to seize Yeoreum's neck and midsection. Only after seven or eight people jumped in to grab her arms, waist, and back did the two entangled women finally separate.
Sophia, now revealed, was drenched in blood during that brief moment.
"What, what the hell! Is she crazy?"
"Sophia definitely charged with a knife, right?"
"Whoa. She's totally messed up..."
Yoo Ji-tae opened his mana sight. Normally, humans could focus on only one point, but now he could clearly see everywhere in the interview arena.
Sophia Borcova, wiping blood from her face in a daze. Her guardian, face flushed red—Mikhailov, according to his name tag. Yeoreum baring her fangs. And Wei Lian's face tinged with faint disapproval.
"Mage! Create a dimensional isolation! The interview is temporarily suspended. We're sorting this out, so media personnel, please remain seated!"
Wei Lian stood and shouted.
Soon, professors from Azure Dragon House who could cast dimensional isolation approached and invoked magic inside the octagon containing Yeoreum, Sophia, Wei Lian, and several professors.
A stifled sigh finally escaped from behind Yoo Ji-tae.
"Hah... goodness."
"...Ugh. Sparring turning into a fight is common here with all these prideful types. But charging with a knife? That's too much."
"I actually understand Sophia's side more."
"Hey, is that something to say? Picking up a weapon after the spar ended? That's a crime."
"True. She was wrong to charge with a knife, obviously. But for people whose bodies are weapons anyway, whether it's a knife or not doesn't matter."
"Then what does?"
"The redhead. She kept poking and prodding everyone. Like with the French girl earlier. And that spar felt like total taunting, didn't it?"
"Then taunt back. Drawing a knife means intent to kill."
"The redhead was more threatening. She was hitting like she wanted to kill."
Opinions among the onlookers were divided.
"Ugh. Mikhailov's from RIL too, so he's got a temper. Wonder how it'll play out."
"Anyway, let's go. We got a good show."
No one could know what happened inside the dimensional isolation. As interviewers halted the proceedings and dismissed people, they left one by one, regretfully. Meanwhile, media who'd captured everything wanted to leave quickly but were blocked by staff.
Left alone, Yoo Ji-tae gazed into the dimensional isolation. His eyes could pierce even a dragon's guardian barrier, Heavenly Principle. A mere professors' spell couldn't block his sight.
The medical team treated Sophia with healing magic and potions, several attending to her. Fortunately, no irreversible damage. Her Russian guardian, Mikhailov, who had held her in panic, now glared at Yeoreum with fiery eyes.
Several people surrounded Yeoreum, but kept distance like handling a rabid dog. One had drawn a chain sickle from their arm's inventory. "Stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid," an interviewer warned.
Inside the isolation, Yeoreum seemed utterly alone. From the first shove by Mikhailov, her shoulder—hit by a palm strike—had torn her T-shirt, red handprint stark.
She glared sullenly at Sophia, who had barely risen. Yoo Ji-tae couldn't read what the Red clan's daughter was thinking.
Mikhailov soon grimaced and strode toward Yeoreum. His build dwarfed hers fourfold. "Calm down." "Take it easy." Interviewers surrounded him to block his aggressive advance.
"Redhead."
"What."
"What do you think you're doing? Sophia couldn't have hurt you anyway. Why beat her that badly?"
"Why ask me? Should I just stand there against a crazy bitch charging with a knife?"
"You could've just subdued her lightly!"
Mana-charged roar echoed like a lion's in the isolation. The barrier rippled.
An interviewer awkwardly soothed Mikhailov.
"Mikhailov, calm down first."
"How can I? It's infuriating, but true, isn't it? The redhead was stronger than Sophia and could've just subdued her. But she beat her that badly? Could you stay calm?"
"W-well, no major harm done..."
"And that attitude? Come out here. I won't act rashly!"
Shoving the interviewer, Mikhailov closed in on Yeoreum. Her head two sizes smaller, she didn't avert her eyes.
"No apology or anything?"
"Why should I apologize?"
"What if Sophia had been seriously hurt? How would you take responsibility?"
"So, did you fuck her up? No."
"You little psycho—!"
Despite vowing restraint, Mikhailov raised his hand in rage. Yoo Ji-tae's brow furrowed. Interviewers belatedly rushed to intervene. Doubting he'd actually strike, they hesitated as Mikhailov roughly wiped his face.
"Fine. I'll shut up till her guardian arrives."
"Not telling me to apologize to her?"
Turning, Mikhailov whipped back to Yeoreum.
"What did you say? Hope I misheard."
"You heard right. She drew the knife first. Spar was over, then she charged me! I'm still pissed—shouldn't that crazy bitch apologize to me?"
"...You really want to die."
In an instant. Mana surged through him as he lunged at Yeoreum.
Simultaneously, his raised palm flashed toward her.
Yeoreum twisted away.
Her extended fist slammed into Mikhailov's jaw.
A sharp crack rang out. Not heavy, but precise.
Huh? What just happened? It felt dreamlike, surreal. Guards and interviewers, watching live, couldn't process it.
Mikhailov's face twisted viciously, murderous aura erupting. Reality snapped back; people pulled him and Yeoreum apart belatedly, like shattering glass.
"Calm down!!"
"Hey, hold that side!"
"Please calm down, Mikhailov!"
"Hey, Yoo Yeoreum! Don't provoke her guardian needlessly—back off!"
Yeoreum was pushed every which way. Furious, she tried shoving interviewers, but they were top-tier hunters—unyielding.
"Don't hold back—get out of my way! Where's this kid's guardian!"
"Calling now!"
"Crazy bitch hits the guardian's jaw too?"
"You lot, hold her properly!"
Pushed helplessly, Yeoreum gritted her teeth. Her quelled rage surged again.
"Why the fuck are you all on my case...!"
Wei Lian, who had watched from behind, approached Yeoreum and raised a hand to the crowd, signaling it was fine.
"Everyone, calm down. The mood's too heated. And Cadet Yoo Yeoreum—our assistant is fetching your guardian. This is serious; can't resolve at cadet level."
Warmth flickered in Wei Lian's eyes.
"So?"
"Don't provoke anyone further. I saw everything from the start and won't take sides, but I hope you don't escalate as a cadet. If it worsens, I can't help you. Depending, it could affect your entire clan. Understand?"
"......"
Trouble crossed Yeoreum's face for the first time. She started to speak, bit her lower lip. Red blood stained her white teeth.
Confirming her unease, Wei Lian smiled faintly.
"So, until the guardian arrives..."
"No need to fetch anyone else."
A dry voice cut Wei Lian off. Yoo Ji-tae walked into the scene.
Instantly, gazes from enraged Mikhailov, Wei Lian, interviewers, guards—all fixed on Yoo Ji-tae. Same question in their minds.
'When did he get here?'
'How'd he enter?'
The isolation barrier rippled faintly, undisturbed. Yet someone absent had pierced it effortlessly.
Yoo Ji-tae scanned around before speaking.
"I'm the kid's guardian. Can't understand grown adults surrounding one child like this."
His piercing gaze made eyes avert instinctively; they wondered why afterward.
"Let's talk separately."
Eyes met; Yeoreum scowled and turned away. Same reaction as always.
Yoo Ji-tae ignored it. He looked at Wei Lian.
"Mm. Yes, fine."
Killing demons always brought intense pleasure. Even now, Yoo Ji-tae itched to slit Wei Lian's throat. But timing was off. In past regressions, he'd killed on whim—shortsighted. Wei Lian needed more burdens before falling off the cliff.
So, shelve those thoughts for now.
"Send Sophia to the hospital once first aid's done. Mikhailov, Mr. Yoo Ji-tae—guardians, come to my office with me. Kurosawa the referee and Cadet Yoo Yeoreum too."
People moved briskly.
Yoo Ji-tae approached Yeoreum. Guards and medics applying ointment to her cheek and shoulder stepped aside.
"Hurts?"
"Why. You saw everything—why show up now."
"What then."
"If you're coming, come sooner! Talk or don't..."
Despite rough words, hyper-excited Yoo Yeoreum had calmed somewhat.
Yoo Ji-tae's lip curved faintly.
He hadn't planned to intervene.
Just spectate. Go if called procedurally, but otherwise ignore whether Yeoreum handled it.
But he did—her heartbeat, louder than before, echoed clearer.
Human mana arises from the mana hole (danjeon). Dragons differ: they master lower, middle, upper danjeon (heart) perfectly.
Thus, Yeoreum nearly unleashed draconic power in frustration.
That wouldn't end simply. He intervened before escalation.
"Let's go."
They headed to the office first. Cramped white room with narrow desk, hard chairs. He leaned back. Silence lingered. Yeoreum, silent till then, spoke.
"Hey... You think I messed up too?"
He turned. Red hair half-hid her face.
"Why."
"Fuck, maybe... I kinda did."
Recalling Wei Lian's clan mention? First time seeing this expression. Time with her bore fruit. Red clan worrying for others. The regressed man chuckled faintly, shaking his head.
"No. You did well enough."
"Huh?"
"Next time, kill where no one's watching."