Hero Hunter is on Parental Leave C14

Chapter 14

“Just take the car. Our accommodation isn’t far from Jamsu Bridge anyway.”

The elevator doors opened just in time, and Yeongung, who entered first, asked,

“What are you doing? Aren’t you getting in?”

“⋯Of course.”

Iheun followed him in without complaint. He had half expected the man to question why they needed to go by car, but thankfully, he didn’t. Though Won Iheun’s psychokinesis was undoubtedly the fastest and most convenient mode of travel, considering Creamie, it wasn’t the best option.

Cha Hyeon, who had somehow ended up as his de facto personal physician, had erupted when he heard Yeongung had been at the training center for “light exercise.” He had gone on about how Hunters lacked any sense of reality, how Yeongung clearly didn’t understand what “light exercise” actually meant, and how from now on he should submit a daily schedule to him through text.

Though the man was usually full of nagging, it was rare for him to actually raise his voice—so even Yeongung took the scolding to heart. It meant he had indeed been careless.

When they reached the underground parking lot, dozens of luxury cars stood neatly in rows. The collection looked like a mobility show, and all of them belonged to one man. Even the vehicle buried in the farthest corner—left to gather dust—was a rare limited edition that billionaires around the world were dying to own.

At first glance, he looked every bit the refined young master who should be the one being chauffeured, but in truth, his taste was surprisingly rugged.

Beep—

As the man pressed the key, the door of a hybrid jeep swung open automatically. The vehicle had been customized with special materials, sturdy enough to rival a military-grade machine. It was the perfect choice for dealing with brutish chimeras.

Yeongung sat in the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. Iheun’s curious gaze followed the unusual action.

Technically, under current traffic law, all vehicle passengers were required to wear seatbelts. However, Hunters were exempt due to the need for rapid mobility in emergencies. In short, no Hunter actually bothered with such things.

“Oh? Uh… you know, there’s been some public criticism lately about Hunters getting away with everything. Just doing my part.”

It was a clumsy excuse—but surprisingly convincing. Though normally a poor liar, Yeongung tried his best to act natural as he entered their destination into the navigation screen.

“Let’s go.”

The driver turned the steering wheel with practiced ease. The four-wheel tires gripped the asphalt with a heavy growl. Turning his body toward the opposite window, Yeongung leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at the view of the Han River.

Since the government’s disaster alert had gone out, the opposite lane was jammed with cars fleeing the area. The road toward Jamsu Bridge, however, lay eerily empty. As he checked the deserted street through the side mirror, a familiar face reflected back at him—the man in a white doctor’s coat.

‘Yeongung, listen carefully. These days, you’re living by a completely different rhythm than ordinary people.’

‘What rhythm talk is that?’

‘Sigh, you really don’t get it, do you? When we normal folks say light exercise, we mean a walk, some stretching—just moving enough to loosen the muscles.’

‘That’s not even exercise.’

‘⋯For us non-Awakened, even breathing counts as exercise.’

Breathing as exercise? Yeongung had stared at him as if asking if he were serious.

‘Think of it this way—your threshold is about one ten-thousandth of what we can handle. Got it? Especially mana use, skill activation, or gate entry—you must be extremely careful.’

‘What if I just raise a shield?’

At that, Cha Hyeon had crouched down, explaining with the patience of someone teaching a child.

‘Whew… You’re connected to a child now. A shield might protect you temporarily, but it’s not a real solution. Let’s make it simple. When you put a phone case on, it can stop scratches or cracks, right?’

‘⋯⋯.’

‘But if a car runs over that phone, what good’s the case? It’ll be smashed to pieces.’

The paper cup crushed beneath Cha Hyeon’s shoe had lost its shape completely.

‘You get it now? You’re a top-tier awakened being. Using your full strength in battle is like a warship rolling over the ground—it’s that kind of force. Imagine that kind of impact transmitted to the baby.’

“⋯.”

‘Why so quiet?’

After a long silence, Yeongung finally muttered, filled with remorse,

“I just… keep thinking of Creamie from my dream. She liked everything I did, even though I was such a lousy dad.”

‘Yeongung, don’t dig yourself into a hole. No one’s a perfect parent from the start. You just try your best—and what matters most is what comes next, not what’s already done.’

“You idiot.”

Even though his doctor had told him not to blame himself, guilt like this never went away easily. Feeling suffocated, Yeongung began tapping his head against the car window with a dull thunk, thunk.

“Stop it.”

Iheun grabbed his left arm and pulled him back.

“Hunter Yeongung, is self-harm your new hobby?”

“Ah—!”

As Yeongung’s body tilted toward the driver’s seat, the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder, his large hand brushing aside Yeongung’s long bangs to reveal a reddened forehead. The skin where he had hit the glass was already flushed. Yeongung jerked back, pulling out of his grasp.

“Won Iheun. Don’t touch me without permission.”

“Then why are you headbutting a bulletproof window? I thought you were asking for attention.”

Turning away again, Yeongung instinctively placed a hand on his stomach.

“Ridiculous.”

“You’ve been holding your stomach since earlier. Are you hurt?”

“Mind your own business. Just focus on driving.”

Though the man’s tone was surprisingly gentle, Yeongung’s words remained cold.

It was a miracle—his pregnancy, when the odds had been practically zero. For someone like him, who had never known the faces of his parents, the meaning of “blood” carried a different weight. And yet, joy was tangled with unease. His body, so long like that of a Beta, was now changing in ways he couldn’t predict—and that terrified him.

Until Iheun’s memory returned, he would have to bear this strange, alien experience alone. From keeping the baby safe to maintaining emotional stability, to enduring the countless hardships of pregnancy—he had to shoulder it all himself.

“Won Iheun⋯ Do you remember anything about me?”

Anxious, impatient, and desperate—his eyes were a storm of emotions.

“Nothing.”

“⋯⋯.”

“At least, not yet.”

“⋯I see.”

“Are you upset?”

His widened eyes betrayed him. Yes, he was upset. Ah, what a shameful realization.

Iheun had saved him from the brink of death and lost his memories as a result. Feeling resentment toward his own savior was nothing short of sinful.

It wasn’t either of their faults—but his heart refused to listen to reason. Every time he saw that unknowing face, a rush of emotions threatened to burst out.

As he bit his lip to hold it in, Iheun clicked his tongue, sweeping aside the items on the center console and pulling Yeongung closer again.

The pounding in his chest echoed in his ears—not from hitting the glass this time, but from the erratic rhythm of his heart. With his head resting against the man’s broad shoulder, his heart thudded like a broken alarm clock.

The faint scent of alpha pheromones seeped from Iheun’s neck, tickling his senses. Despite his emotions, his omega body responded willingly—his muscles loosened, and the sharp edges of his mood softened.

He hated it—being ruled by hormones and pheromones like a puppet. But the warmth and calm they brought were too sweet to resist. Without realizing it, he burrowed deeper into the alpha’s shoulder.

Iheun glanced down with his eyes alone. Not long ago, this man had told him not to touch him—but now he was clinging like a koala. He released a subtler, gentler wave of pheromones, a far cry from the rough surge he’d unleashed last time.

“So, you do remember the contract properly.”

His voice was amused as he recited word for word,

“Clause Four: The Alpha must refrain from releasing pheromones that may be perceived as aggressive or coercive by the Omega. I’m following that faithfully. So you should, too.”

He flashed that crescent-eyed smile—the one he only made when he was in a good mood.

“And don’t turn your back on people when they’re talking. It’s rude. You don’t have to look at me—but at least face forward.”

“⋯You look ahead, not at me.”

SCREECH—!

The sudden stop sent Yeongung’s head falling forward—straight into the man’s lap.

“Shit! What kind of idiot drives like that?”

He muttered curses under his breath, his lips brushing against the fabric over Iheun’s lower body. Then something hard pressed insistently against his lips, twitching once, then prodding against his mouth.

“Ugh—! You maniac⋯!”

Startled, Yeongung shot upright, pressing himself as far as possible toward the passenger window. Iheun’s tone was cool, as if stating a simple fact.

“You sure? Because you’re being pretty forward right now.”

“Are you out of your damn mind? It was the sudden stop! We’re going after chimeras, and you’re saying crap like that?”

“Perfect timing then. We’re here. Get out.”

Shifting the gear to P, Iheun leaned against the steering wheel and turned toward him.

“Relax. I was joking. You looked tense, and I wanted to see if the great Hunter Yeongung could actually get nervous over a few bugs.”

He clearly had no idea what was really going through Yeongung’s head.

“You’re insane. And don’t even try smiling like that—it doesn’t work when you’ve still got a hard-on.”

Iheun gave a small laugh, speaking as if asking for understanding.

“As for my memory… there’s a small complication. I can’t tell you everything right now, but I’m doing my best. So don’t rush me.”

Damn it. Don’t smile like that. When you do, it just makes it harder to stay angry.

“Fine. Then don’t just try—work yourself to death if you have to.”

Iheun wasn’t someone who normally explained himself. He wasn’t the type to share his thoughts, much less show such gentleness.

As a child, he had been transparent, easy to read. But as he grew older, he became more closed off. Even after they became partners—sharing the most intimate of acts—they had never truly shared their hearts. The closer their bodies grew, the further apart their feelings drifted.

“Honestly, if it weren’t for my request, you wouldn’t care if your memories came back or not. So what’s your real reason for helping me?”

For a moment, Yeongung felt déjà vu. Yes—back in the Gate, when Iheun had absorbed his damage and lost consciousness. That day, too, he had shown an unfamiliar kind of possessiveness and obsession.

Perhaps the memory loss had altered his personality—but that didn’t explain the look in his eyes before he collapsed. What had changed him so much?

Lost in thought, Yeongung didn’t notice—the way Iheun clenched his teeth, enduring some unseen pain.

BOOM—!

The ground shook violently with a deafening explosion. Both men turned toward the source. A massive, dome-shaped barrier had spread wide, centered on Jamsu Bridge.

Iheun stepped out first, opening the passenger door for him, and murmured softly—as though whispering to a lover,

“We’ll finish this conversation in bed.”