Chapter 811 – Why? Did You Think We Could Get Our Daughter Without Pain?

My father suggested it to me when I was holding a party to celebrate my discharge from the hospital. Why don’t you tattoo the code name of the enemy you killed? At the time, I couldn’t easily accept the offer.

“Really? Are you really going to do it?”

“Yes, I will.”

“I will ask you one last time. Are you going to do it?”

A fat man looked at me as I lay down on a hospital examining chair. The interior was clean and unsuitable for the image of a tattoo shop, but the man with thick forearms covered in tattoos was exactly what I thought.

“Yes.”

I nodded to him, the head of the tattoo shop and my father’s acquaintance. Then, my father, who was standing next to me with his arms crossed, spoke with a happy face.

“Yes, Jiheon. Good idea. Even if I wanted to get a tattoo like that, I would never do it. If you get caught saying it’s fake, you’ll be treated like real trash, and you won’t be treated like a man.”

“Brother. Please refrain from saying such things. What kind of era is it these days?”

At my father’s words, the uncle grumbled in a joking voice. Now wearing a medical mask, he asked me while wearing latex gloves.

“Is this going to hurt? So be patient? Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Hey. Ask me something like that.”

Now, my father threw a pin on the man who was trying to get a tattoo.

“He’s the guy who got shot and came out alive. Something like a needle hurts. Isn’t that right, Jiheon?”

“Yes. Thinner than a 7.62mm warhead, you won’t feel the pain.”

Gying

“Oops?! Mister?!”

“No, because I don’t feel it.”

I screamed in shock at the stinging pain I felt on the inside of my wrist. Seeing me like that, my father burst into laughter,

“Puhahahahaha! Hey! Hey! I don’t feel it! I don’t feel it! Fuhahahahaha!”

The man holding the tattooing tool in his latex-gloved hand was also in a state of disrepair.

“What. Does this hurt? Did you get hit with a thicker one?”

“No, I am not sick! I was surprised because he did it so suddenly!”

“I was definitely asking. Are you really going to do it?”

“It was, but suddenly,”

“Shh. Do not talk to me. The lines are crooked.”

Gying

“… !”

The old man started moving the tool again, but I managed to hold back my screams. Instead, he looked at the tattoo on the inside of his right wrist as he clenched his left hand into a fist.

Geeeeeing

He drew while holding my arm with his left hand and a thick vibrating pen with his right hand. Of course, the drawing paper was on the inside of my right wrist, and it was tattooed along a pre-drawn purple line.

“Ha, by the way.”

Seeing me getting a tattoo, my father muttered something strange.

“You really allowed it? Can I get a tattoo?”

“Ah, yes… !”

I answered on purpose to forget the burning pain.

“I-I must have heard of what my father is doing. After hearing that, I talked about it, and I said, I can do it, I can do it. To me.”

“Wow, really?”

The person asking the question was my uncle, not my father. He asked in a slightly dazed tone as he drew the clown with detailed movements.

“You allowed this? Originally, don’t you hate everything when your husband or boyfriend tells you to get a tattoo? But did you tell me to do it instead?”

“Ah, that is, my, fiancée. Ugh… !”

“That’s my daughter, dude.”

When I said it as if lamenting with a mixture of moans, my father added playfully. Seeing us like this, the man grumbled instead of getting a tattoo.

“Ah, brother. Don’t be funny What are you going to do if it gets twisted?”

“Be patient, ma’am. What kind of professionalism do you have?”

“I don’t think I’m a pro, it’s my father… ! It really hurts… !”

“Puha?!”

“Huh?!”

The two of them laughed at my painful words. I was slightly proud of this fact, but frowned at the constant pain rising from the inside of my wrist.

“By the way, do you do this without anesthesia? Oh, it hurts so bad… !”

“Originally, I apply an anesthetic ointment. Because it hurts so much.”

“Yes yes?”

“But that gentleman told me to leave it out when making a reservation.”

Of course, the person the uncle pointed to with a glance, saying that he was a nobleman, was my father. Realizing that I had heard it for the first time, I raised my voice and called out to him.

“Father!”

“Huh? Why? Did you think we could get our daughter without pain?”

“No, aaaaa… !”

When I was still flirting with the Demon King, I met my father through a video call. At that time, I called my father an intelligent and kind person even if he was clumsy. But now there was no such devil.

“Ah, that’s nice. Oh right. Sehee told me to take a picture of this.”

“Father?!”

“Uh, why? Son-in-law. Why.”

At one time, she cried and asked her son to come in, but now she captured the pain of her son in the lens of her smartphone camera.

“Son-in-law. How much it hurts.”

“Ah, it really hurts… !”

“Ah, does it hurt more than being shot?”

“It’s different from that, ugh!”

“The bullet is 7.62mm, and this is only the thickness of the lead?”

“Gee, good quality over quality, ugh… !”

It was a completely different pain from being shot. If bullets were burning hot from deep inside and the pain rising up, this was the pain of being stabbed thousands of times in a row with a tiny needle.

“Whoa, come on. End.”

After about 30 minutes of being stabbed in pain, the man finally let go of my wrist. He turned off the power of the pen he used for tattooing and smiled.

“But it’s holding up very well. It hurts a lot here.”

“Yes? But didn’t you do it without anesthesia?”

“Because the nobleman told me not to do it. When making a reservation.”

“No, my father really…”

While grumbling, I left the seat where my father was standing earlier. He couldn’t stand still because of the lengthy time and was away.

I raised my wrist, which was still burning, thinking of my father in the waiting room. Her wrist, which had been clean until she entered the tattoo shop, had Trump’s Joker card drawn on it.

The code name JOKER: 35 written upside down, the clown painted in black and white in the center, and the borders of the card are neat and straight. This was proof that I had killed an enemy codenamed Joker 35 on the battlefield.

Of course, that day was not my first. Even in a place where magic and arrows flew instead of bullets, I fought to the point where my teeth trembled. In return, I met the Demon King, and through that, I met Sehee, Minah, and Taeyeon.

“Still, there should be one of these.”

Like the words I muttered now, I thought I needed at least some evidence to remember that time. Because I couldn’t casually forget the lives I had taken.

“Oh, Jiheon.”

My uncle called me when I was lost in thought. He pulled his smart phone out of his trouser pocket and shook it slightly.

“May I take a picture?”

“A picture?”

“Uh. It is a great honor that you came here, and also to promote the store.”

“Uh…”

Seeing my hesitation, the man winked lightly as if he knew.

“Okay. Be sure to do it next time! I’ll apply an anesthetic ointment and do it.”

“I have no intention of getting that tattoo again.”

“No way. Do it again, you Absolutely do it again I bet you.”

“Because I don’t.”

He smiled at the man who spoke confidently. Then he told me the answer to the request he heard earlier.

“You’re not taking a picture, are you?”

“Then. But will your face be known?”

“It’s better not to upload it.”

When I went missing, photos of me and Hyeon-soo were exposed on the news. Thanks to (?), I got a pointless look, and I shook my head to reduce it a little bit.

“I won’t do it if your face comes out.”

“Okay. Originally, it was only going to be filmed here. Now, touch me.”

I lightly clenched my fist and held out my arm as instructed. Of course, with the inside of the wrist up so that the tattoo you just applied can be seen clearly.

“Here you go.”

“Oh, thank you thank you”

Click! Click click!

Even though the red aura remained on the border, the man took the picture without hesitation. At this time, my father, who had been absent for a while, returned.

“Uh? Hey. Are you done? But what are you doing? Picture?”

“Uh.”

Click click

The man who answered lightly said after taking a few more pictures.

“I’m going to take a picture of this and hang it on the wall.”

“Okay? Uh, that’s good.”

My father nodded nonchalantly, came next to him and looked down at the tattoo he had just made. He looked down with his hands behind his back and asked me with a slightly raised face.

“How are you, son-in-law? Are you a pro here?”

“Yes. It sounds like a pro.”

As the uncle put his smartphone away, I answered by lowering his arm.

“Seeing that they never apply anesthetic ointment if you pay for it, you are a professional.”

“Fuhaha?!”

“Then what do you do? I already started.”

My father burst into bread and the uncle pretended to be unfair and wept.

“If you rub while applying ointment, it will all smudge.”

Putting the smartphone back into his pants pocket, the old man looked around him briefly. Then, it was the rap that stretched out his arm and held it.

“Why is that?”

“I told you. If you rub it, it will all smear.”

Uncle Unfolding the wrap he uses when wrapping food, he explained how he should do it.

“There are holes in my skin right now, but germs and dust can’t get in. I’m going to wrap it up like this and block it.”

As soon as I finished speaking, he started wrapping my wrists. He wrapped the tattoo a few times and then cut his wrap with scissors. Then he said, taking off the gloves he had been wearing.

“Wait for two or three hours, then unwind, and don’t take a shower for a while. It’s especially good if you don’t do it for a week, and no matter how bad it is, don’t do it for two or three days. For about 3 weeks, just wash it off with just water. Don’t rub too hard.”

“Yes. I will be careful.”

“Okay. And if you come up with blisters or rashes, call me right away. The contact information will be with that person.”

“That person.”

When the uncle pointed with his chin, the father smiled in a huff. He looked at his wrapped wrist and nodded happily.

“Yeah, good.”

“It hurts a lot, Father.”

“What kind of bullshit?”

“But, brother.”

The uncle called the laughing father. The uncle asked, throwing his stripped glove into his trash can.

“Can I engrave something like this on my son-in-law? What does your in-law say?”

“It’s okay, ma’am. You allowed it.”

“Nevertheless it is. You’re going to be damned if your daughter gets a tattoo.”

“What’s wrong with the son-in-law?” …”

My father, who ordered his son-in-law to get a tattoo without anesthetic ointment, threw a scolding. And then he shouted with a frown on his face as if to tell him not to talk nonsense.

“Hey. I say my daughters want to do it? I’ll give you money instead and ask you to do it. Are you okay?”