WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: DereKimchi
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Retuned Zenith wants to Rest ◈
Episode 3:
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After leaving the convenience store, Yoo Kangmin made his way through blind spots, careful to stay out of sight.
Loud sirens rang out.
Soon, he saw vehicles from the Hunter Association arrive.
'They'll handle the cleanup.'
Leaving the aftermath to them, Yoo Kangmin headed to the old kendo dojo across the street.
The sign was dark, and the metal shutter was firmly closed.
On the entrance was the closure notice he had put up himself.
[Closed for Business]
His father had devoted his entire life to this place and still hadn't been able to save it.
He, too, had been forced to close its doors, unable to do anything.
“Ah...”
Yoo Kangmin placed a can of coffee in front of the entrance leading up to the dojo.
“It's taken me a long time, Father.”
Then he slowly bowed.
After gates began opening and the dojo's business began to fail, it had left him with nothing but painful memories. Yet to Yoo Kangmin, who had returned after sixty years, even those faded memories were precious.
“Rest well. Don't worry about things here.”
He vaguely remembered how he had felt that morning, sixty years ago.
He hadn't devoted as much of his life to the dojo as his father had, but he had still invested years in it. Its closure had left him feeling empty, with no idea how he would live from then on.
But that was no longer the case.
What had he endured that hellish life and returned for?
He was confident he could keep moving forward.
“You worked so hard.”
There was so much he wanted to say.
But he knew he couldn't convey it all, and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Yoo Kangmin bowed deeply once more, then straightened.
He left the canned coffee where it was.
If his father was still somewhere around here, he hoped that, just for today, he would drink it while looking at the dojo as he had long ago.
“I'll be going now.”
With that, Yoo Kangmin left the dojo and headed home.
“It feels like so long ago, but it's amazing I still remember.”
To his surprise, the way home came back to him with perfect clarity.
He didn't get lost, but the walk made him realize anew how precious the everyday life he had taken for granted really was.
He spent a full thirty minutes wandering along a route that should have taken only ten or so, finally arriving home.
At last, Yoo Kangmin stood outside the apartment door.
'What should I say?'
The hand gripping the door handle trembled faintly.
It hadn't trembled even when he faced a hundred and twenty-seven people in the Valley of No Return.
'They'll recognize me, won't they?'
His outward appearance hadn't changed.
But inside, he had been worn down by decades in martial society.
He had cut down countless people and lived a life filled with blood and corpses, though he hadn't wanted it.
What if they could see that ugly life in him?
Yoo Kangmin was afraid.
“Whew...”
But as always, Yoo Kangmin decided to face it head-on.
Click.
He carefully opened the door.
The warm smell of food drifted out.
“Kangmin, is that you?”
A familiar voice came from the kitchen.
“...”
Yoo Kangmin couldn't answer.
It was a voice he had struggled not to forget for sixty years.
Yet as the years passed, it had gradually faded, until he couldn't hear it clearly even in his dreams.
“Kangmin?”
Now he could hear that voice in reality.
That alone filled his chest with so much emotion that he couldn't speak.
Then his mother poked her head out of the kitchen.
“Ah.”
She held a ladle in one hand.
A few gray hairs had begun to show.
Wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes.
Even her face, which had grown noticeably thinner after his father's death, was just as he remembered.
“Why are you standing there?”
“...”
“Did you finish clearing out the dojo?”
It was an ordinary question.
To his family, Yoo Kangmin had simply gone out that morning and come home.
But he couldn't easily answer even that ordinary question.
“Mom.”
His voice finally came out.
It sounded so unfamiliar that he wondered whether he had ever made such a sound before.
“Yes?”
“Mom.”
“What's wrong?”
His mother approached with a worried expression.
“Are you sick?”
Instead of answering, Yoo Kangmin pulled her into his arms as she reached for his forehead.
“Oh!”
The body in his arms was smaller than he remembered.
His mother had been smaller than him even before he fell into the martial world, but now she felt so small and fragile.
He couldn't even hold her properly, afraid that the slightest pressure might break her.
“Mom.”
“Yes. I'm right here.”
His mother slowly patted his back.
Something inside his chest gave way at that warmth.
He had met countless people during his sixty years in the martial world.
He had had a master and disciples.
He had had companions he trusted with his life.
But none of them could replace this warmth.
“Closing the dojo must have made you miss your dad.”
His mother seemed to think that was why he was suddenly acting this way.
She wasn't wrong.
Yoo Kangmin didn't bother denying it.
“I'm sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Just... a lot of things.”
“How is the dojo going out of business your fault?”
His mother patted his back again.
“You did everything you could, too. You don't have to keep carrying that burden.”
Yoo Kangmin closed his eyes.
Those few words of comfort were warmer than anything he had heard over the past sixty years.
Bang!
Just then, a bedroom door opened.
“What's going on?”
His younger sister appeared.
She wore comfortable clothes, her hair tied back without much care.
“You're actually hugging Mom? Did you get yourself into trouble?”
Her voice.
Her way of speaking.
They were just as he remembered.
Yoo Kangmin let go of his mother and looked at his sister.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Yoo Kangmin strode over and pulled his sister into his arms as well.
“Aah!”
Startled, she struggled against him.
“Have you lost your mind? What's gotten into you?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I haven't.”
“Then why are you doing this? It's creepy!”
A faint smile formed on Yoo Kangmin's lips.
Sixty years ago, he had always thought her voice was too loud.
But in the martial world, he had missed her nagging so much.
“Let go already!”
“Let's stay like this a little longer.”
“Mom! There's seriously something wrong with him!”
Their mother watched them with a small smile.
“Just let him be today. He must really miss your dad.”
“If he misses Dad, he should hug Dad's picture. Why is he hugging me?”
“You're our father's daughter too, aren't you?”
“What kind of bullshit logic is that?”
“Your language hasn't changed.”
“You saw me this morning. Why are you saying that like it's news?”
That morning.
To his family, it had only been a few hours ago.
To Yoo Kangmin, it was the distant past.
“True.”
Yoo Kangmin gave a bitter smile.
“It just feels like a very long time ago to me.”
“Did you breathe in the wrong kind of dust while clearing out the dojo?”
His sister escaped from his arms.
Then she straightened her crumpled clothes with a look of disgust.
“Go wash up so we can eat.”
“Understood.”
“And what's with the way you're talking? You sound like a grandpa.”
He had lived through sixty years, so she wasn't wrong.
Without answering, Yoo Kangmin headed to the bathroom.
When he stood in front of the mirror, he saw a familiar face.
It was exactly the same face he had had before being sucked into the rift.
His appearance hadn't changed.
But his eyes were different.
Sixty years marked by blood and death lingered deep within them.
“It's okay. It'll be okay.”
He hoped desperately that those two would never glimpse that life.
Yoo Kangmin turned on the faucet.
Shhhhhhh!
He washed his face with cold water again and again.
Only then did he feel a little more grounded in reality.
* * *
Kimchi stew, a rolled omelet, and several side dishes sat on the table.
It was an ordinary dinner.
Yoo Kangmin took his seat.
His mother served him a bowl of white rice and placed it in front of him.
“Clearing out the dojo must have been tiring.”
“I'm all right.”
“Don't worry about anything today. Just get some good sleep. You can take your time deciding what to do next.”
“Yes.”
Yoo Kangmin picked up his spoon.
He scooped up some rice and kimchi stew and put it in his mouth.
“...”
It was hot.
Spicy and salty.
And he had missed it.
He had eaten rice in the martial world, too.
He had even been invited to a banquet at the imperial palace and tasted all kinds of delicacies.
He had eaten food said to have been prepared by the best chef under heaven.
But none of it could replace this taste.
Yoo Kangmin ate in silence.
His first bowl was soon empty.
“Would you like more?”
“Yes.”
He emptied the second bowl in no time as well.
When he asked for a third, his sister gave him an odd look.
“How many days did you go without eating while clearing out the dojo?”
“About sixty years.”
“What?”
“That's how it feels.”
“I'm telling you, you're really weird today.”
His mother quietly served him another bowl.
“Eat slowly. You'll get indigestion.”
“I'm all right.”
“That's what everyone says before they get indigestion.”
Yoo Kangmin slowed down a little.
Several times during the meal, he felt tears burning in his eyes.
Each time, he lowered his head.
Both his mother and his sister pretended not to notice.
When they had almost finished eating, his mother asked carefully.
“Have you cleared everything out of the dojo?”
“There's still a little left.”
“There's no need to rush. The landlord said we could take our time until next month.”
“Next month...”
“Why? Is there something you can't bring yourself to throw away?”
Yoo Kangmin thought for a moment.
The bamboo sword and protective armor his father had used.
The words that had hung on the wall.
The wooden floor where he had fallen and gotten up countless times.
Until that morning, he had thought of them all as remnants of the past.
But now, he couldn't easily throw away a single thing.
“I'd like to think about it a little longer.”
“All right.”
His mother nodded.
“Your dad devoted his whole life to that place. Take your time until you're ready.”
“Thank you.”
His sister took a drink of water and asked,
“So what are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“The dojo's closed. What are you going to do from now on?”
Yoo Kangmin set down his spoon.
In the martial world, he had had to fight to survive and grow stronger to avoid dying.
Even after becoming the Ultimate Zenith, people had never stopped coming after him.
But things were different now.
He didn't have to fight anyone.
He didn't need to grow any stronger.
“I don't intend to do anything.”
“What?”
His sister's eyes widened.
“You're really announcing you're going to be unemployed, without a hint of shame?”
“I haven't saved enough to live on for the rest of my life, but surely I can rest for a while.”
“The dojo went under. What money do you have?”
“Ah...?”
Only then did Yoo Kangmin realize his situation.
In the martial world, he had piled up mountains of gold, silver, and jewels.
Merchant companies and martial sects across the land had competed to offer him riches.
But all of it had remained in the martial world.
All he had now was an old tracksuit, a cell phone, and the little money left in his bank account.
“So I need money.”
“You only just figured that out?”
His sister clicked her tongue as though he were hopeless.
Yoo Kangmin frowned.
He had planned to do nothing once he returned home.
But even living peacefully required money.
This world was harsher than martial society.
“Money...”
“You don't need to worry about that already. If you want to rest, then rest. Mom will work something out.”
“...”
Yoo Kangmin was at a loss for words.
He had been the Ultimate Zenith. Now that he was back, he had become a young man “taking a break.”
Footnotes:
“Taking a break” refers to a Korean labor-statistics category for people who are neither working nor studying or actively seeking work. The phrase is often used in discussions of unemployed young adults.
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