Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Blood-Soaked Waltz
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"Ugh..."
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Han Jaewoo clamped his hand over his mouth and collapsed to his knees.
His stomach was churning.
And it had every reason to. He'd flown all the way to this remote mountain valley in Gangwon Province buck naked—no safety gear— at over 300 km/h.
Acrophobia and motion sickness were tag-teaming him mercilessly.
'I'm gonna puke. Somebody save me.'
His face had gone deathly pale, and cold sweat poured down like rain.
His legs wobbled like a newborn foal's.
He wanted nothing more than to flop face-first onto the dirt and wail for his mom.
But the woman standing beside him was interpreting even this pathetic physiological reaction in her own unique way.
"...The foul qi is severe."
Baek Seorin furrowed her brow and scanned the surroundings.
The forest was blackened and dead.
Trees twisted by the gate's influence, and the nose-stinging stench of foul mana.
It was the polluted air unique to S-Rank Gates.
She clicked her tongue as she examined Han Jaewoo's pallid face.
"It seems this place's turbid energy is aggravating your sensitive senses."
In her eyes, Han Jaewoo was a being of 'pure, upright qi.'
In truth, it was because he'd spent ten years in a romance fantasy world's imperial palace sipping only the finest teas without ever being tainted by demonic energy—but Baek Seorin had no way of knowing that.
She simply assumed that tossing such a pristine soul into this cesspool of foul mana would naturally trigger a rejection response (mana reflux) in his delicate body.
"Foolish man. Not showing a hint of it even when your body's in such a state."
Baek Seorin tsked and extended her hand.
Whoooong—
A red aura rose from her fingertips, enveloping Han Jaewoo's entire body.
Protective Aura.
An absolute barrier forged from an absolute being's inner energy, impervious to any impurities.
"Breathing should be much easier within my aura. Follow quietly."
As the warm energy wrapped around him, Han Jaewoo finally stopped dry-heaving.
'What is this? It's warm.'
Magic or martial arts, he didn't know—but it was saving his life.
His face still pale (lingering motion sickness), he nodded.
"...My thanks for your consideration."
The two headed toward the forest entrance.
Barbed wire and barricades blocked the way, with heavily armed soldiers and Hunter Association staff standing vigilant guard.
"Halt! This is a civilian control zone! Step back!"
A sentry shouted, rifle trained on them.
An S-Rank Gate outbreak zone.
A demonic realm where even approaching as a civilian could taint you with foul mana and drive you mad.
As the muzzle pointed his way, Han Jaewoo's heart plummeted.
He knew better than anyone the terror of guns, as a Republic of Korea reservist.
'Pointing guns at civilians?'
He wanted to throw up his hands and yell, "I'll just be going now!"
But the Northern Grand Duke filter wouldn't allow such cowardice.
His lips moved on their own.
"...Step aside."
A low, rumbling voice.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust and brushed at his coat hem.
"The stench of iron is revolting."
As the sentries buzzed in confusion, Baek Seorin stepped forward.
Her red eyes gleamed coldly.
"Daring to block my path. Are your eyes in your asses?"
"Gasp...!"
Only then did the soldiers recognize her.
Jet-black long hair.
Overwhelming bloodlust.
The pinnacle of martial prowess, known to every soul in Korea—no, the entire world.
"Ch-Cheonma-nim?!"
"Loyalty! Forgive our ignorance!"
The sentries paled and snapped salutes.
Soon, a commander-level hunter burst out barefoot from the command center.
"Hunter Baek Seorin! What brings you here without notice?!"
"Out for a stroll. Open the gate."
A stroll.
Treating an S-Rank Gate like a backyard spring.
That sheer audacity.
The commander sweated bullets and ordered the barricades cleared.
Then his gaze shifted to the man beside Baek Seorin, shrouded in her Protective Aura.
A man in ornate mithril frock coat, pale-faced but with an arrogant expression.
The face from the news not long ago.
"Huh? Isn't that...?"
"Han Jaewoo Hunter, right?"
The soldiers began whispering.
The Heavenly Demon bringing a man along was news enough—but to an S-Rank Gate, of all places.
"Why's the Heavenly Demon bringing a guy here?"
"A date?"
"Talk about thrill-seeking."
As curious stares poured in, Baek Seorin looked at Han Jaewoo and declared proudly.
"Make way. I have intimate business with him. Don't interfere."
Intimate. Business.
Those word choices left every soul on site slack-jawed.
Reporters snapped away excitedly; soldiers gawked with reverent "Whoa..."
'No! It's a misunderstanding! Kidnapping!'
Han Jaewoo signaled for help with his eyes, but the Northern Grand Duke's soulful gaze made him look like a 'nobleman peeved at interruptions to his lover's tryst.'
And so, amid the blessings(?) of the masses, the two crossed the threshold into hell.
Inside the gate.
The sky was dyed blood-red, the ground rotting black.
Grotesque twisted trees concealed house-sized shadows writhing between them.
Grrrrowl...
Kyaaak!
The roars of S-Rank monsters—ogres and wyverns—tore at their eardrums.
Han Jaewoo's legs buckled; he froze in place like a nail in wood.
His breath caught.
Seeing it on a screen was worlds apart from the real thing.
One flick of that muscled brute's finger, and he'd be mush.
'Mom... I'm really gonna die.'
His trembling hands clutched the mithril coat hem tight.
Please, protect me.
Long live the Emperor. Long live Edelgart.
Then, Baek Seorin shing! drew her sword.
Her eyes changed.
The prior arrogance vanished, leaving only the sharp dignity of a warrior.
"Watch closely."
She spoke without turning to Han Jaewoo.
"Your sword is brutally upright. But such honest bladework won't survive this slaughterhouse."
She was about to begin the pretext for bringing him here: 'education.'
In truth, it was her clumsy first step of affection—just wanting to exchange words, maybe become friends.
But long years in the martial world and the solitude of the Heavenly Demon hadn't taught her how to connect with others.
Her only known dialogue was 'discipline'—clashing blades to impart lessons.
"I'll show you what true combat is, personally."
No sooner said than her form vanished.
BOOM!
The earth split like an explosion as she plunged into the ogre horde.
Sword Dance.
It was a dance, literally.
Red sword qi bloomed like scattering petals, ravaging monster flesh.
Slash. Thud. Crunch.
Sickening ruptures echoed in sequence.
An ogre's thick arm flew through the air; a wyvern's neck sprayed blood like a fountain before hitting the ground.
Overwhelming force.
A terrifying slaughter proving Korea's No. 1 title was no bluff.
Han Jaewoo stared, soul-stunned.
Forgetting fear, his ten-year fan instincts stirred.
'Whoa... insane. Plum Blossom Sword Dance, 12 Forms: Falling Petals? Live in person?'
Worth every penny of the ticket.
No— he'd pay to see this legendary scene.
In his mind, he waved a glowstick yelling 'Unnie Heavenly Demon, I'm dying!'
But the awe didn't last.
Splat—!
A massive ogre's artery severed, spraying jet-black blood like a fire hose.
The geyser splattered straight toward Han Jaewoo, mouth agape in awe.
Splatter.
Warm, fishy liquid soaked his pale cheek.
"...Ptooey."
The sticky blood in his mouth.
Fishy reek stabbed his nose.
Instantly, the fan heart chilled; the noble's delicate palate reared up.
'Dirty. Stinks. Sticky.'
A body bathed in rose-scented water and sipping only fine wines for ten years.
This barbaric blood stench triggered pure revulsion.
Han Jaewoo scowled deeply.
He pulled a fine silk handkerchief from his pocket and irritably wiped the blood from his cheek.
Elegant, but laced with clear displeasure.
Baek Seorin, turning triumphantly after clearing the monsters, froze at the sight.
'...He's disgusted?'
She'd expected awe at her flashy sword dance.
But he grimaced like someone doused in filth.
That cool composure tossing the bloodied handkerchief aside.
Baek Seorin's heart sank.
'My sword... is dirty?'
Her frenzied slaughter, drunk on blood—did it look like mere barbaric butchery in this noble man's eyes?
Shame surged.
Overdoing it for approval had backfired.
Han Jaewoo shoved his shaking hands in his pockets.
Truth was, the blood stench was making him nauseous; he was steadying himself.
But he had to defuse this.
One wrong move, and that blood-smeared woman might go, "How dare you scorn my sword?" and slice him too.
Feigning solemnity, he recited nagging from his romance-fantasy swordmaster days verbatim.
"...Too rough."
His voice echoed across the battlefield.
"No grace to be found."
Baek Seorin bit her lip.
Hit the mark.
Too accustomed to brute force, she'd forgotten the sword's elegance.
Han Jaewoo approached her slowly.
(Actually dodging the bloodier spots.)
"A sword isn't a weapon of murder."
He whispered softly.
"It should be a guiding hand for your partner."
"...Partner?"
"Yes. Don't force your foe to break. Read the flow, lead gently."
He extended a hand to empty air, demonstrating an elegant, dance-like gesture.
"Like a waltz... more fluidly."
'Please handle them gently so no blood splashes.'
Baek Seorin's pupils quivered.
To her, a sword had always been a murder tool.
The surest means to protect herself, cleave enemies, instill fear.
Even one stroke maximized agony.
Blood spraying, flesh tearing—the horror infecting onlookers.
That was her believed sole way to survive the martial world's hell.
But a dance?
Leading the foe, not slashing?
It was the softness she'd rigorously rejected, the essence of martial arts she'd forgotten.
'Ah... I've only ever slashed with brute force.'
She regripped her sword.
As he said, she relaxed her shoulders, steadied her breath.
Stripping away killing intent and force, the remaining monsters looked not like foes to fell, but partners to dance with.
Swish.
Her blade traced a graceful arc.
Not destructive like before.
Soft, quiet, lethal.
Slice.
A charging wolf-type monster's head fell silently.
Not a drop of blood splattered from the clean cut.
Perfection.
Baek Seorin shivered in thrill.
One piece of advice, and her sword neared completion.
Joy of enlightenment flushed her face hot.
'To think I tried teaching such a man...!'
Embarrassing.
Her boasted swordsmanship felt like a child's play.
She stared blankly at her blade tip, lost in deep thought.
That was the moment.
Shh.
Space rippled; a black shadow emerged silently.
Stealth monster, 'Night Stalker'.
Exploiting Baek Seorin's lapse in enlightenment, it aimed for her unguarded back.
"...!"
Baek Seorin didn't notice.
But Han Jaewoo, spacing out behind her, did.
The pitch-black beast lunging from thin air.
"Eek!"
A scream escaped.
Instinctively, he spun.
Run. Didn't know what it was, but it screamed danger.
But the system betrayed him.
Thud crash.
He slipped on an ogre's severed arm at his feet.
Off-balance, Han Jaewoo pitched forward.
Straight toward Baek Seorin.
Crunch—!
In that instant, the Shadow Stalker's razor claws raked the air.
A strike that would've shredded Baek Seorin's back.
But Han Jaewoo's back intruded on its path.
Bang—!
Red sparks flew in midair.
The Protective Aura she'd wrapped around him at the gate entrance.
Meant to block foul qi, it auto-reacted, repelling the monster's claws.
'Gahhh!'
Han Jaewoo screamed inwardly.
Not sliced, but the impact hit full force.
A truck-collision heaviness crushed his spine.
Bounced by the shock, Han Jaewoo collided into Baek Seorin's back.
To not fall, to survive, he desperately hugged the pillar... no, Baek Seorin.
"...?!"
Baek Seorin whirled in shock.
The scene in her eyes was stunning.
The assassin monster rebounding from her back.
And Han Jaewoo sweating coldly, breathing ragged.
"Han Jaewoo...?"
Her mind pieced it together.
I let my guard down; ambush came.
In that split second, Han Jaewoo threw himself to shield me.
Risking his back torn open, he covered my blind spot.
"Why...?"
Her voice trembled.
An attack like that? She'd shrug it off.
She had Protective Aura.
He couldn't not know.
Then why...?
Han Jaewoo couldn't speak, spine-crushing pain silencing him.
Tears welled.
It hurt like hell. He wanted home.
But crumbling here would shatter his pride.
Forcing quivering lips apart, he squeezed out Northern Grand Duke lines.
"...Focus."
His ragged breath tickled her ear.
"The waltz... isn't over yet."
'It hurts so bad, kill that bastard quick.'
Those words snapped her reason.
Rage.
And pathos.
Killing intent exploded at the vermin that harmed the man shielding her back.
"...How dare you."
Baek Seorin's eyes blazed crimson.
She regripped her sword.
A ferocious yet beautiful aura, on another level, erupted from her.
"How dare you touch my man's body?"
The gates of hell opened.
Clinging to her back, Han Jaewoo inwardly sighed relief.
'Phew, I'm saved.'
Of course, oblivious that he'd become 'my man.'