Chapter 286: Ju Haemi (2)
Kang-hoo, who met Celestial Assassin alongside K, saw another woman standing beside him.
“If you plan to stay in Korea for a while, you’d better come prepared. There’s a lot to take care of. People to bring along too.”
Recalling a past conversation with Celestial Assassin, Kang-hoo understood what her presence meant.
In the original work, she only appeared briefly as someone referred to as a loyal subordinate guarding the Celestial Assassin’s residence.
So Kang-hoo had vaguely assumed she was a same-sex* subordinate like Moon Hyeong-seo, but that wasn’t the case.
She was a young woman who looked at least forty years younger than the Celestial Assassin.
Though she showed signs of blindness, her gaze was clearly fixed on Kang-hoo’s exact location.
‘Could that short mention in the original work have taken shape and come to life like this?’
The thought struck him with renewed wonder.
An entire world had been brought to life by a single word: “subordinate.”Was her existence and appearance also a fragment of subconscious memory? Or a naturally occurring creation?
Kang-hoo first offered a respectful bow to the master he’d reunited with.
“Master, it must’ve been a difficult journey getting here. I’m honored to see you again.”
“If someone with that expression says he’s happy, you think I’ll feel good? Tch… damn brat.”
Kang-hoo laughed at Celestial Assassin’s reaction, full of his trademark affection-laced(?) insults.
K chuckled beside them, while she gave no reaction.
Instead, she reached out her hand toward Kang-hoo for a handshake.
“Ju Haemi.”
“Shin Kang-hoo.”
Ju Haemi.
An uncommon name.
One that had never once been mentioned in the original work.
Just as Kang-hoo was wondering if she might be too young to be called the Celestial Assassin’s subordinate…
Celestial Assassin looked at her with the kindest expression in the world and said firmly to Kang-hoo:
“She’s my adopted daughter. She gets along well with Yuri too. You said you knew Yuri well, didn’t you? Make sure to get along with Haemi as well.”
“Yes, Master.”
So, Ju Haemi and Jung Yuri already had some connection.
But an adopted daughter? That was unexpected. Not a subordinate—his daughter.
There must be a story there.
Someone like the Celestial Assassin wouldn’t adopt a daughter without reason.
Kang-hoo didn’t know what had happened, but something significant must have occurred between them to make it necessary.
He scanned Ju Haemi’s constellations. Three appeared. That meant her level was at least 450.
【Eye of the Heart】
【A constellation that enables sight without physical vision. It even allows prediction of some enemy movements.】
‘A constellation that erased her handicap. In fact, it lets her see beyond normal sight.’
Now he understood how Ju Haemi could so accurately focus on him despite her blindfolded eyes.
【Spring Breeze】
【Links a strong wind to all attack skills. Can also manifest a wall of wind.】
‘Sharp.’
Constellations that control wind are more valuable than one might think.
With strong wind control, one could counter or reflect enemy skills.
Or significantly slow down incoming attacks, making evasion easier.
If Kang-hoo were a mage instead of an assassin, it would’ve been the constellation he wanted most.
【Unmeasurable】
【This constellation prevents any external exposure of its abilities.
Even if a third party views the constellation, they will never understand what its powers are.】
‘Unusual.’
That’s not even the main ability of the constellation.
What Kang-hoo saw now wasn’t its core function but rather a kind of innate property.
Meaning that if Ju Haemi looked at the constellation info for Unmeasurable, she’d see a completely different message.
Clearly, she wasn’t ordinary—fitting for someone by the Celestial Assassin’s side.
He started wondering if she might be another disciple of the Celestial Assassin. That would make sense.
“What are you staring at so hard?”
The Celestial Assassin gave Kang-hoo a playful bump on the shoulder as he caught him unconsciously staring at Ju Haemi.
Ju Haemi had the classic look of a Chinese beauty.
If someone like Yu Cheonghwa exuded a seductive and provocative charm—
Ju Haemi gave off a pure and innocent aura. Complete opposites in vibe.
“I thought I’d be seeing her often.”
“If you think my daughter’s pretty, just say so! Not that she’d ever like your type.”
“What type do you mean, sir?”
“The pale-skinned, ghostly-looking ones like you—like they might die tomorrow. Like a damn jiangshi*.”
“……”
Kang-hoo wanted to deny it, but it was exactly what he thought every time he looked in a mirror—so he nodded.
He glanced at Ju Haemi, but she continued walking straight ahead, showing no particular reaction.
She didn’t seem warm toward anyone besides her adoptive father, the Celestial Assassin.
Even her first greeting to K had been nothing more than a brief bow of the head.
Was she really close to Jung Yuri? If the two of them talked, Yuri probably handled 99% of the conversation.
“In any case, take a good look. This is the place where I’ll teach and you’ll train.”
As Kang-hoo followed the Celestial Assassin, who strode ahead, the training grounds naturally came into view.
An open field, about the size of a soccer field, stretched before them.
Just moments ago, the area had been completely surrounded by forest, invisible from the outside.
But once they pushed through the trees, an unexpectedly large clearing had opened up before them.
‘K’s secret space is far more extensive than I imagined. I’ve never seen this villa before.’
Not only was the open area large, but the villa at the far end was one he’d never seen.
It was more than three times the size of the villa K had once offered him to stay in.
For Celestial Assassin, Ju Haemi, and himself, it was far too large a villa.
“Hyungnim! Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself? Haha, you’re clearly already excited.”
K followed right behind Celestial Assassin, who walked with a spring in his step, unable to hide his enthusiasm.
Why was he so excited?
Kang-hoo doubted it was because of him, his disciple.
It was likely because he was with his adopted daughter in a place with fresh air, completely free from prying eyes.
It didn’t seem like he was thrilled just because of the prospect of training with his disciple.
At that moment—
Ju Haemi quietly spoke beside him.
“My father’s number is…”
She followed it with a string of digits.
At last, Kang-hoo had Celestial Assassin’s contact info. Until now, he’d been relaying messages through K because he didn’t know it.
He entered the number into his smartphone, briefly pressed the call button, then canceled it.
Then, for confirmation, he showed her the number he’d dialed. She nodded—seemed she’d remembered it correctly.
He thought that would be the end of their brief interaction, but Ju Haemi unexpectedly continued speaking.
And she spoke for longer than he’d expected, enough to catch him off guard.
“My father truly has a lot of interest in you, Shin Kang-hoo. He’s done quite a lot to prepare for this.”
“I see. He didn’t say anything directly to me, so I wasn’t sure.”
“He even closed up his residence in China, even if it was temporary. That shows he intends to stay here for a while.”
“Is that also why you came with him?”
“Yes. If he only planned to visit briefly, he probably would’ve come alone like last time. But this time is different.”
“Hm…”
“I hope you won’t betray my father’s expectations. Right now, no one’s time is more precious than his. He doesn’t want people by his side who waste it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kang-hoo didn’t find Ju Haemi’s words offensive or overstepping.
Rather, they resonated deeply.
Through her words, he could feel Celestial Assassin’s sincerity toward him. It stirred something warm inside.
“Personally, this will probably be the first and last time I speak at length like this.”
“Whatever suits you best. I won’t force a conversation. And I won’t speak casually with you either.”
Kang-hoo promised to respect the ‘distance’ she desired.
To someone who didn’t want to talk, constantly striking up conversation under the guise of friendliness—
Wasn’t consideration or kindness. It was just disregard and emotional violence, he believed. He would follow her lead.
Sak. Sak.
The sound of fallen leaves underfoot gave the walk toward the villa a charming, peaceful atmosphere.
The breeze was cool, the sky clear and blue—if there were a bench nearby, he’d want to lie down and rest.
Watching Celestial Assassin walking ahead, chuckling with K and matching his pace, Kang-hoo thought:
【Skill Copy – 1 Use】
【You may copy one skill from a hunter you’ve directly observed, regardless of gender, level, or class.】
【There is no penalty for class mismatch during acquisition, and the skill is inherited with full efficiency.】
It was a perk he’d received after reaching level 100 and spinning the shell game.
At first, he’d thought of targeting Jang Si-hwan, but later changed his mind to Celestial Assassin.
Now that target—his “master”—was right in front of him.
He’d been seriously considering copying one of his master’s skills.
Celestial Assassin possessed so many useful skills that listing them all would be exhausting.
‘Maybe it’d be better to just talk with Master about it openly?’
Kang-hoo was now considering having a serious conversation with the Celestial Assassin about which skill to copy.
If he did, the master might even recommend the one he was most confident in—and willing to pass down.
Of course, if the conversation went sideways… his life might not be guaranteed.
Meanwhile—
A man emerged from a corner of a waste disposal site, wiping sweat from his drenched face with a handkerchief.
There was something here that no one else would ever expect: the entrance to a dungeon.
“Thanks for your hard work.”
Gasping breaths tinged with heat, the man stepped outside.
Waiting hunters handed him cold water and thick towels, offering words of encouragement.
“Cover it up. Nothing good comes from leaving an entrance exposed too long. It might trigger detection.”
“Yes, understood.”
At his words, everyone began to move efficiently.
Drdrdrk. Drk.
Screeeech.
They shoved toxic-waste-labeled drums and rusted iron structures in front of the entrance.
Once done, not only was the inside no longer visible, but the area gave off such a grotesque look no one would even want to approach it.
Then—
“Hm?”
The man opened the smartphone he had left behind—and found his attention stolen by an unexpected email.
It had been sent to a secure email address he had never made public, especially not to the Public Safety Bureau.
Yet an anonymous message had arrived.
—You don’t know me, but I know your thoughts and actions.
Goseon Waste Disposal Plant.
You frequently enter the dungeon located there, don’t you? Perhaps you’re even reading this email from there right now.
“……”
The message sent a chill down the man’s spine.
—Mr. Yu Do-hoon. Whether you take my words seriously or ignore them is entirely up to you.
And the anonymous sender had called out his name with precision.
The man’s true identity was Yu Do-hoon.
A member of the Public Safety Bureau.