Gift (1)
Even as she lay down in bed, a smile hadn't left Lee Yerim's lips. Her one and only little brother. She was grinning ear to ear at the thought of teasing Hoyeol.
"Lee Hoyeol, you've really stepped in it this time."
Sending long letters every day to check in? Fine, whatever. Sure, he was busy normally, but he'd taken vacation—shouldn't a son at least drop by his parents' house?
"That punk, and Mom and Dad are already worried sick."
Of course, if she said that to Mom and Dad:
—"You're just going to torment your little brother again, aren't you, Yerim?"
—"Yerim, anyone hearing you would think you're the dutiful daughter."
—"Our third daughter. Take care of your son and husband like your mom does."
For some reason, the arrows turned back on her. But Lee Yerim had her say.
Giggling, she let it slip.
"No manners to speak of, my little brother."
She knew exactly where Hoyeol was out in the world. Humanity's hero, symbol of peace, blah blah blah. The TV wouldn't shut up about it.
But as her sisters said, at home, Hoyeol was still just the little brother.
Ho of great joy, yeol of delight. True to his name's meaning.
Our maknae, who brought joy just by existing.
Lee Yerim's lips curved even higher.
"...Just imagining it makes this big sis so happy."
Teasing him after so long... no, facing him again.
It was a joy she hadn't felt since Hoyeol grew up.
Lately, seeing him brought back old memories.
Lee Yerim furrowed her brow, deep in thought.
"I've definitely heard that way of talking before..."
It was over ten years ago, so the memory was fuzzy, but for some reason, that Hoyeol didn't feel unfamiliar.
Tracing back old memories, Lee Yerim muttered.
"I think I've heard that long name before too."
...Something Romeo?
It was so long and complicated.
Fine, she'd ask Hoyeol tomorrow when he came.
The next day, Lee Yerim woke at eight in the morning. But the moment she stepped into the living room, she froze in shock.
"...W-what?!"
Her ear-splitting scream drew ire from Madam Choi.
"Aigoo, quiet down. Hoyeol came by earlier and left!"
"Wh-when?!"
"Five a.m.!"
"F-five a.m.?! Is he insane?!"
Crash! Lee Yerim's grand plan crumbled in an instant.
*
Three older sisters. Youngest son of a daughter-rich household.
Me, Lee Hoyeol.
As I've said before, surviving among my sisters honed my wits out of necessity.
Thus, I concluded my vacation without a shred of shame to my pride.
Why? Because I'd said I'd visit tomorrow.
Showing up at five a.m. wasn't a lie, was it?
And it wasn't like I'd slunk off early to avoid an enemy out of lack of pride.
Thanks to the effects of First World Tree's Blessing, my sleep had already dwindled anyway.
Always, every dawn, I'd been thrashing about.
Lee Yerim, that enemy of mine, could she catch me?
—"Your face looks half-dead, son."
My mother, Madam Choi Kanghee, enveloped me in a fierce hug the moment she saw me.
She wouldn't show it outright, but I knew from my sisters that she'd been sleepless with worry over her son.
—"You've finally bulked up properly, Hoyeol."
My father, President Lee Junwook, had apparently clipped and scrapbooked every newspaper I'd appeared in.
That desperate effort to hide his true feelings was just like Dad.
"I should have come even earlier."
Maybe because I wrote letters every morning, it didn't feel like ages since we'd last met face-to-face.
Plus, more than anything, there was an enemy at the family home.
Numbers one and two, I can handle.
Calling my eldest or second sis "noona" and using formal speech? ...Yeah, tolerable.
But formal speech to Lee Yerim? Manners or not, utterly unbearable.
In that sense, well played, Hoyeol.
Her pattern of sleeping in even on weekdays.
Consistent as ever, my nemesis.
Anyway, I headed straight for the Mage Tower.
Already seven a.m.?
After visiting home at dawn, time flew while catching up.
Still, speaking like this in front of my parents...
I was genuinely mortified, on the verge of death.
But President Lee had wise words.
—"A position shapes the man, and your speech has grown solemn. Yes, in such a role, you must carry that weight."
Dad. Thank you truly for the misunderstanding.
I sighed in genuine relief.
...I absolutely cannot let my dark history slip.
I want to avoid utter shame before family at all costs.
Soon, I stepped through the manifested portal.
Vision steadying, the Mage Tower office appeared.
Swipe— I ran a finger along the desk.
Then murmured softly.
"No need to dust."
Always fussing over appearances, Grandfell.
Even after Madam Choi hugged me and rumpled my clothes.
How did I stay still then?
More importantly, why boil water the second we arrive?!
"One cannot skip meals."
Clunk— On the desk went something wrapped in cloth.
"Especially breakfast, rivaling afternoon tea time."
Just say you're hungry, no need to...!
Anyway, I unwrapped the cloth.
I wouldn't pack a lunch myself.
It was Mother's breakfast, prepared for her son.
Why does this cloth always look so threadbare?
"Silk where rule and chaos coexist. Splendid."
Don't read meaning into a plain patchwork quilt, Grandfell.
I was about to retort as usual when—
Knock knock— Someone rapped at the door.
I don't take unscheduled meetings.
But flexibility suits a first day back.
Not Bensy, anyway.
I spoke.
"Enter, Marcelo."
"Good morning, my lord..."
Marcelo looked at me and paused.
"Oh, were you dining?"
"Indeed."
"I should have notified you first. My apologies."
"Was I not absent? No matter."
"No. It's not so urgent as to interrupt your meal."
Simuard family, curse of limited lifespan.
Marcelo, freed from his demon contract.
Now with stamina for research, unlike before.
Judging by the stacks of documents in his hands.
Those must be on ki.
Work bomb on return! I'd forgotten my salaryman days.
Can pride ignore the chief mage's duties?
Especially research on ki—unignorable.
Even worked on upper demon king Gamigin.
I was shocked it resisted Gamigin then.
Now? Shocked ki affected Gamigin.
Thus, worth digging deeper than other wells.
Anyway...
Marcelo looks precarious, arms full of papers.
The curse is gone, yet still skin and bones.
Marcelo. Do you even eat?
"Have you eaten?"
"No time."
Right? Time to treat him to Mother's cooking again.
I said to Marcelo,
"If you wish, join me."
"...Pardon?"
"Skipping breakfast is poor habit."
Marcelo hesitated, eyeing the side dish containers.
Curious what they are, clearly.
No such food in Arcana.
Natural curiosity.
Explaining's easy.
"These are grains from fields, meats, vegetables combined and cooked—a process demanding great care from prep. Flavor varies wildly by method; like magic, adding to interference yields entirely different results..."
Good lord.
Fried and steamed dumplings taste different, sure, but...!!
No one grandiloquizes dumplings like you, Grandfell!
But Mother's care is true.
Flavor that raised four siblings.
Not dumplings for just anyone, Marcelo.
"...May I partake of such precious fare?"
"You merit it, Marcelo."
"Then, I'll humbly join you."
"How is it?"
"Oh...!"
"Words fail, yes."
"My lord..."
"?"
"Might I have a cup too?"
...No reason not to.
They're 300-won teabags—what's the big deal?
Why's Marcelo hunting teabags too?
*
Iron Castle Ho.
Dwarves overlooking the continent gasped.
"G-gods!"
Arcana continent.
Even their hideout felt Zero Mountains' presence—now gone.
Overnight.
Leader Chainwalker spoke gravely.
"We anticipated it."
Akshan last survivor, adventurer.
Exchanges with Hoyeol.
Thus, Chainwalker grasped rifts somewhat.
Rifts link Arcana and adventurers' world.
Zero Mountains vanishing from Arcana means...
"Then, they appeared in my lord's world?"
Dwarves murmured at Chainwalker's words.
"He'll be fine, right?"
"Dunno. Zero Mountains are massive."
"Dropping out of nowhere... like tens of thousands of mana cannon blasts."
Creators of complex machines, dwarves.
Hence, vivid mental image of the damage.
Only for dwarves, though.
Dreadsden residents whispered.
"...Mr. Gardner. Believe it?"
"No way, Lancy."
"Something's really happening."
Zero Mountains' former site: utterly flat, no hills.
"...Worrying on all fronts."
Sky-faring ship headed for empire capital, Antonium.
To resettle Dreadsden folk.
That ray of light in endless darkness...
Not a title—Lord Hoyeol, she'd heard.
On Iron Castle Ho, Lancy learned his feats.
Lately, inflicted fatal blows on demons, making them cower.
Even her eyes saw demon activity plummet.
Demons worry less, but...
Can we adapt to Antonium?
Valid concern.
Dreadsden: small, poor village shunned by all.
But Lancy clenched her fist.
Yet we survived.
Didn't forget pride Diend the shadow spirit spoke of.
Lancy even had leisure to worry for Hoyeol.
Dwarves looked so grave.
"He'll be safe, right?"
Lancy knew little of impact, but...
Even jumping in water ripples the surface.
How wildly would it churn from Zero Mountains?
Gardner closed his eyes.
"We can only pray for his safety."
Hoyeol, Dreadsden's savior.
What poor folk like them could do: pray for savior's safety.
And spread his heroic tales in Antonium.
Chainwalker eyed Lancy and Gardner.
"As you say, can't help worrying for Lord Hoyeol's world. Even if he blocks the impact somehow."
Gulp— Chainwalker swallowed dryly.
"Zero Mountains are dangerous in themselves."
Arcana birthed countless powerhouses.
Yet none reached Zero Mountains' peak.
Guarded by a dragon.
...No doubt in his power, but.
He's human, after all.
Human vs. dragon: earth and sky.
"Heh."
But dwarves knew.
Innate class.
Short, stout bodies taught them overcoming it best.
Chainwalker's eyes gleamed.
"At last, time for gear worthy of him!"
Dwarves already forged equipment for Hoyeol.
Armor tempered elegantly under High El's enchantment.
Mana platinum. Purest mana stones. Indigo butterfly thread...
Rarest from dwarf vaults—top-tier performance.
"Something to anticipate, my lord."
Suddenly, Chainwalker's gaze to sealed iron door.
"...Ahem, save for the weapon."
Top dwarf smith, Walls Whale.
Sealed door, fixated on tempering the sword—for dozens of days.
Inevitable.
Voice from beyond iron door.
"Insufficient. Laughably dull!"
"Shut it. Tempering's not done."
"Dwarf, recall his foes to cleave!"
...Lord, of all swords, that one?
Precious sword's voice continued.
Chainwalker shut his eyes.
"I must sharpen further. To fell heaven's stars, demon eyes! This continent's whetstone falls short. Forge me with heaven-fallen whetstone—the Milky Way Whetstone!"
Ore spouting knowledge.
Demands endless.
"Milky Way Whetstone, huh."
Legend among dwarves.
How to find and forge with it?
......Wait.
Shreyg's voice flashed.
—"Who wears that crown? None of my concern. I lent princes power only to claim the magic tool, Milky Way Whetstone."
Wasn't it in Antonium palace warehouse?