Hero Hunter is on Parental Leave C61

Chapter 61

Muhae Apartment, Building A — 4th Floor Corridor

Building A’s fourth floor had no residents; the entire level was vacant. In the dead of night, with not a single strip of light, two boys swept their portable lanterns across the pitch-black corridor. Dressed in school uniforms, the two male students walked toward the empty end of the hall as if on cue.

Dreaming of becoming famous creators, the boys jointly ran a single YouTube channel. The one in the spring–fall uniform handled filming and editing, while the boy in summer uniform appeared on camera and planned the content.

The summer-uniform boy livestreamed the situation to his phone camera.

“Since it’s early summer, we’ve gotten tons of requests for ghost hunters and abandoned-building experiences. So! Today’s content—drumroll—the Mystery Mansion Experience!”

He mimicked the exaggerated hook lines of variety show hosts.

“Every night at midnight, a crying ghost supposedly appears at the far right end of this corridor… tsk. If you’re weak-hearted, cover your eyes and just listen—or you might wet yourself, so prepare spare underwear.”

└ Yeah right.

└ If you’re weak-hearted, why watch an abandoned-house livestream?

└ Is this a high-school broadcast? Clickbait title got me.

└ Pants ready. Hurry up.

Just as he was posturing, a mournful sob echoed through the corridor.

“Hic… hic…”

‘Is the rumor real? What do we do!’ Junhyeon, who was filming, covered the mic and whispered. The two boys locked eyes in the dark.

A few seconds of silence passed.

Gangmo, the host, looked at his frightened friend with annoyance—he intended to continue. Taking another step forward, he mustered courage and spoke.

“Is… someone there?”

“…”

As if by magic, the corridor fell silent.

“Hff…”

“Do you… need help…?”

“…”

Each time Gangmo spoke, the crying stopped—only to start again. After several rounds, Junhyeon finally lowered his phone.

“Hey, let’s just go. Please? I’m really scared…!”

Despite his friend’s plea, Gangmo was firm.

“Wait. There’s no such thing as ghosts these days.”

“But still—”

Suddenly, the lantern went out.

“Damn it! Breaking at the worst timing.”

“Did the batteries die?”

In a hurry, Gangmo turned on his phone flashlight—the one not being used for filming.

“We can’t leave empty-handed after coming all this way. We need subscribers!”

He tapped the screen anxiously. As expected, the live viewer count was dropping fast. The few remaining comments either urged them on or accused them of staging it.

Trying to squeeze sensational content out of an incident-free island had been the problem from the start. But it was too late to switch to a healing concept.

They’d tried mukbang too, but with small appetites they couldn’t keep up with big creators—viewers complained it ruined their appetite. This horror content was their last chance to gain subscribers.

“This boring backwater won’t give us another shot. What’s so scary? Hold the phone straight and follow me. If you mess this up, you don’t get channel shares!”

Gangmo lorded over a channel that had barely passed a hundred subscribers.

The sobbing drew closer. The nearer it came, the louder it grew. He swallowed.

“Huh? What’s happening?”

The lantern flickered wildly—and on the corridor wall appeared—

“…Mom… mom… Aaaah!”

After returning from a stationery shop with Jaehee, Yeongung noticed an odd tension in the apartment complex. A crowd had gathered near Building A’s entrance; a yellow police line was set up.

“Jaehee, you’re getting more handsome by the day.”

At the guard’s praise, the child grinned around his sugar-free lollipop. Spotting unfamiliar faces among residents, Yeongung picked Jaehee up, pulled his mask higher, and approached.

“Hello, sir. What’s going on?”

“Don’t ask. You know Building A’s fourth floor is empty?”

“Oh? I didn’t know. Never paid attention.”

“Apparently people hear crying there even though no one lives on that floor. Folks started coming for abandoned-house experiences. And whether there’s a real ghost or not, more than six people in middle- and high-school uniforms have shown up past midnight!”

Yeongung listened, then looked toward the emergency stairs.

“Hmm. Doesn’t look special.”

“Curiosity kills. Even with ‘No Entry’ signs, they keep going in. Tell them not to, and they want to more!”

“Looks like police were called.”

“Yeah. Someone got hurt, so the guy managing Building A reported it. He’s been losing sleep over it.”

Just then, Sanghui, shoving two hot dogs into his mouth, chimed in.

“Abandoned-house experience?”

“And you are…?”

“They’re acquaintances who moved into this building recently,” Yeongung explained. “Sanghui, say hello.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The guard stared as Sanghui bowed at a perfect ninety degrees.

“Strange times. Young people moving to this boring island on purpose.”

Yeongung smiled easily.

“Good air, good people. And a great security guard. Plenty of reasons to live here, right?”

“Ha! Flattery won’t get you a loan.”

“Haha, why would I borrow money from you?”

“Just kidding. I’ve got recycling duty tonight. You folks take care.”

After seeing him off, Yeongung marveled at how social he’d become—enough to survive anywhere. Memories of being scolded as a stiff, unsociable kid surfaced. If he’d relaxed back then, would his hunter career have been smoother?

He shook the thought away.

“Hyung, what do you think about that?” Sanghui gestured at the police line while biting another hot dog.

“What—ghosts?”

“Come on. Ghosts?”

“Could be.”

Joining late with an orange slush, Hamgyeol looked pale.

“Vice Guild Master, don’t say that… I’m really scared of ghosts.”

“You guys don’t know the apartment legend?”

“…Legend?”

Yeongung lowered his voice like an old storyteller.

“Before this apartment was built, there was an old house here. When they bought the land and tore down the frame, they found—”

Sanghui dropped his hot-dog skewer; the sausage rolled across the asphalt. Goosebumps prickled Hamgyeol’s arms.

“Found…?”

Teasing them, Yeongung finally whacked their foreheads with his lollipop.

“You idiots. Imagine how much the system would laugh seeing your faces. Found what—nothing. Just dirt. You fight monsters worse than ghosts and you’re scared of superstition?”

“Ow, hyung!”

“Ow, Vice Guild Master!”

Rubbing their bumps, the two whined while Yeongung pretended not to know them.

Then Jaehee, cradled in Yeongung’s arms, grabbed his cheek with a chomp.

“My prince. Bored? Let’s go home.”

“Meow.”

“…Huh?”

“Meow, meow.”

Jaehee often mimicked animals he saw. Yeongung glanced around.

“Where’s the cat?”

“Meow, meow.”

“Copying again? Let’s go wash up and watch animal videos.”

But something felt off. Even releasing mana, Yeongung sensed no small animal nearby. Then a blue shimmer flickered in the child’s eyes as he meowed.

Just like when they’d met Dr. Richmond, the child showed a resonance response. If Yeongung’s guess was right—

“So… our son wants to be a cat?”

Won Iheun appeared casually, covering Jaehee’s eyes with his palm. He’d said he was going out for a morning walk; it was nearly lunchtime now.

“Iheun.”

Yeongung swallowed his scolding and glanced back at the lingering crowd.

“Think it’s a magical beast?”

Iheun nodded slightly—same thought.

Magical beasts were monsters; some were tame enough to be used by tamers or certain hunters, but most were dangerous to humans.

“The bait-luring method suggests a fairly intelligent one.”

No gate had opened, so it wasn’t a giant monster. But until someone triggered the trap, the beast’s form couldn’t be identified. Someone would have to take the bait.

Honestly, it wasn’t a job for Yeongung or Iheun; even one of the idiot duo could handle it.

The problem was both were terrified of ghosts, horror, and occult stuff.

So Yeongung quietly made a fist and stared resolutely at Iheun.

“Men settle this with fists. Rock, paper, scissors!”

Iheun didn’t throw anything—he simply caught Yeongung’s fist.

“You play with Jaehee. I’ll go.”

Poking Yeongung’s cheek, Iheun laughed.

“At times like this, I can’t tell who’s older.”

Embarrassed, Yeongung rubbed his burning ear—then noticed the two subordinates looking away.

“Vice Guild Master… I respect you, but rock-paper-scissors was a bit much.”

“Hyung, even Absolute authority can’t shield that.”

Yeongung snapped at them.

“You brats! Don’t you know rock-paper-scissors is the universal rule? And we’re doing this because of you! Useless big bodies! What’s so scary about ghosts? It’s not even a ghost—it’s a magical beast!”