The Goblin’s Forest was an F-rank Fissure in Myeongil-dong, Gangdong-gu. Deep within the Fissure, beyond the dense trees, lay a small farm growing a variety of vegetables—cucumbers, pumpkins, tomatoes, and even the Spirit Mushrooms that Do-Jun had provided.
Kiriel imbued magical energy into the Rain Stone. The stone then emitted a soft white glow and sprayed streams of water as it moved across the field, effectively replacing a standard farming sprinkler system.
This was Kiriel’s routine whenever there were no customers at Hakase’s food stall—he would visit the field to water the crops in his stead.
According to Hakase, the Rain Stone was originally a relic of the spirits. How Byeol came to possess such an item remained a mystery, but what mattered was that the stone was now in their hands, contributing significantly to their livelihood. It seemed like a fortunate turn of events.
Of course, if the Spirit Queen ever found out they were using it, things would take a disastrous turn.
“You can do whatever you want as long as you don’t get caught,” Kiriel recalled a pearl of wisdom shared by the Overlord himself.
Inside the Fissure Management Division office, the sound of keyboards typing and mice clicking filled the air. It was just after lunch, and the office was quiet as many succumbed to afternoon drowsiness.
The automatic doors opened, and a woman entered.
Cheol-Soo emerged from the break room carrying a cup of coffee. Spotting her striking appearance, he paused awkwardly and asked, “Uh... may I help you?”
The woman barely glanced at him and stepped aside, heading directly toward Do-Jun, who was closing his laptop and grabbing his blazer. Spotting her, Do-Jun gave her a slight wave and smiled faintly.
“See you tomorrow, Chief,” he said to Cheol-Soo as he passed.
“Huh? Oh, right. I forgot you were taking the afternoon off.”
Do-Jun nodded and walked out through the automatic doors, closely followed by the woman. Through the glass, they could be seen talking, with the woman smiling brightly. Do-Jun checked his watch while waiting for the elevator, and the woman talked to him with ease, clearly a familiar acquaintance.
As they left, the office buzzed with conversation.
“You saw her, right? She’s stunning!”
The sleepy atmosphere transformed into lively chatter.
Do-Jun and Laghaim were at a café in Bangbae-dong.
“What... is this?” Laghaim asked, peering at the extensive menu with a perplexed look.
Unfamiliar with Korean, she pointed to each item and asked Do-Jun about them. Despite her frequent questions, he calmly explained each one without showing even a hint of annoyance.
“That’s an Americano. It might be too bitter for you,” Do-Jun explained.
“Is it really that bitter?”
“Yong-Yong tried it once and spat it out.”
Do-Jun’s deadpan response made Laghaim stifle a laugh as she imagined Yong-Yong’s reaction. Now that she thought about it, he had never been good with bitter foods.
“What will you have, Master?” she asked.
“I’ll have an Americano.”
“Then I’ll have the same.”
Two iced Americanos were promptly served. Holding their drinks, Do-Jun led Laghaim to the terrace. She inspected the dark liquid in her cup, took a cautious sniff, and caught its nutty aroma. After taking a sip through the straw, she winced slightly at the bitterness but didn’t find it unbearable. The taste was oddly addictive, making her think she might grow to like it.
“By the way, Master, why were people staring at us earlier?” Laghaim asked.
At the café, many patrons had looked at them curiously. While Laghaim’s striking appearance was a factor, the real reason lay elsewhere.
Do-Jun sighed, looking at Laghaim, who tilted her head in genuine confusion. “It’s because you keep calling me ‘Master.’”
In modern society, titles like “Master” were virtually obsolete and carried an odd connotation. Naturally, it sparked wild imaginations among the onlookers.
“Is that strange?” Laghaim asked, confused as to why it would be a problem.
“Never mind.” Do-Jun decided to drop the topic. Explaining the nuance wouldn’t change her choice of address, and honesty, he wasn’t particularly bothered.
Suddenly, a passing child lost hold of a balloon. It floated upward and got caught on a branch about three meters high. The child, on the verge of tears, looked up at the dangling balloon while their mother sighed in exasperation.
“You should’ve held on to it tighter,” the mom said to the child.
“But... but... waaaaah!” The child burst into tears.
The branch was too high to reach without a ladder or a stick. But something extraordinary happened. The balloon slowly descended as if pulled by an unseen force and returned to the child’s hand. The string even wrapped itself snugly around the child’s wrist.
“Wow! My balloon’s back!” the child exclaimed in joy.
“What on Earth...” The mother stared, dumbfounded, while the delighted child hugged her hand tightly.
“You’re kind,” Laghaim said to Do-Jun.
As the mother and child walked away chatting, Do-Jun watched them with a gentle smile, resting his chin on his hand.
Laghaim felt a warmth in her chest. Though he possessed overwhelming strength that no one could match, Do-Jun always exuded this comforting presence. She figured that this was why everyone who met Do-Jun wanted to stay close to him. Not out of fear of his power, but because they sincerely respected and followed him.
She asked, “Master, do these Earthlings know? That it’s because of you they can live such peaceful lives. If it weren’t for you, Earth would have been destroyed long ago. I know that’s a fact. Many powerful beings from the Deep Realm have come to Earth over time, and you were the one who dealt with them every time, right?”
Do-Jun didn’t respond. As Laghaim said, Do-Jun had handled almost all of those from the Deep Realm who harbored malicious intent. It was indeed a tiresome task. If the S-rank Hunters had been capable of defeating such powerful adversaries, he wouldn’t have even lifted a finger.
“I think the people of the world should recognize you and be grateful,” Laghaim murmured with discontent, then pouted slightly.
Her childlike display of frustration made Do-Jun chuckle. It was endearing to see Laghaim complain as if it were her own concern.
“As long as you guys know, that’s enough for me,” Do-Jun said.
In truth, recognition meant little to him. What mattered was the present, that the world was at peace, and that he was quite content with his “ordinary” life.
Laghaim simply smiled at Do-Jun’s words. She already knew that Do-Jun wasn’t one to seek recognition. It was precisely because he acted without expecting anything in return that Laghaim found herself drawn to him.
A brief silence fell.
As Laghaim gazed at the scenery of the street, she noticed a food stall by the roadside and exclaimed, “Oh!”
She turned to Do-Jun. “By the way, is it true that Hakase sells food now? Last time he visited, he claimed he was running a business.”
“Yeah. It’s been a while now. By the way, Kiriel works there.”
“Kiriel? You mean Kiriel, the Transcendent?”
As far as she recalled, the Transcendent Kiriel and Hakase had never gotten along. Their clashes during the Great War were so brutal, they nearly killed each other—a fact well-known even in the Deep Realm. In a word, they were practically nemeses.
Maybe I should visit them one day, Laghaim thought.
As always, Kiriel was on his way back after watering the fields.
Unlike in the Deep Realm, cultivating crops on Earth required considerable attention. They didn’t grow vigorously if left alone; they required regular watering, pest control for leaf-eating bugs, and other routine care.
Kiriel played with a semi-transparent, blue stone in his hand, repeatedly tossing and catching it as he walked toward Hakase’s food stall. Suddenly, his steps came to a halt. A cold sweat trickled down his forehead as someone entered his field of vision. It was none other than the Spirit Queen, Laghaim, standing before him.
“Kiriel.” Laghaim frowned.
While their antagonistic relationship during the Great War might explain some of the tension, there was a bigger issue. Kiriel was holding a Rain Stone in his hand.
About two months ago, Reum, the Rain Spirit, had lost the artifact. Why was it with Kiriel?
“Uh, um, yes?” Kiriel stammered, clearly flustered.
Laghaim narrowed her eyes, focusing on the Rain Stone. “Where did you get that?”
Kiriel’s eyes darted nervously. “W-why are you asking?”
“That’s the Rain Stone. It belongs to the Spirits. You’d better explain yourself. Why are you holding an artifact of the spirits?”
“I-I was just running an errand.”
“Yes. Sometimes I use this to water Hakase’s field.”
Laghaim looked over at the brightly lit food stall, which was bustling with customers.
Laghaim asked politely, “Could I have that for a second?”
“Here. For the record, I was only borrowing it for an errand. That’s the truth. Please, believe me.”
“I’ll check for myself.”
Kiriel placed the Rain Stone into Laghaim’s palm. Without hesitation, Laghaim pushed open the stall’s door and walked inside.
Hakase said with surprise, “Laghaim? What are you doing here—t-that’s...!”
“Reum told me he’d lost his Rain Stone—turns out you stole it from him! You resorted to theft after I turned you down?”
“No, I didn’t steal it! Laghaim, let me explain—ah, aaaahhh!”
What Hakase said was something close to a screech.