Hero’s Child C42

Chapter 42

Uichan clenched his fists, resolving that once the children were stable, he would carefully test the waters and tell Hyde first—only Hyde. Of course, the identity of the children’s fathers had to remain an absolute secret.

“…Find your dad, okay, little ones? But don’t fight among yourselves.”

He murmured softly, but his mind drifted—to Yeo Taehwon, who had held his hand and escorted him home.

If Blacktan really was the father of the third child… then that meant Uichan would have to sleep with him again.

The problem was, his memories of Blacktan were all sharp edges and heat—a man too intense, too unrelenting.

He couldn’t remember much, but just recalling the ache that had stretched deep between his legs made his whole body flush. The way that man’s flesh had carved into him—thick and unyielding—made his throat tighten. His body still remembered, even if his mind tried to forget.

His hips had been crushed under the weight of someone impossibly large, the force driving so deep it had nearly flattened him. Just thinking about it now made Uichan’s skin burn. Back then, he hadn’t been in his right mind—but now? He’d have to face them all sober, and none of the three were ordinary men.

How had he even let them touch him like that?

By the time Park Rion burst into the room, tossing his frilly apron aside and waving a children’s book while suggesting a nap, Uichan was lying face-down on the bed, gripping his hot ears, his face buried deep into the sheets.

The place reeked of smoke and rot, like the depths of a pit where hellfire had long ago burned itself out. Black stone walls rose around it, slick with grime. It was a dungeon.

A figure hung there—limbs bound, pierced through the torso by a spear-like rod. Blood, dark and cold, dripped steadily into the pool below.

“So,” a voice murmured close by. “You said you were looking for a lame youth, under six feet tall?”

The impaled creature—its skin grey, its form twisted—jerked its head up. A goblin. Its eyes rolled wildly as it thrashed against its bindings.

“Let me out! Please! This body’s in agony—there’s nowhere left for me to move to!”

“Well,” the voice replied smoothly, “answer my questions sincerely, and I’ll let you go. You resisted, remember? That was your mistake.”

“Heehee! What do you want to know? The lame boy? You know that better than anyone! You took him, not me!”

The goblin cackled manically, its face contorting grotesquely. Under the flickering light, its mangled head looked half-caved in, and a bite wound on its neck exposed pale, rotting bone.

“You took him yourselves—so why are you asking me? I found him first! I did!”

The chains rattled violently as it struggled.

From the shadows behind it, Hyde dragged over a chair and sat down leisurely, one leg crossed over the other.

“That boy is… a dear friend of mine,” Hyde said softly. “But he was attacked, quite suddenly. So no, your story doesn’t hold. I found him long before you ever did.”

With a metallic shriek, a steel spike drove deeper into the goblin’s chest. It screamed, its limbs thrashing in agony.

“I—I don’t know! He had something! He took it—some… thing—and I just wanted to see it! That’s all!”

“Something?”

Hyde flicked his foot, considering, then reached a hand back into the shadows. A gloved hand extended from the dark, placing a small, worn wooden box into his grasp. Hyde tossed it carelessly before the goblin.

“Would it be this?”

“M-my treasure! Hahaha! See, I told you! I found it! I found it! The limping fools laughed at me, but who’s laughing now?”

The goblin’s eyes glowed red with mad delight. It strained to reach the box, jerking its limbs uselessly, still bound in place.

Of course, the box’s contents were fake. Hyde had already hidden the real one somewhere the goblin could never reach.

At a flick of Hyde’s fingers, the chains loosened. The goblin scrambled forward, clutching the box to its chest, laughing hysterically.

“Muhyul! Lord Aengak! I found it! Hahaha! I found it!”

It tore the box open—and inside lay a single human ear, shriveled and bloodstained, wrapped in cloth.

“‘The Ear of the Wolf Fiend!’ Hahaha! The ear of the Iri! With this—Lord Aengak’s dream will—heeheehee—finally come true!”

But then, the goblin froze. Its face went slack, color draining away. Its dull, clouded eyes darted around as if searching for someone unseen.

“He had it… that boy… He didn’t need any of this. If we had that, we wouldn’t need sacrifices at all…”

Still clutching the box, the goblin stumbled forward, feeling blindly across the floor like a man without sight. Its fingers brushed against the leg of Hyde’s chair.

It looked up, its eyes a sickly green. And then—it smiled.

A wide, broken grin, but the eyes were empty, hollow pits of black.

“Your friend,” it croaked, “do you know what he’s carrying inside him?”

Its claws clamped around Hyde’s leg, shaking like an excited child. Its voice rose to a giggling whine.

“I saw it! I saw something strange inside his belly! Haha—his wound closed in an instant! Whatever’s in there—heehee—it healed him! You think an ear is a prize? No, no—what’s inside him could bring Lord Aengak’s grand design to life!”

The more it spoke, the more feverish it became. “Three souls! I saw them! They were already protecting their mother, using power they shouldn’t even have! But—they’ll consume her! They’ll devour her! They must be ripped out, scraped clean, and—kugh—offered to Lord Aengak—”

“…That’s enough.”

A deep indentation formed around its neck—Hyde’s invisible grip tightening. The goblin’s feet kicked frantically as its body began to rise off the ground. It clawed at its throat, but nothing could stop the unseen force crushing it.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Hyde rose from his chair and stepped closer.

“But tell me—why three? There were only two before.”

“Guh—grghh—”

“Who else knows about this? Any of your kind?”

The goblin’s face contorted with terror as it shook its head violently.

The invisible pressure didn’t ease—it only grew, pressing harder, until it seemed to devour even the skull beneath the skin.

“No one… no… guhk—”

“You don’t know?”

Hyde’s voice turned almost lazy. He reached forward and plucked the box from the goblin’s chest. Opening it again, he lifted the severed ear, turning it in his hand. A soft chuckle escaped him.

A moment later, the ear exploded into pulp.

“NO!”

The goblin shrieked in despair, reaching out wildly, its fingers instantly sliced away midair.

Slash. Slice.

The body came apart silently—limbs, torso, head—all severed in the blink of an eye. The remains fell heavily to the floor.

A sigh drifted from behind Hyde.

“Well, he’s dead now.”

“Was that wise?”

From the shadows stepped a figure in a dark mask—Kill the Phantom Thief. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “At that rate, no one would’ve survived your questioning.”

Hyde smiled faintly and dropped the shattered box onto the corpse.

“It’s fine. We’ll find another one soon enough. He was already insane—there’d be no use interrogating him further. Couldn’t even recognize the real Ear of the Wolf Fiend.”

“To be fair, it looks identical to the fake,” Kill replied dryly.

“If he were truly a goblin, he should’ve sensed its aura leaking out.”

The Wolf Fiend—also known as Paryang Jeonggwe—had appeared three years ago in Yongin. It was one of the Seven Calamities, hunted by hundreds of heroes under the Association’s command. But in the end, it hadn’t been them who killed it—it had been Turn Hyde of In the Hell.

The reason was simple: the beast had crashed one of their gatherings deep in the mountains.

At the time, Uichan had gone pale with terror, clutching his brothers as the roof collapsed. Jekyll Jack had fought to protect him but was overwhelmed, debris scraping Uichan’s skin raw.

Hyde, enraged, had slaughtered the Wolf Fiend—cutting it into one hundred and eighty-nine pieces. One of its severed ears had later fallen into Aengak’s possession. So, of course, Hyde recognized it instantly when he saw it again.

Kill flicked one of his playing cards to the ground. The card slid neatly into a crack—and with a poof, dozens of otters spilled out, scurrying to collect the remains.

No one knew how such a small box could contain them all, but piece by piece, they gathered the gore until the floor gleamed spotless.

Hyde watched them in silence, then tilted his head up, gazing toward the black, unreachable ceiling.

This was his personal chamber of judgment—his Punishment Hall, built for interrogation.