TRPM 88

chapter 88

The British Museum Terror Incident

Even though it was nighttime, several people were still moving about inside the British Museum, investigating the aftermath of the terrorist attack.

“(So here… the machine gun fired. About three shots?)”

Among them was someone who seemed to be reconstructing the events of the incident.

“(And the kid erased every single bullet that came flying at him.)”

He wasn’t even a psychometry ability user, yet with only the faintest traces left at the scene, he was able to piece together what had happened almost perfectly.

“(I don’t know exactly how he erased the bullets… but after that, the kid drove his fist right into the face of the terrorist in power armor who had fired the machine gun.)”

He reenacted the terrorist’s staggering movements after being struck by Han Gunwoo.

“(…And then the kid must have knocked out the others nearby as well.)”

After that, Han Gunwoo heard voices from the terrorist’s radio and began silently subduing the terrorists in other exhibition halls.

“(This part is what I just can’t understand.)”

The reason he had been reenacting the scene for a while now.

“(How in the world did that kid manage to take down all those terrorists without anyone noticing him?)”

He wasn’t suspicious of Han Gunwoo himself.
But he couldn’t grasp how the boy had managed to evade every terrorist’s senses.

“(Even if he’s an Aura Master, at the end of the day, he’s still an aura user, isn’t he?)”

Aura.

In Korea, thanks to the influence of fantasy novels, the word usually meant the energy that strengthened the body or enhanced the sharpness of a sword.

But the word itself came from English. And in English, aura referred to something entirely different: the unique atmosphere or presence radiated from one’s body. An aura of dignity that couldn’t be faked.

“(No matter how skilled, aura users naturally leak presence. It should be hard for an Aura Master to hide themselves completely….)”

The stronger one’s level, the more overpowering the aura they gave off. Suppressing it was possible, but for an Aura Master to suppress it so completely that no one even noticed them until every terrorist was down…

“(…Could anyone really pull that off?)”

He couldn’t make sense of it.

Because—

“(I’m an Aura Master too.)”

The man reconstructing the crime scene was none other than London’s own Aura Master.
And he knew better than most just how difficult it was to hide the presence of aura.

That’s why Han Gunwoo’s actions earlier that day felt so strange to him.

Not impossible in theory—if Han Gunwoo had the ability to completely conceal his aura and presence, despite being an Aura Master…

“(…Then that would mean he’s stronger than me.)”

From a distance, he had judged Han Gunwoo to be a boy who had only just reached the level of Aura Master.

But if that was a deliberate act?
If Han Gunwoo had been faking weakness and intentionally letting some aura show?

“(…Does Korea really have something special going on?)”

Considering how many extraordinary figures and unique ability users had been appearing in Korea recently, such a thought came naturally.

“(Tallying complete, sir.)”

One of the museum staff approached and reported.

“(And the results?)”

“(Only three relics were damaged. And even those seem to have been broken by civilians escaping in the chaos, not by the terrorists.)”

“(Makes sense. The terrorists’ target was the relics, after all.)”

The relics had to remain intact—stealing broken artifacts was meaningless.

So, none of the relics the terrorists had tried to seize were harmed.

In short, the museum’s damages were limited to three broken relics, some destroyed security systems, and fallen guards.

There had been casualties, but considering the scale of the terror attack, the damage was relatively minor.

“(The Association will cover compensation first, then file claims against whichever country supplied the terrorists, right?)”

“(Yes… that’s the plan.)”

Since Arthur had retrieved one of the power armors, identifying its country of origin shouldn’t have been difficult. At least, that’s what they all assumed.

But when the experts actually examined it—

“(…What? You can’t trace it to any country?)”

“(Yes. Especially the power core—it’s nearly impossible to trace. The components follow international standards, but that’s it. Any nation researching power armor could make it, even small companies, if they had enough money.)”

“(Then we just trace the funding. No way the terrorists got that for free….)”

“(That too seems impossible. Whoever’s behind it deliberately covered their tracks. Shell companies, hidden transfers—it’s all designed to erase the money trail.)”

And even if they did manage to track it—

“(If anyone can build it anywhere, there’s no way to prove the origin. They can just deny everything.)”

“(Haah….)”

Listening to the experts, William, head of the London Awakener Association, felt dizzy.

“(What about the captured terrorists? Any confessions?)”

“(Some talked, but none knew exactly who provided the armor. Only the higher-ups in their organization did.)”

And of course, none of the higher-ups had taken part in the attack.

Meaning—there was no way to investigate the true benefactors behind the terrorists.

After arriving in England, I’d gone through sparring with the Elliot siblings, then the terrorist attack at the British Museum.

But after that, thankfully, things had gone smoothly.

My mother and I were able to enjoy sightseeing in peace.

Our guide? Rachel.

Since the day of the attack, Arthur hadn’t shown up before us.

“Where’s Arthur?” I asked.

“He’s busy dealing with the aftermath of the attack. They’re also discussing your compensation, since you stopped it from causing any civilian casualties.”

…That made me feel a little sorry for both Arthur and Rachel.

I already felt guilty for intruding on their time as a couple about to be married, and now Arthur was too busy to even stay by Rachel’s side.

“I’m fine,” Rachel said.

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

Hard to believe, but she meant it.

“When I was hospitalized, it was like this too. Arthur’s always been the one earning money outside, while I welcome him back home. More importantly….”

The reason Arthur was obsessed with money was because of me.

“Buying mana potions to extend my lifespan costs a fortune.”

So how could she resent him for working hard, when it was all for her sake?

“I just greet him warmly when he comes home.”

“…I see. You really are okay.”

“Yes, of course.”

Hearing her, my mother realized Rachel wasn’t pretending. She was genuinely proud of Arthur.

‘If anything, she’d be disappointed if Arthur skipped work just to spend more time with her.’

Thanks to Rachel’s guidance, my mother and I were able to wrap up our turbulent London trip pleasantly.

And then—

“(Bride and groom, please enter.)”

Arthur and Rachel’s wedding was held at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.

Normally used for royal weddings and state funerals, the grandeur of the place was overwhelming.

Arthur had asked me to serve as pageboy, but instead Rachel’s nephews took the role.

Looking around…

‘…The bride’s guests look intimidated compared to the groom’s.’

It wasn’t surprising. On the groom’s side sat high-ranking London Awakeners and even members of the royal family.

The bride’s side, by contrast, was just her family and friends—ordinary people.

Well, except me.

Sitting with my mother among Rachel’s guests, I noticed some of the groom’s guests sneaking glances at me.

Those who’d realized I was an Aura Master—stronger than Arthur, no less.

That subtle tension seemed to embolden Rachel’s side; with the groom’s guests acting cautious, the bride’s guests relaxed and enjoyed the ceremony.

‘So that’s why Arthur asked me to sit here….’

If I had sat with his guests, Rachel’s people might not have been able to enjoy the wedding.

He’d used me a little, but I decided to count it as my wedding gift.

“(The bride and groom will now exit.)”

As I was thinking, the ceremony drew to its close.

The couple linked arms and walked down the aisle.

…It still felt strange to see a human marrying a doll, but if they were happy, that was enough.

After the wedding, my mother and I planned to return to Korea.

“(Wait a second…!)”

Just as we were about to leave the cathedral, someone stopped us.

“(Han Gunwoo! Let’s spar again!)”

“……”

It was Elliot, the one I had sparred with on my first day in London.

I had expected to see him again, but not for him to challenge me right now.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time.

…Hmm. Tight schedule, but I couldn’t ignore him.

“(Sorry, but I don’t have much time before my flight. Let’s finish this quickly.)”

“(What!?)”

A short while later—

I knocked Elliot out cold with a single strike, then made it to the airport with my mother in time for our flight.