Chapter 227: All That Jazz (9)

A breathable linen short-sleeve shirt, casual stretch jeans, and various everyday clothes.

With her shopping bags filled with men’s clothing, Seti was heading toward the cashier when she glanced sideways at the underwear section.

…Should she buy underwear, too?

It didn’t take long for her to make the decision. Her inner girl was too embarrassed to even lift her head.

Anyway, after sorting out her thoughts, Seti grabbed the most important item—a prepaid cell phone—and stood at the checkout counter.

The cashier gave her a strange look, likely because she was buying a pile of men’s clothes, but Seti didn’t care.

As soon as she finished her quick transaction, Seti headed to the parking lot where Yeomyeong was waiting.

And just as she stepped out, holding a cola from the vending machine as an apology for taking longer than expected, the first thing she saw was…

A platinum-blond man leaping over the supermarket parking lot’s fence.

With a sharp thud, he landed on the pavement. His clothes were dirty, and blood was trickling down his forehead. He looked like someone who had just been in a traffic accident.

What the hell was that?

Judging by how easily he had vaulted over a nearly three-meter-high fence, he was probably a superhuman, but Seti didn’t particularly care.

After all, wasn’t this LA home to Hollywood? Running into superhumans—who were practically celebrities—wasn’t all that unusual.

However… the man’s reaction to seeing Seti was strange.

“…Hong Seti?”

The moment he saw her, he flinched and came to a halt, his eyes widening in shock. His expression was a mix of surprise and bewilderment.

Seeing that look, Seti realized two things: first, the Blood Tears illusion on her face had disappeared, and second, whoever this man was, he was familiar enough with her face to recognize her even with sunglasses on.

Seti’s hand immediately moved to the gun holstered at her waist. If necessary, she was ready to shoot and retreat to where Yeomyeong was.

But the man didn’t attack, nor did he charge at her. He simply stood there, looking too stunned to speak.

A brief silence followed.

And then…

“…So, you are a real person? Not just her imaginary friend?”

That sentence carried a lot of meaning. In the next moment, Seti thought of the Blue Rat, the Saintess, and her father in turn.

…The Saintess’ father?

The protagonist of a scandal so infamous it was even made into a movie, a holy knight who had been confined in the Holy City with no one in the world knew his face —why was he here?

It seemed the Saintess’ father was wondering the same thing.

He looked back and forth between Seti and the other side of the parking lot, his expression contemplative, then let out a deep sigh.

“I see; I was mistaken. He’s not a commie, but the Dragon Liberator…”

“…”

The Dragon’s Liberator—that was the title Yeomyeong had earned in Manchuria.

Did the Saintess’ father just fight Yeomyeong? Were those wounds inflicted by him? As Seti’s thoughts grew more chaotic…

“Miss Hong Seti. I know this is rude, but could you pass along an apology?”

The Saintess’ father suddenly spoke to Seti, offering an apology.

“Attacking first without knowing the full circumstances was neither right as an adult nor as a holy knight. Tell him that I will offer a proper apology next time.”

“Wait, why don’t you just tell him your—”

Before Seti could finish her sentence, the man leaped back over the fence he had just crossed.

What the hell? What just happened?

The answer to that question came surprisingly quickly.

“Ah, seriously—wai— Ouch! No, hold on! If you get involved with my dad, you’re really…! Gonna be in huge trouble!?”

From across the parking lot, Yeomyeong was dragging the Saintess by her ear.

No further explanation was needed. Seti just rubbed her throbbing forehead.

The scandal of the century: a Soviet spy and a holy knight eloping in the name of love.

The current younger generation may not care much anymore, but it was a well-known story for the previous generation.

Not only had it been adapted into movies and TV dramas, but it had also inspired countless similar stories—what more needed to be said?

However, there was little known about one of the story’s key figures: the Saintess’ father.

Part of it was because he served as a guardian knight in the Holy City and did not engage in external activities. But the real reason was that the clergy strictly opposed making him known to the public.

Normally, secrecy like that would only fuel curiosity, but in his case, things were different.

Because he was the father of the Saintess.

Ordinary people, or those with religious inclinations, refrained from digging into his identity out of respect for the Saintess and the clergy.

And the cynical types who usually question such things? They took it a step further and doubted his very existence.

Some even argued that the grand love story was just a modern myth, fabricated to glorify the mixed-blood Saintess.

As a result, only a handful of nosy and daring journalists had ever attempted to uncover his identity, and not a single one had managed to scale the walls of the Holy City.

…Well, in any case.

Because so little was known about him, Yeomyeong had naturally assumed he would be just like the Saintess and her mother, a total lunat— a strange person.

Up until a moment ago, he had thought they were all the same breed of craziness.

“…Huh? He’s actually more normal than I expected…”

Hearing the apology Seti relayed, Yeomyeong tilted his head in confusion.

It had been a surprisingly polite apology, and given the circumstances, the misunderstanding (?) was understandable. More than anything, the guy had just been hit with a motorcycle by his own daughter—how could Yeomyeong not feel a little bad?

However, whatever Yeomyeong was thinking, the Saintess just scoffed.

“…So he thinks saying sorry makes everything okay? And he didn’t even apologize in person.”

She had literally run her father over with a motorcycle to keep him from meeting Yeomyeong. Yet, for some reason, she was still pouting like something was unfair.

Despite knowing better than to get involved in other people’s family drama, Yeomyeong found this a bit much. He jabbed her lightly in the side.

“Ah, seriously! You guys just don’t get it! Once you know the truth, you’ll be thanking me!”

“…”

While Yeomyeong was at a loss for words, Neti cut in.

“…Is this truth of yours really so bad that it justifies running over your own father with a motorcycle?”

“Yes!”

It was a firm, unwavering answer. Just as Yeomyeong was suppressing the urge to flick her forehead, she continued.

“My dad is the Keeper of Holy Relics in the Holy City. That means he’s a Holy Knight responsible for protecting the Holy Relics of the Five Gods… and, well, he’s absolutely forbidden from leaving the city or taking any Holy Relics outside.”

“…”

“But! Not only did he run away without permission, but he also took a relic with him! If we get tangled up with him, we’re just asking for trouble. Do you get it? Yeomyeong, you almost got yourself an all-expenses-paid trip to the Holy City’s underground interrogation chambers.”

Everyone stared at the Saintess, dumbfounded. A brief silence followed, and then Seti spoke cautiously.

“…You’re just like him.”

“H-Huh?”

“You’re exactly the same. You also ran away without permission and used church property however you wanted. ”

“…”

At that moment, the Saintess froze, her raised finger still in midair. She clamped her mouth shut like a mute who had swallowed honey.

It was only when Yeomyeong took aim at her forehead for a flick that she protested.

“I-I’m fine! I haven’t been punished, and no pursuers are after me!”

“…Yeah, what an achievement.”

Flick! A crisp snap rang out as the Saintess’ head jerked backwards.

One hour later, at the Knight Order’s secret house provided by Sancho.

“You all returned sooner than expected. How did things go?”

As soon as the door opened, Corvus greeted them. Yeomyeong gave a nod.

“Yes, thanks to your concern, we managed.”

“For a mission that ‘managed,’ you all look quite different from when you left… What exactly happened?”

She glanced between Yeomyeong, who was wearing fresh clothes, and the Saintess, who had a noticeable bump on her forehead.

Yeomyeong swallowed a bitter smile, set his luggage down, and sank onto the sofa in the living room.

The explanations began only after Corvus fluffed her feathers and brought drinks from the kitchen.

Moryne, the Blue Rat, the KGB, and the Saintess’ father.

The mention of fighting a former KGB agent made the Saintess and Neti widen their eyes in shock. But Corvus was entirely surprised by something else.

“…Horua is in this city?”

“Horua?”

“The Saintess’ father.”

Yeomyeong shrugged.

“Yes, he seems to be looking for Moryne.”

“Hmm… the Keeper of Holy Relics leaving the Holy City… That’s unlike him.”

Corvus cast a glance at the Saintess, who pointed indignantly at Yeomyeong and then at the bump on her forehead.

A silent gesture that screamed, He hit me! Corvus sighed and summarized the situation.

“Well, with both his wife and daughter missing, what man could sit still?”

“…”

“But if he’s taken action, it’s best that we don’t get further involved. He’ll handle it.”

Yeomyeong didn’t bother asking whether the Saintess’ father was really that strong. Even if he hadn’t inherited the Holy Sword, the Vice Commander of the Holy Knights couldn’t possibly be weak.

In any case, after the conversation reached that point, Yeomyeong hesitated briefly before speaking in a serious tone.

“There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet….”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever heard of the so-called successor of Stalin?”

“…?”

Corvus tilted her head almost 90 degrees as if she had just heard the most absurd thing in existence.

Seti, who had been straightening her clothes, Neti, who had been sipping cola, and even the Saintess, who was healing the bump on her forehead, all showed similar reactions.

Taking a deep breath, Yeomyeong recounted his conversation with Vladimir.

The Dzhugashvili school sect, the Blood Tears illusion, and the divided communists.

The explanation was neither long nor short, and as soon as it ended, Corvus clacked her beak with a sharp snap.

“Coincidence…? No, at this point, I’d call it fate.”

“…”

“What do you want to do, apprentice? Why not take this chance to unite the communists and become the second Stalin? You even built ties with Demerond, didn’t you?”

The tone was far from serious—more like teasing. Yeomyeong waved his hand dismissively.

“Tch, if I were going to be anything, I’d be a religious person, not a commie.”

That was when Neti cut into the conversation.

“…For someone saying that, you sure have learned two commie martial arts already. Not to mention, you were taught by the Commie Elf Leader. You’re basically a super-commie at this point.”

It was a fair argument. Even the Saintess, who had been keeping quiet about the topic, let out a chuckle at the accuracy.

“And you’re close with the commie princess, too… You might as well join the revolution—ˆ!”

Seti, who had had enough, smacked Neti on the back. Neti clammed up immediately, tears welling in her eyes.

Yeomyeong chuckled at the sight but couldn’t come up with a rebuttal. Honestly, they weren’t exactly wrong.

But even if he wanted to become a commie, it would be impossible.

The dwarves who despised Stalin were his allies, and both the Eastern Count Palatine and the KGB were tangled in an ill-fated relationship with him.

The ill-fated relationship would turn into rage, rage into hatred, and hatred into bloodshed.

Yeomyeong felt a near certainty that, sooner or later, he would have to settle things with the commies once and for all. He leaned back into the couch.

Perhaps due to its softness, the exhaustion from the past few days of constant battle crept up his spine. In the depths of that fatigue, he thought—

…Fortunately, at least there was still time before Superhuman Olympia was held. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had the time to build up the power he needed to take revenge on the Korean government.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Yeomyeong nearly drifted into sleep, only to snap back to alertness due to a strange sensation in his back pocket.

He reached in and pulled out a small metal piece shaped like a hammer and sickle (☭), then spoke.

“…Come to think of it, I found this on the body of a KGB agent during the fight. Corvus, do you know what this is?”

Corvus frowned slightly at the sight of the metal piece.

“This is… a Soviet artificial Holy Relic.”

Unlike magic items, which function using external mana, the Holy Relic emitted its own mana.

Though he had somewhat expected it, hearing that it was truly an artificial Holy Relic made Yeomyeong furrow his brows.

“…So Holy Relics can be artificially created?”

“Like most things from the Cold War era, I don’t know the exact method of manufacture. I just know they exist.”

“…”

“But seeing one in person… It’s exactly the kind of thing you’d expect from those who call religion ‘the opium of the people.’ To make something so unnatural without even twisted mana…”

“Wait! Let me see it.”

The Saintess suddenly held out her hand. Without hesitation, Yeomyeong passed the Holy Relic to her.

She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it from every angle, then tilted her head in confusion.

“This… turned into just a metal piece when I touched it.”

“…?”

“The mana stopped flowing.”

Yeomyeong tilted his head upon hearing that upon hearing that. But when he took the Holy Relic back into his hands, it immediately began emitting mana again.

“…What the hell?”

He passed it to Neti, then to Seti, and finally to Corvus. Each time, the moment they touched it, the Holy Relic ceased its mana flow and became nothing more than a metal piece.

“It seems like this only works for commies.”

Neti’s comment was meant as a joke, but Yeomyeong couldn’t laugh it off. Neither could the Saintess.

“How was it used? That KGB old man—Vladimir, or whatever—he didn’t seem the type to pray to it. What did he do?”

“He embedded it in his skin. The Holy Relic in his body grew tentacles for attacking and regenerating… Something like that.”

“…Tentacles?”

Neti, who had been listening quietly, made a disgusted face—then, as if something clicked, she hesitated before adding a comment.

“Then… does it mean if you implant this holy relic, you can also use tentacles— Ouch!”

Once again, Seti slapped her back. The slap was so hard that the sound echoed throughout the living room.

“Hmm, Yeomyeong’s tentacles, huh…”

Ignoring the Saintess, who was muttering seriously, Yeomyeong looked down at the artificial holy relic. Should he leave it to an expert?

After a moment of hesitation, Yeomyeong, just in case, lightly infused the Holy Relic with mana.

And the next moment…

[New user detected. Confirming mana.]

An unidentified voice tickled his ears.

Startled, Yeomyeong looked around, but no one reacted. It seemed only he could hear the voice.

[Type: Dzhugashvili. Minimum user authority. Sorry, comrade. You cannot use this item.]

“…”

Yeomyeong stared blankly at the Holy Relic. Sensing something was off, Seti asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I infused it with mana, and suddenly… it started talking to me.”

“…What? What did it say?”

Yeomyeong immediately explained the conversation he had just heard. After listening, the Saintess blurted out her thoughts.

“If you raise your rank, can you use tentacles?”

“…”

“…Do you have to make that face? I’m joking.”

Neti grumbled about why Seti didn’t slap the Saintess’ back. Ignoring her, Seti alternated her gaze between the Holy Relic and Yeomyeong.

After a while, she came up with an idea.

“Let’s try using the Royal Seal.”

“…The Royal Seal?”

“There’s some kind of magic lock on it, right? The Golden Seal should be able to unlock it, shouldn’t it?”

“Hmm…”

Since there was nothing to lose, Yeomyeong obediently took out the Golden Seal from his inventory.

As he activated the Seal’s magic on the Holy Relic…

Flash.

Following the brief light, the voice from the Holy Relic echoed loudly throughout the living room.

A voice completely different from the stiff one earlier, this one was almost like singing.

Only Corvus among the group realized what the Holy Relic was saying and flapped her wings.

“The Soviet anthem… It’s singing the national anthem of the Soviet Union.”

It was not even a hymn, so why was it singing the national anthem? As Yeomyeong tilted his head in confusion…

The mana inside his body was drained, and the Holy Relic floated into the air.

Like a ship cutting through waves, the Holy Relic split the space it passed through in half.

Whoosh—!

The split space, emitting a red light… was a Dimensional Portal.

The same red Dimensional Portal that the Eastern Count Palatine had used to escape in Dreitherial.

However, unlike the red Dimensional Portal that allowed the Eastern Count Palatine and thousands of Rat Beastfolk to escape, the Dimensional Portal created by the Holy Relic was incomplete.

At most, it was only large enough to fit a face.

Yeomyeong realized why the portal wasn’t growing any larger. It was because the Holy Relic didn’t have enough of his mana to absorb.

Yeomyeong, who had nearly all his mana drained by the Holy Relic, knelt down from the sudden mana depletion.

“Huh? Yeomyeong? Why suddenly like this?!”

The Saintess and the others approached him in surprise, and the moment Yeomyeong’s consciousness began to fade, he made eye contact with the being beyond the Dimensional Portal.

A man sitting in a huge office, idly fiddling with a dice.

He was the man with a distinctive beard and a pockmarked face—someone who had been seen countless times in textbooks and documentaries.

The one who made the Soviet Union the strongest nation and brought about its collapse upon disappearing.

The arch-enemy of the dwarves, the master of Dzhugashvili, the general secretary at the peak of all communists…

Joseph Stalin.

[Tsk, how could you use such tricks… That could have been a big problem. I’ll close the door, so next time, don’t recklessly try to defy fate. Got it?]

With his voice, which sounded like the Foreman gently scolding, Yeomyeong lost consciousness.