A Cradle to Avert Apocalypse C4

Chapter 4

“You could have at least washed off the bloodstains.”

“If I used that as an excuse and you decided to blow off the meeting and leave, that would be troublesome.”

Kwon Haeju pulled out the chair farthest from Nam Shinhoo and sat down.

Seeing him again after a long time, Kwon Haeju looked younger than Nam Shinhoo remembered. Well, the last image Nam Shinhoo had of him was at thirty-five.

Perhaps because of that, the face that had irritated him every time they met now felt oddly refreshing—almost agreeable.

Nam Shinhoo leaned back against the chair. Watching Kwon Haeju rub at his neck with the back of his hand—blood having apparently splattered even inside his shirt collar—his gaze lingered.

Looking closer, he noticed a wound on the inside of Kwon Haeju’s neck that had yet to fully heal. It must have been deep enough that even downing potions had failed to erase all traces.

“Are you dissatisfied that the wound isn’t deeper than you expected?”

“Hm?”

Kwon Haeju roughly ran a hand through his curly bangs. As he tilted his head back slightly, the wound was exposed in full.

“I imagine it might be regrettable that you didn’t manage to pierce my throat properly.”

Ah—so it had been Nam Shinhoo who inflicted that wound in the past. Cursing his own immaturity inwardly, Nam Shinhoo let out an awkward smile.

“It’s not regret, exactly. It’s just… hard not to notice.”

“Is that so? I find it a bit regrettable myself—your shoulder looks perfectly fine.”

So this troublesome shoulder had been Kwon Haeju’s handiwork.

The ambiguous smile turned bitter. He had remembered their relationship as merely poor, but it seemed they had once fought with genuine intent to kill. The more he thought about it, the more it rang true.

Was this why people said memories had a way of polishing themselves?

“I was only looking because your clothes seemed uncomfortable. The blood’s dried—it’s a mess.”

“When I’m meeting someone who requires formality, I do take care.”

The reply came back sharp-edged. They were the sort of people who, whenever they crossed paths, couldn’t wait to distance themselves. Back then, Nam Shinhoo wouldn’t have cared even if Kwon Haeju had shown up naked; he would have hated the delay from changing clothes far more.

Kwon Haeju irritably rotated his wrist. A small abrasion was visible beneath his sleeve. Nam Shinhoo couldn’t tell whether it was another wound he himself had caused, or one sustained while dealing with the crack. He decided to change the subject.

“It sounds like you had a rough time with the sudden dungeon crack. Were there any casualties?”

“…”

Kwon Haeju’s expression shifted subtly. It looked as though a retort—don’t meddle unnecessarily—had risen to his throat, only to be swallowed back down.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

“…It was handled cleanly. Of course there were no casualties.”

“I see. That’s a relief.”

At this time, Epic Guild, being newly established, was suffering from a manpower shortage. For a guild of its size, it was only natural that they lacked a dedicated crack-response team.

Even though personally handling cracks could easily wound a guild master’s pride, Kwon Haeju took care of every one himself without complaint. It was very much like him—refusing to show even the slightest opening, concealing any hint of weakness.

In the past, Nam Shinhoo had found even that attitude arrogant. But to the eyes of a Nam Shinhoo now in his mid-forties, it looked more like the reckless fervor of a young man full of motivation but lacking efficiency—an approach that ground down one’s own body.

“For something like cracks, don’t have the guild master handle it personally. Set up a response team. If you try to shoulder everything alone, you’ll burn out quickly. It’ll only get harder to manage as the guild grows.”

“…”

“A response team made up of C-rank Hunters or below would be enough. In emergencies, they can track the situation and dispatch support. If you focus on equipment specialized for escape, survival rates will go up.”

Kwon Haeju’s brow furrowed. He stared at Nam Shinhoo with open suspicion, trying to discern the intent behind the sudden advice. Coming from someone who, not long ago, had fought him while aiming for his throat, such concern would naturally feel distasteful.

“I’ll handle it myself, so you don’t need to worry. Let’s focus on the meeting.”

Despite the polite response, tension showed in the hand gripping the documents. Rather than argue against the interference, he seemed to have chosen the faster path—ending the meeting as soon as possible.

Opening the documents prepared by the Association, Kwon Haeju asked,

“Have you reviewed the agenda for today’s meeting?”

“Roughly.”

Nam Shinhoo left the papers untouched on the table and folded his arms. There was no need to read them. He already knew the purpose of this meeting—and how it would end.

The reason the Hunter Association had summoned both guilds today was a new policy they planned to implement. Later known as the Eclipse Hunter Network—abbreviated as EHN—it was intended to establish a cooperative system among hunter guilds.

Using the two most active guilds as its core, the plan aimed to protect small guilds and freelance hunters. With dozens of small guilds and freelancers emerging every year, the policy sought to raise their survival rates through cooperation.

In the past, Nam Shinhoo had opposed this policy.

You want us to look after even freelance hunters who choose to operate alone, fully aware their survival rate is low? If they made a foolish choice, they should take responsibility themselves. I see no reason for Saint Guild to concern itself with people like that.

Once awakened as a Hunter, one was welcomed almost anywhere. Even if the top guilds were out of reach, joining a mid-sized guild was hardly difficult. Freelance hunters, however, were people who chose to work solo—whether due to personality or a refusal to belong anywhere.

Back then, Nam Shinhoo had looked down on such hunters, dismissing them as people overestimating their own strength and acting irrationally. He concluded that protecting them would be nothing more than a waste of resources.

Kwon Haeju, on the other hand, had supported the EHN proposal.

There are still very few properly established hunter guilds. We need a system to protect small guilds and freelance hunters while they grow.

At the time, listening to Kwon Haeju, Nam Shinhoo had sneered inwardly—So he’s trying to expand his influence by absorbing smaller guilds. It was a period when everything Kwon Haeju did rubbed him the wrong way.

“As you’ve likely seen from reviewing it in advance…” Kwon Haeju continued slowly, his voice low and steady. “This is an agenda concerning a newly implemented hunter system. It doesn’t seem like a topic you’d welcome, Hunter Nam Shinhoo, but it’s worth discussing.”

The words were identical to his past life—not a syllable different. The time, the place, the people were all the same.

Everything except Nam Shinhoo.

He tapped the documents lightly with his fingertips.

“It seems like a decent policy.”

“…What?”

“It looks fine. It’s also something that’s needed at this stage.”

Expecting outright opposition given Nam Shinhoo’s temperament, Kwon Haeju froze. He set down the materials in his hand and studied Nam Shinhoo closely, as if searching for hidden motives.

In the past, Nam Shinhoo had questioned whether guilds needed to cooperate at all. But after living through the future, he thought differently.

Before Nukelabi’s overwhelming power, he had felt to his core how insufficient their forces truly were.

If only there had been more Hunters. Even if they weren’t strong—if there had been more Hunters who could protect civilians. Had that been the case, the outcome might not have been so catastrophic.

“If Epic Guild has no objections, let’s proceed as planned.”

“…Are you serious?”

“As you said, we’re not close enough to joke around.”

Nukelabi was powerful. Even if the true savior from the quest were to step forward, a certain level of damage would be unavoidable. Having returned, Nam Shinhoo wanted to preserve as much strength as possible until that time. To save even one more person, they would need far more Hunters than they had now.

“Aren’t you the one who said you didn’t want to concern yourself with anything that didn’t benefit your guild? I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“Neither did I.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not a chance.”

As Nam Shinhoo smiled with feigned ease, Kwon Haeju’s eyes narrowed.

“…Well, whatever sudden whim this is, it works for us. We’ll proceed with the policy as is. I’ll inform the Association.”

“Alright.”

“Just don’t change your mind later and cancel it.”

Nam Shinhoo nodded lightly. The young Kwon Haeju stared at him with an intense gaze, as if trying to pierce straight through him—searching for whatever scheme he might be hiding.

In the past, Nam Shinhoo had thought such looks arrogant and presumptuous. In truth, even back then, he had known this: Kwon Haeju was not merely a man full of ambition and bravado.

That was precisely why he disliked him all the more.

After awakening as a Hunter, Kwon Haeju had voluntarily entered dangerous dungeons. He cleared areas with low survival rates and personally went to sites where civilians had been harmed to provide support.

He was the complete opposite of Nam Shinhoo. He didn’t calculate efficiency; he moved wherever he was needed. Even while being criticized as a hypocrite, he acted in accordance with his convictions to the very end.

Back then, I thought I was right…

Nam Shinhoo had labeled Kwon Haeju a hypocrite, convinced that he would eventually trip over his own ideals.

Now, that stubborn pride meant nothing. Having lived through the future, Nam Shinhoo knew the answer.

He had been wrong.
Kwon Haeju had been right.

“I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said. I’ll be going now.”

Kwon Haeju stood up.

“The Association will send out the finalized details once everything’s organized. Opinions came together faster than expected, so there’s no need to waste time.”

“…Mm.”

“What is it? Do you have other business?”

Nam Shinhoo, staring at the quest that told him to find the true savior, had resolved to keep Kwon Haeju alive. To do that, he would have to grow close enough to be by his side at the moment he was meant to die.