Papa Ha Jinwoo (1)
It had been a long time since I last dreamed. And it was a peaceful one. A dream of the past, when Sera and I had made a home out of an armored vehicle and wandered the ruined world. We would eat, spread our things across a wide clearing beside Lake Baikal, and cook proper meals. While she prepared jambalaya, I made fried eggs—the one dish I could confidently say I was decent at. We laughed together as we ate. Dining beside an old wooden building while the cool breeze rolled in off the lake carried a certain rustic charm. True, the owner probably wouldn’t have appreciated us tearing apart the walls and furniture for firewood, but since the owner was nowhere to be found and showed no sign of returning, we didn’t concern ourselves with it. After the hearty meal we drank tea. The leaves Sera had gathered and prepared herself tasted pleasantly bitter and astringent. When had that been? I remembered it was roughly three years after my desertion.
Sera had asked, “Now that we’re free, where do you want to go?”
I couldn’t recall what I had answered back then. But inside the dream, for some reason, I was able to say it.
“I want to visit your hometown.”
Sera’s eyes widened in surprise, then she smiled. I had no idea how far America was or whether any land remained in the scorched country where she could even set foot. Still, Sera nodded and answered without hesitation, “All right.”
“Father, how much longer do you plan on sleeping?”
I snapped my eyes open and looked at the woman standing beside my bed. Long white hair, bangs swept to one side of her forehead exactly like mine. Red eyes. Yet the same shape to those eyes. Aside from her hair color, eye color, and species, everything about her declared at full volume that she was my daughter.
“…Mari.”
My voice came out hoarse from sleep. I needed to drink something. Mari stiffened her shoulders slightly at my words, then picked up the water bottle on the nightstand and poured it into a glass.
“It is not every day one gets to drink water poured by the head of the Blood Clan.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmph.”
Ever since I returned, Mari had been like this—grumpy, irritable. She had always been a bit that way, but it was obvious she had believed I wasn’t coming back. That was why she was sulking. Even though I had explained everything, told her about the Transmigration Labyrinth, and shown her the new items I brought back.
Girls her age usually got annoyed with their fathers no matter what they did, so I understood. I didn’t know her exact age, but judging from her appearance it seemed about right.
“Are there no guests or anything?”
“If you wish to meet Lyshe, she is present.”
“That might be a bit much.”
“Then there are none. I will tell Vertea to prepare the meal, so please at least dress properly before coming out.”
Swallowing the desire to linger in bed, I rose and found the sun already high in the sky. I had slept quite a while. But after turning into lightning, fighting without rest, and carrying out reconnaissance on top of it, the accumulated fatigue was only natural.
I threw a coat over my clothes, slung my greatsword across my shoulder, and gathered my shotgun and submachine gun. When I stepped outside, the meal was already waiting.
“Master.”
“Bel.”
“Please be seated. This unit will pull the chair out for you.”
“Isn’t that usually something you just do instead of announcing it?”
Vertea offered no reply. I sat down and examined the food she brought. It was meat. Steak, grilled vegetables for garnish, what appeared to be fried bread, salad, something resembling pasta… and even a soup containing real pasta recovered from the labyrinth. It was rather heavy for breakfast.
“I’ll enjoy it.”
Still, with my superhuman digestion, complaining about the menu was out of the question. Having lived more than a century, throwing a tantrum over side dishes would be pathetic, so I ate quietly. Every dish was superb. Her fire control must be excellent.
As I consumed everything in a relatively refined manner, Mari spoke.
“What do you plan to do afterward?”
“…Morning training, then I thought I’d look around a bit. I’m not familiar with the autonomous district yet.”
“The autonomous district? You, a human?”
“Strictly speaking I’ve moved a little beyond human, but yes.”
“Have you lost your mind? No—actually, this is perfect. Since it’s come to this, I will accompany you.”
Is this girl never busy? She called herself the head of the clan, yet every time we met she seemed desperate to follow me. Not that I minded.
“Father may not look it, but you are still my father. It would not do for you to wander into danger without proper armor.”
Having finished her meal, Mari elegantly dabbed her mouth with a napkin and continued, “We should go purchase armor for you to wear, Father.”
“Armor, huh. Getting in and out of it by myself seems troublesome.”
“It seems you have forgotten this unit’s existence.”
“The others might stare a little.”
“Are you ashamed of this unit?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Maribella, who had been listening intently to our exchange, interjected.
“If armor does not appeal to you, there are clothes as well. Conveniently, there are two choices…”
She stopped mid-sentence. When I looked at her curiously, my daughter resumed.
“No, actually there is only one. Inside this autonomous district resides the leader of the insectoids and the greatest craftsman in the entire labyrinth. The spider insectoid everyone calls the Seamstress Arachne. She will certainly create sturdy, highly protective garments that suit you perfectly, Father.”
She closed her mouth as though that concluded the matter. I stared at Maribella for a moment, then blinked.
“And the second option?”
“Did I not say there is only one?”
“Because insectoids make me uncomfortable.”
“…I do not particularly care for insectoids either, but Arachne is a professional. With me accompanying you, what could possibly happen?”
A moment later Maribella narrowed her eyes.
“More importantly, do you not trust me? Do you truly believe that I, the head of the Blood Clan, would fail to protect you, Father?”
She was being fussy. Still, from the rhythm of her heartbeat and the tension in her muscles, I could tell she wasn’t genuinely furious.
“I just wanted to hear it while the subject came up. I trust you. I simply dislike insectoids.”
“…Hmph.”
Though Maribella crossed her arms with a grumpy huff, her mood seemed to have softened. Her reluctant expression remained, however.
“The second option… is the Scientist.”
“The Scientist—as in the Master-class adventurer?”
“Much of the equipment comes from the War Memorial, crafted by dwarves who worship the God of Fire, or from local forges. However, truly proper magic equipment mostly originates from the National Central Museum… the Scientist’s stronghold.”
So that was where she had established her base. It was quite a fine location—spacious and impressive. If it could be maintained through immortality, it would be ideal. The mention also carried the implication of authority. When I focused on that feeling, Maribella still wore an uncomfortable expression.
“The Burning Sword, the blade that maintains perpetual sharpness and severs necks, the sentient sword that guides its user’s path to enable more lethal, accurate, and powerful strikes… Unless the item was discovered inside the labyrinth itself, most magic weapons come from there.”
“They all seem to be swords.”
“…Are there weapons besides swords?”
Seeing her genuinely puzzled face, I closed my mouth. Well, I suppose that was possible. A father should respect his daughter’s tastes.
I tried to let it pass, but soon contempt rose on Maribella’s face.
“Of course I do handle those ‘guns’ that Father cherishes so dearly. I am the Scientist, after all.”
“Oh.”
“…You did not suddenly take an interest simply because of guns, did you?”
“Um, well, I just found it interesting. You know, I…”
“I know. I know. Haah, honestly.”
My daughter turned her head with a sigh, then spat out as though she had given up.
“Fine, then. We will have to go.”
Now accustomed to riding in the car, we crossed Guro District and headed toward Yongsan District where the National Central Museum stood. Seeing my daughter’s sulky face, I attempted an icebreaker.
“I heard before that the War Memorial also produces magic-infused weapons. Is there a reason the National Central Museum’s items are considered more special?”
Even while sulkily hugging her arms as if stressed, Maribella answered faithfully.
“Because only the Scientist can create things like the Burning Sword.”
“Is that so? A burning sword… Isn’t it enough for the blade to simply burn?”
The expression Maribella gave me immediately afterward was pure, unfiltered contempt. It was the exact look one might give a primitive savage, and it secretly stung. She seemed to realize it a second later and let out a small “Ah.”
“It is not that simple. A sword whose blade simply burns? Easy to make. But such a weapon has no practical use in real combat.”
She then began explaining in earnest.
“If the material is not special, the sword itself will melt. Any damage would lead to a corresponding loss of power.”
That made sense. Even the blacksmith had treated swords as consumables. We received regular government supplies, yet those heat-treated blades still broke frequently. And that was without setting them on fire.
“Even beyond that, insufficient skill from the wielder would result in the user burning themselves. And if the skill were sufficient, it would become a cumbersome weapon that restricts the blade path.”
“Hmm… I see your point.”
Indeed, to wield a flaming sword properly the blade would always have to point upward. That alone made the weapon’s trajectory predictable, and without protection from the heat there was danger every time you swung.
“Therefore, for a burning sword to be viable, three conditions are required: a material that can withstand fire or flames so precisely controlled they do not consume the blade, magic designed to selectively burn targets without burning the user, and a definite increase in power worth all the trouble.”
Right after, Maribella wore a somewhat smug expression.
“It is the Paradox of the Burning Holy Sword proposed by the Archmage Lian Biewater.”
Another name I didn’t know. When I blinked, Maribella closed her eyes in satisfaction.
“It means a holy sword created without all that effort is merely ceremonial and unsuitable for battle. And that rather than expending such labor, it is more efficient to simply make the blade sharper, harder, and more precise.”
“Quite convincing. You’re very smart, Mari.”
“…Hmph. How half-hearted.”
Despite her words, she looked pleased. I stroked my chin, turning her explanation over in my mind.
“So the Scientist’s weapons can achieve that?”
“Yes, exactly. She is the only archmage capable of breaking that paradox.”
“Oh…”
That was impressive. I didn’t understand magic well enough to gauge the difficulty, but from what Maribella said, the Scientist sounded like an exceptionally skilled mage.
“The Scientist Tilia is the previous Tower Master. Her age is unknown. She is an archmage who directly wields the divinity of trickery, obtained immortality without touching the divinity of death. The items she creates are truly special.”
Yet a moment later my daughter’s face soured.
“…Of course, she spends more than half of that infinite time researching labyrinth technology. Still, she is probably the only one who can repair or maintain items made with your labyrinth technology without damaging them.”
That reluctant expression again. Seeing it linger, I asked.
“Why the face? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“…My face always looks like this.”
This was definitely pouting. And it wasn’t just my imagination.
“From this unit’s observation, it is estimated that Lady Maribella is clearly angry with Master.”
“Vertea!”
At Maribella’s irritation, Vertea raised her hand in an exaggerated show of surprise, then clapped it over her mouth. With that level of mischief, there was nothing my daughter could do. Maribella lost her words, sighed, and buried herself deeper into the seat.
“It’s just that there are too many scammers, that’s all.”
“Scammers?”
“…The Scientist Tilia’s hobby and primary occupation is researching labyrinth technology. She purchases any technology discovered inside the labyrinth regardless of field, pays exorbitant sums, and devotes herself to its study.”
“You mentioned that.”
“That is how she became one of the few highest-class adventurers and the only one among current Master-class adventurers to rise from highest-class to Master.”
“I heard that too. According to Lyshe, Tilia—”
“I have not finished speaking yet.”
Oops. Fussy Mari today, apparently. I covered my mouth with a clap like Vertea, and Maribella let out a helpless chuckle.
“This unit is truly realizing that Lady Maribella is indeed Master’s daughter.”
“Suddenly?”
“It is the exact expression Master frequently wears.”
“Really?”
“Anyway!”
Maribella cut me off and declared, “By understanding, exploring, investigating, and acquiring so many different labyrinth technologies, she has her hands in numerous fields. Among them… are people as well.”
I flinched. I could roughly guess what was coming next.
“Before the labyrinth became what it is, pulling people who had hidden in the hibernation pods and taking them as disciples is essentially Tilia’s hobby.”
So not all of them had died. Just as a sliver of hope took root, Maribella sighed.
“…They are all dead except one. But one of the Scientist’s current chief disciples… is like me, claiming that the avatar of darkness is her father, so she calls herself a daughter of darkness.”
When my eyes widened, Maribella looked at my expression with clear discomfort.
“Of course, unlike me she is definitely a scammer, yet she shamelessly, without an ounce of shame, uses Father’s surname and goes by Ha Eunha.”
Displeasure and anxiety surfaced together. I could feel how nervous she was—she couldn’t even review her own words. Her pulse had quickened; her muscles were tense. My daughter called her a scammer, but the fact that she knew my name, knew my surname… To me that sounded like fairly convincing evidence. Most people wouldn’t even understand what it meant. Unless it was Maribella, who had heard it directly from the Oracle, ordinary people simply wouldn’t know.
“I simply do not want Father to meet such a scammer. Father is now an ally of the Blood Clan—practically a member. Preventing unnecessary pests from swarming is also—”
While half-listening to Maribella, I thought. The possibility was more than sufficient. It was obvious even Maribella knew the other girl wasn’t actually a fraud. Even without someone inside the labyrinth obtaining my genetic material like Maribella had, the South Korean government could have created any number of humans and placed them in hibernation pods. And a daughter of darkness, no less. Another daughter. Perhaps because I already had experience with the idea, it was surprisingly easy to accept. After all, it wouldn’t be strange if there had been another facility where the super-soldier experiments were conducted properly. I had no idea how much they had extracted from me during all those medical exams. With civilization gone I didn’t know whether to count it lucky that I wouldn’t have to pay child support, but with only a hundred silver coins in my possession the thought made me a little nervous. What if she was a bad kid? What if she was a bad daughter who plundered her father’s assets?
Lost in such thoughts, the car began pulling into the parking lot on the left side of the National Central Museum.
“…So even if you meet that scammer inside, do not let yourself be deceived.”
Maribella seemed to sense the moment had come; she stared at me with a tense posture and eyes full of pleading. But I could not give my daughter a definite answer.
“I’ll do my best.”
Because my parents had taught me to love all my children equally. I stepped out of the car, gazing up at the massive building of the National Central Museum.