Retire 242
by Cristae242 Civil Complaints (1)
“All right.”
Hong Seok-young, surprisingly, accepted it right away.
“Let’s check the rune first. And then we’ll head to that dungeon you mentioned. Jirisan.”
If Hong Seok-young had simply ordered me to do it because it was urgent, I probably would have gone along, pretending to be reluctant.
But contrary to my expectations, Hong Seok-young backed off without protest.
“You’re not wrong. If Jieun asks what this is, I wouldn’t have anything to tell her either.”
“…Yes.”
“She’s a curious child, so once she starts asking questions… Yes. Let’s take care of what needs to be done first, and then talk about what to do.”
“Yes.”
Hong Seok-young decided to try only after making sure the children wouldn’t be caught up in it. There really were dangerous enemies out there. When I brought up the kids’ safety, Hong Seok-young agreed as well.
Even if we’d managed to keep Gamble on our side, you never know what can happen in this world. Especially with lives at stake, you can’t just rush through things.
“But wasn’t everything already doomed the moment you got involved in founding the school? No matter what they do after graduation, those kids will always be labeled as Hong Seok-young’s students.”
Especially the first graduating class.
By the time the Academy opened, the school was running in a more organized way, but during the pilot high school days, it was just Father, Han Taekyung, and at best Lee Miseon keeping things afloat. It was inevitable people would call them Hong Seok-young’s protégés or star pupils.
Even setting aside my sister, who became inseparable from Father after joining the Agency, the name Hong Seok-young stuck to Oh Hyunwook and Park Seohyun, who made their own names independently.
“And of course, that means the Ark will be on guard. It’s the most effective card they have to provoke you, isn’t it?”
“I can’t deny that.”
“Hope may have said to go after the lab’s test subjects, but… who knows? The students at the training school could easily become targets too.”
“That’s why I’m here. Do you think anyone would dare touch them with me watching? What kind of confidence—”
Hong Seok-young stopped mid-sentence.
Wondering why, I glanced at him while we were stopped at a red light. He was frowning, lost in thought, his face set and hard.
“…Why do you look so worried all of a sudden?”
“……”
“Did a dungeon break out somewhere?”
I didn’t see anyone running away in panic…
“That’s not it.”
Hong Seok-young finally spoke, his voice grave.
“I’m wondering if this is why my older self left that warning.”
“Uh…”
“You know, the part about not being arrogant. We couldn’t check the Myeongdong Dungeon since it was already closed… but what if the Myeongdong Dungeon break was deliberate?”
“……”
“I don’t know if a minotaur is smart enough to handle a dungeon core, but there could be some method we don’t know about, right?”
I frowned. It wasn’t impossible. Even in Woo Irok’s diary, he’d written that the lab director was furious over the Myeongdong Dungeon incident.
When I later asked Woo Irok about the diary, he’d said the same thing.
‘I don’t really know. After you stopped coming around, it got hard for me to understand what those adults were talking about.’
‘Really? Then how did you hear what the director was saying?’
‘She didn’t care if we were there or not. She just went off. She was so pissed, she totally lost it…’
‘That’s the truth.’
‘…Like a little yappy puppy, making a huge fuss.’
Considering Woo Irok’s testimony, it’s more than possible.
If the Myeongdong Dungeon was deliberately triggered, then what was the goal?
My eyes met Hong Seok-young’s.
There was only one possible objective.
“If the children had died that day, you wouldn’t have been able to focus on hunting the Ark like you are now. You probably know that better than I do.”
It was something I’d thought about before, but I never expected Hong Seok-young to say it out loud.
I looked at him in surprise, but he continued quietly, not noticing my stare.
“It’s the message my older self left for me, for failing to protect those kids. Don’t be arrogant.”
He repeated those words to himself several times.
“Yes. I can’t afford to be arrogant. No matter who I am, there are things I can’t protect.”
“……”
“If you rush things, even what’s possible becomes impossible. Better to go slowly and safely. And make sure.”
He spoke as if making a vow to himself.
“If I suddenly have a son and daughter, it’ll be dangerous. I’ll hold off until things settle down. Sorry.”
I wasn’t sure why the conversation had taken this turn. Why apologize to me? Don’t apologize. Really, don’t.
“But a few pieces of paper can’t stop a family from forming. What do you say, Heejae? If you become my son, I can even give you your share of my assets in advance.”
“What are you talking about!”
“And of course, Irok would get his share, too.”
“……”
“Isn’t that a little too obvious?”
He pretended to sound disappointed, but ended up laughing.
To finish a serious conversation like this—it really was just like him, even though I’d known it all along.
Keeping up a sense of tension is exhausting anyway.
Yeah. Maybe it’s better to keep things light like this.
“Dad has always loved you both.”
Otherwise, I’d never be able to stop thinking about it.
“Mud? But the substance itself is still just dirt, right?”
Kim Chaemin slowly repeated my words. Her black dress, patterned with yellow freesias, caught my eye.
Lately, her usual outfit had been thick jogger pants, a waterproof apron, and work gloves—the so-called “work-friendly” clothes.
She’d actually been digging up the earth around the school building, planting mysterious plants.
I nodded, my expression sour.
“That’s right. Even if it’s… mixed in with the mud.”
“We’d have to analyze it, but compost is a good fertilizer.”
Before proceeding with the experiment on Noah Michel’s rune, I’d told Kim Chaemin about the mud dungeon and the body of Kim Yuhwa found inside, just in case anything went wrong.
Her magic was weak against fire, and I couldn’t ask another mage for help, nor could I enter the dungeon myself for the experiment, so I needed her assistance.
“Fertilizer?”
“But if it’s just mud… I think you could use it as is. I’ll have to check, but if it’s like you said, I could easily destroy the core with my magic… But monster droppings, huh.”
But Kim Chaemin was more interested in something else. Her eyes sparkled with excessive excitement.
“Dungeons have much more mana than outside, you know? Even the soil is different. That’s why plants that thrive inside collapse the moment they’re brought out.”
“…Are you talking about monsters or plants?”
“But this mana has a tricky nature. It’s water-affinitive.”
She wasn’t listening to me.
“If it’s an environment with heavy rain? Then the rainwater is saturated with mana, and the mud mixed with that rain… it’s absolutely loaded with mana. And on top of that, monster droppings? Mana on mana on mana—what do you think that makes?”
“If you add water to water and then more water, it’s still just water…”
“Yes! Denser mana! Better soil!”
Kim Chaemin sprang to her feet and shouted energetically.
“Let’s go right now!”
“Were you even listening? Sit back down.”
“Tch…”
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“So, we’ll be testing whether the rune can store the flames my sword creates.”
Though she didn’t look satisfied, she accepted the change of topic. Not that we hadn’t been talking about this in the first place.
“I’ll keep the rune as small as possible, and I’ll control the firepower, but safety comes first.”
“You want to see if you can store your flames in a rune, and if so, how much power they’ll have?”
She twisted a lock of hair that had fallen forward as she spoke.
“But why do you need to check that?”
“…What?”
“Runes that store mana—that’s useful, so it’s worth checking. Runes that store spells? Same thing.”
She blinked.
“Well, if it’s you, I’m sure you’d put it to good use. It’d be handy for setting things on fire in a dungeon.”
I don’t go around setting fires like that. That’s more my sister’s favorite tactic.
“But it doesn’t seem like something you’d talk about so seriously.”
“……”
“What are you planning to do?”
It was hard to tell Lee Miseon everything, but Kim Chaemin was different. Hong Seok-young had told me again that if necessary, I could tell Kim Chaemin the truth.
Was it because he trusted her that much? Or was he telling me I could trust her, too?
“Is it something fun?”
“Well…”
“Then let me in on it too.”
Can I trust Kim Chaemin?
Oddly enough, the fact that she was a great mage with pride in her abilities made me certain she’d never side with the Ark, no matter what. Not to mention her grudge against those who’d messed with her domain.
In some ways, Kim Chaemin was even more famous than Noah Michel. If Noah Michel was an unprecedented genius born to unremarkable parents, Kim Chaemin was the third-generation prodigy of a family that had produced geniuses for three generations. Even her great-grandfather had been a mage—one of the most renowned magical families in the world.
Even if she was more down-to-earth and approachable than other mages, her pride as a mage was a different matter.
And if she’d wanted to work with Noah Michel, she would have approached Michel, not me, after successfully growing mana grass.
“…See? You’re not answering right away. There’s a reason you have to check this, isn’t there?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“I know you and Principal Hong keep a lot from me, you know? I’m honestly a little hurt.”
Her voice still held a trace of laughter, but her slightly furrowed eyes were serious.
“I don’t care about the stuff with the Hunter Association… I’m not interested in what goes on with the Ability Association, either.”
Even the laughter in her voice slowly faded.
“But this is different.”
“Ms. Kim.”
“I don’t have some grand sense of duty like Mr. Hong. Honestly, my reason for chasing the Ark is personal.”
“If that’s the case, then for me and Mr. Hong—”
“Oh, come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that! Don’t cut me off.”
I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. She stared at me for a moment, then sighed.
“I really am hurt, you know. If you want to keep secrets between the two of you, at least don’t make it so obvious. Don’t make me feel like an idiot.”
She pouted and grumbled.
“I’m not your subordinate. So if you want to ask me for something, tell me the reason straight.”
There was weight behind the word “ask.” I had no intention of complaining about that. Because she was right.