Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Korea's Most Famous Divorcee (1)
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Healers and buffers were inherently rare beings. For someone with ample skill who didn't belong to any clan to gain fame was only natural.
Participating in gate expeditions for minimal compensation or helping the injured without asking for anything in return. Beyond just her fame, she had plenty of reasons to be respected.
The acquaintance Chae Seoah mentioned was someone Park Jungwoo knew well. Though it was more due to bad rumors than good ones.
However, those rumors weren't particularly threatening. The reason Park Jungwoo had been frozen stiff ever since arriving at her house was something else entirely.
"Mr. Park, you seem really tense. Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, Jungwoo. Your face looks pretty bad. W-wanna just head back today?"
Park Jungwoo had no idea there was a house this spacious right in the heart of Seoul.
Clean leather sofa, spotless glass table. Even a massive TV. He felt like he'd been forcibly squeezed into a space where he didn't belong.
"U-um, Jungwoo...?"
Moon Hayeon gently stroked the back of his hand, which was clenched into a fist on his knee. Worry was plain on her face.
"Ah, I'm fine. Just... not used to this."
It was an obviously forced smile.
As the short wait ended and footsteps echoed from the stairs, Park Jungwoo straightened his clothes, sat up ramrod straight, and puffed out his chest.
The woman descending the stairs—Yang Jihee—looked exactly like she did in the news and articles.
Her light beige hair fell long. Even with a black hairband swept back to hold it in place, the silky mane swayed luxuriantly.
Modest jewelry here and there, natural light makeup. A slightly clingy white turtleneck topped with a red knit sweater. It didn't quite match the season, but she was undeniably beautiful.
Though he knew it was rude, Park Jungwoo's gaze lingered on Yang Jihee's chest. Perhaps his recent lifestyle had worn down his sense of propriety a bit. He'd try to look at her face, only for his eyes to flick down again.
Noticing his stare, her blue-tinged eyes curved softly. Yang Jihee's steps led to the small couch beside the long sofa.
She smoothed her skirt as it touched her hips, sat down demurely with her knees together, and overlapped her hands on top.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Yang Jihee."
One hand lightly on her chest, she bowed slightly in greeting. She was the kind of person whose gentle smile put others at ease.
"Hello. I'm Park Jungwoo."
A stiff greeting came from Park Jungwoo's mouth. Moon Hayeon, sitting beside him, gave a quick bow as well.
"As I mentioned on the phone... we came to ask if you could help with this."
Chae Seoah's hand grabbed Park Jungwoo's top without hesitation. Out of habit from home, she nearly yanked it up, but stopped just short—enough to reveal the tattoo etched on his lower abdomen.
Eep. Park Jungwoo's face flushed as he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Oh my... It's been a while since I've seen a tattoo like this."
Her eyes widened slightly beneath her easy smile. She leaned in to peer intently at his stomach—or rather, the tattoo there.
As cool air hit his skin and his body twitched, Chae Seoah belatedly let go of his shirt.
"Hmm... It's not one I've never seen before, so I think I can manage with my own power. It'll take some time, though..."
"R-really...?"
Moon Hayeon's expression looked like it had "disappointed" written across her forehead. Her shoulders slumped a full handspan.
"Of course. By the way, this one... must have had quite the effect. Seoah must have helped a lot, huh?"
"Huh? Ah... yeah, pretty much..."
"Hehe, I see? Judging by the state, it's been a few days. Seoah must have had it rough. Or wait, was it harder on you, Jungwoo?"
"Uh... haha..."
Unlike Yang Jihee, who covered her mouth and laughed merrily, Chae Seoah's response was awkward.
"I-I helped too, you know..."
Moon Hayeon spoke up, burning with some mysterious competitive spirit. Yang Jihee, still lightly covering her mouth, glanced her way.
"Oh, really? Jungwoo's one lucky guy. You wouldn't be sad to see it gone, would you?"
Park Jungwoo's face turned beet red at the teasing joke. Yang Jihee glanced at the clock, then slowly stood.
"No telling how long it'll take, so we should get started, right?"
As the group rose, Yang Jihee held out one palm.
"Ah, no. Just Mr. Park, please. Other people around make it hard for me to focus..."
You couldn't spit in the face of a smiling person. Especially not one mixed with apologetic vibes.
After a brief back-and-forth, Chae Seoah and Moon Hayeon sat back down. Park Jungwoo said he'd be quick and followed behind Yang Jihee, who walked ahead with prim steps.
"Y-you're sure you two aren't close? Or is she just... naturally like that...?"
"No. She wasn't the type to joke like that before. I've heard she's been moodier lately... Well, she hasn't gone out much since then, so maybe it's just rumors."
"R-really? Hmm... Jungwoo'll be o-okay, right...?"
"Probably. It's not even been a full month yet."
"A m-month?"
"...You didn't know?"
"What was I supposed to know...?"
"Well, you see, Yang Jihee about a month ago..."
I followed Yang Jihee's lead down to the basement. As we approached a door marked "Treatment Room," she went "Ah" and grabbed my wrist.
"That's... the regular treatment room. Mr. Park, you're this way."
Were there separate regular and non-regular treatment rooms? No way I'd know. I'd never needed treatment from a hunter before.
I ended up following her to a room deeper in. The thick door was stiffer than expected, so closing it took some effort.
'Sponge...?'
Grey sponge packed tightly between the door and frame. I'd seen this somewhere before—like the music room door at school. Figuring there was a reason, I didn't think much of it and looked around the room.
"Sorry, I haven't had many guests lately. It's a bit messy, huh?"
Unlike her words, the room was spotless. Soft brown lighting, a large bed in the center with a small nightstand beside it.
Each piece of furniture seemed as high-end as the living room stuff—maybe more—but prioritized comfort over flash. Even without curtains in this enclosed space, it felt cozy somehow.
A few picture frames sat atop a dresser in the corner. The carpet on the floor was fluffy, like it'd just been vacuumed.
"Mind waiting a sec? I need to prep some things..."
As she rummaged in the nightstand, I snuck a peek at the photos on the dresser. With "treatment room" labeled and all, I was curious what they'd show.
'Ah, this person...?'
One frame held Yang Jihee in a wedding dress. So this was from about a month ago? It suddenly brought to mind the rumors about her.
Hunter marriages were rare. Their job basically meant putting their life on the line, so building or maintaining that deep trust was tough.
Even rarer were broken engagements. Once hunters married, they rarely split. Work, relationships—marriages in the hunter world were tangled webs of complications.
In that context,
Yang Jihee, who already had some fame, breaking off her engagement and then holing up made sporadic news. Not all that surprising.
The generic "personality differences" excuse didn't fool anyone. Amid the swirling rumors were some that made you grimace.
She'd stopped taking visitors after that. Wonder why she accepted my treatment request.
As I examined the frames one by one, something caught my eye. Every photo inside was folded.
As if denying the existence of whoever had been beside her—thoroughly, without leaving a single hair exposed.
Curiosity perked up sneakily. Hunter gossip had been my lifeline through miserable high school. That old habit of skimming news feeds was rearing its head again.
My voice carried natural hesitation as I spoke to Yang Jihee.
"Can I look at these photos up close?"
"Oh, nothing special to see... Hehe. Sure, go ahead."
They were mostly just her pics up there, after all. I turned back from her oddly pleased tone.
I picked up a frame, carefully pried it open without noise, and gently extracted the photo.
"...Huh?"
There was a man in the photo. Brown hair, honest face. Aside from being a hunter, he'd never appeared in the media—Yang Jihee's ex-fiancé.
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me. Hair color was common enough, but... this guy's height seemed about the same as mine. Comparing to my own...
'He's about my height?'
An inexplicable chill crawled up my spine. Instinctual warning. Like an emergency bell rung by my ancestors. I hastily refolded the photo and slipped it back.
"Um, excuse me. Could the others come in after all?"
"I said no. I can't focus with people around."
Her tone was soft, but thorns prickled beneath. Or maybe not. No, definitely not. An indescribable chill tickled my nape.
Slowly, soundlessly, I sidestepped toward the door while watching her.
Soundproof door. Bed. Nightstand. Divorce. A husband sharing some physical traits with me. The ominous puzzle pieces were falling into place.
Might be baseless paranoia, but the vibe was too off. I spun and yanked the thick door.
Click.
...It wouldn't open. Somehow locked, not budging an inch. I tugged frantically over and over. Just clunking noises repeated. Nothing happened.
"...That anxious, huh?"
Yang Jihee's voice came right by my ear. I could only yelp in shock. My legs buckled. Half-hanging from the doorknob with both hands, I looked up at her.
Her expression was the same as before. Gently curved eyes, lips holding a benevolent smile. That aura of mature allure and maternal warmth was, for some reason, utterly terrifying.
"...I'm a busy person, you know? If I went out of my way to make time, and you just ran off... Seoah and Hayeon might be pretty disappointed?"
Her voice was soft and sweet, but the words bordered on threat. She slowly bent at the waist. Her slender, delicate hand rested on my head. With an endlessly tender smile, she murmured soothingly.
"It's okay. I'll definitely lift the curse for you. There might be some intense symptoms during the process, though..."
Her stroking hand, voice, expression—all so gentle. Yet staring at her with the room's soft orange light behind her, my instincts screamed warnings.
That warning sounded almost like my own voice saying, Fooled again, idiot?
Her softly curved eyelids revealed blue eyes gleaming faintly. Those eyes—burning with the exact same insatiable hunger I'd seen nonstop for the past three days—filled my vision, screaming that something was deeply wrong.
"You can endure it well, right, Jungwoo?"
"...Gulp."
It was the moment certainty hit: this treatment wouldn't be gentle.