LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 02 - Are You a Returnee Too? (2)
Chapter 02 – Are You a Returnee Too? (2)
“What is this piece of trash doing here? Hey! You, go upstairs and check it out.”
“Yes, boss!”
One of the thugs ran up the stairs, while the other bent Bastille’s arm, forcing him to kneel.
A moment later, the thug who had gone up came running down with heavy footsteps.
“B-boss! Up, up there! Up there!”
“What about up there? Get a hold of yourself and speak clearly, you idiot.”
“People have turned to powder! Powder!”
The thug slapped the panicked subordinate across the face and growled.
“You think this is some kind of joke?”
“No, sir! Everyone upstairs is dead. They’ve turned into dust, and it’s all spilled on the floor.”
Necrohand.
That was the moment when Bastille’s hand spat out darkness. The thug, who had been twisting his arm, withered like a dried-up twig and collapsed to the ground, disintegrating into dust.
As the hand that had restrained him vanished, Bastille slowly rose from the ground. The other thug, startled, shouted.
“Hey, go get him!”
“Yes, boss!”
A subordinate rushed forward, blocking Bastille’s path. He immediately pulled out a jackknife from his jacket.
“You think you can pull this crap here? You’re dead, punk!”
The thug waved the knife wildly, his hand flailing in the air.
Bastille looked at him with indifferent eyes. A mere knife? He took a step forward.
The thug, now holding the knife, hesitated and backed away. His superior yelled furiously.
“Junsang, you idiot! You’re going to get killed later!”
“I-I’m sorry!”
Squeezing his eyes shut, the thug with the knife lunged forward, stabbing Bastille in the stomach.
The small blade barely pierced the surface of his skin, sinking deep into the muscle. Bastille’s abdominal muscles twitched unpleasantly. The one who had stabbed him froze in shock.
“You…you bastard…”
At that moment, Bastille raised his hand and covered the thug’s face. His long, thin fingers spread like a net over the thug’s vision, and the thug staggered back with a shocked expression.
But he couldn’t escape that slow-moving hand. The instant Bastille’s palm touched his face, the thug let out a horrible scream. His life withered away in seconds, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ashes.
“You…what are you?”
Bastille stared blankly at the thug who was pointing a steel pipe at him.
His face showed no particular emotion. His body was close to death, and his feelings rarely reflected in his expressions.
“What are you? You monster!”
“You can’t see it, can you?”
Bastille raised his hand, pointing at the empty space. A faint mist thickened and then dissipated like a mirage.
“What the hell are you talking about? What did you do to my men, you monster? Are you one of Gulda-ri’s guys?”
“It seems you can’t see.”
“Stop dodging the question!”
The thug charged forward, swinging the steel pipe with all his might. Bastille leaned back, and the pipe cut through the air with a whooshing sound.
Since his awakening, he had devoured five lives. If he said his thirst was gone, that would be a lie, but at least he could now move as well as an ordinary person.
The thug didn’t advance any further. Had he pressed his attack, he could have turned Bastille into a bloody mess, but fear had already consumed him. Even Bastille avoiding the first strike seemed like some kind of special ability only monsters possessed.
“You… you bastard…”
The thug slowly retreated, holding the steel pipe out in front of him. Bastille sneered.
“With such pathetic abilities, you’ve decided to give up being human. Should I commend your bravery?”
“You damn monster! Die!”
The thug, mustering his last bit of courage, hurled the steel pipe at Bastille.
Bastille twisted his body, dodging the pipe. The impact of the pipe hitting the floor caused sparks and a deafening sound to ring out.
In that split second of chaos, the thug turned and fled.
Cursing under his breath, he sprinted out of the building and started running down the dark street.
Bastille, left behind, quietly followed him.
—
Convenience store manager Jang Gwanseok was standing there, absentmindedly scratching his cheek.
Just a moment ago, he had been lying in bed, asleep, but now, as if in a dream, the scenery had changed, and he found himself standing at the convenience store counter.
“Manager! This is the right one, right?”
A female employee, who looked to be around twenty, spoke to him.
“Huh?”
“The new Badger Ramen just came out, right?”
“Manager? Are you…talking about me?”
“Who else would be the manager? Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”
Jang Gwanseok looked at the mirror on the side of the counter.
Yes, this was his face. He hadn’t seen it in decades, and he thought he had forgotten it entirely, but now, reunited with it in the mirror, it felt strangely familiar.
Jang Gwanseok.
Twenty-eight years old.
‘The manager of this convenience store…’
Memories slowly resurfaced from the depths of his mind.
“Are you really okay?”
The employee approached, concerned. Jang Gwanseok shook his head slightly.
“I’m fine, really.”
“You don’t look fine at all. If you’re tired, why don’t you rest for a bit at the outdoor table? I’ll take care of things.”
“No, I can’t let you—”
The store door opened, and a man stepped inside. The female employee, Dahye, greeted him out of habit.
“Welcome.”
But as soon as Jang Gwanseok saw the man, his face subtly tightened.
The man’s intimidating face, covered with tattoos on his exposed shoulders, and his foul mood suggested he wasn’t having a good day.
Dahye’s expression grew pale as she eyed the thug, who seemed to be radiating venom.
Jang Gwanseok motioned for her to move aside and spoke to the thug.
“What can I help you with?”
The thug spat on the floor.
“Damn it, cigarettes.”
“We don’t have any ‘Damn it’ cigarettes.”
“Don’t mess with me, punk. I’m not in the mood. Give me that.”
Jang Gwanseok took out the pack of cigarettes the thug had gestured to and placed it on the counter.
“Please show me your ID.”
“I said I’m not in the mood for this.”
“It’s the law, so I ask for your understanding.”
The thug picked up the pack of cigarettes and crumpled up a 10,000-won bill, tossing it onto the counter.
“Keep the change.”
“Sir, you still need to show your ID.”
“You bastard!”
Just as the thug was about to explode, another man walked into the store.
The thug bit off the tip of the cigarette, lighting it. Jang Gwanseok watched him quietly.
His attention had already shifted away from the thug.
The pale man who had followed the thug inside stared at him with emotionless eyes.
Meanwhile, the thug, who had been puffing out his chest a moment ago, seemed to freeze in place, unable to even hold the cigarette properly.
Jang Gwanseok couldn’t help but wonder who this person was to make such a large, intimidating thug completely terrified.
After smoking the cigarette halfway, the thug threw it on the floor.
“What on earth are you? Why have you come after me?”
The man who had pursued the thug, Bastille, slowly opened his mouth to respond.
“Not everyone dies without regret. Die curious. Consider it the price of your sins.”
Bastille approached the thug slowly, without rushing, and the thug made his final desperate attempt.
He swung his fists wildly, making the air whistle. The sound of flesh pounding echoed through the convenience store like someone tenderizing meat.
Bastille’s face was instantly drenched in blood, with crimson splattering in all directions.
The store clerk, Dahye, glanced nervously at the store manager, Jang Gwanseok, but he silently watched the fight without intervening.
At some point, Bastille’s hand had gripped one of the thug’s arms.
The thug, startled, tried to wrench himself free from his grasp, but it was already too late. Accompanied by a deathly scream, like the cry of a soul being dragged to hell, the thug’s body shriveled up and crumbled to ash, falling to the floor.
—
Bastille released the thug’s remains and let his hand fall.
The wounds on his face from the earlier punches had already healed. The new skin, still slightly red, left long streaks on his face.
Wiping his face clean, Bastille turned as if to leave the convenience store.
At that moment, the store manager called out to him.
“Hey.”
Bastille turned his head.
“You’re just going to leave?”
Dahye quickly ran over and stood beside the manager.
“Goodbye. Please, have a safe trip.”
She bowed politely, then grabbed the manager’s sleeve, whispering urgently.
“What are you doing trying to stop him? Boss! Just stay quiet. Didn’t you see what just happened?”
But Jang Gwanseok smiled and gently brushed off her hand.
He spoke to Bastille again.
“You’re not just going to leave, are you?”
“What do you want?”
“Clean that up before you go. Don’t leave a mess in someone else’s store.”
What Jang Gwanseok gestured toward was the pile of ash that had once been the thug.
Bastille tilted his head, as if lost in thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Very well.”
Bastille grabbed a broom from the corner of the store and silently swept the ashes into a dustpan. He then walked outside and dumped them into a drain by the sidewalk.
Jang Gwanseok quietly watched him.
There was no trace of respect for life in the way Bastille swept the remains into the dustpan like trash.
Yet, his expression was so emotionless that it didn’t seem malevolent.
As Bastille returned the dustpan, Jang Gwanseok spoke again.
“You’re just throwing away someone’s remains like that?”
“There won’t be any trouble for the convenience store.”
“Well, I appreciate that.”
Just as Bastille was about to leave, Jang Gwanseok spoke once more.
“I think I know who you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“The master of Einshaten, Bastille. Am I wrong?”
For a moment, a faint expression crossed Bastille’s face.
“As I thought. So, you’ve returned as well. From Revenheim.”
Jang Gwanseok smiled at Bastille, who was staring intently at him.
“Would you like a drink? We’re right in front of the convenience store, after all. The night may not last long, but we’ve got plenty of alcohol.”
Bastille smirked.
“It’s hard to find a reason to refuse.”
“Isn’t it?”
—
The first thing Jang Gwanseok said after pouring the first drink was an introduction.
“Leonhart of the Northern Wall. I am Leonhart von Ruid, Marquis of the Border.”
Bastille glanced at him.
“The Golden Lion of the Northern Wall, I’ve heard that name quite often.”
“Haven’t you? Not quite at the level of the Master of Einshaten, though.”
Sitting at a table outside the convenience store, the two drank for quite a while.
There wasn’t much conversation. Had they not been refilling each other’s glasses, they could have passed for two strangers drinking alone.
But that kind of atmosphere seemed to suit Bastille perfectly.
He had intended to drink a few glasses out of courtesy and then leave, but he had already lost count of how many bottles they had finished.
After some time, Bastille quietly emptied his glass and stood up.
“Tonight was a truly enjoyable evening. I’ll remember this as a debt I owe for life.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
“Where…?”
Bastille looked up at the sky.
“Where…?”
He repeated the word, then gave a bitter smile.
“I actually miss that den of demons.”
“No place for you here, huh?”
Bastille didn’t respond to Leonhart’s comment.
Leonhart looked up at him and casually swirled his finger in the air.
“What do you think of this?”
Thin silver particles spiraled around his finger, forming a light mist before vanishing.
What Leonhart had demonstrated was the manifestation of magic elements—essentially the very foundation of all magic.
“Was this originally on Earth as well? Or can we see it now because we came back from Revenheim? Or maybe…”
“If it had always been here, this world would’ve been filled with wizards.”
Revenheim— the name of the final stronghold, a world where humanity itself fought for survival.
Now, magic had taken root on Earth, just like in Revenheim.
Bastille spoke slowly.
“The world is going to change completely. Just as you and I didn’t know each other’s identities, we don’t know how many others have returned from Revenheim. That place was…hell.”
“The world is going to change?”
“I want to stand at the forefront of that change.”
At Leonhart’s words, Bastille recalled a rumor he had heard in Revenheim.
—If you need someone to rely on, go to the Golden Lion of the Northern Wall. He’s never let anyone behind him die.
“What do you think?”
Bastille stared at the glass in his hand.
He had never considered standing behind someone before. He’d never had anyone worth entrusting his back to.
The world was full of villains. And it was peaceful.
He had long since despaired at the contradiction of a world that was nothing but pretense. Hell was better than this false peace.
But…
Wasn’t it okay to hope for a fleeting dream, like one might have during a nap?