Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: I Just Wanted to Earn Some Pocket Money
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Sweet times always fly by quickly.
It had been a full month since the scandal with the Heavenly Demon broke.
The world was still bloodshot-eyed in its search for 'the Heavenly Demon's man,' Han Jaewoo. But the man himself was living peaceful days in the corner of a rundown apartment in Siheung, Gyeonggi-do.
A thick plaster cast wrapped around his right arm.
It was the absolute shield that blocked his mother's nagging and chores, the magic item that extended his freeloading days at home.
"Ah, Mom. Water, please."
"I told you water's self-service how many times!"
"I'm a patient. My wrist bone needs rest to heal properly."
He held up his casted arm and made the world's most pitiful face.
His mother clicked her tongue but still fetched him water, peeled an apple, and served him three meals a day.
This was the sweet reward of faking an injury.
In truth, Han Jaewoo's wrist bone had healed perfectly a week ago.
Thanks to the superior recovery ability of a hunter's body, far beyond that of an ordinary person.
But he hadn't removed the cast.
The moment he did, the barrage of 'go earn some money' nagging would begin.
He cheered inwardly.
If he could just hold out like this for another two or three months, he could sneak out when the weather cooled down.
But a long tail gets stepped on.
His complacent unemployed life met its end in an unexpected place.
"Hey, Han Jaewoo."
His mother flung open the door.
A feather duster was in her hand, and her eyes were anything but normal.
"Uh, Mom? Knock firs—"
"Let me see that arm."
"Ow, it hurts! It's not healed yet!"
His mother poked the cast without mercy.
Then she asked coldly.
"You're a hunter, right?"
"Y-yeah?"
"I heard at the neighborhood meeting yesterday that Cheolsu from the next building over broke his leg and it healed in three days, so he went into a dungeon. Hunters have different recovery rates, they said?"
Han Jaewoo's pupils shook like an earthquake.
He was done for. The information asymmetry was broken.
"But you, with just a hairline fracture—not even pulverized bones—are dragging it out a whole month? And just stuffing your face the whole time?"
"W-well, recovery rates differ from person to—"
"Don't sell me medicine!"
Smack!
The feather duster smashed into his back.
Han Jaewoo screamed and jumped off the bed.
"You little rascal! Healthy as an ox and faking illness? Take off that cast and get out! Go earn at least your keep!"
"But rehab train—"
"Rehab my foot! Your little sister works her bones off at a convenience store after school, and her big brother isn't ashamed?"
His mother's fact-based violence hit not his bones, but his soul.
In the end, Han Jaewoo's invincible shield, the cast, was forcibly removed right there.
The exposed pale skin of his wrist looked perfectly fine to anyone.
"Get out! Don't think of coming back until you've earned a day's wage!"
And so Han Jaewoo was kicked out.
The only clothes he had on were the Mithril Frock Coat he'd worn during his last spar with the Heavenly Demon (which she'd taken but her manager returned).
In his pocket: a few crumpled thousand-won bills, his ID, and his hunter license. That was it.
Sitting on a bench in the apartment complex, Han Jaewoo looked up at the sky mournfully.
"...Life."
In the rofan world, he'd woken up in the emperor's bedroom.
On Earth, he'd been kicked out for faking illness and ended up on a bench.
The gap was so wide it made him dizzy.
But his stomach was growling, and to get back home for dinner, he needed money.
He sighed and stood up.
"Gotta earn some cash."
Not manual labor, though.
He couldn't get cement dust on this precious Mithril Coat.
In the end, there was only one option.
Enter a gate, like a proper hunter.
Gates.
Dimensional rifts that began appearing randomly across Earth 30 years ago.
If not cleared in time, the mana inside saturates, causing monsters to pour out in a 'wave' phenomenon.
Because of this, the Hunter Association controlled gate spawn zones, issued entry permits to hunters, and encouraged periodic clears.
Of course, Han Jaewoo had no grand sense of duty for humanity's peace.
His goal was simple.
'F-Rank Slime Gate.'
The safest, easiest spot, where the monsters looked like jelly and weren't gross.
Sell the slime byproducts, and you'd get enough for two chickens.
Modest but sure happiness.
That was the life pursued by the Northern Grand Duke (unemployed).
He headed to the Hunter Association.
To enter a gate, he had to report in advance at the association office and get an entry permit.
The Hunter Association lobby.
It was buzzing with people even on a weekday afternoon.
As Han Jaewoo pushed through the revolving door, all eyes turned to him—it was inevitable.
188cm tall frame.
Sculpted features.
And a flashy black uniform coat that screamed cosplay.
"Whoa, check that guy. A model?"
"The outfit's a bit much, but his face carries it."
"Isn't that the guy from the Heavenly Demon scandal a month ago...?"
He ignored the whispers, as usual.
With the Northern Grand Duke's basic virtue of 'indifference' equipped, he headed straight for the unmanned kiosk.
He stood elegantly before it, coat flapping dramatically.
Then squatted down.
The screen was a bit low.
Squatting there in his noble attire, carefully pressing the [Gyeonggi-do Siheung Outskirts F-Rank Gate Entry Application] button—it was a bizarre sight.
'Perfect. 20 minutes by bus. Few monsters. Low wave risk. Just right.'
As he paid the fee and waited for the permit to print—
The lobby noise suddenly cut off behind him.
Like someone had muted the volume.
A chill brushed his nape.
Not killing intent, but an overwhelming presence dominating the space.
A familiar aura.
Han Jaewoo instinctively turned.
And froze.
In the middle of the lobby.
There she stood amid the crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Korea's top martial artist.
The Heavenly Demon, Baek Seorin.
For the past month, she'd stamped in at the association every day without fail, waiting for Han Jaewoo whose number she didn't even have.
Her red eyes locked onto the squatting Han Jaewoo.
Their gazes tangled in midair.
Han Jaewoo's thoughts stopped.
First time seeing her in person in a month.
But something was different.
Last time, during their spar, she'd been like a razor-sharp famed sword.
Precarious killing intent ready to slice anyone.
A beast thick with the scent of blood.
But now, Baek Seorin was changed.
In place of the killing intent, a calm, deep aura had taken root.
Her sharp eyes had softened, her black hair gleamed, and her overall vibe was more mature and serene.
The heart of a 10-year diehard fan began pounding.
'Whoa... insane.'
She's really pretty.
No, pretty didn't cover it.
Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, or a blooming black rose—bewitching.
Whoever styled her today deserves an award.
Han Jaewoo barely kept his jaw from dropping.
But he couldn't tear his eyes away.
He stared at her face, lost in a daze.
Baek Seorin felt his gaze.
Most men's looks carried lust or fear.
But Han Jaewoo's was different.
The Northern Grand Duke's signature cool, sunken blue eyes.
Those deep well-like eyes stared straight at her without a flicker.
Baek Seorin's heart raced.
That gaze seemed to pierce through the inner turmoil, enlightenment, and loneliness she'd endured the past month.
'He sees it.'
That she'd overcome her heart demon and grown a step.
That her thorns were gone.
Even after a month, those eyes still understood and comforted her deeply.
Baek Seorin's lips parted slightly.
Her chest swelled.
She was thrilled that he was the first to notice her change.
Then, snapping out of it, Han Jaewoo stood.
He swallowed his awe, aiming for the coolest, most handsome compliment.
'You're really pretty today. The vibe is killer.'
That's what he wanted to say.
But the Northern Grand Duke filter etched in his brain twisted even that simple fanboy line into high-class poetry.
"...Your aura has changed."
A low, drowsy voice.
He murmured as he slowly approached Baek Seorin.
"The sharp thorns are gone, and at last, the flower has bloomed."
Baek Seorin's eyes widened.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Flower.
The pinnacle of her martial art, Plum Blossom Sword Dance—and the realm she'd reached after shedding her heart demon.
He'd seen it instantly.
That she'd broken her shell and been reborn as the true Heavenly Demon.
'As expected... only this man.'
The one who understood her sword, her inner self, so perfectly.
A faint blush colored Baek Seorin's cheeks.
But the didn't last.
Her eyes fixed on the paper in Han Jaewoo's hand.
[Gate Entry Permit - Rank: F]
Baek Seorin's brow furrowed.
The awe and turned to bewilderment.
'F-Rank?'
The Han Jaewoo she knew was a powerhouse.
One who'd calmly withstood her killing intent and blocked a strike backed by 30 years of training.
A warrior with the insight to see through her growth.
For such a man to go to an F-Rank gate for jelly blobs?
It was like a swordmaster hunting flies with chopsticks.
Baek Seorin stepped closer and asked.
"What's that permit for?"
"Ah."
Han Jaewoo hurriedly tried to hide it behind his back, but too late.
Embarrassment flooded him.
Caught by the Heavenly Demon going to hunt slimes.
His pride wouldn't survive.
Sweat beading, he racked his brain.
He needed the most plausible excuse.
"...I was just about to enjoy a modest diversion, but you've seen through it."
Donning the Northern Grand Duke mask, he feigned a relaxed smile.
Of course, his inner thoughts were the opposite.
'Please just pretend you didn't see. I need the cash from this.'
But Baek Seorin didn't take it at face value.
Diversion? No.
A man so solemn and upright wouldn't draw his sword just to play.
"For one with such insight and sword aura to go after mere slimes."
Her eyes turned serious.
"Training to preserve your?"
"...Huh?"
Han Jaewoo nearly blurted something stupid.
Training?
No, just earning pocket money.
But he couldn't say, "No, I'm broke."
He nodded reflexively and spat some wulin master line.
"...Well, there's no high or low when it comes to honing the basics."
'With my B-Rank skills, slimes are perfect. Safety first.'
But unaware of his true thoughts, Baek Seorin was impressed.
As expected, extraordinary.
Even at the peak, seeking to refine basics from the lowest place—that humility.
Behind that arrogant exterior hid such firm resolve.
"Stubbornly upright."
Baek Seorin shook her head with a tsk.
"But excessive humility can be poison."
She reached out.
And snatched the precious entry permit from his hand.
"Huh?"
Riiip.
The paper tore with a crisp sound.
Han Jaewoo's eyes bulged.
My permit! My 5,000 won! My chicken money!
"No."
Baek Seorin tossed the crumpled scrap into the trash and stated firmly.
"I can't bear to see your sword wasted on such trifles. Training is good, but in a place befitting your caliber."
"Come with me."
She grabbed his wrist without warning.
Her grip strength was no joke.
This wasn't a suggestion—it was an order.
"I'll guide you to a battlefield worthy of the one who blocked my sword."
"Where? Wait, I haven't mentally prepa—"
"I'll personally attend you, so rampage to your heart's content."
Baek Seorin dragged him toward the association's main gate.
A quiet road stretched before the gate.
Han Jaewoo glanced around, expecting a car.
"...The car?"
At his question, Baek Seorin scoffed.
"Riding in a stuffy metal box? I'd rather die. A martial artist has sturdy legs, no?"
She wrapped her arm around his waist.
A rough hold, like grabbing luggage—or something precious.
"Hold tight. Unless you want to bite your tongue."
"Wait, wh-what!"
Whoosh!
No time to respond.
Baek Seorin's form shot into the air.
Defying gravity with a leap.
In an instant, she scaled to the roof of the 20-story association building, then launched toward the next skyscraper.
Lightness skill.
The legendary realm of treading the air.
Swoosh—
Cutting wind between the building forest whipped his face.
Below, cars crawled like toys.
People looked smaller than ants.
"Uwaaaah!"
A scream rose to his throat.
No safety gear, clinging to a madwoman's arm at 63 Building height.
Acrophobia be damned—this was life-threatening.
But Han Jaewoo swallowed it.
Screaming or wetting himself would shatter the Northern Grand Duke's pride.
Face pale, lips clamped, eyes wide (too scared to close), he stared ahead.
"As expected."
Baek Seorin glanced down at him mid-leap.
She read his ashen face as 'composure.'
"Not even blinking at this speed. The wind suits you."
'Save me... please land... I miss Mom...'
"Destination: Gangwon-do sealed zone. S-Rank Gate site. Full speed, 20 minutes."
Human navigation, human KTX.
No—human fighter jet.
His safe pocket money run was dead in the water.
Instead of slimes, a death trap with ogres, dragons, or demonic fiends.
And he was being forcibly airlifted there in his skivvies.
Gazing at Seoul's skyscrapers whizzing below, one thought looped in his head.
'Mom... I don't think I can make it home tonight.'
'Hell, can I even land alive?'
Only the desperate glint in the eyes of the Northern Grand Duke (formerly) remained, peeking through his whipping hair.