Hero Hunter is on Parental Leave C29

Chapter 29

After washing his face, Yeongung lifted his head at the sink and slowly turned from side to side, examining the reflection in the mirror. It was the substitute face he had stared at every day since going into hiding. He had grown so accustomed to it that returning to his original appearance almost felt like it would be the stranger option.

“It really did fade.”

The dark circles that once cast deep shadows beneath his eyes had significantly lightened, making his complexion appear brighter.

For the past two years, Yeongung had lived without relying on mana, raising Jaehee alone while juggling part-time work. It had kept him in a constant state of exhaustion. Muhaedo, with its sparse population, offered few jobs to begin with, and flat broke, he had thrown himself into the grueling day-labor positions young people avoided. Only recently, thanks to the convenience-store job, did he have a little breathing room. Still, the fatigue stored up over two years remained etched into his body like irrefutable evidence. His worsening dark circles and weight loss had grown so conspicuous that even the store owner had told him he should rest.

Yeongung stretched his arms up toward the ceiling.

“…My shoulders feel lighter.”

The shoulders that once felt like they carried three bears now felt loose and refreshed, with no trace of stiffness. The alpha occupying his bed had given him an incredibly thorough massage the night before. Recently, Yeongung had been ending each day with a full-body massage from Won Iheun before falling asleep.

Tak.

He shut the bathroom door and walked out into the living room, where his strange housemate was neatly folding dried laundry. His hands moved quickly, expertly, all while he watched a trashy drama with obvious amusement. Judging by the way he worked, this wasn’t his first time.

Who would believe that Won Iheun—Guildmaster of Tako, rank #1—was living on an isolated island wearing an apron decorated with cartoon rabbits, helping a single father and his baby? Even Yeongung, who saw it with his own eyes daily, sometimes found it unreal.

Sensing his gaze, Won Iheun looked up and clicked his tongue lightly. Then, picking up a hotel-style folded face towel, he stepped toward Yeongung and gently wiped away the lingering droplets on his cheek.

“You really are high-maintenance. What would you do without me?”

In contrast to his words, the smile tugging at the corners of his eyes radiated satisfaction.

It had already been a month since Won Iheun, under the pretext of “contract clauses,” abandoned the apartment he had moved into next door and instead settled fully into Yeongung and Jaehee’s home.

And astonishingly, their quality of life had soared during that month. Though he would never admit it aloud, the reason a single father worn down by childcare regained a bit of vitality was largely because of Won Iheun. Most days, the alpha finished tasks before Yeongung even attempted them. Once, feeling guilty, he had tried to insist he would do the chores himself, but Won Iheun had simply said they shouldn’t nitpick such small things “between them.”

Between us? Yeongung wanted to ask what exactly “between us” meant, but even he couldn’t answer that question yet. Time kept flowing, and Jaehee too had grown accustomed to the alpha’s presence.

When Yeongung shrugged away the sticky touch and headed into the kitchen, Won Iheun asked:

“Did you take your medicine?”

“What medicine?”

“The nutritional supplements Sayeong gave you.”

“Oh—right. I’ll take them.”

Inside the shopping bag Sayeong had sent through Won Iheun was a bottle of Fake Face medication—the one he had been taking regularly to disguise his original appearance.

Gulp. Yeongung tossed one of the white-and-red capsules into his mouth and swallowed.

Won Iheun, watching intently to make sure he swallowed it fully, took the empty glass from his hand with a proud expression.

“Well done.”

“Seriously? Do I look like a child to you? You’re praising me because I took a pill?”

Feeling embarrassed, he opened the fridge and grabbed a zero-sugar soda. As soon as he popped the tab, a burst of foam overflowed and trickled across the back of his hand—only for Won Iheun to lean in and lap it up with his lips and tongue.

Does this man feel no shame at all?

Heat swarmed across Yeongung’s face.

Slurp. After sucking up the last drop, Won Iheun said with complete composure:

“You should tap the tab a few times before opening carbonated drinks.”

Though curious about the scientific reasoning behind reducing carbonation that way, Yeongung pushed the thought aside. There was something else that had been bothering him for far longer.

“You definitely see me as food. You always stick your tongue on me first.”

Whatever it was about his “ordinary extreme-heat omega” traits that enticed the alpha, Won Iheun clung to him constantly, like a bee to a flower. The worst part was that sometimes Jaehee witnessed their strange, heated atmosphere.

“Watch yourself around Jaehee. If you keep crossing the line…”

The alpha washed his hands with mild soap suitable even for children, then gently cleaned Yeongung’s hands as well. Taking a soft towel, he dried them, then squeezed hand cream into his palm and massaged the pressure points with practiced skill.

“And if I do cross it?”

His deft touch melted Yeongung’s resolve, loosening his body until his answer came out languid:

“…Then we’re ordering a second bed.”

It was the kind of soft, pathetic warning one would give to a lover rather than a roommate. Realizing this too late, humiliation shot through him.

But strangely, his childish threat worked.

Won Iheun reacted as though someone had taken away his favorite toy.

“That’s a breach of contract.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No it’s not. And besides—your grand talk about notarizing the new contract? You never rewrote it.”

“I was trying to be considerate. Giving you time. Apparently that was wasted kindness. If I call Lawyer Go, he can be here in Muhaedo first thing tomorrow.”

There wasn’t even a particle of joking in his voice. That sincerity made Yeongung sigh deeply.

“Won Iheun. If you want to sleep next to me that badly, then just behave around Jaehee. Is that really so difficult?”

“So I only need to behave in front of the child?”

“…For now.”

A sunlit smile spread across his face.

“Alright.”

God, put a subject in your sentences; people will misunderstand. His chest tightened at how easily the alpha looked pleased. When their eyes met, his heart thumped painfully, and he brushed the back of his neck as though trying to soothe the flush beneath his skin.

“It’s getting late… I need to wash Jaehee before he’s late.”

He said, though plenty of time remained. In truth, he was simply fleeing from the alpha’s presence. Won Iheun’s smile only deepened as he watched him hurry away.

“Take your time. There’s plenty.”

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

The rapid rhythm of typing filled the small office—a cramped room barely the size of a storage closet beside the walk-in fridge. A twenty-inch monitor, desktop computer, and printer were the only essential office tools.

The monitor’s glow lit up an ordinary-looking face. It was Yeongung, at work in the convenience store. He was checking inventory, comparing the actual stock with the system data, then entering discrepancies into an Excel sheet.

His fingers paused. The morning’s events played through his head again.

“Not that direction—you’ll miss the store.”

“I’m not going to the store.”

“…Huh? Oh—right. Then… where?”

“I have something else to take care of. See you at home after your shift.”

Tap-tap-tap-CRACK-tap!

He hammered the keys with such force that the cheap wired keyboard trembled like it was being tortured.

“Something else to take care of? Please. What could he possibly have to do on Muhaedo? He doesn’t know a single soul besides me and Jaehee. And if you’re living with someone, the least you can do is say where you’re going. Isn’t that basic courtesy?”

He needed to finish checking stock levels, analyze recent sales, and prepare the order request for headquarters. The store owner was on vacation, so he was covering the workload. He had to finish before Jaehee’s pickup time—but the numbers simply refused to stay in his brain.

Won Iheun’s fault. Entirely.

Finally, his concentration shattered, and he closed the Excel file. Leaning back in his chair, he tipped his head back. Against the plain white ceiling, the alpha’s beautiful face flickered across his mind.

After dropping Jaehee off at daycare, the man had simply vanished.

“Selfish bastard.”

He had tried to forget him while raising their son. He really had. But as if mocking those efforts, Won Iheun blended seamlessly into the fabric of his life in Muhaedo.

Two years—that’s how long it took Yeongung to scrape the man out of his heart.

Thirty days—that’s all it took for Won Iheun to reclaim it completely.

He had been a fool to think he’d escaped the shackles of a one-sided crush. Winning his heart seemed as natural—and effortless—for Won Iheun as breathing.

“Alright. Focus. Finish this.”

Slap slap. A couple light smacks to each cheek helped steady him again—or so he thought.

“….”

He glanced at the item list he had written earlier. Everything reminded him of one person:

The chicken breast that Won Iheun said tasted decent because of the variety of sauces.

The socks he’d praised for having unusually good quality for a convenience-store brand.

The non-toxic, gentle dish soap he used daily and called surprisingly effective.

Chicken breast. Socks. Dish soap. All common, everyday items found in every Even Eleven store across the country—items Yeongung had walked past countless times without a second thought. But after sharing daily life with the alpha, even these things felt different.

“…God, I’m hopeless.”

Then his eyes landed on something else—a limited edition TinTinPing item that Jaehee adored above all else.

That snapped him out of it. The nine-tailed fox alpha evaporated from his thoughts, replaced instantly by his tiny rabbit of a son.

A glance at the clock made his expression tighten. If he wanted to leave on time to pick up Jaehee, he needed to hurry.

“Come on. Focus.”

His fingers resumed their rapid dance across the keyboard.