Hero Hunter is on Parental Leave C27

Chapter 27

Slap—slap—!

After checking the balance on his bank account, Yeongung smacked his own cheek as hard as he could.

Then, clutching his stinging face, he counted the zeros again.

“…That hurt like hell. So it’s real.”

The income of a top-tier hunter, unmatched and beyond comparison, was beyond ordinary imagination.

Because of that, awakened individuals could only manage their assets through one of the government’s national-level institutions: the Hunter Bank.

And there were only two people alive capable of transferring that amount into his account in a single transaction—

Won Iheun and Sayeong.

Judging by the sender name—“I’m sorry”—the latter was more likely.

Iheun had disappeared earlier, saying he had something to discuss with Sayeong.

Now this enormous deposit had arrived.

Anyone could see the two must have struck some kind of deal.

Lost in thought, trying to piece together what had happened, Yeongung startled the baby in his arms.

Jaehee flinched at his omega father’s sudden self-slapping show.

“A-bya… aya… aya…!”

The child knew redness meant pain.

He had crawled around on his chubby limbs, occasionally bumping a knee or ankle on the floor—

he remembered how his own skin had reddened, just like his father’s now.

“Hooh… hooh… fuuu… fuuu…”

Jaehee blew little puffs of air on Yeongung’s reddened cheek.

He was copying something his father had done for him.

“Our Jaehee is blowing on Daddy so he won’t hurt?”

The angelic gesture struck Yeongung’s heart so deeply that his eyes grew warm.

His one and only treasure, little Jaehee, was never seen as his age when they went outside.

Most children began speaking basic words like “Mommy” or “Daddy” somewhere around 10 to 12 months—

but even at 18 months, Jaehee still only babbled.

Lee Chahyeon, their doctor, said development varied widely and encouraged him not to worry.

But Yeongung couldn’t help it.

It was… guilt.

Had continuing hunter activities without knowing he was pregnant harmed the baby’s development?

Was it because the child wasn’t growing up in a conventional alpha–omega household?

Or was it because he himself was hyper-submissive, an extreme omega type?

A parent always felt lacking, no matter how much they gave.

That was exactly how Yeongung felt.

In his desperate escape from Iheun, he had liquidated every asset he could without leaving tracks—

and handed it all to Sayeong.

As a result, his income had become pitiful compared to his past life as a hunter.

But he still worked his hardest so that his child would never lack for anything.

He would eat discarded expired convenience store food before letting Jaehee go without the best.

Even so, that bit of guilt still clung to him.

“A… bya…”

Perhaps sensing his father’s heavy mood, the child rubbed his soft cheek against Yeongung’s neck as if comforting him.

“That’s right, my baby… my Jaehee…”

Though Jaehee developed a little later physically and verbally, his emotional perception and empathy were extraordinary—especially his sensitivity to his father’s feelings.

“Include me too.”

At some point, Won Iheun had approached, removing his apron, and wrapped his arms around both father and child.

His bare chest pressed against Yeongung’s back—

broad, firm, warm.

The thin T-shirt he wore today did nothing to block the feel of the alpha’s sculpted body.

And the hunger wasn’t one-sided.

Whether Iheun had stayed abstinent over the past two years or not, Yeongung didn’t know—

but he himself hadn’t opened his body to anyone since conceiving Jaehee.

Not before birth, nor after.

That body had only ever opened for him.

So now…

this alpha-starved body of his melted helplessly, without his consent.

Heat from the cheek he slapped spread across him like wildfire.

His pheromones—trained under a hyper-dominant alpha—whispered seductively to give in.

A hot pulse shot through his lower belly.

Barely holding onto his senses, Yeongung muttered:

“…Don’t cling to me when the baby’s here.”

His voice sounded strangely worn—like after sex.

Iheun watched the bowed omega with a slow, licking gaze, but unexpectedly stepped back without forcing anything.

A wonderful aroma filled the apartment.

Jaehee flared his tiny nostrils eagerly.

“Whoa… this looks insane.”

On the table was a dazzling royal spread—like the twelve-dish feast once served to kings.

Beside it, a glass jar filled with brewed tea caught his eye.

Iheun poured him a cup.

The first sip carried a warm ginger scent, good for digestion.

Yeongung often suffered mild indigestion from hurriedly eating expired convenience foods.

Iheun knew his life on Muhaedo down to the fine details.

“Sit. It tastes best before it cools.”

The spread was indulgent: soy-marinated crab, spicy octopus stir-fry, seasoned cockles, grilled short rib patties, dried yellow corvina, soybean stew, various herb side dishes, dried banchan—

the table practically sagged from the weight.

His tongue remembered the flavors of Iheun’s cooking.

The soups were refreshing; the seasonings rich and addictive.

His soy-marinated crab, especially, was the ultimate rice thief—

on those days, Yeongung used to clear three bowls of rice without touching anything else.

Nothing in life was as comforting as a meal someone else prepared.

Raising a child alone, meals had become mere tasks: eat quickly, eat anything, just fill the stomach.

What once was ordinary had become a rare luxury.

For a moment he forgot his questions—

then he snapped out of it.

“Who’s supposed to eat all this? And before that—No, wait. I almost let this slide—Won Iheun, this is literally illegal entry.”

Iheun didn’t flinch.

“I cleaned the house too. Do you like it? It must have been hard juggling your job, childcare, and housework alone.”

“Dam—

Ahem. It’s… clean. Obviously I like it.”

Again.

Again he nearly drifted along with Iheun’s pace.

“No—that’s not the point!”

Iheun bit his lip lightly and stepped closer, the playful air from earlier nowhere to be found.

And then he said something completely unexpected.

“Do you remember the Memory Restoration Cooperation Contract?”

He… hadn’t recovered his memories yet?

Though he hadn’t said it outright, something in his behaviors and words had given Yeongung a small, foolish hope.

That hope now dimmed.

Facing Yeongung’s changing expression, Iheun slowly recited the ridiculous terms they had signed two years ago.

“One. The Principal shall accompany the Agent in all official duties.”

Iheun had moved next door and accompanied him to his convenience store job today.

“Two. The Principal and Agent shall prepare and share at least one meal a day.”

And he had cooked a full twelve-dish meal tonight.

“Three. The Principal and Agent shall share a sleeping space.”

…That one hadn’t happened yet.

“It is our duty to faithfully fulfill the contract terms.

Technically, you vanished and refused to cooperate with my memory restoration.

That’s a breach—

and you’d owe damages.”

Yeongung stared at the man who chased him to the end of the peninsula, moved next door, disrupted his routine, and now invoked a contract from two years ago.

Iheun then offered something new.

“But I’ll overlook your breach.

On one condition:

We continue the contract.

And the original had too many loopholes.

So let’s amend it—add what’s necessary—and write a renewed contract.

This time, notarized.”