45-Year-Old Married Man. Wearing a School Uniform. (1)
Lee Ji-ah.
Her mother had passed away when she was just five. And yet, knowingly or not, she had come to resemble her mom.
Haa…
Training. Yeah, let's just go do some training.
She'd only just awakened as a hunter. So, like all noobs, she was in that state they called "training high"—when your desire to grow was at its absolute peak.
But Ji-ah's motivation was a little off-kilter.
Just… literally just going to train.
Harboring some massive inner thirst for growth? No. She was just going because she felt stuffy and down.
Money? She had plenty. With academy enrollment on the horizon, her future was bright. She didn't have to worry about sky-high training fees—the infrastructure was all there, letting her train 24/7 if she wanted.
She threw on some clothes and stepped out of her room.
“……”
Gone.
The house was dead silent. The master bedroom, the second floor—nothing.
The person who should have been there… wasn't.
This was highly unusual.
“Dad?”
Dad not at home? That was absurd.
Trash? Staff took it out from the door. Groceries and supplies? Delivered straight from Shinsoo Hotel or the farms.
Ji-ah knew her dad barely left the house once a quarter. And that's why…
Like the saying that parents and kids are mirrors of each other, her heart started to squeeze tight.
Like she'd lost her puppy.
She checked every corner—even the bathroom—before heading to the door.
No way he'd run away. He was introverted, scared of talking to people, but not stupid.
One step, two steps. Only as she approached the door did Ji-ah suddenly remember what she'd said.
[Become independent from me, Dad.]
Even she thought it was harsh. Lately, her heart had been a mess, getting oddly irritated, so she'd snapped. He'd always brushed it off as no big deal before.
Even if he was a dad who depended on his kid… they'd lived pretty normally, all things considered. That's why her chest tightened with vague dread now.
Right then.
-Ding-dong.
The door lock chimed. As the man stepped in, his purple spiky hair swayed faintly.
His previously weary face had brightened. His lips even curved up proudly.
A face she hadn't seen in ages. From ungrateful daughter Ji-ah's view, it was an expression from a bygone era.
“Where were you?”
“Ah, uh… Ji-ah.”
That's when she noticed the item. A wide plate piled with rice cakes. As Dad's voice spilled out like an excuse, the mood sank.
“Th-the neighbors just moved in… a girl starting to live alone… Oh, right! She's enrolling in the academy too, same age as you, Ji-ah.”
“……”
Ji-ah's lips clamped shut. Truth be told, it had nothing to do with her. This wasn't some cheap neighborhood. Renting a luxury house as a solo pad meant she was at least A-rank hunter material or backed by serious money.
Normally, she'd just go, Oh, really? But…
-Thud, thud, thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed. Ji-ah's body surged toward her father. When she loomed right in his face—close enough to feel his breath—she looked down at him from the corner of her eye.
His white tee was a bit loose. It had always been baggy, but maybe because of this morning's fiasco, it fluttered even more.
That was the problem. She could ignore the short pants, but…
The sight she caught…
“You went out?”
“Yeah…?”
“In this outfit…?”
“…Ah, y-yeah…”
She saw her dad's face looking up at her. Like a herbivore, peeking nervously—it was almost pitiful. Still, Ji-ah's heart kept pulling tighter.
Maybe because of the loose fabric. Every time he moved, the white tee billowed, even around his neck.
Occasionally, the hem lifted from his collar, flashing skin underneath.
Ji-ah was 170cm-plus. Korean women usually stopped growing by 23.
Meaning the neighbor was at least her size—or bigger. No way a hunter had stunted growth.
So, in short… the rock-hard neighbor girl had seen the exact same view.
“Why are you always like this, Dad?”
“J-Ji-ah?”
“Thinking you're a man and all… ha…”
“N-no, Ji-ah… a guy like me…”
Again, again with this. Ji-ah wanted to pound her own chest.
This year… he was… forty-five?
How was this a 45-year-old man? Slap a uniform on him, and he'd pass for an academy freshman. Hunters had limits—hadn't he said F-rank? Other hunters weren't like this, for sure.
Ji-ah swallowed her frustration and bit her lip lightly. Blood seeped from between her lips. Yuseong panicked at the sight.
“J-Ji-ah. B-blood, blood…”
“Ah, crap… just.”
Flustered. At her limit, maybe. Her heart was a tangled mess she couldn't even understand herself. How to unravel this knotted feeling?
Ji-ah gripped her dad's shoulders tight.
-Crash.
The plate shattered. At the same time, something inside Ji-ah cracked.
“……Whatever.”
Shattered plate and scattered beans on the floor. With a short sigh, Ji-ah turned and headed straight out the door.
“Not eating dinner tonight. I'll be back late, so don't wait up.”
“S-sorry, Dad's sorry. Okay? Ji-ah…”
The first rule of the Lee Seola (absent) family: Dinner together, always.
A rule only half-kept since she was five. But dad and daughter had always eaten together—except school trips or special cases.
Even lately, with Ji-ah feeling off, they'd stuck to it. Until now. Like the plate scattered in shards on the floor. Despite her dad's apologies, Ji-ah's steps didn't falter.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After Ji-ah left, I spent some time in a daze.
Not that I just sat there. I cleaned the floor, caught up on housework. Had a quick solo lunch, prepped dinner.
Ingredients were already stocked. Housework demands diligence and precision.
Tonight's menu: braised short ribs. Ji-ah's absolute favorite…
“Ah.”
She said no dinner. B-but that didn't mean I couldn't cook.
She might eat it alone while I slept. Just reheat and done, right?
I started cooking with practiced hands. Braised ribs, japchae, seasoned veggies.
An hour. Then two?
“Ah.”
I made way too much! For our two-person household, it'd cover three meals of ribs.
Idiot. Why? I felt extra dumb today. Though I'd been spaced out all along, so being sharp would be weirder.
Clock said six. Brainstorming on the sofa, I had a brilliant idea.
“She said she just moved in yesterday, right?”
I jumped up. Nosy? Sure. But wasn't I the old-school type?
How commendable, sharing rice cakes on moving day. She looked my daughter's age—made me pity her at my age. I quickly packed the ribs and sides.
“Clothes, clothes… gotta bundle up.”
Late February was still chilly. I'd gone light earlier since it was just next door… but Ji-ah's words flashed back, so I threw on a short puffer and opened the door.
Shaking. Even after 20+ years here, 15+ as a hikikomori, I wilted automatically.
At least, she was neighbor-close. My daughter's peer… ah, didn't catch her name.
Anyway. Her place was spitting distance. Arrived at her door in under a minute.
-Beeeep.
Rang the bell, door opened right away. New move-in, maybe? Passed a cluttered yard to the entry.
-Creak.
Door swung open naturally. I hesitated, then greeted casually.
“Hey, kiddo. Hello.”
“Uncle…?”
After our last meeting, I was "uncle" now. Fair enough, no offense taken.
The trembling eased. Yeah, I get it done when I commit. Social skills aside… I chat fine with familiars.
“This…”
“Oh, what's that?”
Her bright voice and smile. The bronze-skinned girl welcomed me boldly.
“Thanks for the rice cakes earlier. Nothing fancy, just some side dishes.”
“Whoa, seriously? Thanks so much. Looks delicious.”
She took the food. We stared for a second… ah, awkward as hell.
Adults should ask after them, break the ice.
“Y-you got rice, right?”
“Ah… well.”
She grinned sheepishly, scratching her head a couple times.
“I think I brought a rice cooker and some instant packs… but no clue where they are. Hehe.”
“……”
She cracked the door wider, showing inside. Living room full of boxes everywhere—total unpacked chaos.
“So how do you eat…?”
“Grab something outside, I guess… gotta unpack too. Ah, Uncle's a hunter, right? You know—training's way more fun than games these days.”
Hunter life. Like RPG characters. Exercise boosts stamina, lift weights for strength, study for intellect.
That's why, like my Ji-ah, she was training-focused too. Rude maybe, but this totally different neighbor girl reminded me of my daughter.
“It's just sides…”
“Instant rice from the store! Microwave… none, but gas works?”
Her clueless head-scratch made my jaw drop. So clumsy—wanted to help.
So. Courage I'd normally lack welled up. A bit. Just a tiny bit.
“Rice… I got some.”
“…?”
“We got rice and sides at home… put that in your fridge and come over.”
“……”
“T-to our house.”
Ah, said it. How many years since a non-family stepped inside?
Embarrassed, my head drooped automatically.