Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Narrative for the Villain (3)
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Moon Seok-il's jaw clenched tight.
Thinking back now, that damn woman was bad luck. The nameless woman who commissioned the job, introducing herself only as "Section Chief Baek." Anyway, hadn't she driven them straight into hell?
It was supposed to be a hit, but he swore he had no intention of harming civilians. The target was just an ordinary civilian, not some villain.
The problem was letting their guard down, assuming she was some countryside hick. But there were people out of sight, sharing updates over radios. He didn't know who they were. He'd considered backing off because it felt off, but the advance payment had been huge, already spent on his cash-strapped comrades.
'Yeah, if it were easy, they wouldn't have shelled out a fortune to us.'
Moon Seok-il ground his teeth and undid his cuff button.
Too far to pull back now, and talking it out would just leave Jeong Sang-tae as the unjust victim.
Kim In-rang threw a right hook. The air whistled heavily.
Even an unpredictable punch—Jin-hyuk's guard was already up. It looked less like a block and more like reaching to grab the fist.
But it was Kim In-rang's feint.
Jeong Sang-tae had rushed in close for a strike and gotten wrecked just a breath earlier—no reason for Kim In-rang to gamble.
"Got you."
Pulling back his right, Kim In-rang seized Jin-hyuk's right shoulder with his left, flashing a triumphant smile. His face seemed innocent at a glance. A smile he couldn't hold. The thrill of success faded in an instant; what he'd grabbed wasn't flesh but rock. Kim In-rang's mind chilled.
The same moment he saw the corner of Jin-hyuk's mouth twist upward.
"What..."
Jin-hyuk exhaled the word like a sigh of disbelief.
As he locked Kim In-rang's forearm with his right arm, Jin-hyuk thrust out his left.
Just thrust it.
'Grab it and then what?'
Smack-!
Too lightning-quick for Kim In-rang to evade. Identical to the strike on Jeong Sang-tae.
Jin-hyuk's palm flicked Kim In-rang's jaw skyward. He crumpled to his knees with a thud, collapsing limply.
As consciousness faded, Kim In-rang realized: Jeong Sang-tae hadn't blacked out from jaw or occipital impact. The young man's blow pierced jaw, nasal cavity, brain, and crown. His nostrils burned, something trickling warmly. Amid the delusion of a pulped brain, darkness swallowed him.
Never imagined his rigorously trained body could fall so pathetically. The brief moment dragged eternally, pain scaling with perceived time.
'Two down, two to go?'
Jin-hyuk stayed vigilant. The first pair fell easy due to their carelessness, but these were group fighters. Outnumbered still.
'Those two'll get serious now. Time to focus.'
No fear or shrinking, though. A typical teen would've wet himself against burly adults with glaring eyes, but Son Jin-hyuk had solid reasons to face them.
Less thrill than a track meet, even.
'These guys are monsters, no doubt.'
Watching No. 2 and No. 3 charge, Jin-hyuk puzzled. Fast and strong by his standards—inhumanly nimble.
Hands extending then retracting from grapples, powerful stances, weaves outpacing thought. Ghostly motion.
'But slow.'
Dynamic vision sharpened?
Desperation made his brain whirl inside his skull. Crown burned hot.
Deflecting, Jin-hyuk touched his head lightly. Not hot.
Clack-.
Coordinating to pin each arm.
Backstep to evade—mustn't get caught—arms shaking like judo grip breaks. Follow-ups flowed off with nimble feet. Moves beyond his mind's grasp, body acting solo.
'Definitely tough before.'
More instinctive than athletes like Choi Tae-yang. Pre-growth spurt, he'd have been pummeled. True experts.
Yet against Jin-hyuk reading breaths, mere mortals.
Ghosts? Overgenerous.
Thud-.
No. 2 Kang Heon-chang's right side aiming for Jin-hyuk's right arm—elbow plunged in. Jin-hyuk dipped forward, thrusting. Too close for punch, lightning choice.
"Gurk-!"
Kang Heon-chang screamed, knees buckling in choking agony.
Oops, power slip. Jin-hyuk mused inwardly.
Kang knew: rib snapped, internals pierced. Breathing meant lungs spared, but fatal sans hospital. Should've pushed Moon to abort. Regret flooded. Sneakers scraping pavement chilled him horribly.
"Quit? Gonna kill all your pals?"
Jin-hyuk called, widening gap to No. 3 Moon Seok-il.
Moon scanned motionless comrades warily. Kim face-down likely fine; occiput-smashed Jeong Sang-tae and broken-ribbed Kang Heon-chang critical.
Seconds since "subdue" order. That stung worst.
Jin-hyuk spoke again, long exhale.
"Hoo... I'd rather off you all. You know why."
He'd overheard threats to his parents. Fleeting thought: better kill and bury scum like them.
But handling them led to next problem.
Unknown future disruptors.
"Spill clean, you're free. Who sent you, why, orders. Not for anything good."
"Urk-."
Moon glared, swallowing groan.
Eyes dropped traitorously soon.
'Me... scared?'
Planned quiet talk and grab. Positions clashed—no real talk hope.
Comrades' falls shocked, but even three-on-one, they couldn't take him solo.
Moon had one choice to save them.
Hand to back. Master of all martial arts, proudest: dagger work.
Gripped flat, solid hilt—courage reared.
"Uncle, don't use that."
Moon's hand outsped the warning.
"Baek Seo-heum~ Even if I go craaaazy~ I loooove yoooou so muuuch~"
Up the hill, oblivious to the commotion below, Jo Il-heon hummed cheerfully. He had a knack for turning pop songs into folk ballads, drawing chuckles from listeners. With prime boar meat, singing came naturally.
Choi Jang-hwan, mid-cut, chided.
"Argh, you rascal. Brain addled—what's with the singing just 'cause you got ribs?"
"Huh? What's age got to do with singing?"
Fact smackdown was timeless; Jo Il-heon felt Choi's knife stab his chest. Those precise boar cuts seemed to carve his own ribs.
"You're knife-sharp at home and rituals too. Me? Total trash."
"What? I'm trash? Me?"
"You are, ain'tcha?"
"Yeah... true enough."
Jo Il-heon the blusterer talked circles around anyone. Choi Jang-hwan, never word-won, conceded there. No point scolding an elder for "trash"—he'd plop down, lamenting bachelor woes.
'Damn fool—if picky, should've bit when matchmade with Kwak Hyang-rim.'
Jo waved it off—not his type. Wants at least Son Gwang-yeon's wife level, or human next to Han Yu-young?
Kwak Hyang-rim a rare village beauty, yet this mud-splashed punk eyed higher. Choi glared, stripped ribs mute.
"Why leave so much meat on those ribs?"
"For my grandson. Growing boy—gotta eat hearty."
"Bro, your grandson's bigger'n us. Bigger'n most grown men? Village-wise, maybe only Tae-yang tops him."
"Bigger means eat more!"
Jo Il-heon lost this round.
Victory smirk creased Choi Jang-hwan's lips.
"But why call Son Jin-hyuk your grandson? Sister-in-law says it too."
"I took him in, punk. Like my own boy."
"Mercy, such airs—what's that?"
All knew, but Jo probed anyway—hated losing.
"What to do! Mom's in Daejeon minding youngest sis, work piles sans me. Wife fresh off birthing Mi-kyeong, recovering. I took him, hands shaking."
Choi Jang-hwan paused cuts, sighed reminiscing old days.
Couldn't even hold his own daughter. Hard to refuse pale-faced Son Gwang-yeon that dawn pre-forty. Trembling hands took newborn Son Jin-hyuk.
'Later season than now, probably.'
Early autumn, moonless new moon. Starlit trek along ridges to the house—Han Yu-young, first-time mom, birthed solo stoutly.
Too early? Tiny blood-clot shivered bloodless. But that tiny fist clenched: gonna live. Burned into Choi's mind.
"Just took him, that's all. Fierce cold—baby suffered."
No cry. Just whines till milked—suckled like eager pup. Silent babes don't talk? Explains the quiet one.
"Lordy... thinkin' back, my heart still thumps. But he talks—blessing."
"What'll the boy become? Built sturdy, strong, runs like wind, books too. Looks fetch girls, eh?"
"Pfft—Mi-kyeong calls him eunuch."
Tsk-!
Choi Jang-hwan smacked lips in heavy lament.
"Eunuch?"
Jo Il-heon's booze-flushed eyes bulged rabbit-wide. Eunuch!
That young'un a eunuch—poor kid. Heaven fair? Gave all gifts, snatched whole cloth?
Seed stripped barren?
Eunuch meant talent or tall elsewhere—but here, incomplete manhood. Castrate.
"How'd Mi-kyeong know?"
She's just a kid? Jo smirked crooked.
Choi Jang-hwan's puzzled tilt turned dopey.
Scorned woman frosts midsummer; Choi Mi-kyeong's disappointment turns village studs to geldings.