Her eyes grew red at the thought of becoming a tree person again.
'Gwuu wanna stay human just a wittow wonger...!'
If she became a tree person, her skin would turn into stiff bark, and her head might grow a bunch of leaves.
Then maybe even Daddy wouldn’t recognize her anymore.
Jurim, grimacing with effort in front of the flowerpot, looked over at Guru, who had approached with a sad expression, and narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
“What if Daddy doesn’t wecognize Gwuu...”
“What?”
Guru shook her head quietly.
“But Gwuu has to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Daddy can’t fowget Gwuu...”
“Out of nowhere?”
Leaving Jurim looking baffled behind, Guru went into her room and shut the door.
It was nearly a month later, after all that time spent worrying and fretting.
One day, a letter was tucked into the sign at Guru’s potato field.
Dear ‘On Guru’,
I’m writing to ask how you’ve been.
Things have been quite noisy around you lately—are you doing well?
It wasn’t until after we had lunch at the potato field that I realized we’d never actually introduced ourselves.
So I looked into you a little. I apologize if that made you uncomfortable.
I wish I could deliver this apology with a fine dinner, but something’s come up, and I have to leave Korea for a while.
So I’ve prepared a small gift instead.
You only need to write your name on the document I’ve enclosed, and the transfer will be complete. There’s no need to worry about complicated procedures.
I hope it’ll be of some help.
Ah, I’ve started learning Korean recently.
Thankfully, I haven’t found it too difficult.
I hope that by the time we meet again, we can communicate in Korean...
Looking forward to that day.
Your potato friend,
Reiji :)
“Potato fwiend Weiji...”
It was that Interpol foreign guy!
Crouched in front of the preschool potato field sign, Guru’s eyes sparkled as she read the letter.
“Pwesen! Pwesen!”
The gift was a manila envelope.
Guru took out the thick stack of papers inside and looked at the place marked with a sticky note.
Written in neat and pretty handwriting on the note was: ⭐Write your name here⭐
'Ooh.'
Mr. Reiji said he’d only just started learning Korean...
'Did someone else write it for him?'
With a question mark hanging above her head, Guru set the stack of papers down on the dirt and took her pencil case out of her backpack. A bunch of TiniPing pencils popped out from the cute bear pencil case.
Picking up a pink pencil, she lay on her stomach and carefully wrote her name.
“On... Gwuu...”
Unaware that someone was watching her the whole time.
The man watching the child lying on the ground writing her name sent a text to Reiji: the documents had safely been delivered.
The child was now the primary shareholder of SSPED with a 48% stake.
That was Amakusa Reiji’s gift as the founder of SSPED.
Ostensibly, it was a gift to apologize to the child—but in reality, it was likely heavily influenced by Amakusa Kazuki’s situation.
The Korean government was weighing Kazuki’s naturalization and the possibility of export restrictions involving SSPED.
Now that SSPED’s management rights had fallen into Korea’s hands, the government would surely accept Kazuki without hesitation.
Even if—thanks to Reiji’s twisted sense of humor—all of that had ended up in the hands of a five-year-old girl.
He let out a small chuckle.
The girl, who had pressed her name down hard with her pencil, stood up waving the paper.
She carefully tucked the letter into her bag and held the paper like a flag as she ran over and jumped into the arms of her sitter.
When the sitter looked at the paper, she kept reading and rereading it to confirm it was real.
Then, she started making a phone call.
“Hello, sir, Guru just received what looks like a transfer document. Yes. No, I don’t think it’s from Sprout Bank... it seems real...! Yes, I think you’d better see it yourself.”
She even thumped her chest out of frustration at the disbelief on the other end of the call.
Regardless, the child was spinning in circles around the sitter with a puzzled face.
Han Roun stared at the child’s cute gestures for a while, then turned away.
After signing the document...
Guru, pulled along by her sitter, went straight to Grandpa’s house—and her mouth dropped open.
“Woofie on the woof?”
Apparently Grandpa had kept saying this and that, and something else and something else, so Guru somehow ended up being a woofie on the roof.
On Suhyeong simply nodded, utterly charmed by his granddaughter’s creative interpretation of “share transfer.”
“That’s right. That’s what it is.”
Oh, I see!
“Gwuu’s a woofie?!”
“Yes, yes.”
So now she was a woofie who went up on the roof.
Okay, but—
What does that even mean?
Rolling her eyes dramatically, Guru stuffed the papers back into her backpack.
“Why’s that, sweetie?”
“Gwuu don’t need a woofie.”
Then she rolled her eyes the other way and acted like a genius grandchild who understood everything, saying, Gwuu can not be a woofie and it’s fineee...
She still liked Gudetama better for now.
“Mmh, that’s fine too. Grandpa will take care of it.”
On Suhyeong gently patted her back.
He had already been preparing to strike against those damn arrogant Japanese trying to block their children’s future.
Whoever this potato friend was, the prank had gone a little too far—but they’d certainly helped.
Judging by Jurim’s reaction, it seemed like he knew who it was...
Just as he was about to contact the SSPED response team, Guru whispered cautiously.
“Gwampa... whewe’s Daddy? Whewe’d he go?”
Guru checked the watch on her wrist.
It was already 9 p.m.
At this hour, Jurim should’ve been back and putting her to bed, but after reading the letter, he’d gone stiff-faced and left her with On Suhyeong.
'Can’t blame him...'
After a moment of silence, On Suhyeong patted Guru gently with his big hand.
“He’ll be back soon. Should Grandpa put you to bed tonight?”
“Yeshhh!”
“Alright. Let’s find a book to read together.”
“Yaaay!”
Jurim sat on the rooftop railing, folding the letter.
When he closed his eyes tightly, his mana surged—and a blackout swept the area.
Flick, flick.
The city lights blinked all at once.
He let out a deep breath.
When he opened his eyes again, the rooftop had become a snowy field.
He turned around.
As usual, the 99th-floor occupant was sitting in his chair, bored, pointing at Jurim with his index finger.
— Danger. Guru.
“I know.”
Of course he knew. It was a warning about himself and his unstable mana control.
That’s exactly why he had come up here—because he didn’t want Guru to see him as a dangerous ★ Novelight ★ person.
Jurim unfolded the letter again.
He stared at the handwriting offering a 48% stake in SSPED... again and again.
That was definitely On Ijo’s handwriting.
His jaw clenched.
Where was Amakusa Reiji now?
Jurim knew more about Reiji than most.
He wasn’t the kind of man who would harm a child, nor did he act two-faced. Rather, he simply never saw a need to hide who he was.
And yet, here he was, calling his daughter’s friend and mocking Jurim using On Ijo’s handwriting.
Jurim tracked Reiji, who had left Korea immediately—but no matter how far he searched, there was no sign of him after the airport.
His pitch-black eyes sank.
His throat felt tight.
There was no way to know. Would tearing Reiji apart with his own hands finally give him peace?
Or maybe... Jurim let out a breath, frustrated.
The letter crumbled to dust in his hand.
Another blackout swept through Seoul.
For a brief moment, the nightscape was completely swallowed in darkness—before beginning to twinkle again.
Chasing the dead always left a filthy taste in the mouth
Jurim took a deep breath and tried to control his power.
But the searing blue flames of rage refused to die down.
Brrrr—
That’s when his pocket started to vibrate.

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