Chapter 34

Pressing two fingers to his temple, Eui-rim set the glossy booklet down. It wasn’t his personal money on the line, so he had no real reason to stress over the cost—yet knowing any borrowed artifact had to be returned intact once the raid concluded made choosing one feel like a crushing responsibility.

“Guild Master,” a soft voice called out.

A flight attendant standing across the aisle leaned forward respectfully. She was an employee of the charter airline partnering with Cheongho Guild, assigned specifically to their private jet flights.

“We will be landing in ten minutes,” she informed him.

“Already?” Hae-gun murmured.

Clicking his tongue, Hae-gun thrust the catalog back into Eui-rim’s lap. “Make sure you pick something before we reach the gate.”

Settling back into his leather seat, Eui-rim listened to the chime announce their final descent. Watching the coastline of Jeju Island expand beneath the clouds, he hurriedly scanned the pages once more. As Hae-gun had ordered, he needed to make a choice before they arrived at Utopia.

In the end, he failed to make a selection.

Because magic-stone-embedded gear was typically calibrated for combat hunters with a baseline Strength stat of 5 or higher, the pieces were brutally heavy for a D-rank. Whenever Eui-rim found an artifact light enough to wear, its defensive output proved lackluster, only deepening his dilemma.

Ideally, he would have preferred multiple layered wards, but equipping too many enchanted items agitated ambient dungeon mana. Gear embedded with concentrated magic stones frequently caused ‘dungeon resonance,’ making it hazardous to equip more than two items at a time.

“We have arrived,” the lodging manager announced from the driver’s seat.

Thanks to the escort vehicle dispatched to meet them at the private runway, reaching their destination had taken very little time. Lowering the catalog from his face, Eui-rim let out a weary groan.

I had no idea I was this indecisive. I’m learning all sorts of unflattering things about myself today.

“Still haven’t chosen?” Hae-gun asked, glancing over.

“…No,” Eui-rim admitted sheepishly.

Hae-gun laughed at his hesitation. Given how much time Eui-rim had spent agonizing over the pages, the empty-handed result seemed to genuinely amuse the Guild Master.

“I apologize,” Eui-rim muttered. “I didn’t realize I was this bad at making decisions.”

“It’s fine. I’ll have Moonhyuk pick out something suitable,” Hae-gun said, unbuckling. “Let’s get out first.”

“…Understood,” Eui-rim replied.

Stepping out of the vehicle behind Hae-gun, a ferocious gale slammed directly into Eui-rim’s chest. While Jeju was notoriously windy, this tempest carried a supernatural bite far beyond natural weather.

Flanked by Hae-gun and Ahn Moonhyuk, Eui-rim watched a vast field of silver grass ripple beyond an ancient basalt wall. Utopia lay at the far edge of the meadow, where two towering stone totems stood guard before the dungeon gate.

“Guild Master,” Moonhyuk called out suddenly, stopping.

At the burly hunter’s warning, the group ground to a halt.

The moment they saw the gate—which was supposed to be wide open—sealed tight, their bodies tensed.

“Did you receive any update from the Association?” Moonhyuk asked.

Hae-gun shook his head. He clearly hadn’t anticipated this either; sharp irritation flickered across his eyes.

Hae-gun resumed his stride toward the gate. Since there were personnel on standby who could explain the situation, there was no reason to wait.

“Hey there!” Moonhyuk hailed them.

As expected, members of the Moonseong Guild were stationed by the perimeter. At Moonhyuk’s call, they turned around in unison. Eui-rim recognized several of their core officers from industry news, but his eyes instantly locked onto the figure standing front and center. The moment he saw that squat, imposing silhouette, he knew it was Yuk Do-hwan.

Yuk Do-hwan looked exactly as rumors described: heavily built, low-slung, and reminiscent of a squat toad. Unflattering features aside, even his irises carried the brassy, metallic sheen characteristic of high-tier curse mages, radiating a distinctly reptilian chill.

They say physiognomy reflects character. The rumors certainly didn’t exaggerate.

Noticing the tension in Eui-rim’s jaw, Hae-gun leaned in close and whispered, “If you’re going to laugh, get it out of your system now. Once we reach them, keep your face completely neutral. Just stay deadpan like you usually do.” Eui-rim blinked in surprise at the bizarre warning. Hae-gun chuckled under his breath, straightening his posture. “He can’t stand people laughing in his presence—especially someone with a face like yours, Eui-rim-ssi.”

Given the warning, Hae-gun himself was grinning far too brazenly, which made Eui-rim uneasy; still, he doubted the advice was unfounded. Provoking a volatile A-rank curse mage served no one.

Scanning the perimeter, Hae-gun casually pulled off his disguise mask the moment they reached the gate. It was a fluid, effortless motion, starkly contrasting with his insistence on wearing it even inside Cheongho headquarters.

“You crazy bastard! I told you to give a warning before taking that damn thing off!” Yuk Do-hwan snarled.

Yuk Do-hwan’s raspy roar echoed across the silver grass, protesting Hae-gun’s unmasking before pleasantries could even be exchanged.

Yet the reaction was strangely muted. Despite Hae-gun exposing his true appearance, the Moonseong hunters held their ground. While they avoided direct eye contact with the S-rank hunter, none showed the panicked urge to flee that Eui-rim had witnessed at the health center.

Even more surprising was Ahn Moonhyuk. Back in Seoul, Moonhyuk had practically jumped out of his skin at the mere thought of Hae-gun removing the mask. Yet here near the dungeon entrance, he looked entirely relaxed.

“It’s fine once you reach the perimeter,” Moonhyuk muttered quietly.

Catching Eui-rim’s bewildered stare, Moonhyuk scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed grimace.

“Near an active dungeon, the ambient mana suppresses the Guild Master’s aura,” Moonhyuk explained in a low voice. “Once we step inside the gate, you barely feel the pressure at all.”

“An oppressive aura?” Eui-rim repeated.

Eui-rim blinked, unfamiliar with the sensation. Moonhyuk watched Hae-gun confront the Moonseong contingent and nodded.

“Yeah. High-tier combatants or people with S-rank mental barriers can withstand it, but fundamentally, our Guild Master’s ambient presence is far heavier than any other S-rank’s. It feels like your chest is being crushed under deep water. Dealing with him outside of combat zones is genuinely exhausting.”

“And wearing the mask neutralizes that pressure?” Eui-rim asked.

“Completely,” Moonhyuk confirmed.

Eui-rim had heard Hae-gun’s explanation about the uncanny valley and understood the artifact muffled his aura, but he had never imagined seasoned hunters found his unfiltered presence this unbearable. Seeing veteran A-ranks visibly recoil was eye-opening.

Could my inability to feel that pressure be connected to why the disguise artifact didn’t fool me?

Why don’t I feel terrified around him? Dismissing it as a perk of [Shackles of Oblivion] doesn’t make sense—I never felt that suffocating terror in my previous timeline either, did I?

Lost in thought, Eui-rim came to a stop a few paces back from the gate. Watching the tense standoff between Hae-gun and Yuk Do-hwan, he deliberately kept his distance. Getting caught in the crossfire between two guild masters was an invitation to disaster.

“Do-hwan-ah,” Hae-gun said, his tone deceptively pleasant. “I recall telling you to contact me the second conditions changed. Did your secretary forget how to use a phone?”

So the messenger who visited the guild earlier was Yuk Do-hwan’s secretary.

Yuk Do-hwan’s face flushed an ugly purple. Glaring at Hae-gun, he barked, “You think I kept quiet on purpose?! The damn thing sealed itself out of nowhere! What was I supposed to do? We were scared shitless ourselves!”

“When exactly did it seal?” Hae-gun asked, his voice hardening.

“Right before you showed up!” Do-hwan snapped. “A freak gust of wind ripped through the meadow, and the gate slammed shut on its own!”

“Did you attempt to enter?” Hae-gun asked.

“When it was still open earlier, our vanguard tried,” a female officer beside Do-hwan offered cautiously. “A system error flashed stating we lacked raid authorization, and an invisible barrier repelled us.”

Hae-gun’s expression darkened. Looking down at Yuk Do-hwan, he said cold and low, “Why were your people snooping around the gate in the first place? I paid you an exorbitant fee to vacate the perimeter. Have you already forgotten that you signed away raid rights?”

“The more I thought about the settlement, the more I realized you swindled us!” Do-hwan shouted back. “Giving up a golden-egg-laying goose for pocket change—”

“If the goose was so precious, you shouldn’t have mismanaged it into an emergency buyout,” Hae-gun cut in ruthlessly.

Cut off mid-rant, Yuk Do-hwan choked on his fury. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, trembling with rage.

Is it really wise to antagonize a high-tier curse mage like that? The debuffs cast by Yuk Do-hwan and his clan were infamous for causing agonizing torment. Then again, does an S-rank even notice such curses?

“Hm?” Eui-rim murmured.

A bizarre, electric prickle grazed the nape of his neck.

Freezing in place, Eui-rim turned toward the gate. A faint, unfamiliar engraving etched into the stone archway caught his eye.

Drawn toward the threshold as if magnetized, Eui-rim watched the sigil resolve into focus. It depicted two equilateral triangles touching apex-to-apex—one upright, the other inverted. At first glance, it resembled a stylized hourglass.

Was that always carved there?

Eui-rim reached out and traced the shallow groove with his fingertips. The crude geometric carving radiated an unsettling, discordant hum.

The etched lines were the unmistakable source of the unseen gaze he had sensed.

“Wait…” Eui-rim breathed.

Fine, luminescent granules suddenly materialized inside the inverted triangle, trickling downward like falling sand. As though an actual hourglass had awakened, pitch-black particles began streaming through the narrow intersection.

Creeeak

The heavy grind of ancient stone rang out the instant the black granules accumulated to the size of a coin.

“Eui-rim-ssi?!” Hae-gun shouted, whirling around.

The monolithic doors wrenched apart, and tendrils of iridescent, holographic light erupted from the threshold, snaking around Eui-rim’s torso.

Eui-rim whipped around to see Hae-gun lunging toward him at blinding speed.

Yet before the Guild Master’s outstretched hand could grasp his wrist, reality unraveled in a brilliant flash.

“…” A suffocating silence swallowed the blinding light.

When his vision cleared, Eui-rim was standing inside a pitch-black subterranean bunker.

Eui-rim swallowed hard, his fists trembling as visceral panic seized him. The cold, metallic stench was sickeningly, intimately familiar.

Against his conscious will, his feet moved forward. Propelled by an unseen force, he was already deep within the subterranean passage by the time he regained control.

Slumped at the far end of the corridor was that man.

The Seo Hae-gun of his previous timeline—the broken vessel for the Shadow—sat staring into the void with hollow detachment.

Thud!

A violent tremor shook the passage. Gravity inverted for a split second, and Eui-rim found himself collapsed onto the concrete floor beside the dying hunter.

Eui-rim forced his chin up, following the ruined hunter’s lifeless gaze down the dark tunnel.