Chapter 13
The capsule hatch slid open, letting in a draft of cool air.
It was not the thick, suffocating humidity of the jungle, but the crisp, refreshing breeze of an air conditioner.
“Ah, I barely survived that!”
I stretched my arms and pushed myself up out of the capsule.
Every joint in my body creaked, but my spirits could not have been higher. It did not matter that my leather armor was soaked in sweat beneath the padding.
The numbers on the settlement window I had seen earlier were practically tap-dancing across my brain.
“Hyung, I slaughtered every last one of them. We made a mountain of cash!”
The moment I stepped out of the capsule, I went looking for the senior.
He was already off his chair in front of the monitors, waiting for me with his face flushed red with excitement.
“I saw, you greedy ghost. I honestly never thought youād sweep the entire map like an industrial vacuum cleaner.”
“So how much did I pull in today? Come on, tell me! Hurry!”
“The mark kill bonuses alone came out to a hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. Throw in the base pay and all the allowances, and itās almost two hundred thousand.”
“Two hundred grand? Whoa, then in won, thatāsā¦ two hundred and seventy million? No, almost three hundred million?”
I gulped hard.
It was a staggering sum ā I could not even begin to calculate how many burger sets that would buy.
“ā¦This punkās eyes only light up when moneyās on the table. On top of that, you secured a piece from the Waldstein Series. You hit the jackpot today, you little bastard.”
“Guess nearly high-fiving my old man was worth it after all.”
Grinning from ear to ear, I swung one leg over the hatch.
I was just about to step completely free of the capsule when it happened.
“Wait, what?”
A hot rush of liquid gushed from my nose.Ā Ā Crimson blood spattered onto the floor.
At the same time, the room spun violently.
The world tilted on its axis, and my legs gave out under me.
Then a searing agony flared where Christopher had slashed me.
It felt as though a red-hot iron were burning straight through my flesh.
“What the hell? Whatās wrong with you?!”
The seniorās panicked face blurred into the distance.
My eyes lost focus as I mumbled,
“Hyung, feels like Iām gonna die. I need to sleep for a bitā¦”
“Hey! Snap out of it! You canāt pass out like this! Wipe your damn nose first!”
His frantic shout pierced my ears.
I felt rough hands shaking my shoulders back and forth, but my limbs were already as heavy as waterlogged cotton.
“Donāt care. Iāll stop the bleeding when I wake upā¦”
My eyelids felt like lead weights.
Even as my consciousness slipped away, the thought of that three hundred million won and the image of that Waldstein sword were branded into my mind like tattoos.
Over my dead body was I letting those go.
“Hey! Hey, Go Taemin! This littleā¦ Fine, sleep! Just sleep, damn it! But weāre throwing a debut party tonight, so at least tell me what you want to eat before you pass out!”
My closed eyes twitched ever so faintly at his voice.
Pure instinct.
“ā¦Are you buying?”
“Yeah, you punk. My treat! I know damn well what hell you just crawled through ā you think I canāt buy you a meal? Just pick the menu!”
A declaration from the senior that I would never hear under normal circumstances.
Clinging to my last shred of consciousness, I uttered the glorious name I had never dared speak aloud because of my walletās tragic reality.
“Hanwooā¦”
“You said you hated beef, you little bastard! You always whined that burgers were the ultimate complete food, stuffing your face with nothing else!”
The seniorās dumbfounded shouting echoed past my fading awareness.
A pungent reek of disinfectant stung my nose, bringing on a throbbing headache.
My eyes could hardly believe the unfamiliar sight before me.
I clearly remembered heroically falling in battle(?) while demanding a Hanwoo dinner from the senior, but upon opening my eyes, I was met not with a sizzling grill, but with a stark white ceiling.
“Mmm. Whereā¦”
The moment I parted my lips, a raspy, cracked voice slipped out.
My throat was as parched as the Sahara, and every bone in my body groaned as if I had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.
Turning my head slightly, I saw a foreign cityscape through the window.
This was neither the seniorās workshop nor the cramped basement room I called home.
“Where the hell am I now? Donāt tell me I really crossed the river of the dead to high-five Dad?”
“Dad, my ass. Youāre way too thick-skinned to face your ancestors.”
I turned toward that familiar, prickly voice.
Sitting on the sofa beside the bed, tapping away on a laptop, the senior was looking at me with undisguised pity.
Dark circles sagged all the way down toward his chin, as if he had stayed up for days on end.
“Hyung, why are we here? We were supposed to go eat Hanwoo.”
“This idiot wakes up and immediately starts babbling about food. Do you have any idea where you are?”
“Where am I?”
“A hospital, damn it! A hospital! Donāt you remember coughing up blood and collapsing the second you stepped out of the capsule? You scared the living daylights out of me, you punk!”
“Huh? Really? I thought I just fell into a nice, deep nap because I was tired.”
“A nap? Hey, youāve been out cold for three days, looking half-dead! The doctor said it was neural overload. A normal person wouldāve fainted long before that or the capsuleās safety lockouts wouldāve triggered, but you forced your way past your limits on sheer, idiotic willpower until your body went into shock.”
I had been lying here for three days?
Shocked to my core, I jolted upright.
Instantly, a heavy, throbbing ache seized my flank, dumping me straight back down onto the sheets.
Wait, that wasnāt what mattered right now.
“Three days? Then what about my money?! My hundred and ninety-six thousand dollars! And what about that Waldstein blade?!”
I yelled as if I were about to grab him by the collar.
To me, those three lost days were far less precious than the digits waiting to hit my bank account and that obscenely expensive masterwork sword.
“Unbelievable. Even in this state, thatās the first thing on your mind?”
Clicking his tongue, the senior spun the laptop around so I could see the screen.
“Relax. The settlement went through cleanly, and thereās over two hundred and sixty million won sitting pretty in your account.”
“Wait, why two hundred and sixty million?”
“They had to deduct the three-point-three percent withholding tax, you idiot. And the Waldstein Series was delivered safely to the office. Here, look at the security cam.”
The laptop feed showed the familiar entrance to our office.
Tucked neatly into a corner rested a long, black rectangular case. Even at a glance, the box radiated an extraordinary aura.
Only then did I let out a sigh of relief and lean back against the headboard.
My flank still ached, but the thought of my bank balance made the pain entirely bearable.
“Hyung, you havenāt backed out on buying that Hanwoo, right?”
“Hey, you just made hundreds of millions! If you had a shred of conscience, youād be treating me!”
“What are you talking about? Every single one of my brain cells clearly remembers you saying it was your treat. No backing out now.”
I snickered, tapping my fingers against the IV pole.
The dangling fluid bag seemed to bob in agreement.
Compared to the days when I was rolling in the mud near Kisangani, having staring contests with earthworms, the air in this VIP hospital room smelled utterly sweet.
By the way.
“Hyung, how long do I have to stay here? I feel like I can move around now.”
“Hold your horses. The doctor should be doing rounds any minute now anyway.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door swung open, and a white-coated doctor stepped in, followed by a flock of nurses.
Morning rounds, it seemed.
The physician glanced over the chart hanging at the foot of my bed, then peered through a pair of spectacles with a gentle smile.
“Patient Kim Minsu, how are you feeling? Have you regained your senses?”
Kim Minsuā¦
Unaccustomed to the alias, I nodded with an awkward grin.
“Yes, thanks to your care. The bedās so comfortable I slept like a baby. Honestly, I feel like I could skip sleeping for a whole week.”
“Haha, please donāt do that, even as a joke. Now, letās seeā¦ For starters, the test results look good. No external trauma, and your brainwave patterns and blood counts are within normal ranges. If I had to pin down a cause, itāsā¦ extreme exhaustion. Just what on earth do you do on a daily basis to push yourself to this point? Itās as if you performed grueling manual labor for days on end without a wink of sleep.”
The doctor noted ‘temporary shock induced by overwork’ on the chart and continued,
“Your nutritional balance is poor, and your chronic stress markers are elevated. Your body simply couldn’t endure any more, so it shut itself down. Fortunately, you have exceptional baseline physical endurance, which allowed for a swift recovery. Even so, you must rest for the next few days. Get plenty of deep sleep, and be sure to eat hearty, nourishing meals.”
“Yes, thank you.”
The medical staff filed out of the room, leaving quiet in their wake.
I leaned my back against the bed and slowly took in my surroundings.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips.
Noticing this as he packed up his laptop, the senior tilted his head and frowned.
“What? You were throwing a fit to get discharged a minute ago, and now you donāt want to leave?”
“No, itās not that.”
“Then what is it? Hurting somewhere else?”
I hesitated, parting my lips before gesturing toward the corners of the room.
No matter how I looked at it, this was no ordinary hospital room. It was spacious, complete with a private sofa and a television.
Another long sigh slipped out.
“I was just thinking about how massive the medical billās gonna be.”
At my genuine worry, the senior barked out an incredulous laugh.
He reached over and tapped me on the head.
“You little punk. Worry about things worth worrying about. This is a Veterans Hospital. Youāre a decorated Person of National Merit, remember? Itās completely free, you idiot.”
“Wait, really? Free?”
“Yeah. Thanks to your veteran benefits, you wonāt pay a single dime. So relax.”
In that instant, fireworks seemed to detonate in my head.
“Whoa, jackpot! Total score!”
The gloom that had covered my face vanished in a flash, replaced by a radiant grin.
Serving the country really did pay off after all.
Who knew the title of Person of National Merit could feel so incredibly reassuring?
“And since I was unconscious for three days, doesnāt that mean I saved three daysā worth of food costs too? Wow, I spent zero dollars while sleeping and shaved off three days of living expenses. Hyung, I think I got sick in the most cost-effective way possible.”
“ā¦Are you actually insane?”
The senior shook his head in absolute disgust, looking at me as if I were a sight too horrific to behold.
A belated celebration was held at the seniorās workshop.
The attendees were the senior, Hyeongsu-nim, Soyeon, and me.
The four of us spread newspaper across the floor and grilled Hanwoo right there in the workshop.
“Taemin-ssi, eat this first. They said you starved for three days, and your face is practically half its normal size.”
Hyeongsu-nim piled cuts of grilled beef onto my plate the second they finished cooking.
“Hey, what about meā¦?”
“You eat this all the time. Taemin-ssi just woke up from a hospital bed, and youāre whining about meat?”
The senior raised his chopsticks in protest, but the moment he caught Hyeongsu-nimās icy glare, he instantly tucked his tail.
That was our Hyeongsu-nim, all right.
Her knack for battering people with words remained unmatched.
With eyes brimming with gratitude, I popped a perfectly cooked piece of sirloin into my mouth.
The savory juices burst across my tongue ā this truly was the taste of pure capitalism.
“Thank you, Hyeongsu-nim. Itās seriously delicious.”
“Iām glad you like it. Now, hurry up and meet a nice girl to marry. Only then will I stop worrying about you.”
“ā¦”
I nearly choked on the sudden arrow fired straight my way.
Instinctively, I pulled Soyeon, who was busily munching on meat beside me, into service as my human shield.
“Soyeon, want your uncle to make you a special Hanwoo wrap? Say ahh.”
I placed two slices of beef on a piece of bread, dabbed a bit of ssamjang on top, and popped it into Soyeonās mouth.
It was a generous bite, puffing her cheeks out like a chipmunk.
She looked so adorable that I gently poked her cheek.
“Mmm, nom, nomā¦”
After diligently chewing and swallowing the wrap, Soyeon picked up a well-done piece of beef with her chopsticks.
Then, with her tiny hands, she brought it right up to my lips.
“Uncle, eat too. Ahh.”
“Thatās my girl.”
I happily snapped up the meat she offered.
The rich, savory aroma filled my mouth, bringing a natural smile to my face.
To be honest, it would have been even better if sheād wrapped it in sliced bread the way her uncle liked.
Missing out on that extra carb hit was a tiny shame, but if I dared mention wrapping beef in bread in front of a meat-delivery from my niece, Hyeongsu-nim would undoubtedly swat me across the back.
The lively chatter, the sizzle of meat on the grill, and the senior offering me a shot of soju with that smug grin on his face.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was living like a human being.
Not so long ago, I was readjusting an Akwi mask in a jungle reeking of blood.
Life really was full of surprises.
Once the pleasant meal wound down, Hyeongsu-nim and Soyeon headed up to the workshop roof to gaze at the stars.
The senior downed his shot glass and gestured toward a corner of the workshop with his chin.
“Oh, right. You should check this out too.”
Sitting over there was the long, black rectangular box I had seen on his laptop screen earlier.
Waldstein Series No.113.
Right. I almost forgot about that.
I sprang up and walked over to the case.
Up close, it was clearly no ordinary plastic container.
A crimson LED pulsed like a heartbeat across the surface of the subtly gleaming carbon fiber case.
“Itās biometric. Fingerprint scanner. It won’t open for anyone but you.”
“Whoa, how did they get my fingerprint?”
“They probably scan it when you log into virtual reality. I don’t know the exact details either.”
“Wait, doesn’t that mean my real identity could be blown?”
“Hey, you think the folks at Nova care about your real name? They only keep biometric data like irises and fingerprints to enforce the one-account-per-person rule. They canāt figure out who you are from that alone, so quit whining and open it.”
Swallowing hard at his words, I pressed my thumb against the scanner at the center of the case.
With a crisp electronic chime, the latches unlocked.
As the heavy carbon fiber lid slowly swung open, an obsidian-black blade revealed itself within.
Waldstein No.113.
Both of us leaned forward to peer into the box at the same time.
A moment later, two entirely different exclamations rang out.
“Ooh.”
“ā¦Huh?”
The senior was the first to react.
The swelling anticipation on his face evaporated into bitter disappointment as he stared blankly down at the object in the case.
“This is really a Waldstein Series? Did the NAA crew screw up the delivery?”
The sword resting inside showed none of the radiant luster expected of a masterwork, nor did it exude any distinctive, imposing aura.
Rather, it looked like a faded, blackened blade fitted with a plain, unadorned hiltā¦ worse than a battered practice sword rolling around a junk shop, looking like an unremarkable hunk of scrap metal.
To my eyes, however, it looked entirely different.
As if spellbound, I reached out and took hold of the hilt.
The instant my fingertips touched it, an uncanny sight unfolded before my eyes.
Across the inky black blade, slender white threads began to writhe and coil, rising like living creatures.
It was extraordinary.
Never in my life had I seen an object rippling with so many white threads.
A pleasant shiver ran down my spine as I lifted the sword.
“What an interesting blade. This little guyās throwing a fit right now, screaming that itās starving.”
