Chapter 199
Chapter 199
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: 67. Tenure of 90 Years (2)
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―What.
"Ah, just open the door first."
―No.
"What? I have something to ask."
―I have nothing to say.
Bom's voice had a sharp edge to it. Yeoreum, recalling her blunder in broad daylight, scratched her side with an "Ah." Bom, who was always so soft-spoken, had never gotten this prickly before. Was it really that upsetting?
But Yeoreum couldn't quite sympathize. It was just a pen name, after all.
Broccoli Hair Color. It was cute, wasn't it?
"Hey. I'm opening it."
―Don't.
"I'm coming in. I warned you."
―I said don't open it.
Yeoreum abruptly opened Bom's door.
Bom, seated at her desk, was scribbling something in her diary with a pen. As Yeoreum entered, Bom set the pen down, closed the notebook, and tucked it into the drawer.
Yeoreum shut the door and stepped forward cautiously.
"Unni. What's wrong. Why are you so pissed off."
"……."
"Huh? I'm fucking sorry."
Bom turned to look at Yeoreum. She didn't seem angry—at least, not exactly. Her face wore that usual blank expression, the kind she'd make if class got boring.
But her voice was a little lower.
"Yeoreum."
"What."
"I told you not to open the door. So why did you?"
"No, fuck, I said I was curious."
"Just because you're curious, do I have to answer?"
"What?"
"Even if you're curious, I might not want to answer. I said not to open the door, but you did anyway. And now you're making me say things I don't want to? Would you want to answer if I did that to you?"
Her slow words bristled with thorns.
She's got some lingering resentment. Yeoreum's eyebrow twitched.
"Fuck, I said sorry.... Tsk. Fine. I'm leaving. Happy now?"
But as Yeoreum turned to go, a firm voice stopped her in her tracks.
"My stuff."
Yeoreum looked back at Bom.
"Don't touch it."
"……."
"Got it?"
"That again? You're so damn uptight."
"Hey."
"Ah, fuck, fine. I got it. What's with the laptop, you got gold plating on it or something? Carrying it around like it's your panties or what? Since when did you get so precious about your things...."
But no good came from harsh words. She realized her habitual sniping too late—the words were already out, impossible to take back.
Then Bom's eyes trembled. The quiver spread to her eyelids, and soon even the apple of her cheek below was quivering visibly.
What the hell.
Why's she like that?
Half irritation, half bafflement.
There was no warning. Bom suddenly shot up from her seat, grabbed her laptop with both hands, and hoisted it high.
Eh? What? In that instant, Bom slammed the laptop down onto the desk with all her might.
Is she fucking crazy...? Yeoreum rushed over, blocked Bom's arm, and snatched the laptop just before impact. In the scuffle, Bom was shoved back. The strength gap was too wide; she tumbled backward onto the floor.
"What the hell are you doing, you psycho!"
"……."
"Why smash a perfectly good laptop!"
Bom, slumped on the floor, let out a deep sigh. Her disheveled hair fell messily over her face.
Bom pressed a hand to her forehead. Then she looked up—not at Yeoreum, but at the laptop in Yeoreum's hands.
Caught off guard by the direction of her gaze, Yeoreum tossed the laptop roughly onto Bom's bed.
"What was I supposed to do?"
That was when Bom finally spoke.
"I'm just in a really bad mood."
Meeting Bom's eyes, Yeoreum felt an inexplicable chill. Despite living together for so long, this was the first time she'd seen Bom like this.
Did she have this much attachment to her stuff?
"Crazy.... Tsk."
But if she kept spouting more crap, things could really go south. Her own irritation was bubbling up to the brim, and Bom's eyes were starting to tremble again.
To Yeoreum, Bom's "personal belongings" seemed like her reverse scale—something untouchable, the way her own eyes would flip at violence or conflict.
Maybe no one had ever messed with Bom's things before, so this side never emerged.
"Ah, fine, I said I won't touch it, you freak."
"……."
"Don't smash the laptop after I leave. Fuck.... Why take it out on the laptop? Vent somewhere else."
Best to give her space and let her cool off first.
As Yeoreum moved to leave Bom's room, Bom's voice shot out like an arrow, piercing her ears.
"I can't do that to you...."
Oh.
So she was going to smash the laptop instead of me?
...Damn, that's cold for a kid.
Thankfully, no crashing sounds followed, and the next day, Bom used the laptop without issue. But because of how their conversation ended, Yeoreum never got to ask what she really wanted to.
The two were a bit awkward for a while after that.
Evening.
Yoo Ji-tae crossed the skies over the Pacific toward America.
Clone One, waiting in advance, greeted him.
"I've been waiting, my liege."
"Good."
Clone One wore the guise of a Western black-white mixed-race man. He'd kept that appearance since arriving here.
From now on, Yoo Ji-tae would operate under a completely new fake identity.
To match, he needed to change his look. So Yoo Ji-tae adjusted his face to something racially ambiguous, tweaking his bone structure slightly as well.
But Clone One eyed his face and voiced a question.
"Did you do your hair yourself?"
"Why. How is it."
Clone One said with clear dissatisfaction.
"It's scary."
His eyes already screamed psycho killer, and now with neat hair, he looked like a freshly sharpened psycho. Strangers would recoil.
But soon Clone One received the memories and realized it was Bom's handiwork, choosing his words carefully.
"...I meant it suits you terrifyingly well."
"……."
Yoo Ji-tae had no reply.
Anyway, they needed a fake identity, so a fake name was in order.
What pseudonym to choose? He always lacked naming sense. The best he could think of was how the kids' names followed the seasons.
Then "Season" might work for his alias.
Soon Jefferson entered.
He nodded to Clone One in greeting and waited for permission. Only after Clone One nodded did he approach Yoo Ji-tae and sit cautiously.
Sweat beaded coldly on his face.
"Hello. I'm Jefferson."
"Nice to meet you. Call me Season."
Thousands, hundreds of regressions.
To Yoo Ji-tae, at least regarding the Federation, there were no new faces. Antonio Jefferson was no exception.
Not new meant no need to learn.
No need to learn meant no unnecessary talk.
"First off, you can take the missing personnel today."
Jefferson's eyes narrowed.
"You wouldn't just hand them over like that.... What pretext are you planning to use?"
Quick on the uptake—convenient. He pointed at Clone One.
"This guy's name is One."
In that moment, Clone Two became Two.
"An unknown powerhouse who rampaged during the Great War. His personal strength is above those with 'Free Dungeon Conquest Privileges.'"
Jefferson's eyes widened at Yoo Ji-tae's words.
Free Dungeon Conquest Privilege, aka "Dungeon Free Pass," was held by only about 30 people worldwide—mostly top 2-digit rankers.
"Main abilities are detection and tracking. If asked, he could even find Witch Valentina's hiding spot. In other words... a cut above the Federation's amateur trackers."
Jefferson frowned.
Another absurd claim.
No superhuman was unaware the Witch had gone into hiding. But only world rank 1, 'Oscar Bljenk,' knew her location.
It had been ten years since the former No. 1 vanished to rest in earnest. Who dared search for her?
"Why. Something wrong?"
"Pardon? Ah.... No."
"That's the backstory."
Of course.
His tension eased, but the man continued.
"You found out by chance and commissioned him. He tracked down the three missing ones. So you recommend him to the Federation. As a military advisor or something. With soldiers deserting left and right, your endorsement as chief secretary would have the chair jumping at it. The advisor spot's open anyway."
How does he know the Federation's internals so well?
Jefferson stroked his goatee.
"One moment. But how can those three smile at me? Brainwashed?"
The 'hostages' hadn't been returned yet. Clone One had them.
Clone One answered.
"No. We didn't brainwash them."
"Then?"
"We explained well. Those who understood accepted the liege's will."
Explained?
More nonsense crept in.
Jefferson scowled.
If anyone else said this, he'd dismiss them as lunatics and leave. But these powerhouses said it dead serious—hard to judge what to believe.
Three SSS+ dungeons popping up was unbelievable from the start.
No credibility made talk futile. Accepting input wouldn't help understanding; offering it wouldn't sway them.
He couldn't cut the stifling chat because he recognized their level and hand were untouchable.
Jefferson realized this matter was beyond him. No room for meddling.
Like a child before an armed adult.
He could die, but not the Federation.
So Jefferson decided to play along for now.
To do that, these worldly-naive 'powerhouses' needed to learn what the Federation was.
"...Understood. But it won't go that smoothly."
"What do you mean?"
It was One speaking.
"Even with the three as collateral for my endorsement. The Federation will speculate on movements and try to ID you. Only then can we slot you into the military."
"With the military bleeding soldiers, they're still gonna be picky?"
"That's... the uncomfortable thing I've been hearing."
"What?"
"Please, sir, don't speak so carelessly!"
Bam! Jefferson slammed his glass down hard.
But no one in the cafe turned. The sound was blocked.
"We are the 'International Superhuman Federation.' We move the world's militaries. The only organization with global military influence since the New Era. You must know that?"
One crossed his arms and leaned back.
"72 units with 1,400 rankers. They are our hands and feet. Is that all? You know—the 'Returner,' 'Druid of Regeneration,' 'Wings of Ruin,' 'Sword of the Royal House.' Countless superhumans are the Federation's blade and shield."
"If you want something, be more cautious. Underestimating the Federation will get you in trouble! Whatever revelations or prophecies guide you, shoving them in blindly? It'll just sound like deranged ravings from hidden old-timers! Be more precise!"
He threw his shoulders back, like a frilled lizard flaring its folds.
Arrogant words, but the intent was caution. Treat the Federation with the respect you'd give yourself.
It even sounded protective of Yoo Ji-tae. Follow orders, and the mighty Federation would handle it. But Jefferson had no reason to protect him, so it was really about safeguarding the hostages.
Jefferson clearly pegged Yoo Ji-tae and Clone One as old-generation relics.
Clueless about the Federation. Like those war-era eccentrics who relied on brute strength and secluded themselves.
But Antonio Jefferson didn't know.
In the 1st cycle, Yoo Ji-tae was a Federation soldier.
In the 2nd, commander of the Federation's 107th White Squadron.
In the 3rd, briefly brigade commander of the 10th Combat Brigade under the Federation.
In the 4th, a member of the Total Synod, briefly 2nd Army Corps commander, reached rank 3 as vice-commander of the Federation's last desperate unit, and was named one of Kaliovan's 'Five Transcendents.'
And in the 5th, he served as Federation chair for about a decade.
"Antonio Jefferson."
His total Federation tenure was roughly 90 years.
Longer than the Federation's own history.
A scolding voice flowed out, rebuking the pathetic man.
"Just make the call. Don't get cocky."