The Heavenly Demon Has Returned (3)
I rolled my eyes, and the store clerk let out a sigh before pulling out a smartphone. She tapped on the screen and pointed at it with her finger.
Speak into that? The moment the thought crossed my mind, the smartphone recognized the voice.
That’s right. There was such a thing as voice recognition. I had completely forgotten.
Where should I go to learn Korean?
As soon as the voice came out, the smartphone processed it.
Since you’re a foreigner, wouldn’t it be best to go to a Korean language school?
A language school?
It’s a place at universities that teaches Korean to foreigners. The closest one around here would be Seong-a University Language School.
The clerk told me there was even a page in Chinese and suggested I search for it. I expressed my gratitude. It was fortunate that the first person I had a proper conversation with was kind.
I took out my own smartphone and looked up information about Seong-a University Language School. Thanks to the voice recognition function, I could search without having to type in Hangul.
It seemed anyone who had graduated high school could apply, even foreigners. Apparently, it was possible to enroll even if you didn’t know Hangul at all. The tuition was two million won per semester.
Money and time were no issue for me, but I wasn’t sure if I met the qualifications. After all, I had only received this identity. I had no idea what kind of life the “Baek Ara” of this world had lived.
There was compulsory education, so she must have graduated high school. But was Baek Ara considered a foreigner? She had a perfectly valid Korean ID card. I didn’t know the details, but I decided to visit the language school first. If it worked, great. If not, I could find another way. It was only inconvenient for daily life; nothing urgent.
I shook off my worries and turned my attention to the food in front of me. I couldn’t keep these precious things waiting.
The clerk had given me tongs, a fork, and a plate, but I didn’t use them. Everyone knows chicken tastes best when eaten with your hands. I suppose I should start with the drumstick. To be able to claim an entire chicken leg for myself—how truly luxurious.
The chicken, freshly fried, still held the warmth of the oil. An ordinary person would have made a fuss about it being hot, but for someone who could live inside a pit of flames, it was merely a comfortable temperature.
I admired the golden figure in my hand for a moment, then took a deep breath and bit into it.
“Mmm!”
The first thing I felt was the texture of the batter. Every time I moved my mouth, a crisp crunch echoed inside. Next came a salty, savory, violently flavorful taste that spared no expense on spices. I was moved by the overwhelming flavor when my teeth finally reached the chicken meat hidden beneath the crispy coating.
Not only was it tender, but the moment I bit down, the juices burst forth and painted the inside of my mouth with their own color. It was wondrous.
So this was the kind of food I ate every day in my previous life.
By the time I came to my senses, the once-thick drumstick had been reduced to a clean bone. If I had eaten like this during my training days at the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult as a child, I would have been scolded for lacking dignity. But now, no one was here to criticize me.
After devouring several pieces using the Jaw-Swallowing Technique, the greasiness of the oil began to rise. My stomach wasn’t full yet, but at this rate I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the best flavor.
That was when my eyes landed on the black drink on the table.
Cola! How could I have forgotten about that?
I opened the bottle, and a refreshing sound flowed into my ears. Ah, the sound of carbonation was more captivating than a minstrel’s song.
Excited, I began pouring the drink into a cup—only to let out a small scream. I hadn’t accounted for the rising foam. The moment I saw the black wave spilling over the rim, I hastily brought the cup to my lips.
The unique, tingling refreshment of the carbonation made me frown. It wasn’t unpleasant. I was simply startled by the unexpected ambush. Once I got used to it, the taste of cola was delightful. Cold. Sweet. That fizzy sensation had something addictive about it.
Now that my mouth was refreshed, it was time to tear into the chicken again. Neither of the two birds before me would leave this place with any meat still on their bones.
Enrolling in the language school went much smoother than I expected. The admissions officer for Seong-a University Language School happened to speak Chinese. Thanks to that, inquiring about enrollment was effortless.
Through the process, I learned that one of Baek Ara’s parents was Chinese and the other Korean. As a result, she held dual citizenship. On top of that, it was recorded that she had graduated high school in China before coming to Korea, so all the requirements for applying to the language school were already satisfied.
It’s right before the semester starts! What great timing. Would you like to apply right away?
There was no reason to refuse, so I registered immediately.
After that, during the remaining time before the start of classes, I worked hard to adapt to modern life. The ocean of the internet was astonishingly vast. Wisdom that would require seeking out sages in Murim, or the life stories of countless people that could only be heard in taverns—everything about life could be found there.
For someone like me, practically a foreigner, there was no better way to learn how to live in the modern world than the internet. There was some distorted information, of course, but I had the knowledge from my previous life. Though it had grown faint, it was more than enough to distinguish nonsense from truth.
Thanks to that, I adapted to modern life quickly. Just as someone who has learned to swim can still swim even after decades, it was possible because I had been born and raised in the modern world in my previous life.
The day before enrolling in the language school, I even succeeded in ordering food by operating a delivery app with my own hands. At that point, I could truly call myself a modern person.
Having gone through all that, I entered the language school full of confidence. Since it had once been my mother tongue, I thought I would quickly regain my old proficiency.
It took only a few days for my arrogance to be shattered.
At first, it was fine. We were learning things everyone already knew—things like the consonant “nieun.” That much I could do with my eyes closed. I got a little lost when learning how to read characters, but even that wasn’t too bad. I could somehow keep up.
But once we went beyond that, my head started to hurt.
Most of the students at the language school were from the West. There weren’t many East Asians like me. Perhaps that was why the lessons were mostly tailored to Westerners. From the perspective of someone who couldn’t even remember how to write “apple” in English, the teacher’s explanations sounded like the language of beasts.
In other words, I couldn’t understand a single thing.
I had never considered my intellect lacking, but that was only because I had a foundation to begin with. If even basic comprehension was impossible, learning itself was out of the question.
I felt sorry for the teacher who had given the lecture, but it seemed I would have to visit the faculty office today and bother her. I couldn’t keep attending class with a textbook full of question marks.
The silver lining was that the teacher was very enthusiastic about imparting knowledge. If she had spouted the same nonsense Murim people did—that even struggling was part of enlightenment—I would have given up entirely. Still, I couldn’t rely on the teacher forever.
I would have to ask about the things I didn’t understand and also share my difficulties. Suffering alone wouldn’t bring any answers.
As I gathered my textbook and headed to the faculty office, I spotted two people arguing in the hallway. Both seemed to be Westerners. One was a man whose muscles were so developed they were visible even through his T-shirt. The other was a woman so thin her limbs looked like they might snap.
No matter how I looked at it, the man appeared to be pressuring a woman who clearly disliked it. I wanted to hear the situation, but unfortunately, even though I could hear their conversation, I couldn’t understand the content. Their argument was taking place in the language of the West.
“XXXX” “XXXX”
Since I couldn’t even properly understand my former mother tongue of Korean, how could I understand that? Seriously, if you’ve come to Korea, fight in Korean. If you absolutely must use another language, at least use the language of the Middle Kingdom.
Perhaps because of the man’s size, everyone else who noticed the quarrel pretended not to see it and walked past. The louder their voices grew, the more the man’s arm tensed with power. If this continued, he looked ready to swing.
I didn’t know the circumstances between them, but violence was unacceptable. Even in Murim, a scoundrel who harmed a powerless woman was not treated as a person. In the modern world, there was even less need to explain why it was wrong.
The moment I approached to stop the fight, the man raised his fist.
Tsk. What a foul-tempered bastard.
I stepped forward and intercepted his punch. It was light. Even the young children of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had more strength than this.
The man frowned at my words. I knew that expression well. He was clearly thinking, What the hell is this person babbling about? It was the same face I had been making often lately, so I recognized it immediately.
Sigh. How should I translate this into Korean? He was here to learn Korean too, so even if I rephrased it, would he even understand?
Never mind. Thinking about it any further is annoying. Why should I have to worry about some Western idiot?
I brushed his fist aside and struck several of his pressure points. The man immediately staggered like a collapsing tower. He tried to get up with a bewildered face, but no strength entered his body, and he could only flail helplessly. He wouldn’t be able to move a muscle for about ten minutes. By then, the heat in his head should have cooled down.
“Are you okay?”
When I turned to the woman and asked, she nodded like a woodpecker. She must have been very startled.
“Um… did that man get hurt?”
Whoa. This woman’s Korean is fluent. It sounds better than most native speakers. Why would someone like her invest money and time to attend a language school?
“No. There is no injury.”
This place was not Murim. If I took someone’s life just because I didn’t like them, it would cause all sorts of trouble. Adjusting my strength was only natural.
“Thank you for helping me. You’re Baek Ara, right?”
“That is correct.”
The woman wasn’t a stranger. She was a student in the same class as me. Since she participated actively in class, I remembered her face. However, only her face came to mind. I couldn’t recall her name.
When I licked my lips, the woman burst into laughter and introduced herself.
“I’m Enry Scott. I’m in the same class as Ara.”
“Enil?”
“It’s Enry.”
“Enry.”
After a few attempts, I finally pronounced it correctly. Enry smiled.
Truly, Western names are incredibly difficult.
“I’d like to repay you for helping me. Do you like coffee?”
“No.”
I disliked bitter things. It reminded me of the medicinal pills I was forced to eat back in the Demonic Cult. Their terrible taste was no ordinary matter. One pill would leave a bitter aftertaste lingering in my mouth for days. The experience of my sense of taste running away for several days was not a good memory.
“I… I see.”
I hadn’t meant to refuse her outright, but it seemed I had caused a misunderstanding. I lightly shrugged my shoulders and added,
“I like sweet things.”
At that, Enry’s face brightened up.