Chapter 208
Chapter 208
The candles inserted into it flickered with ominous flames, releasing a foul odor into the air. They weren't paraffin. But they didn't seem to be made from animal fat either. What on earth were those candles made of? As Han Sang-ah pondered the candles' material, a voice spoke up. ―Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? A girl's voice tickled her ear, followed by a mischievous giggle. The large table was covered with a white tablecloth spotted here and there with stains. Candles made from some unidentified substance flickered nearby
A rusty three-tiered tray held wriggling maggots and moldy food. Han Sang-ah stared at the suspiciously stained teacups, then lifted one to sniff the contents before speaking. ...Did you fish the tea leaves out of a trash can? With that cold assessment, she set the teacup back on the table and eyed it before reaching toward the tray. It was a three-layer sandwich stuffed with rancid bacon bits reeking of spoiled oil, moldy turkey chunks, mushy tomatoes oozing juice, and discolored, bug-eaten lettuce
This is a club sandwich. Serving club sandwiches at a tea party? And tea sandwiches aren't stacked three layers high. Most people would have pointed out the food gone bad first, but Han Sang-ah zeroed in on something else. And where are the scones? This is cornbread. When Han Sang-ah lifted the bread, a weevil clinging to it plopped onto the table. She ignored it completely. The desserts are poorly composed too. Just chocolate? You need to mix in fruit tarts or blueberry trifles or something. People get sick of it otherwise
Without pause, Han Sang-ah kept up the nitpicking. A relentless storm of criticisms raged on for over thirty minutes, enough to make any listener dizzy. She had no interest whatsoever in the tea party host's eerie vibe. All she was calling out was how half-heartedly the whole thing had been thrown together. Finally, as she started critiquing the tablecloth color against the dishware set, an irritated voice boomed out. ―Enough! Stop it! It sounded thoroughly pissed. The expressions on the dolls seated in chairs twisted into savage glares in an instant
―Are you gonna drink it or not?! Han Sang-ah shot back immediately. Forcing tea on a guest after putting in zero effort? That's not polite. Apologize. At her words, one doll gripped a fork and lunged. In that instant, Han Sang-ah's hand blurred, a flash sparkled briefly in the air, and vanished. The charging doll split clean in half and hit the floor. Han Sang-ah glanced at it and spoke. Were you about to apologize? Sorry, then. ―You crazy bitch. Finally, the mansion's master addressed Han Sang-ah directly
With a creaking groan, the ceiling tore away. ... The endless sky shattered like broken glass. Beyond it loomed a pair of massive, bloodshot eyes staring down at her. It was the face of an old crone covered in countless wrinkles. Her hair was piled sky-high like a tower under a wig, decked out with all sorts of ornaments. The filthy stench and dandruff flakes proved she hadn't given up on that hairstyle in ages. The thick powder caked on her face only made the wrinkles look like deep, hideous crevasses
Her shriveled, discolored hands sprouted absurdly long, grotesquely curved nails—like something out of a witch's tale. Even those twisted talons were painted with red manicure. Those hands had just ripped the roof off the house. Stinks. Han Sang-ah muttered. Beneath those long nails lurked grime and ancient calluses, reeking with a putrid odor. And yet, as if desperate to mask it, a cloying perfume mingled in, creating a nauseating combo that made her head spin. At any rate, Han Sang-ah clearly recognized the giant eyes and pair of massive hands as enemies
―I stink? Fine, then. I'll smash every bone in your body and dunk your head in a shit vat. Let's see if you still say I stink after that! The enormous crone's face bellowed in rage. Plaque-encrusted yellow teeth and tongue coated in filth blasted a nose-rotting stench straight at Han Sang-ah like cannon fire. The hideous nails on her hands suddenly shot out longer, aiming for Han Sang-ah. Getting scratched by those filthy things would definitely infect the wound. Can I even cut them? Han Sang-ah dodged the nails while wondering that, swinging her sword at the same time
Ah. She'd failed to sever them completely. Her swing had only managed to slice the nails halfway through. Far too tough for mere nails. ―I'm not scared of trash like you. From the start, the only thorn in our side has been that Yoo Chan-seok bastard! You're just his little sticker at best! Han Sang-ah froze for a split second. Dismissing everyone but Yoo Chan-seok like they were nothing pricked at her pride. She rarely showed emotion, but that didn't mean she had none. You... Once more, as the nails lunged at her, Han Sang-ah swung her sword
Far faster and more powerful than before. Unlike last time, she severed the crone's nail clean off in one stroke. It hit the floor with a thud. You'll regret saying that. Her sword crackled with energy. Sparks flew as pale blue-white lightning coiled around the blade. She was still learning, with plenty of room to improve. Compared to Yoo Chan-seok, she fell short in many ways, and she wouldn't deny it. Even so, Han Sang-ah found her own anger a bit odd right now. Strictly speaking, the crone's words were true
But they still soured her mood all the same. Her usually cool expression had turned even icier than normal. ―A nail clipper at best...?! A sharp zap echoed from Han Sang-ah's feet as her body rocketed forward, landing atop the crone's finger. Her sword plunged precisely under the nail. The moment it sank deep, lightning erupted, searing the flesh beneath. ―Kraaaaaagh! The crone screamed from the sudden attack under her nail and raised her other hand to swat Han Sang-ah like a mosquito. She was gone
Using magnetic rail shoes in the air to evade the palm, Han Sang-ah landed on the back of the hand, stabbed under another nail, and unleashed more electricity. Ah, I get it now. Han Sang-ah nodded to herself as she zipped around, realization dawning. Being looked down on by Yoo Chan-seok? Fine—he was much stronger. But she wouldn't tolerate it from this crone. Because she was far stronger than the hag. A wolf could shrug off a tiger ignoring it, but getting dissed by a pup? That pissed her off. I hate being looked down on by monsters weaker than me
The crone's massive face twisted in frustration, flailing her hands and nails to chase the darting Han Sang-ah. Han Sang-ah was like a mosquito. Visible one second, gone the next when swatted, only to reappear. The crone's eyes couldn't track her speed, missing every time. ―So that's how it is. Suddenly, the crone halted her attacks and cackled. Both hands already bled profusely from Han Sang-ah's stabs. ―I just checked on your parents. Went insane at that hotel, screaming curses at each other till they dropped dead? Han Sang-ah's grip tightened on her sword for a moment
―Wife gouged out her husband's eyes with her fingers, husband smashed his wife's jaw and shattered her teeth! They chewed each other's fingers, tore at throats with teeth! Busted skulls with flowerpots, slammed heads into TVs! The crone burst into hysterical laughter, glaring at Han Sang-ah. ―And those idiots kept fighting even after croaking? Just lingering souls now. Been at their marital spat for years. Right in that hotel room you fled from alone. Beyond the shattered sky and the crone's face, images appeared
Memories from Han Sang-ah's past. ... Anger surged in Han Sang-ah's mind. Her head burned hot. ―Both lunatics screamed at you to run, even as they saw each other as monsters. Playing parents to the end, huh. Her parents had been desperate. Fighting tooth and nail against what they saw as monsters in each other, all to buy her time to escape. She'd had no choice but to flee. She'd succeeded somehow—a miracle in itself. But no such miracle came for her parents. I figured as much. They're gone. Han Sang-ah had suspected it
No way they survived. Parents going mad in front of their young child, attacking each other while begging her to run. That scene remained vivid in her mind even now. Amid the boiling rage, she forced her grip to relax. Fighting angry wouldn't make her stronger. She hadn't fully absorbed everything from training with Yoo Chan-seok's help. But at least she knew that much for sure. Save the anger for after—she could vent it on the monster's corpse. Provoking her like this had an obvious goal. The crone couldn't match her speed
So bait her into rage and force a mistake. Han Sang-ah thought it through, then pretended to take the bait. ―All that screaming to run while ripping each other apart, wasted. You crawled right back here anyway! Dumb bitch—your dead folks must love watching from hell! Han Sang-ah, mid-dart, sheathed her sword and halted, charging mana. As if waiting, the crone's massive hand slammed down on the stationary, mana-charging Han Sang-ah. ―Gotcha! You filthy wretch. UHAHAHAHAHA! The crone lifted her hand again, revealing Han Sang-ah standing unscathed
―Huh? Why... Damage Nullification. Temporarily shunting her body elsewhere nullified incoming damage entirely. The shoes she wore had proven handy for Yoo Chan-seok back in the Three Blood Cave. And having heard the story from him, Han Sang-ah could use the same trick. Her sheath already brimmed with max mana sans tattoos. Die. Drawing and swinging from the sheath, Han Sang-ah's strike carved a deep gash across the massive face in the shattered sky. It slashed horizontally straight through the crone's bloodshot eyes
A spinning follow-up cleaved the face clean in two. The fog lifted. A desert stretched before Han Sang-ah. And... The sight that greeted her was enough to leave even her momentarily baffled.