Chapter 40: Erasing Debts (3)

The opponent’s hood flew back with a flap. It was due to the spiraling wind from the bullet.

Sssrruk.

Her hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Crimson locks that reeked strongly of oranges. But her words were far from fresh—they were downright rotten.

“Fucking hell.”

The woman with the dumpling head that suited her perfectly was the pickpocket’s true identity. Her delicate features gave her that classic otaku-bait look.

But as the saying goes, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Her bulging, fierce glare slashed any cuteness in half. And that wasn’t all.

“Wanna die?”

Every word was a gem. The filler words she spat must’ve been dredged from a sewer. That flapping mouth of hers kept yapping nonstop.

“I clearly said ‘just a sec.'”

“…….”

“But fuck, you didn’t even pretend to listen?”

“…….”

“And what was that ‘one, then three’? Bullshit. Kang Hyeonseong babies you, so you think you’re hot shit.”

With the profanity and orange hair intertwined, her vibe shifted from otaku bait to delinquent queen. But the real kicker was something else entirely, drowning out her curses.

Zzzzzip.

The bullet spun furiously between her fingers before halting. Then it dropped limply to the floor. That’s right—the dumpling head had snatched the bullet right out of the air at point-blank range.

Crazy, she caught a bullet?

Of course, the first shot was just a warning, aimed to graze past her cheek. He’d even fine-tuned the trajectory with Bullet Time. No way it’d kill her by accident. Unless she twisted into it, anyway.

Subsonic dynamic vision surpassing sound speeds, plus the athletic prowess to act on it. Her Agility had to blow past the superhuman benchmark of 30, easy.

…At least 40, no doubt.

Jin Sobang last time, Seo Punggae before that. What kind of shop attracts nothing but monsters? No matter how he thought about it, the location was cursed.

“You know who I am?”

The dumpling head planted her hands on her hips and declared.

“Do I gotta know some trespasser too?”

“Ha! Trespassing a bar!”

She snorted triumphantly.

“That’s why no customers show up!”

“…….”

Did she seriously not notice it was closed?

Hard to believe, but…

If the dumpling head was too illiterate to grasp “CLOSED,” it fit. Lee Taebaek sighed and tossed out a sudden question.

“What’s the opposite of OPEN?”

“What quiz is this?!”

“No bullshit.”

He prodded the gun barrel impatiently.

“It’s make-or-break whether I fight you or not.”

The dumpling head looked a bit cowed.

“…What kinda nonsense is that?”

“Quick.”

She scowled and shot back.

“Who the fuck shoots customers and acts this brazen?! Opposite of OPEN is OFF! Happy now?!”

Spot on.

This one’s a total airhead.

She pulls off catching a bullet mid-flight, but her English is kindergarten-level? Character design for real? He deflated.

Her not minding his first shot? Probably an IQ thing. Best case, she’s a sweet idiot. Worst case… unprintable.

Ignorance ain’t a crime.

Even Toegye Yi Hwang said not to look down on the unlearned.

– Shut it! You ain’t qualified to quote him!

“…….”

Lee Taebaek spoke up again.

“You.”

The Python nearly slipped from his loosening grip, so he clamped down. Even the gun seemed to lose its edge.

“Know trespassing’s a crime, right?”

“You asking if I got common sense?”

“Good, you do.”

“What’d you mumble?”

“Whatever.”

Lee Taebaek shut the fridge and dismissed her.

“CLOSED sign on the door means ‘not open.’ Memorize it.”

“Wha…?”

Her pumice-stone eyes lost focus. Social skills at newborn level. He tsked pityingly at her.

“Common sense yes, knowledge no.”

“Sh-shut up!”

The dumpling head exploded.

“I-I don’t need English to live! N-no problem at all!”

Her flushed cheeks were on the verge of eruption like active volcanoes, fists clenched on her thighs trembling with shame.

“Pisses me off more the longer I think! You talk knowledge but lack common sense, asshole!!”

Sharp point. Correction: English is shallow, but smarts seem fine.

Anyway, her identity was clicking into place.

She’d name-dropped Kang Hyeonseong casually, like a buddy.

And digging through memories, her face rang a vague bell.

Way different vibe from what I remember.

Up close, faint traces of her five-years-from-now face showed. But the current atmosphere was so off, he’d second-guessed.

Lee Taebaek unwittingly licked his lips.

‘Tyrant of Sichuan.’

And one of the Ten Wings.

Poison Master Tang Munik.

His grandniece.

“Tang Jihye.”

Was this dumpling head.

“You know me?”

“You said ‘Don’t you know me?!’ first.”

“Oh… right.”

Tang Jihye was the Poison Master’s favorite, even among direct kin. Credit to flawless Team Leader’s idea.

But in the clan, she was treated like an outsider despite the name. ‘Cause she’d bolted from Tang Clan Tower.

Who knows what wind blew through her porous brain folds. Anyway.

Runaway Tang Jihye joined the Resistance after bumping into the Commander-in-Chief by chance. Shot up to 3rd Battalion Commander in just three and a half years.

“Didn’t know. Just figured it out.”

Dim as she seemed, she was no slouch. No wonder the Poison Master doted.

Come to think of it.

Right after that battalion commanders’ emergency meeting weeks ago.

A commander hurling Tang Clan Hidden Fragrance Twelve Arts needles. He’d stayed with 9th Battalion, so moot now.

That was Tang Jihye.

Sweat slicked his gun-gripping palm. He wiped it on his sleeve.

Five years before Laykuns main story.

Right when Tang Munik’s headlights were scanning for her. The Poison Master himself.

Chills—

Enough chit-chat. One thing to do. Decision made, he stated flatly.

“Out.”

Hot barrel aimed at the half-open door.

“What? First you shoot, now you kick me out without asking why?”

Predictably, Tang Jihye growled and refused eviction.

“Even if hit, it’d just shatter your collarbone. Plenty of commanders could catch bullets too.”

Her dumpling head twitched like animal ears.

“No commander dies to a bullet. Worst case center-forehead? Still not my fault. I fired back.”

“…….”

Silence.

“Commander whose head gets ventilated trespassing an outsider’s pad? 3rd Battalion’s got gossip fodder for a decade.”

“…….”

Silence. Then her pretty lips twitched.

“…So what! What now?!”

“Told you.”

Lee Taebaek said coolly, flicking the barrel sideways.

“Out.”

Tang Jihye bit her lip like plucking it.

Too harsh on a commander? No choice…

“No.”

She glared hard.

“…What?”

“I said no!!”

Declaration.

A toddler tantrum left him stunned.

She’s nuts?

Put this brat in charge of 3rd Battalion? Commander-in-Chief’s no joke either.

“You! I offered Hidden Fragrance Twelve Arts to lure you to 3rd, and you ditched without thinking!! Know how my troops beat my ass for it?!”

She felt undervalued by high-and-mighty 3rd Battalion Commander Tang Jihye.

– The Tang Clan always repays its debts.

Knowing her five-years-later self made it more shocking. Damn.

Homonym?

This’d get messy. As he went to tsk—

Kwa-rung!

Lightning insight pierced his temple. Dormant 「Concept: Robber (True)」 stretched like a cat.

Right. Tang Clan repays debts.

Dangerous smile curled his lips.

But need at least one third party for that.

Thought barely crossed before the door slammed open. Perfect timing.

The universe revolved around him, arrogant as that sounded. But the intruder blew his expectations.

“How dare you glare at the Founding Patriarch?!”

Ban Lionheart.

Proud Hundred-Fold Sect disciple.

“Take thiiiis—!”

Dropkicked the heretic talking back to the Cult Leader. Crutches thrust skyward.

Her crimson vision filled with his sole. Next instant, a bursting thud echoed sharply.

“Goeun sis! Come on, let’s go together!”

A boy tucked crutches under his arms and somehow kept pace with Goeun.

“Told you to rest at home, Ban.”

Goeun sighed.

Ban grinned toothily, playing it cool.

“Heh heh heh. Was gonna, but gotta thank the Founding Patriarch, right?”

Coma-fresh Ban thumped his chest vigorously, like he’d never danced with death.

“Thanks to him, that bastard’s dead and no one’s messing with Hundred-Fold Sect in the lowest district anymore!”

Goeun cracked a smile at his girlish grin. Still a bit annoying.

“Aaaah! Sis!”

Goeun mussed his waxed-back hair.

“Ruining my Founding Patriarch meetup style?!”

“He’d hate the wax more.”

“Roomie knows the Founding Patriarch’s tastes well, huh?”

Ban fixed his hair.

“How’d Taebaek win you over? Demonic Cults gotta indoctrinate from infancy for ten converts if lucky.”

“His selfless, consistent words and deeds moved us all.”

Ban said solemnly.

Goeun side-eyed him queasily.

“They say religion’s no drug, tsk.”

“Hundred-Fold.”

“Dog barks, dog. Fine, your funeral. Let’s go.”

They quickened pace.

Goeun took short steps. Her subtle care let Ban keep up busily. She chuckled at him, then stared ahead deliberately.

Flying delinquent teen and ex-Demonic Cult woman—an odd pair. The story:

Day Lee Taebaek got grounded, Goeun got a call from Kang Hyeonseong.

During Stiletto Club siege, Hundred-Fold Sect faithful and lowest-district strays: “Goeun, mind ’em?” Awkward promise of responsibility and rewards.

Started personal for Taebaek. But Stiletto takeover—now Hundred-Fold Sect Branch 1—ballooned into Resistance op beyond 9th Battalion.

Pre-gang war sanctuary for kids, sparing lowest district innocents. With all hands on deck, needed babysitter. Commander tapped Goeun via her 9th pal.

Goeun griped about daycare duty. But grumpily agreed.

Sneaky bastard.

Only after vowing to squeeze him dry did she head down.

Her sulky face and gait contrasted hands heavy with food: cheese, ham, soup, curry. Warm, shareable stuff. Leftovers in fridge for self-heat.

Goeun glanced back.

“You kids were super wary at first when I showed with food bags. Why the sudden welcome?”

“Remember that pink-haired girl?”

Goeun nodded.

“The death-glare one.”

“Angela. Said you smelled like the Founding Patriarch’s shampoo.”

“…How’s Angela know his shampoo scent?”

“Sniffed hairs she scavenged.”

Goeun’s eyes went blank.

“Anyway, figured VIP associate. Treated you royally.”

“If I’d been his enemy?”

“Throw down, no choice. Ready anytime!”

Cult reality choked her words. Hundred-Fold Sect fanaticism made Demonic Cults bow deep.

“Angela might gift chocolates as thanks? Take, don’t eat.”

“Why…?”

“Feeds arsenic-laced ones to rats lately. Bit obsessive ’bout Patriarch. Told me, ‘Sluts around him all…’ Eyes murderous.”

Chilling glare like winter frost. Ban shuddered.

“Said thanks for food, wants to send you off comfy.”

“Her consideration. Thanks for warning. Nearly foamed blue and croaked.”

Goeun smiled gently.

A smile of much surrender. She gave up understanding Hundred-Fold Sect.

“But I get it. Wanting to get close to him, whatever it takes.”

“If sincere, too bad—waxed up for this.”

“Of course—”

-Bang!

Gunshot cut him off. From their peripheral. Fading shot trailed by bickering.

“Pa… Patriarch…!”

Ban’s face paled. He bolted, questions be damned.

“Founding—Patriarch—!”

Crutches blurring, pain no match for faith. Like an undying demon.

Kya-aaah!

Sharp woman’s scream sliced the door gap. Problem: feminine voice.

Goeun shoved doubts aside, storming in like drawn arrow.

And witnessed it. A scene shocking enough for a lifetime.