Descent of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 128

“You seem to be acting calm, right?”

“…A little.”

“It’s both.”

Kang Jin-ho didn’t understand Park Yu-min’s words for a moment.

Both?

One was understandable, but what about the other?

An answer quickly came to his questioning gaze.

“There’s acting calm, and there’s actually being calm.”

“Calm?”

“Yeah.”

How could she be?

Just as Kang Jin-ho was about to ask again, a server brought the alcohol.

As the bottle was placed in front of them, Park Yu-min opened it and poured a drink into Kang Jin-ho’s glass.

“I’m used to losing things.”

“Used to it?”

“You seem to forget sometimes…”

Park Yu-min gave a bitter smile.

“Whether it’s them or me, we’re disabled. Disabled people have to give up on things more often than normal people. I think I’m not that different from others, but then I hit a wall that seems insignificant.”

It was something he couldn’t help but understand.

Because he had experienced it himself.

What was so natural to others was not easy for people with disabilities. And sometimes, that natural thing could hit them painfully.

“I also know that if someone starts to feel sad, everyone else will feel sad too. So, we keep our mouths shut and pretend to be okay. And… it’s also true that we’re quite calm. We’re used to losing things, to things not going our way.”

“Still…”

Kang Jin-ho was about to say that this was a bit different, but he stopped himself.

Who was he to interfere with someone else’s feelings when the person themselves was saying that?

“It’s sad. It’s sad, it’s heartbreaking, and…”

Park Yu-min turned her head to look out the window.

“It burns inside.”

Park Yu-min, who had downed her shot of soju [a Korean distilled beverage], continued in a bitter tone.

“But if it’s something that can’t be undone, then we just have to endure it.”

“That’s right.”

It was the right thing to say.

“More than anything, the director wouldn’t want us to be wallowing in sadness. So, we have to be strong.”

“Yeah.”

It was true.

But it didn’t resonate with him.

What could be more hollow than words that said it was the obvious thing to do? Kang Jin-ho drank soju to soothe his aching heart.

‘I want to get drunk.’

It had been a long time since he had wanted to get drunk like today. But Kang Jin-ho’s body wouldn’t allow him to get drunk.

“Jin-ho.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

What was she thanking him for?

“The director was very grateful. But she was also worried.”

“Worried?”

“She was worried that you might be too caught up in this and not do what you need to do.”

He felt a little dazed.

‘What I need to do?’

He had never thought about that.

What was it that he needed to do right now?

“…And she asked me to tell you this.”

Kang Jin-ho silently waited for Park Yu-min’s words.

“She said it wasn’t your fault. And not to try to carry everything.”

Kang Jin-ho raised his head and looked at the ceiling.

“I think so too. It’s true that I relied on you a lot, but this wasn’t something you were supposed to get involved in.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Let me speak first.”

Park Yu-min firmly cut off Kang Jin-ho’s words.

“This is something I need to do, and something we need to do. I’m not saying you’re an outsider, Jin-ho. At least, it wasn’t something you, who’s in the military, should have come out to do. But when I called you, I half-hoped you would come. So, I’m sorry.”

Park Yu-min gripped her glass tightly.

“I didn’t think that this might be a burden to you. I’m really sorry.”

“…I don’t want to hear that.”

“And!”

Park Yu-min suddenly raised her head.

“I’ve apologized, so I have to say what I need to say. Kang Jin-ho.”

“Huh?”

“Is the world ending?”

Kang Jin-ho flinched at Park Yu-min’s sudden question.

“The world isn’t ending just because the director passed away. We have things to do. I have to take care of the kids, and I have to think about what to do with them in the future.”

Kang Jin-ho couldn’t say anything.

“I have to go back to practice, and now I have to earn money to feed the kids. It’s a cold thing to say, but the living have to live.”

“…You’re right.”

“But why do you have that ‘the world is ending’ look on your face? The Kang Jin-ho I know isn’t someone who makes that face.”

Park Yu-min’s voice pierced his ears.

He felt a little ashamed.

“I’m not saying you’re not being yourself. I’m not saying I want you to always show the same side of yourself. What I’m trying to say is that you being so down isn’t helping me, the director, or the kids.”

It was obvious.

But why hadn’t he realized this until just now?

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I apologize. So, you need to stop worrying and get a grip.”

He silently nodded.

Looking ahead, he saw Park Yu-min with a flushed face looking at him.

‘A friend, huh.’

He realized that they had become a reliable relationship where they could give each other advice, not just close acquaintances.

Kang Jin-ho silently raised his glass.

“Let’s have a drink.”

“Alright.”

The glasses clinked, and Kang Jin-ho poured the alcohol into his mouth.

“Ugh.”

“…A reliable relationship, my foot.”

Kang Jin-ho grabbed the back of Park Yu-min’s neck, which kept drooping down. Park Yu-min had completely lost her mind from being drunk.

“Was she always this weak with alcohol?”

Come to think of it, he had hardly ever seen her drink. Since Kang Jin-ho didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, he had rarely gone out for drinks with Park Yu-min.

“Don’t lie down!”

Kang Jin-ho forcefully pulled up Park Yu-min, who was trying to lie down on the floor, and slung her over his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

He couldn’t understand how someone who couldn’t handle alcohol could have poured it down like that.

Normally, he would have been angry that she had drunk without knowing her limits and lost consciousness, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that today.

“Jin-ho…”

“What?”

“It’s hard.”

“…You brat.”

Kang Jin-ho tightened his grip on Park Yu-min, who was slung over his shoulder.

‘Everyone’s the same.’

Inside, everyone must be struggling and anxious.

But they were all gritting their teeth and walking forward without showing it.

‘Then what about me?’

Kang Jin-ho stopped in his tracks.

‘What was I doing?’

He wanted to live an ordinary life.

Did he even know what that meant?

To be unremarkable, to not stand out.

It wasn’t much different from saying he would just endure the time. It could mean something different to others, but that’s what it meant to Kang Jin-ho.

‘Because I was afraid.’

Because he knew how the nail that sticks out gets hammered.

In the modern world, when he was worse than others, he couldn’t bear the looks of contempt. And when he reached the top in the Murim world [a world of martial arts], he couldn’t stop the jealousy of others.

“I was running away.”

Kang Jin-ho gritted his teeth.

Having lived two lives, he had become a hedgehog.

He had built up a wall, saying that if they didn’t touch the people he knew, he wouldn’t touch them either, blocking the approach of others and controlling his own life.

Kang Jin-ho’s world was trapped inside a fence made up only of certain acquaintances.

“Director…”

Park Yu-min, who had fallen asleep, mumbled in her sleep.

Kang Jin-ho quickened his pace and arrived at the orphanage. The children, who were still awake, looked surprised as they took Park Yu-min.

“Then.”

Kang Jin-ho, who had put Park Yu-min down and turned around, took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.

‘I wasn’t adapting.’

He had just built a wall.

Against everything that was coming his way.

He thought that if he lived quietly like this, he would be able to grasp the edge of happiness. Because happiness had not been with him in his previous life, nor in the life before that.

But happiness wasn’t in ordinariness.

Those who find happiness in ordinariness have achieved ordinariness. Kang Jin-ho, who had tried to become ordinary by simply cowering, could never find happiness within it.

He couldn’t stop the director’s death. He was powerless.

And someday, the same thing might happen to his family.

Would he just despair in powerlessness then?

Kang Jin-ho raised his head and looked at the sky.

The black sky, where not a single star could be seen, was looking down at him.

‘I missed it.’

This sky.

But what did he want to do when he returned to the world with this sky?

“…It doesn’t matter.”

It was okay if he didn’t remember. He would find it now.

Kang Jin-ho threw the cigarette on the ground and got on the Gold Dragon [likely a vehicle or motorcycle].

* * *

“Yes?”

Jo Gyu-min said in surprise at the phone call from the security office in the morning.

“Who did you say?”

[A student named Kang Jin-ho is asking to be connected to the secretary’s office. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says he needs to meet.]

“K-Kang Jin-ho? Let him in! Don’t stop him there.”

[Yes, I’ll send him up.]

Jo Gyu-min, who had hung up the phone, muttered blankly.

“What’s going on?”

The Kang Jin-ho he knew was not the type to be proactive.

If something happened, he would make a phone call or say a word, and then quietly wait for others to move.

For such a person to come to Jo Gyu-min’s office in the morning?

‘Is this the first time since high school?’

He had come to Jo Gyu-min during high school because he was learning from him, but that shouldn’t be the case now?

Jo Gyu-min, who didn’t understand the situation, jumped up from his seat and went to the pantry to make coffee.

He didn’t know what was going on, but since Kang Jin-ho had come in person, he couldn’t just sit there and wait. He had to at least offer coffee when he arrived to make it look presentable.

He took out the highest quality coffee beans that the chairman drank, not the coffee that the employees drank, and ground them.

‘His coffee taste has become so picky these days.’

He wasn’t someone who cared about such things before, but after Kang Yu-hwan opened a cafe, he had started to subtly care about the taste of coffee. He didn’t complain about the taste, but he showed his feelings by subtly narrowing his brow.

Checking those things in a timely manner was also something that someone who lived in the secretary’s office had to do.

Knock knock.

At the sound of knocking on the door, Jo Gyu-min quickly approached and opened it.

“Welcome.”

Of course, Kang Jin-ho was standing outside the door.

“I’m sorry for coming so early in the morning.”

“Sorry? Not at all. Please, come in.”

Jo Gyu-min pointed to a sofa on one side, and Kang Jin-ho went and sat there.

“Please wait a moment.”

“Yes.”

Jo Gyu-min returned to the pantry, finished making the coffee, and sat across from Kang Jin-ho with a coffee cup in each hand.

“Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you.”

“What brings you here so early in the morning? You’ve never done this before.”

“That’s right.”

Jo Gyu-min, who had confirmed that Kang Jin-ho’s expression wasn’t bad, jokingly said.

“Is this your first time coming to Jae-kyung [likely the name of a company or building]?”

“…It’s definitely my first time coming during the day.”

“Huh? Have you come at night?”

Kang Jin-ho glossed over Jo Gyu-min’s words with a smile.

He wondered what kind of answer he would get if he said he had come to monitor Hwang Jung-hoo.

Kang Jin-ho, who had taken a sip of coffee, put down his cup and opened his mouth.

“Actually…”