Chapter 14
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Monster Tale Specialist Office: Head in the Box (14)
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Jeonghan's movements stiffened at Taeju's words.
“What do you mean?”
Taeju had sensed that awkwardness from Jeonghan before. The trembling voice, the stiff pronunciation.
It was just like the time he'd overheard him acting over the phone.
Jeonghan knew it himself, so he wore a troubled look. Taeju didn't bother pointing it out.
“While talking with the Dokkaebi, you barely reacted when I said we needed to figure out what the promise was. You at least pretended to be curious.”
When he'd said they had to uncover the promise, Jeonghan had been pretty indifferent.
He'd acted as if he already had a good idea what it was.
Jeonghan hadn't started showing real fear until the Dokkaebi threatened to bring it in two days.
“Of course, that alone wasn't enough to be sure.”
Jeonghan had kept being anxious, kept fearing the Dokkaebi. So Taeju couldn't be completely certain.
That's why, tight as it was, he'd stuck to the date the Dokkaebi mentioned.
Just to probe Jeonghan a little.
“On top of that, the client didn't object even when I locked in the two-day deadline. If it's because you trust us, well, I wouldn't argue,”
But trust didn't line up with how anxious Jeonghan was acting.
“Though seeing you this uneasy, it doesn't seem like you believe we can wrap it up in two days.”
Jeonghan said nothing. He just stared back with those worried eyes.
“You knew about it, didn't you? The promise.”
Jeonghan's face went white. He didn't say a word, but his expression answered for him.
“As expected, you knew.”
* * *
“I'll see you here tomorrow evening.”
Jeonghan nodded without a word and left amid the tinkling of the bell.
It wasn't only that he skipped replying to the final remark. After his face had answered Taeju's question, Jeonghan hadn't spoken at all.
No telling what was going through his head. But the reason for his behavior was easy enough to guess.
Jeonghan had practically deified his friend Jeonghwan.
To Jeonghan, Jeonghwan had been a friend, an object of admiration, an idol.
So the choice of not honoring Jeonghwan's promise probably hadn't even occurred to him.
But Taeju still didn't know exactly what had happened to leave Jeonghan in this state. He could only speculate.
The reaction had at least pointed him toward the root of the problem.
“More common than I thought.”
Taeju said with a bitter edge.
Common didn't make it any less agonizing. If anything, the commonality tricked people into downplaying it.
This kind of pain was something everyone endured, so just tough it out.
But grit alone fixed nothing.
The body didn't heal from sheer endurance, and neither did the mind.
“Guess sleep's off the table tonight too.”
Plenty of time on his hands, Taeju took his ease boiling water. Knowing he'd pull two sleepless nights ahead made him lazier than usual.
Least he could squeeze in a cup or two of coffee.
“Ughhh…”
Not long after Taeju got the water going, Woli emerged from the hallway. She stretched out her weary frame, working the kinks from every stiff corner.
“Ow, so dull.”
She gave her body a good shake, then dropped into her seat. Her usual spot, Woli's permanent claim.
“Where's Sis?”
“'Bout five more minutes, I figure.”
Woli yawned through the words.
“Could be quicker. No Dokkaebi mucking things up this time.”
She stretched long again. A faint crackle sounded.
“They said the rest wasn't risky, so I headed out first.”
“Right. No news is good news.”
Taeju nodded. The array of techniques Sia wielded were beyond even him, let alone Woli.
He grasped the basics, barely, but mimicking them? No chance.
Loitering half-cocked would only get in the way.
“You had it rough too. Must've been a slog.”
Taeju said it casual as he brewed warm yuzu tea.
“This? Piece of cake.”
Woli brushed it off. But the way she sipped and unwound told another story—she was beat.
Standing idle looked easy, but guarding someone meant nerves jangling nonstop.
“Phew.”
A soft sigh slipped from Woli.
“Still, bet you're wiped, aware of it or not. Finish that and crash upstairs.”
Woli nodded.
“Say,”
Woli piped up mid-sip.
“Yeah?”
“So what's the deal with that promise?”
“The promise?”
“Yeah. You talked like you had it all figured.”
Curiosity burned bright—her sleepy eyes snapped open, sparkling.
“Eh... I'll fill you in later.”
Taeju hedged.
“Wha? Why?! Come on!”
Woli pouted, miffed.
“I hustled extra hard 'cause I wanted to know.”
A letdown for her, banking on hearing it tonight.
“Some reason you can't spill?”
“Nah, no huge secret-keeping mandate or anything...”
Taeju looked sheepish.
“It's just... kinda cringe and embarrassing to put into words.”
He scratched his head.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Sia chimed in as they bantered.
“Ah, good work.”
Dead on her feet, Sia flung herself into a chair. Thud—she melted into it like they'd fused.
Taeju had logged the most words, but Sia's workload dwarfed his. No wonder she was drained. Watching her slump, he slid her some yuzu tea too.
“But come on, nothing too sacred to share, right? It's not our mess.”
Woli bobbed her head eager at Sia's nudge. Taeju's brows knit faintly.
“Then you tell 'em, Sis.”
“Too wiped from today's grind~.”
Taeju heaved a sigh at her dodge. Same as ever—storytime fell to him.
He poured his coffee, claimed the chair across from Sia, and dove in.
“Anyway, that's the gist.”
“'Gist' of what?”
Woli's eyes gleamed.
“Uh, well... not exactly earth-shattering.”
Taeju squirmed.
“Just kids being kids.”
“Vague much?”
“Dokkaebi nails it sometimes. You overcomplicate everything.”
The clueless one oblivious, the knowing one smug—they razzed him in tandem.
No more wiggling out. Taeju sighed.
“Likely, Jeonghwan's original pitch was just the value in all meeting up again ten years on.”
“Huh?”
Woli cocked her head; Sia smirked, unsurprised.
“Truth is, if there's value anywhere, it's there. Reunite after a decade, unearth the box, swap old tales, shoot the breeze. Eternal friendship or whatever...?”
Too ordinary, maybe—Woli deflated.
“Hence the awkwardness spelling it out.”
“Boys fresh out of middle school? What grand notions?”
Sia piled on.
Ten years loomed epic, and the grown client fed the illusion, but strip it down: teenage boys, Woli's juniors then.
Taeju, Jeonghan, Sia—they could piece it together easy enough.
“Total nothingburger.”
Interest gone, Woli nursed her tea.
“But hey.”
Taeju scratched his head again.
“Yeah?”
“In one sense, it's legit precious.”
“How? That?”
“Can't force preciousness into being. Makes it rare if it is.”
We'll rendezvous here in ten years and hang. I'll prove it to you.
Kids' offhand vow or not, money couldn't touch the real thing.
“Never figured these words from my mouth, but decade-long bonds? Priceless.”
Sia snickered. Taeju shot her a look, pressed on.
“That's the angle: two days or a month, unseen is unseen. And full turnout? Dream on.”
Adult friends meant baggage—duties too heavy to shrug off casual.
“Gives me the crawlies just hearing it.”
Woli grimaced faintly.
“But if you know, why not clue him in?”
She frowned, stumped.
“Eh...”
Taeju wryly grinned.
“No real need, actually.”
“Why not?”
“He knows already.”
“He did?”
Sia nodded to Woli's shock.
“Less 'knows for sure,' more 'probably.'”
“Yeah. Spot-on suspicion level. Post-Dokkaebi rant, seemed confirmed.”
Taeju's read.
“So right now? Decent spot.”
Half the puzzle cracked: what Jeonghan had to deliver.
“Still, too cheery? Gaps everywhere.”
Taeju dipped his head to Sia.
“Yeah.”
Half solved flipped to half unsolved.
Why the extreme vibe from Jeonghan? The near-worship of Jeonghwan? The groveling dynamic?
No answers, no satisfying the Dokkaebi.
“Which is why investigation kicks off now.”
The pair sipped tea mute.
They couldn't touch his work, nor he theirs.
“Rough road.”
Woli eyed him sorry.
“Two days? Squeeze, sure,”
Taeju sipped coffee.
“But die? Nah.”
Bitterness bloomed on his tongue. He leaned back, a twinge of regret.
“Shouldn't have flexed... could've pushed for three.”