Mixed-Blood in a Gender Role Reversed World - Chapter 59

 Chapter 59 : Fangs Never Forget Themselves (2)

"..."

Holding the used memo, I stared at it for a long while before tilting my head back, closing my eyes, and imprinting it in my mind once more.

From now on, even if I have to take the lead, I won’t let anyone drag me along.

In this world,  As I adapted it to my   own resolve, I felt like I was someone important. Truly, great people imbue even a single phrase  with immeasurable meaning. Though it’s a bit ridiculous that the genders role have all been reversed, which kind of breaks the immersion.

With my head tilted back, I covered my eyes with my arm and let out a soft chuckle. Then, stopping my laughter, I stood up, grabbed the paper, and headed to the bathroom. I lifted the toilet lid and set the paper alight above the water.

"I need to live safely."

If someone saw the paper and grew suspicious, it’d be trouble. Standing still, I watched the paper slowly burn to ashes. Once it was reduced to dust, I flushed it down the toilet and returned to bed. As I slipped into the covers and tossed and turned, a fleeting sense of unease crossed my mind.

(If I dream of Shasha again tonight... will I be able to pull myself together tomorrow? I might not even notice something’s wrong. The scars on my hands are no longer useful for snapping me out of it...)

"Ah."

After mulling it over, I let out a sound as if a brilliant idea had struck me and got out of bed. I rummaged through my pockets, confirmed my phone and cigarettes were there, and left the house.

---

_

Leaning against the wall, I held a cigarette between my fingers, its smoke curling upward, while I tapped away at my smartphone screen. I was driven by the thought of finding a tattoo artist and getting inked as soon as possible. If I could book an appointment, the tattoo artist might call me, which would help wake me up if I ever found myself in a mental crisis. Even if it’s just a small tattoo with a few words, I wanted it done by someone skilled, so I kept scrolling through pages.

(This one’s quality isn’t great)

(This one...)

Even with my sharp eyes, finding a tattoo artist I liked wasn’t easy. Frustrated, I took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke when a striking piece of work caught my eye. Drawn in, I clicked on the page, checked out a few designs and the artist, and made my decision. Considering all factors, this person was the best.

(But they seem really popular... What if I can’t book for tomorrow? I’d better call now.)

In my haste, I didn’t even consider that it was nighttime and sent a message.

[Hello. I’m contacting you regarding a commission after seeing your blog.]

As soon as the “1” indicating the message was read disappeared, I smiled, only for my expression to harden at the sharp reply.

[If you saw my blog, you definitely saw that too. Let’s respect each other’s manners.]

Checking the blog again, I saw at the bottom of the post:

 [Please don’t contact me late at night. Let’s respect each other’s manners.]  

...Haste really does no good. Finding another artist now felt like a hassle, so I decided to take a humble approach.

[I’m sorry. I was so eager because I felt you’re the only one for this job that I was rude. If it’s okay, may I call to apologize?]

But even after waiting a few minutes, no reply came. As I bitterly took another drag from my cigarette, my phone rang.

---

_

"Ugh, why are people calling again?"

Covered in tattoos, she let out an irritated, high-pitched complaint. She’d clearly written on her blog not to contact her at night how could people miss that? As a popular tattoo artist who’d dealt with countless clients that day, she didn’t need to respond to messages to maintain her income, so she was about to resume sketching her design.

But soon, she slammed her pen down.

"I don’t know who this jerk is, but manners matter, don’t they?"

With a face full of frustration, she picked up her phone and sent a message to the rude client.

[Give me your phone number.]

[Thank you. 010-XXXX-XXXX]

"Thank you, my foot. I’m not taking this job anyway."

Snorting, she dialed the number immediately. The call connected, and before the other party could even say “hello,” she snapped.

"I can’t just let this slide, so let me say something. Isn’t this a bit selfish? What’s with insisting on a phone call? I’m offended, so I don’t think I can take your job."

[ I apologize again for that. ]

Huh?

Her eyes widened at the deep, resonant voice that seemed to vibrate through her small chest.  

...It was a man. And his voice was insanely attractive, making her curious about his face.

Softening without realizing it, she cleared her throat and said, "Ahem, ahem. Well, if you understand, please be more careful next time."

 [Yes, thank you. So, is it possible for you to take the job? I know it’s shameless, but I’m asking.]

The deep voice digging into her stirred a slightly naughty thought.

"Well... how old are you? I don’t work with minors. Could you send a photo of your ID with your face visible?"  

[Uh... I don’t have an ID yet. I haven’t been in Korea long since immigrating from Russia...]

She let out a small laugh at the absurd excuse.

"Sorry, then I can’t book you. Honestly, it’s hard to believe. You speak Korean too well."  

[Then... would it be okay if I sent a photo of my face? ]

"Seriously?"  

 Yes. I’ll hang up and send it via message.  

"Wait a second. If you do, write ‘Client’ on a piece of paper and include it. Sorry, but it could be a photo grabbed from the internet. If I book you and you turn out to be a minor, I’d take a big loss."  

[I understand. That’s no problem.]

*Click.*

Baffled yet filled with anticipation at this unexpected turn, she waited with a smile.

"He’s really Russian, huh? Oh, it’s here. Let’s see what he looks like..."

Humming, she checked the photo and was struck as if hit by a hammer. Even in a rough selfie taken from a distance with both hands, his beauty was undeniable. The memo in his mouth, held with an air of indifference.

"...Holy crap. That thing in his mouth... is he trying to seduce me?"

This guy was performing a full-on ritual to drive women crazy. His broad shoulders, the Adam’s apple a symbol of masculinity and the fox tattoo on his neck, oddly... sensual. Swallowing hard, she carefully called him back.

[Did you see it? ]

"Of course. You must be mixed-race, huh? Are you tall...?"

[Yeah, about 180 cm. So, will you take the job?  ]

"Ab-absolutely. But I’m a bit booked up... how about this Sunday?"  

[Sorry, but... is there anything sooner?]

Her plan was thwarted. She’d hoped to take him as her only client on her day off and grab a coffee together afterward. Smacking her lips, she reviewed her schedule and said, "Thursday should work."  

[Great. Is 7 p.m. okay?]

7 p.m... There was actually a booked client, but...

"Sure. I’ll send the details via message."

Gotta have some healing sometimes. She hung up, wrote an apology message to the female client who had that slot, and rescheduled her for the next day.

---

_

"Do you like tteokbokki... Why’s she asking this?"

I chuckled at the tattoo artist’s blatantly flirtatious message, but things were progressing smoothly. After the sticky conversation, I turned off the light, lay in bed, and prayed. Just until Thursday, please don’t let me have those awful dreams. Better yet, never again.

"...I should start working out hard tomorrow. Gotta prep my body to beat the crap out of those bastards."

With an anxious heart, I drifted into sleep.

---

__

Natasha silently poured liquor into a glass. The orange liquid sloshed, spilling over the transparent rim and soaking the desk.

"Fonda-nim is here."  

"Good job."

A woman who suddenly opened the door whispered, and Natasha responded in a sweet voice. The woman bowed and left. Soon after, a woman in gold-rimmed glasses entered with stiff steps.

"I’m here to report..."

Natasha watched Fonda, who was explaining earnestly with a serious face, sweat dripping down. Natasha smiled throughout, finding it pitiful and amusing that Fonda was spilling facts she already knew.

"So..."  

"That happened, huh? I didn’t know."

Cutting Fonda off, Natasha tapped the desk, pretending to ponder. Then, finally, "Good work. Thanks again, Fonda."  

"Before I leave... may I ask one thing?"

Natasha nodded quietly with a smile.

"Why did you send all the guards out of the mansion?" 

"I wanted to be alone tonight."

Fonda’s eyes gleamed for a moment. Bowing deeply with futile hopes, she hurriedly left. Alone in the mansion, Natasha poured more liquor, muttering. The glass was already full, unable to hold more.

"Everything carved on your body was done by me. And I was supposed to keep doing it. You promised you’d only let me do it."

Natasha, who looked almost sad, opened a drawer and pulled out a dagger with familiar ease. Holding it up, she caressed the cold blade as if petting a beloved animal, repeating the inexplicable act with a blank expression.

*Swish.*

After some time, Natasha stood, a pistol dangling at her smooth waist.

"I can’t understand. I love that you lost your memories. I love it... but don’t make it too hard for me..."

Dropping the blade limply as if pleading, she moved her other hand to her waist.

"I thought a lot. About my Korean name. About how to approach you."

Twirling the dagger skillfully, Natasha stepped forward slowly.

"There’s no one but me to love you."

With that, she drew the pistol and fired without hesitation. The bullet pierced the door, followed by a sharp scream. Gracefully stepping forward, she opened the door.

Putting the pistol away, she coldly lifted the woman writhing on the floor, choking on blood. The dying woman’s eyes met hers. Natasha gave a final smile and slit her throat with the dagger. Blood sprayed, splattering her cheek.

As something thudded behind the dead woman’s back, Natasha wiped the blood from her face with the hand holding the dagger and recited, like a poem, "I may abandon the world, but I won’t let the world abandon me."

With a melancholic voice, she turned to the side. The dark hallway was lit only by moonlight streaming through the window. Bathed in that light, she gazed at the women ahead.

A thick murderous intent enveloped her, but she looked only at one place.

"The world, to me, is only you, Shasha."

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Translated by Reversalmanhwa.web.id  

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