“Goodness…”
Living my life, I never thought I’d see a person being chased by a group of cats.
A human being chased by six cats—what a rare and bizarre sight to witness.
For a moment, the thought of helping slipped my mind entirely.
‘Did she somehow provoke enmity from cats as a whole species in the past?’ In any case, if this continues, her dignity as a human might be at stake.
Since it would be tragic for a guest I invited to metaphorically cross the river of no return due to cats, I figured I should help.
I quickly moved closer, making sure to appear within her field of vision.
When she spotted me, Ajin sprinted towards me desperately.
The sight of her running at full speed—so desperate that it was almost fortunate her face was hidden behind a mask—was something else.
“Se—Sehee…! Help!”
She ducked behind me, panting heavily, her head peeking cautiously over my shoulder.
The group of cats, realizing their target was now hiding behind me, seemed to give up and vanished without hesitation.
Well, that’s one problem resolved coolly.
“Are you okay? What happened that you were being chased by cats?”
“That… I don’t really…”
She trailed off, mumbling incoherently, and the tension of the moment dissipated.
Suddenly, I couldn’t help but wonder: Is she really a hero?
Even I, someone who thought I had a decent understanding of her over time, found her current appearance almost laughably pathetic.
***
Flap!
A strange sound, one that instinctively made you want to duck, came from above Ajin’s head.
Something fell—a size larger than a water droplet but smaller than a water balloon.
It wasn’t quite liquid, yet it wasn’t fully solid either.
“…Oh.”
“…Hic!”
Ajin trembled as she stood there, having been struck squarely on the head by pigeon droppings.
The acidic stench—capable of corroding anything it touched—caused me to instinctively step back, smacking my lips in discomfort.
‘If only it had landed squarely in her mouth, it’d have been like hitting the lottery.’
The odds of bird droppings from several meters above falling perfectly into a person’s open mouth were said to exceed the probability of winning the jackpot.
Well, hoping for such an extreme scene was probably asking too much.
Unable to leave her standing in the street covered in bird droppings, I hurriedly brought Ajin inside the house.
“Quick, go wash up. I’ll take care of your clothes for you.”
“T-thanks….”
“No need for thanks. Go on.”
“Okay….”
Watching her retreat hurriedly into the bathroom, I couldn’t help but feel an exhaustion creeping over me.
If exhausting someone were a skill, she was a natural master.
Her soiled clothes weren’t so bad that I felt reluctant to throw them into the washing machine.
While waiting, I set out a hoodie and shorts—clothes I often wore at home—outside the bathroom door for her.
I sat back, closed my eyes, and let my thoughts drift.
***
Click.
The sound of the bathroom door opening brought me back to reality.
Ajin stepped out, hesitantly dressed in the clothes I had prepared for her.
“Th-thank you… for the clothes and… the shower.”
“It’s nothing. They say getting pooped on by a bird brings good luck. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket later.”
Though I intended it as a joke, her face fell, her expression souring noticeably.
It seemed I had miscalculated the tone.
Yet, without a word, she shuffled closer, sticking to me like a child clinging to their parent.
The silence in the room became heavy and still.
Ajin, as expected, wasn’t the type to be good at making conversation.
‘Frankly, I wouldn’t call myself a smooth talker either, but what choice did I have?’
Everything’s relative, and in this situation, I had to guide the flow of the conversation.
Although I wanted to ease the atmosphere a bit before moving on to the main topic…
‘Guess there’s no other way.’
Sometimes, going for a direct pitch is the only option if curveballs aren’t landing.
“Here’s the contract I mentioned earlier. Please have a look.”
“Yes, okay.”
Her response was hesitant and awkward, her tone making it difficult to maintain the rhythm of a conversation.
If such hesitance was natural for her, it might as well be a talent of its own.
Despite her apparent mental struggles, it was impressive that she diligently examined the contract without any wasted time.
As I watched her serious expression while reading the document, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Maybe we should communicate in writing instead.’
‘Or even through text messages?’
Sometimes written words are far easier to handle than spoken ones.
Just as I entertained those thoughts, Ajin finished reading the contract and spoke.
“Th-this… really… really…”
“If you stick to this exactly… I-I’m fine with it.”
Seeing her agree so readily, it seemed Da-young was right—the terms must be pretty generous.
With that, the contract was signed, and one quest was officially completed.
“Alright, great. Let’s work well together from now on.”
“Y-yes, me too….”
She shook my outstretched hand firmly, but then she showed no signs of letting go.
The awkwardness hung in the air as I stood there watching her silently hold on, creating an atmosphere of strained stillness.
Her serene expression while clutching my hand was a stark contrast to my internal discomfort, as I bore the brunt of her unwavering gaze.
Yet, I didn’t pull away.
‘There’s no need to rush,’ I thought.
Given her personality, it was clear she wouldn’t openly admit to being a hero.
Since I had committed to gathering heroes, I needed to bring her fully onto my side.
Step by step, I had to break through her defenses.
‘Let’s start by tearing down some walls.’
Withdrawing my hand from her grasp, I rose from my seat.
“How about a drink?”
She blinked, tilting her head quizzically.
“Huh?”
“If you’re free, let’s have a drink to celebrate signing the contract.”
It was only 4 PM—early for alcohol—but I shrugged casually, and she hesitated before giving a slight nod.
Alcohol was perfect for lowering walls and coaxing out unfiltered truths.
I asked if she could handle her drinks, and surprisingly, she claimed she could.
It didn’t match her demeanor at all, but apparently, she could hold her liquor.
I prepared a sweet, mild white wine—easy to drink with a strong, lingering sweetness.
For snacks, I kept it simple with some cheese and crackers.
This setup ensured even a light drinker would be able to relax and enjoy the moment, slowly letting their guard down.
It almost felt like planning a crime.
‘Well, no harm in it.’
I wasn’t hurting anyone or planning anything malicious.
This was merely a way to get to know her better, a common thing at any social gathering.
Once everything was ready, we sat at the living room table and began our lighthearted drinking session.
***
The crisp clink of glasses touching rang out.
She nibbled on crackers and cheese cautiously, observing me with careful eyes.
As the drinks flowed—from one glass to another—her once-sharp gaze began to soften.
Her expression and posture loosened, as if an elaborate ribbon was being untied, leaving her in a vulnerable state.
By the time we finished the first bottle and I uncorked the second, she began slurring.
“So, like… why are you hanging out with that idiot, anyway?”
And just like that, Ajin transformed into a tipsy chatterbox.
It was a dramatic change, to say the least.
‘Idiot,’ she’d said.
Judging from her tone, it seemed like she was referring to Park Da-young.
It appeared their first meeting had left a sour impression on both of them.
I chuckled wryly.
‘If Ajin ever revealed she was a hero, she would have to redefine her relationship with Da-young.’
Even though nothing was certain yet, the thought lingered in my mind.
“Hey, sis? Hey?”
“Yes, Ajin?”
“You said you’re my sis, right? Then call me Ajin~.”
Her playful tone and endearing antics were completely unthinkable from her usual self.
‘If Da-young saw her acting like this, her reaction would have been priceless.’
Still, if she was being this friendly, there was no need for me to keep my guard up.
“Alright, Ajin.”
“Hehe! Finally, you said it~.”
Her giddy reaction was entertaining.
‘If I had to choose between the pre-drunk and post-drunk versions of Ajin, this candid, slightly tipsy side of her was far more likable.’
After all, conversations reveal a lot about a person, and at least now she was talking.
“You don’t know how much I like you, sis!”
“I know.”
“Huh? How?”
“You clung to my hand for hours earlier. That’s a pretty strong sign.”
“Ugh, that’s embarrassing!”
Her puffed-out cheeks and kitten-like sulkiness were unexpectedly adorable.
“I… I wasn’t always like this… I have my own story, okay? Waaaah.”
“Don’t hate me, please!”
Seeing her about to cry, I smiled gently and reassured her.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Relieved, she smiled brightly and mumbled.
“Sis.”
“Yes?”
“I… I want to hold your hand again… Is that okay?”
“My hand? Like earlier?”
“Uh-huh. Holding your hand makes me feel calm….”
As I looked at her, I decided the moment was right.
“Hmm.”
It was time to mix things up.
“No.”
“Huh?”
The naturalness of my refusal caught her completely off guard.
She froze, her face a picture of shock, as if the world had crumbled around her.
Her eyes darted around in confusion, reflecting her disbelief.
An awkward silence enveloped the room.
“W-what? But you said… you didn’t hate me….”
Her stammering resembled her pre-drunk self, but I simply poured another glass of wine and raised it.
“Cheers.”