Heaven's Net Closes In
A sky smeared entirely gray. Amid the ruins of a burning city, a woman clutched a broken holy sword. This was Isha von Estel from before his regression, on the brink of total annihilation.
"……Lee Han."
Her voice was hoarse. She hadn't had a proper sip of water in days.
"Why."
I was in no better shape. fiddling with the hilt of my shattered sword, I plopped down beside her.
"Just… regretting it, you know."
"What? That you couldn't save the world?"
"No, nothing that grand."
Isha's parched lips twitched.
"There are so many tastes I never got to try."
"Tastes?"
"Yeah. They say the world is full of delicious things. But I spent my whole life eating only the bland meals from the Holy Church."
She gave a bitter smile.
"Why'd you do that? You could've snuck some in."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of indulging. Once I tasted something stimulating, I might never go back. I was afraid I'd lose my self-control as a saintess…."
What an idiot. Driven by one obsession to save the world, dying without ever trying tteokbokki.
"Then you never tried pizza either?"
"No… especially that. Pepperoni pizza."
"Pepperoni?"
"Yeah. Adel was always raving about it. Said the salty, greasy ham explodes like fireworks in your mouth. That the flavor was straight-up violent."
"She's not wrong. Girl's a total foodie."
"I do wish I could've eaten my fill without regrets. Not that it matters now."
Isha gazed at the distant mountains. The light was fading from her eyes.
"What about you, Lee Han? What's on your mind?"
"Me? Seolleongtang."
"Seolleongtang?"
"Yeah. There's this killer spot in a back alley in Busan. Milky broth with shrimp sauce, chopped green onions and chives… no, paechu muchim, piled high, then mix in some spicy daetang seasoning and stir in the rice… mmm." I smacked my lips.
"One bowl of that, and even a dying man bounces back."
"……Hearing you describe it is torture. Looks like something you'd swear off forever, even if you time-traveled back. Turning white broth into lava soup."
"Nah, try it and you'll change your mind. Ditch the saintess title, and you'd be a seolleongtang girl."
"Your jokes…."
Busan Seomyeon, a pork bone soup joint.
Slurp!Chomp chomp
"……Erh."
A thick, guttural groan erupted. From none other than the empire's saintess, Isha von Estel's mouth.
"……!"
"……."
Isha frantically clamped her hands over her mouth. Her pupils dilated wildly, darting left and right.
'C-crazy! What sound did I just make?!'
As the steaming broth scorched down her throat and hit her stomach, some primal instinct buried deep in her subconscious burst free. This wasn't a sound a saintess should make. This was… the noise a hungover department head makes at a hangover soup spot.
I stared at her blankly, spoon in hand.
"……."
Her face flushed crimson, like it might explode. She rolled her eyes, gauging my reaction.
"Th-that just now…."
"Pretend I didn't hear it."
I casually picked up a piece of kimchi and popped it in my mouth.
"You've got your image to uphold."
"……Thank you."
Isha mumbled in a tiny voice. The embarrassment had barely slammed on the brakes. But the violent umami already coating her tongue was more than enough to stomp the accelerator.
'This is… so good….'
The second indulgence she'd feared so much before regression. Game on.
Once the spoon started moving, it was like a truck with busted brakes.
Slosh slosh
Slurp, slurrrp
Saintess grace? Scooped up and swallowed with the soup.
She inhaled it like a starving man—or someone possessed. His hellish recipe was pure magic.
Clink
Only after scraping the last drop did her spoon scrape the empty bowl.
Scraaaape
Isha stared blankly at the empty bowl. Full belly brought back her sense of reality.
'What… did I just do….'
In front of a criminal, after vowing not to eat, she'd slurped down seolleongtang with uncle groans—and polished it off.
Her saintess life's black history hit a new low.
I pulled out a crumpled note and slid it across the table.
"Here."
"What's… this?"
"We had a deal. One bite of soup, and I'd tell you. Mandrake coordinates."
Isha picked up the note. It had a map and a short memo.
You probably know this, but I used some for recovery, so it's not the full amount. Still better than nothing, right? I've kept the rest safe, so take it.
"…Ha."
Isha let out a hollow laugh. Eat the stolen goods and hand over the scraps? Shameless to the heavens.
Still, she lacked the energy to get mad. A fine negotiation: satiety and leftover mandrakes secured.
"Saintess."
"Yes."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that sound, so we're square here?"
A transactional offer.
"......."
"You know the reach of Hunter Inside, right?"
A fair deal to bury her updating black history.
I played the smartphone recording.
"…!"
"Set as alarm, it'd go viral."
"…Fine. Delete it. Now."
I showed her the deletion, then stood.
"Alright. Round two of hide-and-seek."
"Next time, I catch you for real. No mercy."
"Looking forward to it."
I waved, tore a scroll. As I vanished, Isha sighed deeply and rose.
'Okay. At least I got the mandrake. Head back, reorganize the knights….'
She headed for the door.
"Um… miss?"
The old lady owner timidly called her.
"Yes? Oh, thank you for the meal. It was delicious."
Isha smiled gracefully.
The lady looked awkward.
"Well, aigoo… sorry, dear."
"Yes?"
"That young man rented the place, but… he left without paying your share."
"……Pardon?"
Isha's smile froze.
"He said… to charge the extra bowl separately…."
"Ah……."
Lee Han. You petty bastard.
I thought he'd covered it. Not that he had to, but… anyway.
Isha trembled, rummaging through her pockets.
"One moment. My card's… it should be here…."
Rustle rustle
Saintess uniform pocket. Inner pocket. Cloak lining. Nothing.
No wallet, no matter how she searched.
Then, a flash: jumping from the helicopter in haste, leaving her bag behind.
"……."
"……."
Awkward silence between the old lady and the saintess.
Knights and chopper waited outside, but their leader sweated over soup money.
"I'll… come right back to pay. Could you… put it on my tab?"
Her black history crisis wasn't over yet.
A back alley in Seoul. Corner of a dank lane piled with trash. A ragged old man crouched there.
Silent Elder, head of Black Moon. The overlord of Korea's underworld now shivered like a bum.
"Damn… those Holy Church bastards…."
He gnashed his teeth.
Heaven's net. The Church's detection magic scanned the whole city; Estel knights combed every inch.
Hide identity, erase mana, lurk in shadows—no escape.
'What the hell happened.'
He hadn't even started. Just biding time quietly.
Suddenly, the Church went all-out like a panic button was hit.
One reason he'd pieced together: Lee Han.
'What the fuck did that lunatic do….'
Marriage certificate? Saintess retirement? Snatched glimpses from passersby's phones—shocking intel.
The more aggro Lee Han pulled, the tighter the noose. Leaving him to suffer pointlessly.
'Move, and they spot me.'
Any suspicious vibe, knights swarm.
Stay put? Starve.
"Lies pile up… eventually they unravel."
He sighed, leaning on the wall. One slip, mistaken for Lee Han, unjust arrest.
"Hey, old timer."
A shadow fell from the alley mouth. Four punk thugs, cocky tones.
"Whatcha doin' here? Paid your spot fee?"
"……."
He bowed his head. Endure. Use power, mana wave detected. Net closes, plans ruined.
"Deaf, gramps? Cough up a ten-won coin at least!"
Thud!
A thug's kick slammed his side.
"Guh…."
Black Moon's lord, kicked by street punks. Humiliating. One finger, dust them.
'Endure… must endure….'
He cringed obsequiously.
"S-sorry… got nothing…."
"Nothing? Pay with your body! Find ten won, one punch?"
One grabbed his collar; others rifled his rags. Yanked side to side, emptied pockets, slapped cheeks lightly.
Rage boiled. Murderous intent surged.
Still, he endured desperately.
'Can't draw eyes. I'm just… a powerless old man.'
"Hey, you punks."
Unfamiliar voice from the entrance.
"Never heard of respecting elders?"
Thugs turned. Tall youth in black coat.
"Who the fuck are you, buttin' in?"
"Just a passerby."
He strode forward.
"Get lost while I'm nice. Unless you wanna get hurt."
"Ha! This guy's nuts? Yo, smash him!"
Thugs grabbed steel pipes, charged.
Crack!Snap!
Instant. One punch sent a thug flying; one kick bowled the rest like pins.
"Argh!"
"R-run!"
Thugs fled in terror.
The old man held his breath, looked up.
'Who? Knights?'
No uniform. Aura no joke.
The youth approached, squatted to eye level.
"You okay, sir?"
Innocent smile.
The elder nodded, relieved.
"Th-thanks… you saved me."
"Glad you're alright. World's rough these days."
"You saved my life… blessings on you."
He bowed repeatedly, sneering inwardly.
'Fool. Posing hero without knowing who I am?'
As if reading it, the youth clapped his shoulder.
"Oh, right. Got a question."
"……?"
The elder looked puzzled. Youth leaned close.
The kind smile vanished; cold golden eyes gleamed menacingly.
"So, where'd you stash the Demon King's Horn?"
"……!"
The elder's heart pounded traitorously.
'He… knows?'
His eyes fiercely denied.
'No. Fishing, probably.'
Steadying, he said calmly,
"What're you talking about?"
The youth—Lee Han—grinned. Eviler than a devil.
"Silent Elder, right?"
"What do you…."
My grip tightened.
The elder realized: this guy wasn't confirming facts.
"Gotcha either way."
Fist plunged into his solar plexus.