The man introduced himself as a journalist.
“Journalist?”
It seemed he was not someone Tabudai was pleased to see.
Tabudai scrutinized the journalist with hollow eyes, observing him closely.
He looked more like a homeless person than a journalist. A overpowering stench that even a person with a blocked nose could notice emanated from him, and his body was smeared with a sticky liquid of unknown origin. Every time he opened his mouth, a strong scent of alcohol wafted out.
He held a notebook and pen in his hand, but it looked new, as if it had barely been used at all.
Moreover, the body camera strapped to his chest was suspicious. While it was not unusual for a journalist to wear a body camera, it notably seemed to be turned off.
“Strange.”
However, oddly enough, he felt a gaze coming from that powered-off body camera. It felt like the camera was observing him, as if someone was watching from beyond the lens, sensing a peculiar presence.
Could it be that it was illegally modified to stay off while still being used?
“What a weird guy…”
Everything about him was off. While he could be understood as a journalist, he was too unsettling to let inside.
“I don’t intend to give you an interview, so please leave.”
Tabudai decided to send the man who claimed to be a journalist away. It was already uneasy enough to meet someone like him under normal circumstances. But now, didn’t he have something important to attend to?
He had someone inside with whom he needed to have a serious discussion.
Thus, he used his huge body to block the door, preventing the journalist from peering inside, while staring at him firmly, urging him to leave. Of course, he couldn’t intimidate a normal person overtly, so he merely glared at him softly, believing that would suffice for a typical individual.
“Hehehe.”
Yet the journalist showed no fear at Tabudai’s glare. Instead, he burst into laughter as if some button had been pressed.
“Hehe, hahaha.”
He laughed. Even as he faced Tabudai, a muscular warrior who could easily be called a giant, he continued to laugh, and he could feel the stare of Tabudai shifting to one of bewilderment.
He chuckled, chuckled, and kept chuckling.
Eventually, he abruptly stopped, gazing at Tabudai with unfocused eyes and spoke.
“Is that so? Really? Then, that’s right… yes.”
His words seemed strange for addressing Tabudai. They sounded almost like mutterings, as if he were rambling or conversing with something invisible.
The man stared at Tabudai with eyes void of focus.
Without saying a word, he maintained eye contact for a few seconds.
Then he lifted the corners of his mouth.
“I came here thinking there might be a good story, but if I can’t report, then there’s nothing I can do—Hehe. It’s common sense not to barge into someone else’s house, after all, common sense. Hahaha.”
Thus, the man exhibited behavior of a lunatic as he turned away.
He walked away with a strange gait, as if limping or bursting with excitement that he couldn’t contain.
Tap.
Tap.
He scraped his feet, jumped, swayed sideways. His shoulders moved as if he was dancing, his body swayed.
Like a tree bending in the wind, he shook from side to side, his feet went straight, twisted, and his body spun.
It was as if he walked while dancing.
And just like that, the man disappeared into the distance.
He vanished into the darkness and turned down an alley…
After that peculiar man disappeared, Tabudai made a grimace and closed the door.
“What a crazy bastard…”
Both the Korean inspector displaying clearly suspicious behavior and the psychopath who had just claimed to be a journalist weighed on his mind.
He sighed, lamenting that today was just a day filled with odd characters.
As he sighed and turned around…
“No?”
He contorted his face, realizing that someone who was supposed to be there was absent.
“What is going on?”
He was gone.
The Korean inspector with whom he needed to converse was nowhere to be found.
In the spot where the man who claimed to be a journalist had just been held down was now completely empty, and one of the dojo’s windows stood open, letting the night air flow inside. Plus, the Japanese fighter looked like he had been crushed by the Korean inspector and was pleading for help with wide eyes.
“Did he escape…?”
Escape.
Yes, that was it.
The Korean inspector had fled.
In the short window when Tabudai was preoccupied speaking with the figure who seemed like a journalistic lunatic!
During the moment Tabudai’s attention was diverted by the madman, the inspector had managed to slip away!
To ensure the fighter wouldn’t interfere with his escape, he must have even applied a pressure point and slipped out through the window!
“What a miserable son of a mongrel (нохойн гөлөг)…!”
Caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, Tabudai unwittingly cursed the man in Mongolian, causing his demeanor to shift violently.
The excess aggression burst forth through his muscles.
His muscles, which now had no place to go, screamed to catch that guy and land a solid blow, exploding with energy that spread like steam all around.
The energy swept across the area like a sense, scanning everywhere…
“…He’s already far gone.”
Tabudai sighed.
He deactivated his bulging muscles and approached the fighter, releasing the pressure point.
“Hah, thank you.”
The fighter expressed his gratitude to Tabudai who had freed him.
It was clear that he didn’t say it out of genuine gratitude, rather, he said it thinking he might receive another heavy blow like before if he didn’t.
However, Tabudai was indifferent to the thanks and focused on the traces of the fleeing man.
‘He masked his presence and opened the window… Was he an assassin? An agent? Given that he was a ronin, it’s highly likely he has learned martial arts related to assassination… How strange.’
There were barely any traces of the ronin left.
Given the skills Tabudai speculated the ronin possessed, it didn’t add up.
Unless that ronin was skilled enough to deceive Tabudai or primarily trained in assassination arts, this was unreasonable…
‘No, perhaps he had outside help…’
Or maybe it was external assistance.
Yet the likelihood of external aid was quite slim.
In order for someone to evade Tabudai’s eyes without leaving a trace, they would need to be a significantly powerful capable person. For someone of a regular level, remnants of energy would likely remain, meaning they would have to be on par with or exceed Tabudai’s level.
But why would someone like that be interested in helping a single ronin?
Especially when it was nothing serious and merely a case of having been caught up with a Japanese fighter.
In fact, this wasn’t even a situation where he had been captured by a torture room but just apprehended by someone supposedly affiliated with a festival and taken to a dojo.
Considering all these factors…
‘That ronin truly is suspicious.’
Tabudai clicked his tongue while gazing at the Japanese fighter.
‘Could it be that this fighter is also…?’
Could this fighter have some relevance to this odd situation? Was he hiding his true capabilities, or perhaps even training in assassination arts?
Yet the more he examined the fighter, the more ordinary he seemed.
Truly, he appeared quite plain.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Since you’re in a difficult position, there’s really not much to discuss … Take care not to pick a fight with anyone, and if you do, just hold back. Understood?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Now scram.”
Tabudai completely withdrew his interest from the Japanese fighter.
Like shooing away a nuisance, he sent the fighter outside, locked the dojo’s door tightly, and headed to the lounge.
He needed to hit his head with some sweets to settle his thoughts.
The Japanese fighter broke away from Tabudai, only after getting sufficiently far from the dojo did he finally stop and let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Huh… I thought I was done for….”
He grabbed the hem of his damp clothes, fluttering them to dry them off.
The night air poured in, drying his clothes, bringing a refreshing chill that snapped him back to his senses.
‘The man who reportedly could beat a bear to a pulp and make it as thin and tender as a pork cutlet.’
He had heard the grim rumors about Tabudai who had held him captive.
Rumors about how he had torn apart a Chinese fighter foolish enough to cause trouble in Mongolia into thirty pieces, or that he once punched a tank just to test its durability, creating a hole in it, or how he had taken bullets without a scratch.
Those unbelievable, grotesque tales swirled around him.
Yet all had one common theme: the man was fiery.
Apparently, when angry, no one could stop him.
Having been caught by such a man and merely receiving a light hit, he could only say he was lucky.
The Japanese fighter repeatedly thought about how lucky he’d been and vowed to keep clear of that committee member, maintaining his composure even if trouble came.
No, judging by what Tabudai said earlier, there seemed to be many troublemakers in Chungju… Perhaps it would be better to stay in another region and only return before the festival started.
Thus, although the fighter had not had a lucky day, he still thought he wasn’t entirely unfortunate and began to hurry his steps back to his lodging.
“Excuse me?”
However, when he turned to head toward his lodging, someone called out to him.
The voice sounded oddly familiar.
There was an ominous and eerie quality to it.
The fighter slowly turned his head toward the source of the voice.
“What, who are you…?”
Turning, he found a strange man.
It was the man who had just spoken with Tabudai across the door.
He exuded a bizarre stench and a sharp smell of alcohol while grinning eerily.
“I’m a journalist.”
“Journalist…?”
“No, maybe not? Am I not a journalist?”
The man swayed as if drunk, but his eyes were fixed on the fighter, radiating an intensity like a predator stalking its prey.
“No, I’m a journalist. Actually, I’m Sundae—yes, Sundae, that’s right. I think it would be better to call me Sundae. As for my journalistic name, well, I’m not really sure. Sundae, Sundae, Sundae… It’s a truly endearing name. It’s quite fitting for someone descended from fairies, don’t you think, ancestor?”
The man laughed so hard it seemed his ears might split.
“Ah, Sundae. My distant descendant, the name suits you just perfectly. But that doesn’t seem to be the important thing, does it? You seem to have forgotten that fairies never forget their debts. If indebted, one must present a long-collared shoe filled with gold coins, and if one seeks to repay a grudge, the new sprout must become an oak, waiting until that oak spreads and becomes a forest across countless years—patience is required, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Ancestor, that’s true. But don’t worry, ancestor. Unlike your fears, I haven’t forgotten the things I must do.”
His actions were akin to someone on the brink of madness.
The fighter instinctively stepped back, feeling the insanity radiating from the man.
“Okay, listen. Let me ask you. I’m looking for a Japanese warrior, yes. Do you know anything about him?”
