IRNH C63

#63

During an urgent briefing, officials stated: ‘We suspect the cause of the explosion was a chain reaction triggered by an unidentified item. We urge citizens to immediately report to authorities should you encounter such items.’…”]

Clack.

[“As you know, the explosion yesterday at the LK residence is estimated to have caused property damages in the billions of won. Furthermore…”]

“…Haa.”

Si-hyeon flicked through channel after channel, watching news reports of the consequences of his own actions. His expression hardened; at the same time, thoughts of Lee Gyuhwan surged back as he began to carefully arrange all that had transpired in his mind.

First: the so-called “Villain Alliance” had not been one group but two separate factions.
Second: though they were not on good terms, they had still combined efforts to wreck his home.
Third: the root cause was, in all likelihood… him.

They kidnapped people for rituals—fanatics, bordering on a cult. And they wielded incomprehensible abilities that had managed to wound even him, enough to put his life in jeopardy.

He still didn’t know why they had sought him out—and yet, in mere months, things had spiraled into something truly massive. Switching off the noisy television, he muttered:

“You’ll make the ground collapse with that sighing.”

“…Sorry.”

ha-jung, setting several documents atop the table, shook her head as she looked at his face—which all but screamed yes, I was involved in that incident.

“Not sure if I should call it lucky or not, but thanks to that chaos, the entire Association is in crisis. Your report’s been shoved to the sidelines for now.”

“Well. That’s… something, I guess.”

His answer was perfunctory, careless, but ha-jung only nodded as though used to it.

“And your house reconstruction’s already underway, so the vagabond life should end soon enough. I imagine there’ll be some monitoring devices left behind, but…”

Si-hyeon almost wanted to laugh. Was that really a house to ‘rest in’? Still, exposure wasn’t much of a concern for him or Taewoon, so he nodded again without much thought.

“…I’ll think about it after I come back from the States.”

“Speaking of which—take a look.”

“…Hunter-only… visa issuance?”

ha-jung pressed a paper into his hand with a knowing grin.

When Si-hyeon frowned in confusion, she tapped a spot halfway down, urging him to read.

“A freelance hunter requires a visa to travel abroad. Processing time… three months? What the hell?”

“What do you think it means? You’re screwed.”

“…Wait, what? I thought you could just apply a week before?”

“…Did you crawl out from another world? That rule changed ages ago.”

Si-hyeon fell silent—because, unintentionally, she’d struck a sore point.

Reading his guilty face, ha-jung sighed and continued explaining.

After the Gates first opened—known as 개벽 (Gaebyeok), the Dawn Age—world power was no longer measured in nuclear arms, but purely by the number and strength of Hunters.

Geography and population still mattered, but status now depended on Hunters first and foremost.

Of course, greedy politicians wanted to leverage this further—rewriting laws, enticing Hunters from abroad, seeking all advantage possible. It was no different from the past, when states smuggled in weapons and sought superiority. War clouds loomed quietly, born not of missiles, but of Hunters.

“…War? When people are already dying from Gates?”

“What exactly did you expect? Human unity? Cooperation to close the Gates?”

Her cold response left only silence.

To be clear, no wars had actually begun. After all, Hunters were not mindless weapons. Still, informal laws arose everywhere simultaneously, regulating hunter immigration.

‘A freelancer or individual hunter must submit a written justification to travel abroad. Granted for one week; extensions must be requested if needed.’

On paper, this angered Hunters. But reality told another story. Almost all Hunters sought guilds anyway, and those already registered through nations or organizations had standard procedures unchanged.

“So basically, because guild Hunters didn’t care, no one minded.”

“Exactly. Even freelancers weren’t outright blocked—it only took longer.”

Si-hyeon clutched his hair in despair, then leapt up, grabbing at her shoulders in complaint—only to be dragged back into place by Taewoon, who wordlessly clung to him.

Watching Taewoon firmly comfort the despairing man, ha-jung smirked faintly.

“Still—come on. Who am I? There’s a way.”

“…What!? Then why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

Her teasing tone left him stunned. He started to argue again—but her steady, cooling gaze forced him meekly back into his seat.

“…Sorry.”

“Simple answer: start a guild.”

“…A guild?”

“As a guild, you report once. Only five members minimum. With a guildmaster B-ranked or higher, it can be processed within two weeks. The fastest method available.”

“…B-rank again… Damn it! I should have manipulated it up to B!”

He groaned, remembering his measly C-rank license.

“What about joining an existing guild?”

“Thought of it. But there’s always a probationary period—still a month, even now. You don’t have enough time.”

The Las Vegas auction was barely over a month away. Flights alone would be impossible to secure last-minute. Time was against them.

“In any case, you need to meet Liang Chaoxia. The Black Butterfly deal must not be delayed or broken.”

“…Do you think I don’t know that…?”

“Oh, and didn’t Shin Ryu-ha try to scout you? Just join his guild, get instant approval.”

The name made Si-hyeon scrunch his face immediately, recalling that man’s greasy tone.

“That’s not an option.”

“What?”

Before he could even reply, a husky voice cut coldly across the room. Taewoon’s sharp disapproval made ha-jung raise both hands quickly, sweat beading her brow. To her, he felt less like a guardianship partner and more like an attack dog—biting down the moment strangers were mentioned.

“Fine, fine. But hey—remember the recovery specialist I mentioned? They’re from the Sahre Guild. Better to coordinate anyway.”

“Ahahaha… right…”

Si-hyeon groaned inwardly. What sin have I committed against this world…?

Truthfully, he had been tempted. His finances were tight. How much would it cost to raise Taewoon, put him through school, buy a house? Impossible on meager wages.

But Shin Ryu-ha had already tried to squeeze him before signing, barely bothering to hide it. That meant after signing, he’d drain him ruthlessly—no work-life balance left. And from the looks of it, a tyrant too.

After working himself raw his whole life—would he now willingly beg for more?

No. I want rest when I want rest.

“…Is there no alternative?”

“Well… recovery specialists exist abroad too. As long as you’ve got money, it won’t be hard.”

Money. Always money.

Si-hyeon bit his lip. At least he could stretch recent Gate commissions—but every won needed saving for the Black Butterfly contact. After that, recovery. Then… he could always earn more later.

Hunters could earn more than civilians. The plan would be to join— not a massive guild, no—but a modest, stable one, balancing income and rest.

Perfect.

His lips twitched upward faintly.

“Anyway—your situation is the real problem. Taewoon’s fine. As a civilian, he’ll get a visa in a week. You’re the issue.”

“…Wait. Taewoon’s visa…”

Oh shit.

He had forgotten. Taewoon wasn’t even registered as a citizen. A visa was impossible. Si-hyeon’s heart froze.

To sneak him over would make ha-jung suspicious. But what else could he do?

“Master, you’re hurting your lips.”

Startled, Si-hyeon unclenched immediately, smiling at Taewoon despite feeling caught. He worried Taewoon might, in public, try to physically stop him. Thankfully, the man’s face only showed his usual gentle smile.

Christ… I need to teach him where not to do that… This is driving me mad.

Spinning scenarios furiously, he ground his thoughts round and round.

“…Hey.”

“…Huh?”

“You didn’t hear? Get out there, recruit some Hunters. Deadline: one week.”

“…Can’t you just be guildmaster?”

The room froze solid.

“…You rich?”

“…Excuse me?”

Her voice grew heavy, cold, dread seeping into the air like dry ice in an empty house.

[{I am broke.}]

Si-hyeon winced, whispering via telepathic voice. Pride was one thing—but admitting he was broke in front of the boy felt unbearable.