Chapter 59

Bzzzz

Just as he was turning over future contingencies in his mind, his smartphone vibrated.

Right as he debated whether to carry Eui-rim to the bedroom, the device resting on the dining table buzzed insistently.

Hae-gun released the soft strands of Eui-rim’s hair he had unconsciously been stroking and rose to his feet. He could have sworn he had formed a fist, yet he had no idea when his fingers had returned to twirling those dark locks.

Glancing at the illuminated screen, he saw the name of someone who had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning.

Hae-gun answered the call, his voice slipping into familiar ease. “Yeah. Did you wrap things up?”

—“This cleanup was a headache in an entirely different sense. Please stop causing incidents, Guild Master. At this rate, I’m genuinely going to go bald.”

Hearing his Vice Guild Master’s exasperated groan, Hae-gun smiled faintly. That particular complaint meant she had resolved everything without a hitch, as always. Without hiding his amusement, he teased her.

“Seonha-ya. They say even an F-rank’s hair follicles turn as tough as nylon fishing line. An A-rank worrying about hair loss sounds like a humble brag, don’t you think?”

—“It was a figure of speech. Anyway, I’ve handled everything you assigned. I wiped the hallway surveillance footage as well as the lobby logs.”

“Good. Well done. You worked hard,” Hae-gun said.

—“By the way, what made you go so far as to breach protocol? Even the Association personnel seemed quite rattled.”

“Mmm. It was an urgent situation,” Hae-gun replied.

Lacking a suitable excuse, he glossed over the detail, drawing a weary sigh through the receiver. While stepping out without a mask was not an explicit crime in itself, under New Humanity law it technically constituted ‘intimidation via overwhelming aura,’ making it a politically thorny violation.

The Korean branch of the International Hunter Association had been established several years after the Guardians withdrew from Mount Gamak. At the time, the Association had signed bilateral accords with various entities, including the government, as prerequisites for establishing its domestic authority. Among those pacts, the core agreement struck with Cheongho Guild stood as follows:

1. First: Cheongho Guild shall not pressure Association personnel through excessive displays of martial force or intimidation.
2. Second: Cheongho Guild and the IHA Korean Branch shall never infringe upon each other’s respective jurisdictions, nor interfere with the methods of dungeon management.
3. Third: Cheongho Guild’s roster shall consist of no more than eight members, composed entirely of high-tier combatants.
4. Fourth: On the premise that the third condition is met, the International Hunter Association shall not interfere in domestic Korean affairs. Entry of the Guardians remaining within the Association is strictly prohibited.
5. Fifth: On the premise that the third condition is met, the IHA Korean Branch shall commit no acts harmful to the national interest. In the event of a violation, appropriate penalties shall be imposed, determined by consensus between the Korean Government, the Republic of Korea Hunter Guild Committee, and domestic legal authorities regarding New Humanity.

Naturally, numerous secondary clauses existed as well. Governing revenue sharing and joint oversight protocols with the ministry, a dense thicket of covenants bound the two powers in mutual deadlock.

Yet those five fundamental articles were famous because they had forged Cheongho into the sovereign powerhouse it was today. Supported by public reverence—the widespread belief that Cheongho was more dependable than the state and its Guild Master more authoritative than the president—the guild had claimed preeminence atop the Guild Committee as the guardian of domestic security.

For that reason, those terms had been meticulously honored without a single public breach. Though political friction had softened over the years, Hae-gun had never given the Association cause to cry foul.

At least, not until this morning, when he arrived at the hospital corridor after receiving Eui-rim’s desperate call.

—“What on earth was so urgent that you had to pull off your mask in a public corridor?” Seonha pressed.

“I had to keep them from entering the restroom,” Hae-gun said.

—“Pardon?”

“Kang Eui-rim had collapsed inside.”

Hearing that Eui-rim was trapped in the restroom unable to seek help, Hae-gun had diverted the crowd, knowing the healer was in no condition to be seen. When Association personnel caught the scent of blood and began gathering outside the door, Hae-gun had unmasked under the pretense of greeting them, using his overwhelming aura to drive them away.

He hadn’t anticipated that Eui-rim would be lying in such a horrifying state.

—“It was fortunate the investigators on-site were sympathetic to Cheongho, or this could have exploded into a major scandal,” Seonha warned. —“Please don’t hand them leverage, at least not until after the Tower of Time raid.”

“…”

Replaying the morning’s events caused cold fury to crawl up his spine once more. The dead silence that had met his repeated calls. The moment he tracked the faint vibration through the tiled corridor. And the thick, copper stench radiating from behind the locked stall door. The memory remained so vivid that even thinking about it ignited sharp irritation.

He barely remembered what shred of composure had kept him from tearing the entire wall apart. When the door gave way, he had found that pale, bloodless face sprawled on the tile, nose and lips painted in dark crimson.

Those half-lidded eyes, jolted open by the crash, had wandered unfocused for several seconds. In hindsight, the way Eui-rim stared into blank air meant he had been reading a status window. Oblivious to his own critical condition, the fool had likely been checking his newly unlocked skill.

—“Guild Master? Are you listening?”

Only at her sharp prompt did Hae-gun surface from the memory. He clicked his tongue softly, massaging his temple. To lose his focus in the middle of a briefing was absurdly unlike him.

“Sorry. Go ahead,” Hae-gun said.

—“I’m telling you to be careful before they find a pretext to revoke our raid rights.”

“Mmm. Point taken,” Hae-gun conceded.

There was no need to ask which raid permit she meant.

The Tower of Time. <

Hae-gun knew better than anyone the sheer labor and political capital he had expended to secure that permit.

Top guilds from across the globe had abandoned the dungeon after catastrophic wipeouts, and the Association’s international directors had only conceded authorization through gritted teeth. Just as Seonha warned, avoiding any misstep that could jeopardize that permit was imperative.

“I’ll keep that in mind, so don’t worry,” Hae-gun said. “By the way, did you look into the Isolation Ward? I heard Kim Si-hoon regained consciousness.”

—“Ah, yes. Chaeyoon reported that negotiations concluded smoothly. I received the summary moments ago.”

“What did White Noise say?” Hae-gun asked.

—“The Association considers Hunter Yoo Tae-geun their final line of defense anyway. If the rescue team fails, they’ve agreed to grant Cheongho temporary entry rights upon consultation with White Noise. However…”

“However?” Hae-gun prompted.

—“I don’t know how he found out before the public announcement, but Kim Si-hoon is demanding that we transfer Kang Eui-rim to his guild.”

“What?” Hae-gun’s voice dropped.

—“He insists that if Cheongho wants entry rights to the dungeon, Hunter Kang Eui-rim must appear in person to negotiate.”

Hae-gun let out a harsh, dry scoff. To demand the surrender of an awakener after learning Eui-rim was affiliated with Cheongho—though Kim Si-hoon was infamous for shameless arrogance, Hae-gun had not realized the man was entirely devoid of survival instincts.

Seonha sounded equally disgusted, her sigh dripping with contempt. Demanding Eui-rim under such circumstances painted an all-too-vivid picture of how the White Noise master had abused the healer in the past.

Gazing over at Eui-rim, who remained peacefully dead to the world, Hae-gun spoke into the receiver. “Seonha-ya.”

—“Yes.”

“Schedule the meeting for tomorrow afternoon,” Hae-gun ordered. “And make sure they understand I will be accompanying him.”

—“Pardon?”

“He couldn’t possibly expect Kang Eui-rim to show up alone, could he?”

When Eui-rim awoke and heard the news, he would accept it with infuriating calm. He was bound to mutter, ‘It can’t be helped,’ or offer some polite deflection about calling for help if things turned sour. Rather than asking Hae-gun for protection, the healer would simply nod and march into the lion’s den alone.

Rather than enduring that self-sacrificing passivity, it was better to set the board in advance and deliver a fait accompli.

Hae-gun curled his lips into a cold, predatory smirk.

—“Guild Master…” Seonha cautioned.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make overt threats during the meeting,” Hae-gun said smoothly. “If necessary, invite the Association to sit in as official mediators.”

Under current law, dungeon rights could only be legally transferred thirty days after purchase. For outside hunters to enter a privatized gate, the managing authority was required to accompany them.

So if the Isolation Ward’s grade had truly escalated, as Eui-rim claimed…

“Since Kim Si-hoon desires our healer so desperately, why not have him join the raid with us?” Hae-gun murmured.

A firsthand demonstration would teach the man some basic discernment, ensuring he never dared lay a finger on Cheongho’s people again.

Glancing back toward the sofa, Hae-gun watched Eui-rim sleep without stirring an inch. Brushing back his damp bangs, Hae-gun let a leisurely smile spread across his face—bright, relaxed, and laced with an unmistakably lethal edge.