Chapter 726

System

• Synchronization begins.
• 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…
• Logout complete.

I opened my eyes to a familiar chime. The first thing I saw was a ceiling impossibly far above me.

Not the wooden ceiling that smelled of old, dry grass, but a pristine white one made of solid alloy.

I still wasn’t used to the jarring shift between worlds. As I lay there, I recalled my last memory of the modern world.

The training room.

Right. This was the Peace Guild’s training room. Only a handful of people, myself included, were allowed inside. Protected by formidable security and surveillance systems, it was where I had left for Murim—right after finally taking care of an important matter I had put off for a long time.

That’s right.

I stared at the ceiling in silence.

My memories of my time in Murim had returned, along with all my senses, but I had no desire whatsoever to get up.

Murim to the modern world. The modern world to Murim.

A spell of listlessness after crossing between the two wasn’t unusual for me. This time, though, it hit especially hard.

…I really went and did it.

I’d imagined telling someone my secret dozens of times. Of course, I’d never actually done it. I couldn’t have.

It was too dangerous.

But… it was also true that, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had thought that a day like this would come eventually. I just hadn’t expected that day, which had seemed so far away, to be today.

What did you say?

I could still see Jeok Cheongang’s reaction when he first heard my confession. He hadn’t looked shocked or incredulous. No, he simply hadn’t understood what I was saying.

“What did you just say?”

“Exactly what I said. I came from farther away than you think, Old Master.”

“Shanxi Province is some distance from the Central Plains, yes. But what does that have to do with your secret…?”

“Farther than that. Farther than Nanman, even.”

“Farther than Nanman?”

“Yes. So far you couldn’t reach it if you walked your entire life.”

“You mean you have to take a boat?”

“No. That’s not it. I mean… it’s a completely different world.”

A completely different world.

Jeok Cheongang listened to what came next, then fell silent for a long time, trying to make sense of it in his own way.

“So you’re saying you came from the realm of immortals.”

“…Uh. I guess you could put it that way.”

“Are you a Little Immortal?”

“I’m an ordinary citizen.”

If Jeok Cheongang had been from the modern world, we might have understood each other a little better. In a world that already had monsters and magic, one man from Murim wouldn’t have been impossible to comprehend.

Whether that man wound up in a psychiatric hospital or got dragged off to a laboratory afterward was another question.

But Jeok Cheongang had spent over a hundred years in Murim, a world without even the internet. Everything I told him was bound to sound bewildering.

“When you fall asleep here, you go to the realm of immortals?”

“Not every time, but unless something unusual happens, yes.”

“And when you wish to leave the realm of immortals and return here…”

“It works the same way. Each time, time in the other world moves very slowly.”

“…Goddamn it.”

After a desperate struggle to hold on to his common sense and reason, Jeok Cheongang finally reached a conclusion.

“Damn it. I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you, I still don’t understand.”

Some truths couldn’t be understood even if you saw them with your own eyes and heard them with your own ears. Everything I’d told Jeok Cheongang was like that for him.

Yet amid all his confusion, one thing remained unchanged.

“But the idiot standing before this old man is named Jin Taekyung. Not a Little Immortal descended from the realm of immortals. Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung.”

“…!”

“That alone is enough.”

I hadn’t understood then why those words left me speechless. Why I had to clench my teeth against the heat rising in my chest.

But… yes. As Jeok Cheongang had said, that alone was enough for me, too.

And now I thought I understood why.

I’d been afraid. Afraid that the other world, now such a large part of my life, might deny that I belonged there.

What am I, a little kid?

A rueful laugh slipped out. At the same time, the weight pressing on my heart lifted, and I felt relieved.

Right. This is enough. For now, at least.

Since when had I ever lived with my eyes fixed on the future? I’d chosen where to go one day, one moment at a time, and that had brought me here.

The path I’d chosen today was as wide and warm as a beach in summer.

I’d seen on TV that athletes all had their own routines.

One soccer player always stepped onto the field with his left foot first. A star Major League batter spat out a sunflower seed every time he swung his bat.

To an ordinary person, that might seem like an awful lot of fuss over nothing. But everyone had little superstitions for peace of mind and good luck.

No profession took them more seriously than Hunters.

Lose a soccer game, and the sky doesn’t fall. Strike out on three pitches with the bases loaded and a chance to take the lead, and the ground doesn’t open beneath you.

A Hunter, though, could be dead the moment luck turned bad.

There was no next game. No next at-bat. Just their life and their family’s faces flashing through their mind as they drew their final breath, and one sudden thought:

Fuck, I should’ve worn my blue underwear today.

It sounded like a joke, but it was true. Those had been the last words of an A-rank Hunter who’d died in a Gate a few years ago, at the height of his popularity.

Or was it red underwear?

I’d been working nonstop back then, so the details were hazy. Anyway.

The point was, I had a routine of my own. I’d followed it without fail until now, and it had just been broken.

Bang!

The door flew open as if something had exploded.

The lock I had installed as a precaution was destroyed. Fortunately, I had finished all my preparations one step ahead of time, so I did my best to remain calm as I welcomed the unwelcome guest.

“Well, well. You don’t even knock anymore before barging in.”

“Huff. Hah.”

He was breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead, his suit in disarray. I looked at him and added, “Team Leader Choi.”

Normally, I’d have been glad to see him. Right now, I wanted to punch that handsome face.

But Team Leader Choi—who, by all rights, should now be called the Guild Master—didn’t notice my mood. Or rather, he had no attention to spare for it.

“Huff. Hoo.”

What, was the Demon King chasing him?

These days, Team Leader Choi could hold his own against any Peak Master in the Central Plains. He finally caught his breath, thrust out what he was holding, and shouted, “What is this? What on earth is this?”

“If you don’t have anything important to say, come back a little later… Ah. That?”

“That? Is this something you can dismiss with ‘that’?”

Rage button: ON.

The way he nearly lost his mind over my casual answer told me two things. First, I was going to have to break the essential routine I’d followed every day since finishing Hunter training. Second, there was no getting out of explaining that thing right now.

“Calm down. Calm down. I’ll tell you everything, so put that down first. Oh, and what would you like to drink?”

“Mr. Jin Taekyung. What you drink isn’t important right n—”

“I’ll just make you coffee. What was it again? That tiger-poop coffee you gave me last time to celebrate the opening of the office.”

“Hah.”

“That okay?”

Team Leader Choi stared at me, shock and disbelief mingling in his eyes, then sank onto the sofa.

In his trembling hand was a sheaf of papers covered in my own handwriting.

[The Smiling Mana Cultivation Method]

Looking at it again, my penmanship was a work of art.

Team Leader Choi really was a rich kid.

A moment ago, he’d been snorting like a Minotaur with its horns ripped out. One whiff of rich coffee, though, and he had his composure back. I couldn’t help sniffing the air myself.

“Does tiger-poop coffee calm you down or something? Or is this one of your routines?”

Team Leader Choi answered coolly. “It isn’t a tiger. It’s a cat. A civet cat.”

“Tiger, cat. Whatever.”

“And rather than poop, please say feces. The word ‘secretion’ is also available.”

“Poop.”

“Feces. Or secretion.”

“Right. So, poop.”

“Unless you’ve forgotten, it will be dinnertime soon. If you keep saying ‘poop’ to someone’s face like that…”

“Poop.”

“…”

As the atmosphere grew increasingly shitty, Team Leader Choi was the first to back down.

“Fine. That isn’t what matters right now.”

“Mm.”

On second thought, I was being an idiot. I took a breath and let go of my irritation. Team Leader Choi had broken a routine I absolutely needed to keep, but I was the one who’d given him the reason.

[The Smiling Mana Cultivation Method]

Anyone who saw this would have come running. Even the President of the United States.

“Given what’s at stake, I’ll ask you directly.”

His voice trembled slightly. He looked me in the eye and went on.

“This… no, this mana cultivation method. Where did it come from?”

I answered without hesitation.

“Who do you think? The person sitting across from you.”

“…!”

“I made it myself. From beginning to end.”

A suffocating silence fell. Team Leader Choi stared at me, eyes wavering, before letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Hoo.”

“Why are you so surprised? Didn’t the errand boy I sent explain?”

Of course, he wasn’t just an errand boy. The Skeleton King might be a little unhinged, but he was a powerful Named Monster—and secretly operated as an S-rank Hunter for the Peace Guild.

More importantly, I could trust him.

Team Leader Choi knew that better than anyone. He gave a quiet laugh.

“That was quite an errand boy.”

“That’s why I entrusted it to him. I was originally going to give it to you myself, but you happened not to be there.”

“…I had somewhere to stop by.”

He left it at that, and I didn’t ask where he’d been.

The person who had suddenly left us all two months ago had left a space that still held a lingering warmth, like the coffee cup before us that Team Leader Choi had not taken a single sip from.

“I heard what you told Skeleton King. No—Mr. King. But I’m sorry…”

“You had to check for yourself. I get it.”

“Yes. But the moment I saw what was inside, even before hearing an explanation, I knew. Jin Taekyung is the only person in the entire world who could have created a mana cultivation method like this.”

At his praise, I scratched the back of my head.

“Come on, it’s not that impressive. I did put a lot of thought and effort into making it something even beginners could learn, but…”

“There can’t be many S-rank Hunters with handwriting this bad. Or people with a sense for names like yours.”

“What?”

“And someone who has both? I didn’t need to think twice.”

“…”

“That’s how I knew this mana cultivation method could only have come from one person: Jin Taekyung.”

“…”

I looked from Team Leader Choi’s utterly certain face to [The Smiling Mana Cultivation Method] on the table, then back again.

What the fuck.

Mana cultivation method or not, maybe I should just tear the whole thing to shreds.