Chapter 20
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: The Absolute One's Pride
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A few days of storm-like chaos had finally passed, giving way to a peaceful weekend afternoon.
In the living room of a rundown apartment in Siheung, Gyeonggi Province, lazy sunlight stretched long across the floor.
Han Jaewoo, having finished a hearty lunch, was sprawled out on the living room sofa.
A pile of tangerine peels had built up on his stomach, and the television was playing the midday news bulletin.
A life of perfect idleness, utterly unimaginable in the imperial palace of the Rosenstein dimension.
No threats of poisoning, no vicious noble intrigues—just the comfort of modern civilization melting into his very bones with blissful happiness.
The anchor on the TV screen continued her briefing with a grave expression.
[Crime by unregistered hunters, a growing social issue, is rampant day after day. These individuals exploit personal information protection laws and hunter rights clauses to hide their return dimensions and stats while operating in the shadows.]
Stock footage flashed by: mosaic-blurred crime scenes and illicit mana stone deals in back alleys.
[Experts are calling for urgent legislation to mandate registration of all hunters' identities and stats, despite backlash from the powerhouses. Yet concerns mount as transcendent powerhouses beyond the association's control continue building forces in the darkness.]
Han Jaewoo popped a tangerine segment into his mouth, watching the screen like it was someone else's problem.
The unregistered hunter issue. Strictly speaking, he fit that category perfectly.
Kang Taesan's lobby meltdown had exposed his EX-rank origin dimension to the world, but on paper, Han Jaewoo remained fully blinded—stats, skills, everything unregistered.
'Eh, doesn't matter to me. I won't commit crimes. It's those shadow-dwellers causing trouble, like those vampires that only come out at night.'
He clicked his tongue and reached for the remote to change the channel.
Unaware that he was one of the most dangerous examples of those unregistered hunters on the news—and destined to have his nose pierced by the true shadow rulers later.
Ding-dong—.
Right in that peaceful moment.
The cheerful doorbell shattered the apartment's quiet.
"Huh, who's that? No one's supposed to visit."
Han Jaewoo barely turned his head, still fused to the sofa. Delivery guy? Gas meter reader?
His laziness spared, his mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as she headed to the door.
"Who is it~?"
She unlocked the door and opened it halfway.
And the moment she faced the scene outside.
Her hand froze on the doorknob, like someone had hit pause.
A woman stood rigidly in the apartment hallway.
Cascading jet-black long hair. Blood-red lips contrasting porcelain skin. A beauty so stunning and icy that most TV celebrities couldn't hold a candle to her.
Her face alone would make any mother dream of her as a daughter-in-law.
But it wasn't her beauty that stopped his mother's thoughts cold.
It was her outfit—and its bizarre state.
From head to toe, pristine white traditional mourning garb, the kind only seen in historical dramas these days.
And when his mother glanced down, she nearly gasped.
This cold concrete hallway floor—she was standing on it barefoot, in spotless white feet.
That wasn't all.
Her pale cheeks, which should have looked cool and detached, were flushed an unnatural red, like someone burning with a high fever. Her eyes trembled with barely contained tension and excitement.
A perfectly rational suspicion flashed through his mother's mind.
'Pretty face... but is she some cult fanatic from a new-age religion or mountain shaman hut? Why's a fine young lady standing barefoot at someone else's door?!'
If she spouted "Do you know the Way?" or ancestral karma nonsense, salt spray and door slam incoming.
As his mother braced with a stern face.
The woman took a deep breath, face taut with nerves, then clasped her hands politely toward his mother.
Right fist clenched, left hand cupping it—a perfect martial arts fist salute straight out of a wuxia novel.
"...I am Baek Seorin, sworn to guard that lord by his side for life."
His mother's brow furrowed sharply.
That lord? Guard for life? Baek Seorin?
This was worse than "Do you know the Way?" Pure cult bodyguard dialogue.
"Um, miss. We don't follow any religions like that..."
The moment his mother moved to close the door.
"Mom, who's there? Why's the door still open?"
From the living room came the sound of belly-scratching, followed by Han Jaewoo shuffling out.
His attire was a tragic sight.
A short-sleeved tee stretched like ocean waves around the neckline, paired with garish floral boxer shorts.
Tangerine in one hand, the epitome of a neighborhood deadbeat kangaroo in human form, he peeked toward the door.
And locked eyes directly with the woman at the door—Baek Seorin.
"......"
"......"
Time stopped.
The tangerine in Han Jaewoo's hand dropped to the floor and rolled away.
His blue eyes bulged like they might tear.
'What the hell?! Why is the Heavenly Demon at my house?!'
No, how did she even find the address?
A torrent of thoughts assaulted him, but none mattered now.
The cool, arrogant pride of the Northern Grand Duke, nurtured more preciously than life itself through ten years of life-and-death struggles.
That absolute charisma was in absolute mortal peril, exposed to the world in these hideous floral boxers.
Before Baek Seorin's flushed face could twist into shock.
Han Jaewoo's body reacted first.
"Wait just a second—!"
Shwooo!
B-rank physical prowess.
Outpacing an Olympic sprinter for mortals, he poured 200% into evasion and wardrobe change.
No time for his mother to even scream in surprise.
He bolted into his room at light speed.
Shoved his legs into black dress pants scattered on the floor, threw on a shirt without buttoning properly.
Snatched the premium black long coat from the chair like a cape.
Bursting back to the door took exactly 15 seconds.
Baek Seorin still stood dazed, hands in salute. Han Jaewoo lunged out and grabbed her wrist like a lifeline.
"...Mother. I'll step out for a bit."
Declaring in a low voice, he dragged her down the apartment hall at full sprint, belying the elegant words.
Bam!
The front door slammed mercilessly, leaving only his apron-clad mother in the living room, mouth agape.
"Gasp... huff..."
Behind the sparsely populated apartment complex, in a corner of the recycling station.
Han Jaewoo leaned on the wall, gasping raggedly.
Boxers-to-suited-up at max tension, then dragging an adult woman in a full sprint—his heart felt ready to burst.
His mind exploded with questions.
Why the hell is she here? Mad I pocketed mana stones from yesterday's dungeon? Or does she know about the 3 billion and wants a cut?
But on the opposite wall where he panted, propped up by his hand.
Baek Seorin's gaze and interpretation were worlds apart.
That extreme speed and urgency from Han Jaewoo.
To Korea's No. 1 martial artist, at the pinnacle of present transcendence, it all played out in agonizingly slow motion.
And that hand grabbing her urgently—it wasn't forceful suppression, but a surprisingly gentle, tender escort.
She looked up at Han Jaewoo, leaning on the wall and catching his breath roughly.
His flushed cheeks from exertion.
Those deep blue eyes trembling like aspen leaves as they met hers.
At that sight, a massive wave of emotion and delusion crashed through Baek Seorin's heart.
'To bare such uncontrollable feelings the instant he sees me...!'
Her sudden unannounced visit had stirred such violent turmoil in him?
The eternally cool and arrogant lord of the North, losing his composure only before her, panting like this.
An unstoppable smile bloomed on her lips.
'As expected. Ripping off those rags and leaving my mark had a definite effect.'
The forced kiss she'd stolen.
She was convinced it had perfectly melted his frozen heart.
Else why grip her wrist so tightly and lead her to this secluded spot?
Once he'd somewhat caught his breath, Han Jaewoo desperately straightened his spine.
Regain control first.
He swept back his tousled black hair, donning the perfect icy mask of the Northern Grand Duke once more.
"...Invading another's domain without prior notice."
He furrowed his brow as if displeased, voice cold.
"Rude. How did you find this place?"
But even that icy reaction struck Baek Seorin as endearing.
An adorable ploy to hide his startled heart and irrepressible shyness from her sudden visit.
She didn't avoid his gaze—instead, she stepped closer with a soft smile.
"It seems this lord was too hasty."
She whispered, voice brimming with apology and affection.
"I had no intent to startle you. I merely... wished to greet your family as soon as possible."
Family? Greet?
Han Jaewoo's eyes wavered.
"I'll withdraw for today. Your heart isn't prepared yet."
She gently straightened his collar, then stepped back.
"I'll return tomorrow. Properly, with full courtesy."
Her words barely ended before her form shimmered like heat haze and vanished.
Lightfoot skill—gone from sight in an instant.
Before the empty recycling station.
Han Jaewoo stood dumbstruck, hand still outstretched to empty air.
Her horrifying proclamation echoed in his mind.
'Wait. She said she's coming back tomorrow...?'
Knocking in that mourning garb again?
With "proper courtesy" this time? Heart-clearing pills and fruit basket maybe?
Chills raced up his spine at the thought.
"Ah, fuck. I'm screwed."
He clutched his head, squatting in despair with a groan.
Shambling home, soul utterly drained.
The moment he opened the door, his mother awaited, ladle in hand, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Son! Who was that girl just now?"
She grabbed his arm, plopping him on the sofa.
"Someone you know? Girlfriend? I asked in my mom cafe group chat and searched online—she's super famous~"
The classic torrent of maternal dating meddling.
Moments ago ready to slam the door on a cultist, now she'd Googled Baek Seorin's wealth and fame, already gulping bowls of kimchi soup.
Han Jaewoo turned away irritably, grumbling.
"No. Nothing like that, so don't worry about it."
But his mother was persistent.
She scooted right up beside him and drove the wedge home.
"But get this. A girl that famous, with billions to her name."
She frowned, genuinely baffled.
"Why was she wandering barefoot outside? Foot disease? Or actually doing some cult austerity?"
That instant.
Ten-year Heavenly Demon fanboy Han Jaewoo screamed internally.
'Mom! That's her ultimate charm point! Those wild, lonely white bare feet—how rare and beautiful! Disease? Austerity?! Don't insult my ten years of fandom!'
He ached to pull up references and rant for an hour on the narrative beauty of her bare feet.
But outwardly, like a sulky high schooler dodging dating talk, he just grumbled peevishly.
"Ugh, what do you know, Mom! You don't get it! There's romance in it!"
As he yelled and stormed toward his room.
His mother narrowed her eyes, a playful yet certain smile on her lips as she teased his back.
"Oh my, look at him? Already defending his future wife before marriage?"
Her cheerful voice rang through the living room.
"Ugh, raising a son is useless after all! What a show he's putting on!"
Door slammed, diving face-first into bed, Han Jaewoo thrashed his feet into the pillow.
The overwhelming Northern Grand Duke who made the world's strongest tremble and Korea's top fighter blush.
That sublime, perilous absolute one's pride lay utterly shattered in this tiny Siheung apartment living room.