Chapter 23
Jeong Yongbin quietly set down his chopsticks.
A faint smile appeared on his lips, as if something weighing on him had finally been lifted.
Was it because he had finally talked about everything from when he was alive?
He looked relieved.
Almost peaceful.
This time, Kim Gijeong, who had been sitting silently until now, slowly raised his head.
“Like I said earlier, I’ll tell you my story now.”
He carefully picked up a piece of rolled omelet with his chopsticks and continued.
“My name is Kim Gijeong. I was a C-rank defensive-type hunter… basically, a tank. I turned thirty-eight this year.”
He placed the egg in his mouth and chewed carefully.
Kim Gijeong let himself fully enjoy the flavor spreading across his tongue.
After chewing for a while, he spoke again.
“By the way, this is really delicious. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something this soft.”
Hong Mangi quietly nodded.
“I’m glad.”
Just then, Kang Jaemin brought over a bowl of doenjang soup.
Looking at the soup placed on the table, Kim Gijeong continued.
“My life was just… ordinary. Probably the most ordinary kind of life you can imagine.”
He spoke calmly.
“I graduated from university, finished my military service, joined a small company, dated someone within my means like everyone else, got married, had a child… and that was about it.”
As he spoke, he scooped up some soup with his spoon.
Slices of green onion floated to the surface, and the scent of doenjang brushed against his nose.
“Even when I first became a hunter, it felt like something that happened to other people.”
He smiled faintly.
“Someone like me, who had lived an ordinary life my whole life, becoming a hunter? I thought, ‘No way. I can’t do something like that.’”
He took a sip of the soup.
“But at some point, becoming a hunter started looking like an alternative way to live.”
He swallowed the broth slowly before continuing.
“There were layoffs at work. My salary stayed the same while my kid’s academy fees kept going up. The lease on our apartment was about to expire, and the landlord told us to move out because he wanted to live there himself.”
Kim Gijeong gave a dry laugh.
“So I thought, screw it. Maybe becoming a hunter would actually be better.”
“I registered with the Association. After all, not everyone gets the chance to awaken.”
He smiled again.
It was a self-mocking smile.
“That was when I realized it for the first time.”
His voice grew quieter.
“Ah… I worked this hard my whole life. I thought I had done a decent job living.”
“And yet, in the end, I had nothing.”
He looked down at his bowl.
“Even the deposit on the apartment I lived in wasn’t really mine.”
Hong Mangi asked,
“Is that why you kept working as a hunter?”
His attention had never once left Kim Gijeong’s story.
“Yes.”
Kim Gijeong nodded.
“I started at D-rank and was recently promoted to C-rank.”
“My combat power wasn’t anything impressive, but whenever I joined a party as a tank, I was usually around average.”
He let out a small laugh.
“Heh. Now that I think about it, I was average even in the hunter world.”
His smile turned bitter.
“I was always somewhere in the middle.”
He picked up his chopsticks again.
Carefully, he cut away the edge of the rolled omelet.
It was the thinnest and softest part.
“But strangely enough… that made me even sadder.”
“What did?”
Kim Gijeong looked at him.
“Being good enough to stay in the middle.”
His voice was quiet.
“I only realized later that it wasn’t really a compliment.”
“It meant I wasn’t someone who couldn’t be replaced.”
He put his chopsticks into his mouth once, then spoke again.
“The people who die first in dungeons are usually people like me.”
“Not the ace.”
“Not the strategist.”
“Just someone whose absence would make things a little inconvenient, but whose presence doesn’t really stand out either.”
His eyes lowered.
“People like me have a strange way of meeting death first.”
He gave a hollow smile.
“Maybe it was predictable from the beginning.”
Kang Jaemin silently boiled water in the kitchen.
Poming quietly watched from behind the counter, carefully reading the mood.
Kim Gijeong spoke again.
“The day before I died, I was packing my daughter’s lunchbox and burned the rolled omelet.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“That day, my wife told me something.”
He looked down at the remaining piece of omelet.
“She said my cooking always turned out like that because I never put my heart into it.”
His smile deepened slightly.
“She said it jokingly, of course…”
Then his expression changed.
“But for some reason, those words stayed buried deep inside me.”
He carefully placed the final piece of omelet into his mouth.
“Because she was right.”
His gaze trembled faintly.
“My whole life, I kept thinking, ‘Just stay in the middle. Average is enough.’”
“And because I lived with that mindset, I couldn’t even put my heart into making something for my own daughter.”
Hong Mangi, who had been calmly listening, changed the subject slightly.
“Our chef made today’s rolled omelet with his heart in it.”
He looked at Kim Gijeong.
“How was it?”
Kim Gijeong closed his eyes and nodded.
“It was delicious.”
His voice was soft.
“I could feel the sincerity in it.”
After a brief pause, he added,
“If I were still alive… I think I would’ve wanted to make something like this for my daughter someday.”
Hong Mangi replied,
“That feeling will reach her.”
Then he asked,
“Could you tell me where your home is?”
“It’s not far from here.”
Kim Gijeong pointed vaguely in one direction.
“Go straight that way, and you’ll see a multi-family house with a yellow gate. We live on the third floor.”
“Ah… I see.”
Kim Gijeong slowly exhaled.
“Thank you.”
He looked down at the empty plate.
“I know how meaningful it is to receive a meal like this.”
“Whether you’re alive or dead… receiving even one warm meal from someone is something worth being grateful for.”
His voice trembled slightly.
“It was really delicious.”
“And warm.”
Then he hesitated.
“But… could I ask you one more thing?”
Hong Mangi looked at him.
“Could you somehow pass these feelings on to my daughter?”
Hong Mangi quietly bowed his head.
“Of course.”
He smiled faintly.
“Actually, I was waiting for you to ask.”
Then he said,
“You wanted her to eat the rolled omelet you couldn’t make for her, didn’t you?”
Kim Gijeong silently nodded.
At that moment, a sharp gust of wind swept through the food stall.
The figures of Kim Gijeong and Jeong Yongbin gradually began fading.
It was proof that the regrets tying them to this world were slowly becoming lighter.
“Ah…”
“Uh…”
Their forms began spreading like watercolor paint in the rain.
“Ah… I guess it’s time for us to go up now.”
“Thank you! Sir….”
And with that,
the two departed.
Their lingering regrets had not completely vanished,
but enough of them had been resolved for the two souls to finally move on.
Kang Jaemin cautiously approached.
“Is it over? Did they disappear?”
