Family Fuss and Ironclad Peace
The front door's smart lock chimed merrily as he stepped inside the penthouse. The heavy door swung open, revealing a living room thick with tension. His family sat in a straight line on the sofa, staring blankly into space.
"I'm home."
His dry greeting hadn't even finished.
Crash! Bang! Thud!
The three on the sofa sprang up like coiled springs. His mother reached him first, grabbing both his cheeks in a vise grip.
"Let me see, let me see! Is our little puppy hurt anywhere?"
Her hands squished his cheeks mercilessly. His lips puffed out like fish pastries. Mumbling through the pressure,
"Mmmph, I'm f-fine."
"Hold still! I have to check for injuries!"
His mother twisted his head side to side, hunting for scratches. His father seized his arms, running hands up and down to check for breaks or dislocations, squeezing like he was testing fruit.
"Lift your legs. Ankles okay? No blood?"
"Dad, I didn't even break a sweat."
Hae-eun circled behind, yanking up his training shirt. Cool air hit bare skin. Her hand swept down his back, then she let out a relieved breath.
"Good, no injuries."
"Put the shirt down."
Irritation bubbled up, but he gave up resisting. Standing in the entryway, he endured a full-body scan for over ten minutes. From hair to toes, the inspection finally wrapped. His mother sighed deeply and released his cheeks.
"Thank goodness. Not a single scratch."
"I promised I wouldn't get dirty."
He brushed off his rumpled clothes. Even after saving the world, this house treated him like a kid left by the riverside.
"Phew. Inspection over?"
He jerked his chin at the family. Glancing at his watch—7 p.m.
"Let's eat. The reserved hanwoo omakase will be late."
Only then did their stiff expressions soften.
Gangnam's top hanwoo omakase spot. VVIP private room. Prime marbled beef sizzled on charcoal. He popped a flower sirloin dripping juices into his mouth. It melted on his tongue before he could chew.
"This is it."
He murmured in quiet admiration. He'd gone on that annoying trip to protect this peaceful luxury. His father kept piling perfectly grilled flower sirloin onto his plate.
"Tae-ho, eat up. You worked hard slaying monsters."
"You eat some too, Dad. I'm full."
"I'm good. Watching my kid eat fills me up."
Hae-eun was massacring meat at warp speed, chopsticks a blur. Grease smeared her lips as she eyed the menu.
"Oppa, can I add another truffle yukhoe?"
"Yeah. Order whatever."
He tossed the unlimited Black Card onto the table. His mother smiled over her wine glass.
"So, you nailed the deal with the government?"
"Of course."
He nodded, swallowing beef.
"Passed in this morning's cabinet meeting—the Kang Tae-ho Special Protection Act. Media and politicians banned within 1km of our house. No more events using my name. And permanent tax exemption."
"Oh my goodness."
"Our home's legally untouchable now. Relax and chew your beef."
As the meal wound down, the suited manager entered, bowing 90 degrees.
"Was everything to your liking, Hunter? The bill's already covered by the presidential office."
Quick on the uptake. Peanuts compared to the special act, but free meal's not bad. Toothpick in mouth, he stood. Perfect end to the workday.
Back home. Hot shower done, loose short-sleeved tee thrown on—Hae-eun's discarded one, hem hitting his knees like a dress, flapping.
Lounging on the living room sofa, scrolling shorts on her tablet. He chucked something at her head.
"Ow! What?!"
Hae-eun rubbed her forehead, annoyed. A worn talisman had landed on her stomach.
"Trip's over. Take it back. Annoying in my pocket."
She snatched it and flung it back. It smacked his solar plexus and hit the floor.
"Nah. You keep it, oppa."
"Why? Worked great. Not a speck of dust."
"Who knows when the country'll drag you out again. Tuck it deep in your wallet."
She grumbled, eyes back on the tablet. Her ears flushed red. Annoying girl.
He picked up the fallen talisman. Pocketed it and headed to his room. Sat on the bed, rummaging pockets. Out came the talisman—and the red orb from the ashes earlier.
Ping-pong ball sized. Mirror-smooth surface, crimson liquid swirling inside like it breathed. Room temp spiked, air stuffy.
"Creepy thing."
Too alien for mutant gate trash. Pure, refined, bizarrely clear hot energy. And the legendary starfish yokai.
Thoughts tangled, then boredom hit. Shoved orb and talisman in a drawer, slammed shut. Gate collapsing on the other side of the planet? Whatever. Today's work done perfectly. He flopped onto the bed. Sank into deep sleep.
Beijing, China. Ministry of State Security underground bunker.
Nuke-war-proof top-security conference room. Heavy silence crushed the space. Giant screen looped satellite footage frame by frame: border extermination.
Silver-haired little girl soared into ash-gray sky. Hands clasped at chest, pulling invisible string—eerie pose. Tiny spark shot from fingertips.
Screen flashed white. Colossal beast vaporized at molecular level. Thermal cam errored pre-explosion: unmeasurable.
"Insane."
Security Minister muttered, wiping cold sweat.
"Not a hunter skill. Compressed heat of dozens of tactical nukes into one point. Ignores physics."
Top brass faces turned ashen. A general slammed the table, standing.
"We secure that Kang Tae-ho! Whatever it takes. Diplomacy, astronomical bribes. If not, kidnap his family with agents..."
"Shut your mouth!!!"
President's icy shout echoed. He glared bloodshot at the general.
"Kidnap family? You wanna wipe this continent off the map?!"
His finger trembled pointing at floating Tae-ho on screen.
"Not some S-rank. Uncontrollable off-spec disaster beyond human norms. Piss him off, that damn fire pillar hits Beijing skies!"
Room froze. General paled, slunk down. No rebuttals. Power gap too vast for plots or threats.
President yanked his tie loose.
"Implement Korea deal to the penny, now. West Sea ports safe, rare earth monopoly, cash aid—all wired by morning."
"But Comrade President, those terms cripple our..."
"Send it! Show we keep promises."
Defeat laced his voice.
"Build friendly ties under the table. Give money, resources, whatever. Keep the line for calling that monster as relief pitcher next big gate."
Gaze back to screen. Silver-haired girl dusted off, strolled away.
"And Defense Science Director."
"Yes, Comrade President."
"Activate secret project tomorrow."
"Which... project?"
"We make one too. Like Kang Tae-ho, or at least ankle-grabber artificial absolute power. Gene mods, mana stone fusion—anything."
Night China's pride crushed.
Next morning. Dining table.
Slurping cereal soaked in milk. TV blared morning news.
Anchor's excited voice filled the room. Screen switched to footage: him smashing iron-armored elephant jaws, firing spark midair for massive blast—slow-mo. Bottom ticker scrolled netizen reactions wildly.
Munching cereal, he nodded at the TV. Shrugged grandly at the family.
"See? Total beatdown. Like chasing off a stray mutt."
His mother slammed the kimchi jjigae pot down, smacking his back.
"Ow."
"Mutt? That fire pillar and house-sized monster! Why're you so fearless?!"
Her nagging pierced his ears.
"For real, no big deal. No sweat."
Father eyed TV seriously, backing her.
"Even on screen, deadly risky. One slip in those flames? Even pros get got."
"My flames. Why would they burn me."
Hae-eun slurped his leftover milk, tsking.
"Oppa has zero sense of danger. Shorty with big balls. Looked razor-close."
Endless family nagging barrage. After yesterday's 10-min full scan too. News hailed world-saving hero; home table treated him like reckless baby girl by the water.
"Sigh."
Deep sigh. Arguing just prolongs it.
"Okay, okay. Next time, snipe from afar and bail. No complacency."
Nodded vaguely, set spoon down in resignation. Nagging tired him, but those worries weren't all bad. He'd crushed the steel beast for this mundane routine.
Hopped onto sofa, curled up. Planned all-day new console games. Perfectly seized comfy NEET life. Uninterruptible peace began.