The Hero Has Returned

Chapter 5 - April Fools' Day (1)

The motorcycle stopped with a roar.

It had gone so fast that the smell of burning tires rose from the pavement.

"How was that? Killer, right? A 10-minute run!"

The delivery man's shoulders heaved as he let out a rough breath, as if he himself had been the one sprinting.

A wide smile was plastered on his face, showing just how proud he was.

I checked the time on my phone.

To traverse a distance that should have taken over 30 minutes in just 13.

I couldn't help but be impressed as he had performed a thrilling acrobatic feat, weaving his way through the congested sections of the road.

"You were 3 minutes over."

"Tsk. I've gotten rusty. I would've made it in the old days."

He spoke nonchalantly, but I was grateful.

For a complete stranger to give me a ride out of pure goodwill.

I may be a scrooge, but I don't like freebies.

Because there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

"Give me your account number. I'll at least pay for the taxi fare."

The delivery man stared at me intently.

"Looks like you're not a famous Hunter. I've never seen your face before."

"It hasn't been long since I Awakened."

"Ahh. I see."

He was consistently misunderstanding me as a Hunter.

This was an experience I never had in my past life.

There was a time when I was lying in a park, starving, and someone gave me some spare change, thinking I was homeless.

There was also a time I was arrested by police who had been dispatched after someone reported me as a suspicious person for walking past a luxury apartment complex.

I guess that's how shabby and pathetic my appearance was.

The factory jumper I wore every day was frayed in places with holes worn through, and the greasy pants were covered in a thick layer of old dust.

"Heh."

The delivery man leaned against his motorcycle and put a cigarette in his mouth.

He offered one to me, but I shook my head.

"You don't smoke?"

"I quit."

Cigarettes, entertainment, games, luxury goods, etc.

I had cut off anything that cost unnecessary money early on.

My only hobby, if you could call it that, was buying and reading old books from a secondhand bookstore.

I'd gotten close to the bookstore owner and would sometimes get faded comic books for cheap.

The delivery man exhaled smoke.

"Remember that guy I said was the fastest?"

When I nodded, he spoke.

"Actually, he was my friend."

He said that everyone he knew who rode a motorcycle, besides himself, was dead.

"He was a bastard who always rode like a maniac. Said he was gonna save people, so he rammed his bike into a Big Lava and just absurdly croaked!"

He drew a thumb across his neck.

He spoke cheerfully, but for some reason, his voice seemed tinged with sadness.

"It's already been over a year since that bastard died. Keke. I wonder if he's doing well."

The delivery man's gaze drifted upward.

In the clear blue sky, soft cumulus clouds drifted by peacefully.

For a while, we stood side by side before the sight.

I didn't say anything.

The least I could do was listen to his gripes.

"You know what that bastard always used to say when he was at the orphanage?"

The delivery man grinned.

"He was always saying he wanted to do something to help people, or some shit. Fuck. I guess he was helpful, delivering chicken fucking fast."

He chuckled and threw the cigarette on the ground.

"Forget the money. If it were him, he probably would've given you a ride for free."

The delivery man got on his motorcycle.

Before leaving, he looked at me.

"I'm just an ignorant guy, so even when the world's gone to shit like this, I don't really know what I should do. It's just, like him..."

His expression was nonchalant, but his voice was choked with emotion.

"I also want to do something to help people sometimes. Here. Take this."

He held out a business card.

— Dalbong Quick Bullet Service!

"Call me if you need me again."

The motorcycle kicked up a cloud of dust as it sped away into the distance.

I was left standing alone in the dreary, empty lot.

Faint smoke drifted up from the cigarette the delivery man had left behind.

Experiencing it firsthand, I could understand.

The public's perception of Hunters is split into two.

They either hate and fear them, like they do Seo Gwang-pal.

Or they treat them like national heroes and thank them.

When you think about it, neither view was wrong.

Because even though Seo Gwang-pal was a piece of human garbage, it was a fact that he ultimately risked his life to fight a monster.

Which of their sides am I looking at?

No, which side do I want to see?

As I turned, a dreary patch of land revealed itself.

The rusted, cast-iron sign above my head creaked whenever the wind blew.

<< Ilsan Hunter Industrial Complex >>

At the end of a very long commute, I finally walked to my old workplace.

......

It was a place I had worked at for over 30 years, but coming back again, the feeling was new.

The place I arrived at after walking down an unpaved road was the 4th Factory.

`Gongdan` usually refers to a place where factories are gathered.

Although it would be more accurate to call it an industrial complex, which has a somewhat negative connotation.

No one here used that term.

Just as it's not racist for Black people to tease each other about being Black.

Among factory grunts, we are all just factory grunts.

"Cap'n!"

From far away, someone came running like a puppy that had found its owner.

A kid with short, tightly curled hair and a dark complexion.

It was Kkalkki, from Nepal.

"Cap'n, are you nuts? What're ya gonna do, showin' up two hours late? The boss is throwin' a goddamn fit, it's total chaos!"

Seeing the kid, I couldn't help but chuckle.

In my past life, Kkalkki and I had a particularly deep bond, having shared all of life's joys and sorrows.

On days I came to work burning with a high fever.

He would lay down some cardboard boxes in the warehouse and make me lie down there.

And then he would silently do my share of the work by himself.

He did it because he knew I wouldn't go to the hospital even if he told me to.

It was also Kkalkki who had carried my grandmother, who had fallen down the stairs, on his back to the hospital when I was away on a business trip.

It was to the point that even my own younger brother followed Kkalkki around like he was his second older brother.

One day, my brother got into trouble and the school called for a guardian, and he kept it a secret from me and my grandmother and took Kkalkki instead.

I owed this kid a lot, one way or another.

"What were ya doin' that you're only gettin' here now? Are you hur-rt?"

Kkalkki stood in front of me, and his eyes widened.

"Huh? Cap'n. You're bleedin' from your forehead! You o-kay?"

"A monster slammed into the bus. I barely made it out alive."

"Whoa. For rea-al?"

"I'm late because I just killed a Big Lava with my own hands on the way here.”

"......"

Kkalkki just blinked his eyes.

He didn't seem to believe me at all.

"Sheesh. I ain't fallin' for that-zee! I know it's April Foo-ools' Day, I'm tellin' ya!"

So today was April 1st.

To think the day I was reincarnated was April Fools' Day of all things.

What a cruel joke this was.

"I already got fooled by the Pres'dent. I was so happy 'cause he said he'd raise my sal'ry, but he said it was a lie. That damn bastard President-nim."

Wait. April Fools' Day?

While Kkalkki was chattering away, a powerful memory flashed through my mind.

A long time had passed, but it was a nightmare I still couldn't forget.

I held a hand out to Kkalkki.

"Hand."

"Eh?"

Kkalkki awkwardly grabbed my hand as if for a handshake.

A coarse but warm feeling met my palm.

Only then did my heart feel at ease.

What a relief. I'm not too late.

Today, something even more unbelievable than April Fools' Day happens.

A terrible accident where Kkalkki's right hand gets caught in the machine due to a malfunctioning press.

The sensation of my mind going hazy and white from the blood splattered all around still felt vivid.

His injured right hand was so crushed that reattachment surgery wasn't even possible.

In the end, Kkalkki had his right hand amputated.

I couldn't even begin to imagine the despair of losing a part of one's own body.

I can still see Kkalkki so clearly, lying in bed with his hand wrapped in bandages.

Looking at him, an endless dark cloud was cast over my heart.

"It's o-kay, Cap'n. I can just wipe my butt with my left hand, I guess."

At that time, the kid had cracked a silly joke and smiled brightly.

But as soon as I closed the hospital room door, the sound of his sorrowful weeping from behind me rang in my ears for a long, long time, like tinnitus.

Six months later, Kkalkki returned to his home country.

Without having achieved his dream as the eldest son of marrying off his younger sister and buying a house for his parents.

I thought about it the whole way here on the motorcycle.

What meaning did it hold, that God had granted me a second life?

Was it a chance to live anew a life that was full of regrets?

Or.

Perhaps it was a demand that I should finally repay the debts I could never pay back to my benefactor.

That's right. I had a debt to repay to Kkalkki.

"Let's go in."

I entered the factory with Kkalkki.

The workers were bustling about amidst a cacophony of noise.

Sparks flew as they cut metal, and they sprayed water on the heated machinery.

There were 10 people working at most.

The president was also mixed in among them.

"Well, well. Who do we have here? If it isn't Choi Yong-gi-ssi?"

The man, his hair flecked with white, flapped his dust-covered vest and scowled.

His eyes were shaped like a fish's, giving him a somehow unpleasant impression when you looked at him.

The president sneered.

"I know this is a shitty little company, but still. What do you expect us to do if you just show up to work whenever the fuck you want?"

This bastard hasn't changed a bit.

Crude remarks and profanity were his baseline.

When he got wasted at company dinners, he would throw ashtrays at the employees.

He had even slapped Kkalkki seven times when he brought up the issue of unpaid wages.

"Pres'dent-nim! Cap'n got in a traffic acci-dent on his way here! He almost died 'cause of a monster! It couldn't be hel-ped!"

So he says he didn't believe me.

Kkalkki stepped forward and defended me with a passionate speech.

"Fucking bullshit. Who here hasn't almost died because of a monster? Get out of the way, you bastard!"

The president shoved Kkalkki with a rough hand.

"What are you all looking at! Just you try and miss this deadline! Get back to work!"

A crestfallen Kkalkki trudged away.

I spoke to the president.

"I'm sorry for being late. Please deduct the morning's work from my salary."

"Of course, I will!"

"By the way, last month's overtime pay wasn't deposited again."

"What?"

I walked up to the president, who was growling with the veins in his neck bulging.

"You heard me. I said the overtime pay hasn't been deposited."

"......"

It was obvious even without checking.

The president's method was to sneakily calculate a lower salary than what was actually earned, since we didn't use time cards.

Kkalkki lifted a steel plate and inserted it between the press.

I kept my eyes fixed on Kkalkki and said.

"Did you fix the sensor on that thing?"

The president shook his head with a sullen face.

"Ahem. I've been so out of it lately, so not yet... But well, it's working just fine.”

To be precise, he probably didn't fix it on purpose.

Because he was the kind of man who would run the machines one more time in the time it took to fix it.

I muttered as I walked past the president.

"As expected, nothing's changed. You'll only come to your senses if your own damn head gets caught in the press."

"Hey. What did you just say?"

I ignored him and approached Kkalkki.

Kkalkki pressed the buttons with both hands.

The massive press crushed the thin steel plate.

Originally, the sensors are set up on both sides to activate when a person's hands pass through.

However, the president always kept the sensors laid down and turned off.

Because doing so would increase the work speed and maximize productivity.

On top of that, even those sensors would occasionally malfunction.

In this perilous situation where safety regulations were thrown to the dogs.

My walking speed increased.

Heroes don't just appear on the battlefield.

They can be active in daily life as well.

For example,

"Huh?"

Kkalkki's eyes flew open as he sensed something was wrong.

Even before he could press the buttons with both hands.

The press descended mercilessly onto Kkalkki's right hand.

THUNK.

I caught it with one hand.

Ding.

[ The hero ability is activating ]

– Withdrawal: 1,000,000 won.

The press, weighing nearly 500 tons, stopped.

[ Awakened's Balance ]

: ₩1,075,565,998

The money was withdrawn as expected, but I let out a sigh of relief.

A mere 1 million won.

This was getting off cheap.

"C-Cap'n?"

I looked at Kkalkki's unharmed hand, which had narrowly avoided being crushed by the press.

Belatedly, Kkalkki hurriedly pulled his hand back.

The work stopped, and everyone's eyes were fixed on us.

The president came running over, screaming his head off.

"What the hell do you all think you're doing!"

How amusing. If I were to let go now, nothing would have happened.

They would use this insane device again in the afternoon.

Someone's hand would be cut off.

Someone's dream would be cut off.

"Hup!"

I gripped the press with both hands and tore it apart, top from bottom.

With a sound like crashing thunder, the machine made of cast iron was crumpled like a piece of paper.

"...Huh? Huh."

The president fell flat on his back and stared up at me from the floor.

I threw the broken pieces of the press onto the ground.

"Deduct this from my salary, too."

I said, looking down at the president.

"...That was a joke."

It was the most fitting joke for April Fools' Day.