Chapter 12

He didn’t know if Kwon Shin-joo’s survival would help save Kwon Hae-joo later, but he was relieved to have accomplished at least one thing.

Nam Shin-hoo shook off the blood running down his arm and stood up. He couldn’t afford to waste time here. Since the boss was defeated, the minions scattered in all directions would soon be cleared out as well. He had to return to the dungeon entrance before the Epic Guild members gathered after finishing their tasks.

“Here, use this.”

One hunter took off his jacket and draped it over Shin-hoo’s shoulders, covering the gouged flesh. Even though it was healing thanks to the potion, blood still trickled from the open wound.

“If the wound stays exposed, there’s a risk of infection.”

“Thanks for looking out for me. Then, let’s head back to the main—”

“What is going on here?”

It was a low voice that silenced the chaotic situation.

Hae-joo had approached without anyone noticing and was glaring at Shin-hoo with an uncomfortable expression.

It was a scene ripe for misunderstanding.

The surrounding area was a mess from the monsters. Shin-joo had reddened, teary eyes. Bloodstains were scattered everywhere, and Shin-hoo was out here far away after claiming he would guard the dungeon entrance.

“Why are you here?”

Hae-joo’s gaze was fierce. His dark eyes narrowed like a crescent moon at dawn.

“Brother. I’ll explain. Hunter Nam Shin-hoo came to—”

“Stay out of this.”

Hae-joo pushed Shin-joo aside while keeping his eyes fixed entirely on Shin-hoo.

“You’ll have to explain yourself properly later, too. Why were you late when you should have reported to me the moment you spotted the monster?”

“…Th-that’s…”

The moment the target monster appeared, word should have been sent to all guild members. However, flustered while the monster was being killed and Shin-hoo’s injuries were being treated, Shin-joo hadn’t been able to send any signal.

Given the circumstances, it was unavoidable, but to Hae-joo, it would look like nothing more than Shin-joo’s failure. Sending the downcast Shin-joo to the back, Hae-joo spoke to Shin-hoo once more.

“Besides, Hunter Nam Shin-hoo being here means the dungeon entrance is left completely unguarded. Leaving behind only people with zero combat capability…”

Hae-joo’s brows furrowed.

“I shouldn’t have trusted you with that post. Knowing full well how ruthless you are toward people you don’t care about…”

Hae-joo’s tightly clenched fists caught Shin-hoo’s eye. That action was filled with self-reproach for having briefly placed his trust in Shin-hoo.

‘Saying I came to save Shin-joo because he looked like he was about to die wouldn’t even count as an excuse.’

To Hae-joo, who knew nothing of the future, it would sound worse than cheap sophistry.

Moreover, Hae-joo wasn’t wrong. Shin-hoo had chosen Shin-joo over the gathering team simply because he was someone who couldn’t be allowed to die.

If the boss monster had moved toward the dungeon entrance while he was saving Shin-joo, the remaining people would certainly have faced grave danger. Handing them an expensive artifact didn’t change that fact.

“You haven’t changed at all. And here I thought I couldn’t be disappointed any further.”

At Hae-joo’s resentful words, Shin-joo, who had been drooping behind him, snapped his head up. His eyes went wide as he hurriedly spoke.

“No, Brother! Hunter Nam Shin-hoo came to save us! He even got hurt because of it. Because of me…”

“Kwon Shin-joo.”

Hae-joo called his brother’s name in a cold voice.

“It is natural for hunters to get hurt during a dungeon raid. But the others are different. They entered the dungeon placing their trust in us. That is why support and gathering classes must be protected first.”

“…”

“…Though, of course, there are people who don’t think that way.”

His gaze shifted to Shin-hoo, filled with blatant hostility.

It was a topic they had clashed over countless times in their past lives: who should be protected first in moments of crisis? Shin-hoo used to weigh various possibilities and make the most efficient choice.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

Shin-hoo straightened his posture. His back and shoulder still throbbed with every movement. He let out a deep sigh before speaking.

“I’m sorry.”

“…”

“Leaving my post was indeed my mistake.”

Hae-joo still frowned as he watched Shin-hoo apologize so submissively.

“Still, why don’t we wrap things up for today? Like you said… there are still people waiting at the dungeon entrance. If compensation is needed for breaking my word, I’ll pay it.”

“…That won’t be necessary.”

Hae-joo gestured toward the guild members watching from behind.

“Regroup by squad and return. Squad 3 will remain and investigate the site.”

“Brother!”

“We’ll talk later. Everyone, withdraw.”

Hae-joo turned around. The people who had been watching the two S-Rank hunters in tension let out sighs of relief.

Among the members of Squad 3 led by Shin-joo, some even offered a small, respectful nod toward Shin-hoo.

“Phew…”

Walking behind the group, Shin-hoo held his shoulder. Fortunately, the bleeding seemed to have stopped, as no blood seeped through the jacket.

Upon reaching the dungeon entrance, Shin-hoo neatly folded the borrowed jacket and packed his things. He changed into fresh clothes to hide the wound and quickly left the scene. Looking back, he saw Hae-joo busy dealing with the crack’s aftermath. He didn’t spare a single glance in Shin-hoo’s direction.

“…”

To think the rift between us has deepened even more. The already unbridgeable divide felt like it had widened by another span.

Yet he had no regrets.

For Hae-joo in his past life, today would have been hell. Instead of being angry and disappointed at Shin-hoo for breaking a promise, he would have been clutching his brother’s cold corpse in self-blame.

A hellish past had been turned into nothing more than a tiring, ordinary day. That was enough.

Today was a major turning point for Shin-hoo, but for others, it would just be remembered as a regular day. He could slowly change things one day at a time like this.

That was the exact change Shin-hoo wanted most: greeting a future where he quietly changed everything on his own, without anyone ever knowing.

By the time Shin-hoo reached the address written in the report, it was already noon with the sun high in the sky.

“Is this the place?”

Shin-hoo examined the large, traditional house before him.

Over the stone wall, an old tiled roof was faintly visible. Moss-covered totem poles and a stone tower guarded the front gate. Colorful paper strips tied to bamboo poles fluttered in the wind.

Han Woo-yeon was the maternal grandson of a renowned shaman. Shin-hoo recalled his playful voice when he once said he initially thought he had received a spiritual calling rather than an awakening.

At this point in time, Woo-yeon should be guarding his hometown alone following his grandmother’s death. Though he had no family, he had said he was never lonely thanks to the older women who had served his grandmother as their spiritual mother.

“…This is strange.”

However, the old house Shin-hoo visited was far too quiet for an inhabited home. No sound of footsteps or voices came from inside the gate. It was as if no one lived there at all.

Judging by the faint herbal scent, it hadn’t been empty for long, but…

“Young man? What brings you here?”

An elderly woman approached from behind. She was an old grandmother with curly gray hair, and she didn’t seem to recognize Shin-hoo under his cap.

“Did you come to get your fortune read? What a shame. This house is empty right now.”

“Pardon?”

“He moved out two days ago. Left all his household belongings behind, too. First the old shaman passed away recently, and now this… feels like something’s haunting the place. Tsk, tsk.”

Two days ago. It was the exact day before Shin-hoo came down to Gyeongju.

“Looks like you traveled a long way, but you made the trip for nothing.”

“Is… that so?”

The report Kang-hyun had submitted was from two weeks ago. That meant Woo-yeon had moved within just two weeks—and fled in a hurry at that.

‘What does this action mean?’

Woo-yeon was a hunter who saw things others couldn’t, earning him the title of “God’s Younger Brother.” Such a person had fled this place as if running away. Almost as if trying to avoid Shin-hoo.

Why? What on earth did Han Woo-yeon see that made him run?

A brake had been slammed on his smoothly progressing plans. Returning to the past was already unprecedented, and now another variable had been added. Could he be missing something? Had the choice to seek out Woo-yeon caused a negative ripple effect on the future…?

Shin-hoo’s expression darkened. The anxiety he had worked hard to suppress slowly reared its head.

“…man? Young man?”

The grandmother called out, tapping Shin-hoo on the shoulder.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Do you happen to know where the owner of this house moved to?”

“How would I know? He left in the middle of the night like a fugitive. Ah, now that I look at you…!”

The grandmother tilted her head up to study Shin-hoo’s face. After closely examining his features, she clapped her hands as if realizing something.

Even in a remote neighborhood, it was very likely that an elder would recognize him. Shin-hoo was a face that appeared on television more often than the president.

Thinking his identity might have been exposed, Shin-hoo pulled his cap down lower. Undeterred, the grandmother tugged at his arm. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at his face more intently.

“You’re quite handsome.”

“…Pardon?”

“Delicate and handsome. Tall, too.”

“…”

It seemed she hadn’t recognized him after all.

“Oh, look at my memory. That’s not the point. Before the grandson of this house left, he asked me for a favor…”

Rummaging through the pocket of her floral-patterned pants, the grandmother pulled out a neatly folded white envelope.