Chapter 10: Former warrior Liam (3)

The day Liam crashed the live news broadcast, I didn’t turn on the TV.

I couldn’t. Liam’s antics had drawn too much attention, and I had to handle the fallout first.

“Hello.”

A guest arrived shortly after the chaos.

“Hello again. I’m Ha In-ha,” said the NIS agent I’d met before.

I didn’t bother asking how he knew my address. I’d be disappointed if the NIS couldn’t even track me down.

“It’s not my house, but welcome.”

I led Ha In-ha to the table and sat him down. I considered offering tea but remembered his prior rudeness and opted for water instead. He gulped it down, clearly thirsty.

Liam, fresh from his stunt, sat beside me as I faced Ha In-ha. The agent’s stern voice cut through.

“Let’s get to the point. You’ve caused a mess. How will you fix it?”

Fix it? He clearly didn’t know Liam. I’d been there once too. Smiling, I replied, “Let me be clear: my husband doesn’t care about consequences. Keep that in mind.”

Ha In-ha gaped, speechless. “By the way, Liam wrote the sky message.”

“…I can tell just by looking at him,” he said, glaring at Liam, who was unfazed.

“Clytia, how about that kiss we missed?” Liam teased.

“Quiet. We’re talking.”

Liam, as always, had zero sense of decorum. Polite only to me and our old warrior party, he was naturally brash to everyone else. Ha In-ha had picked the wrong target.

“Mr. Liam Erams, answer my questions clearly.”

“No.”

“You’re refusing? We can only resolve this if you cooperate.”

“Why should I? I could take on your entire military.”

It was a bluff. In this mana-scarce world, even Liam couldn’t unleash his full power. The odds were in his favor, but I stayed silent—there was no need to interrupt.

Liam gripped my hand and grumbled, “If you want to talk, bring your boss. The President, was it? Get him.”

Ha In-ha fell silent, sensing Liam’s reckless, near-untouchable strength. His barely-contained frustration signaled we could negotiate.

“Mr. Ha In-ha, I’m sorry,” I said gently. “My husband’s always been impulsive. Please forgive him.”

His expression softened slightly. The “Good Pope, Bad Warrior” tactic worked. If I kept this up, things would go smoothly.

“As you see, Liam’s hard to control. He only listens to me. That must be tough for the government, wanting to keep him in check.”

“…I understand,” Ha In-ha said, pulling documents from his bag. He handed them over, outlining returnee benefits.

I skimmed them—grandiose but empty perks. “This isn’t necessary,” I said, setting them aside. “It’s long and hollow. Because I’m the first returnee?”

“Embarrassingly, yes,” Ha In-ha admitted. “With no set protocol, we’re improvising.”

Perfect. I could set the precedent.

“Let’s make this quick. I’ll list my demands. Meet them, and I’ll keep Liam on a leash.”

“If they’re not too outrageous, I’ll convince my superiors,” Ha In-ha replied, surprisingly cooperative. He likely saw me as the reasonable one compared to Liam.

‘Liam effect in full swing.’

His presence made opponents accept worse terms just to avoid dealing with him. I fiddled with Liam’s hand and listed my demands. Ha In-ha diligently noted everything, even slipping in an unreasonable request he didn’t catch.

“Understood. I’ll be in touch,” he said, pocketing his notebook and standing. At the door, he paused. “When will the sky message disappear?”

“Soon.”

“Good…” He sighed in relief.

My top demand was citizenship for Liam and the kids—Korean nationality. It was urgent, so I pushed for quick processing. Japan had granted citizenship to returnee families, but as Korea’s first, approval might take time.

‘No choice.’

It’d take a while, but resolving this eased my mind.

Despite Ha In-ha’s efforts, Liam’s stunt wasn’t easily smoothed over. It was too big to brush aside, though the mood wasn’t overly serious—just intensely focused.

‘The attention’s wild.’

Reading a news article on Seoyoon’s phone, I saw: “‘Touch My Wife, You’re Done’—Returnee’s Husband Wreaks Havoc on Broadcast.”

The piece criticized Liam, arguing for regulations on returnees and their families’ powers. Reasonable, but the comments were largely negative.

– Reporter, how do you stop him? Got a plan?

The top comment challenged the journalist, with similar sentiments below. Everyone agreed: Liam’s antics needed curbing, but it was impossible. It boiled down to relying on his conscience.

‘Conscience… he has one.’

Liam, a former Hero, wouldn’t harm innocent civilians. But if someone “sinned” by badmouthing me? He’d probably pinpoint their location and swoop in. Internet anonymity meant nothing—his magic could pierce even advanced networks.

“He can trace IPs?” Seoyoon’s eyes widened as I explained Liam’s capabilities.

“He says he’s done it.”

“He’s not actually going to hunt down everyone who insults you, right? Just a warning?”

“…”

“He’s serious?”

Liam never bluffed.

“Seoyoon, he’s a man of his word. If I stream now, trolls will show up.”

“True.”

So, we decided to pause streaming until the hype cooled. It was a tough call. Going live now would draw thousands, with all eyes on me. But I needed to filter out fleeting curiosity.

My fame was a mirage—grand but temporary.

“Now do you get it?” I said, steeping green tea in hot water. It was growing on me.

“Not quite,” Seoyoon replied, frowning.

I’d explained why frequent streaming was bad, but she didn’t grasp it yet. Fair enough.

“Let me simplify.” I grabbed two zero-sugar colas from the fridge and popped them open. The twins scampered over.

“Cola!”

“Zerooo!”

They loved the fizzy kick, a cute reason. “Drink slowly,” I said, handing them the cans, then turned to Seoyoon.

“The attention on me is like the foam when you pour cola. It’s not tasty or refreshing—just there, unnecessary.”

“That’s the public’s interest in you?”

“Exactly.”

First returnee, wild stunts, good looks—varied reasons, all fleeting.

I wanted more than that—stable, meaningful fame.

“I want the cola itself, the crisp liquid that delivers the zing.”

Seoyoon pondered, then said, “So, you want to build solid popularity?”

“More precisely, prestige.”

Not just a spectacle-driven returnee, but an honorable Pope. I needed to shed casual gawkers and secure devoted fans.

“That’s how I’ll earn steadily. Less money now, but it’ll shine later.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Seoyoon chuckled, leaning back, deflated by my pragmatic conclusion.

I didn’t want to obsess over money. My saintly integrity made wealth-chasing uncomfortable, but this world demanded it. Without money, both mind and body suffered.

As a mother of two daughters and a son, my priorities had shifted. For our family’s happy future, I had to be rational.

“I won’t chase short-lived profits.”

“So, no streaming for a few days?”

“Yes.”

She finally got it. I smiled and sipped my tea. Seoyoon watched, then grinned mischievously.

“You haven’t changed, Oppa. Always overthinking the negative.”

“As Park Siwoo, maybe,” I muttered, focusing on the tea’s taste, embarrassed by the old memories.

Her playful tone continued. “You’re a bit different now. Less pessimistic, more cautious.”

“What’s your point?”

“I get your worries, but are they necessary?”

She grabbed my hand, her warmth spreading. “Your fame won’t fizzle out. Even if another returnee appears, you’ll keep drawing eyes.”

“Based on what?”

She nodded confidently, glancing at the sofa. “Look at him.”

Liam lounged, engrossed in the TV, scratching his thigh—a particularly unflattering sight.

I stared at the carefree ex-Hero and laughed. “True, with Liam, we’ll stay in the spotlight.”

He wasn’t just any Hero—a genius troublemaker who instinctively sparked attention.

With him, my fame wouldn’t fade. Good or bad? Probably bad.

“Why did I fall for him?” I sighed.

“No idea,” Seoyoon replied.

We laughed together, chatting about Liam.

“He has to appear on the next stream.”

“Definitely. He’s caused too much chaos.”

“Just a brief cameo. Who knows what he’ll do.”

Thus, the next stream’s plan was set.

Friday evening, a favorite for office workers. I titled the stream:

[A broadcast where chatting wrong could put your life in danger]

A half-joking title, but it fit.

The internet was still buzzing. X posts exploded with clips of Liam’s TV stunt, the angel, and the sky message. Comments ranged from awe to memes.

– Pope’s husband is unhinged lol

– Hunting haters? Sign me up

– This family’s a reality show

Seoyoon prepped the charity stream setup. “Donations for blessings, all to shelters. Ready for thousands of viewers?”

I nodded, glancing at Liam, who was playing with the twins. “Keep him on a short leash.”

She smirked. “You’ll need a miracle for that.”

As I readied the stream, I felt the weight of the moment. This wasn’t just about views—it was about building the church’s legacy. The Goddess’s will, Liam’s chaos, and my resolve would shape what came next.