Chapter 13

“He told me to give this to an unusually handsome guy who’d come by this neighborhood. I thought he was talking nonsense, but looking at you, young man, it’s definitely you.”

Nam Shin-hoo took the envelope, which was sealed with a thin red thread. He could feel a faint energy lingering at the edge of the paper. It was left by an awakened hunter—definitely Han Woo-yeon’s power. Stashing the envelope in his chest pocket, Shin-hoo pulled out his wallet.

“Thank you. Please keep this visit a secret.”

He pulled out a few high-denomination bills from his wallet.

“My, he really is psychic.”

Taking the money, the grandmother opened her mouth in surprise.

“He told me that if I handed this over, I’d get a generous tip and should go buy some rice wine. I wondered who’d pay money for a scrap of paper, but he really knows his stuff.”

“…”

This meant Han Woo-yeon had foreseen this exact moment. He had clearly looked into the future and predicted specific events, yet chose to avoid Shin-hoo.

Leaving the departing grandmother behind, Shin-hoo opened the white envelope.

As the thin paper opened, a coin dropped out. Inside, Shin-hoo found a small note.

It was a memo left for him by Han Woo-yeon.

Unfolding the note with trembling fingers, he saw a short sentence written on the small piece of white paper.

[Not yet.]

[Not yet.]

Shin-hoo rubbed the note in his hand. It was ordinary traditional paper. Aside from a faint scent of incense, there was nothing special about the paper he had stared at dozens of times.

Even after returning to Seoul, he always kept the coin and note in his chest pocket, just in case the message changed under certain conditions or the coin served another purpose over time.

However, nothing happened, even though a week had passed since he returned to Seoul.

“That damn guy.”

Typical Han Woo-yeon. He was always the type to cause headaches with riddles. He had deliberately avoided Shin-hoo. Leaving a note behind meant he had some awareness of Shin-hoo’s current situation and the future.

Vanishing right before the end of the world? And leaving behind just that one short sentence?

‘You could have at least given me a clearer hint.’

Sitting alone in his office, Shin-hoo ran a hand through his bangs in frustration.

He was growing anxious. The dread that had been eating away at him since he first regressed spread darkly once again.

What if I fail again? What if Kwon Hae-joo isn’t the person in the prophecy? What if I focus only on Hae-joo and miss the true savior? What if I have to return to that horrific moment, standing alone in an empty ruin where only I am left breathing…

The fountain pen in his hand snapped, and black ink dripped through his fingers.

“…”

Shin-hoo took a deep breath and wiped the ink from the desk. He recalled the prophecy he had heard from Han Woo-yeon in the past.

Woo-yeon never gave crystal-clear prophecies, but he wasn’t someone to leave the future entirely to chance. If he said “not yet,” it meant the current direction was at least correct. It simply meant that more time was needed.

If so, there was only one thing Shin-hoo could do.

Proceed as planned and keep Hae-joo alive. Even if Hae-joo wasn’t the true savior, he would still be a vital ally in saving the real one or aiding the final battle.

“Shin-hoo, I’m coming in.”

With a knock, Choi Kang-hyun entered. Dressed as always in an immaculate suit, the large man waved the tablet in his hand.

“I brought the resumes.”

“Ah, it’s already that time.”

The Saint Guild was undisputed as the nation’s top guild. Centered around Shin-hoo and Kang-hyun, it had grown into a powerhouse by combining overwhelming strength with an efficient system. Unlike older guilds that grew with corporate backing, Saint was built purely on the strength of its hunters.

Although the rise of mid-sized guilds, including the Epic Guild, gave recruits more options recently, Saint remained the top choice for applicants. Hundreds of resumes poured in every cycle, and only the elite were hired. Lately, however, the situation had shifted.

“How do the applicants look?”

“Hmm…”

Kang-hyun hesitated.

“They aren’t lacking, but none of them really stand out.”

“Really?”

More hunters were choosing to be the head of a snake rather than the tail of a dragon. High-ranking hunters or those with unique abilities were going independent to build their own guilds.

This trend was also sparked by Epic’s success as a rookie guild. Hae-joo was setting a prime example for other hunters.

‘In my past life, I hated Hae-joo for causing trends like this too.’

Kang-hyun watched Shin-hoo’s reaction, knowing his friend usually got irritated at times like this. Yet Shin-hoo casually swiped through the resumes.

“Nothing we can do. Let’s just pick the most useful ones among them.”

As dungeon clear rates and stability rose, more small guilds would pop up. Furthermore, once the Eclipse Hunter Network (EHN) agreed upon with the Hunter Association was established, this trend would grow even stronger. If the Association guaranteed their safety, hunters would have little reason to join large guilds.

Shin-hoo slowly scrolled through the screen. Just as Kang-hyun said, no one particularly caught his eye, even though these were resumes that had already passed the initial screening.

“Hmm…”

“If no one catches your eye, should we skip this hiring cycle?” Kang-hyun asked.

Shin-hoo rested his chin on his hand and reviewed the resumes once more.

“Let’s think it over a bit more.”

Choosing not to hire was a simple decision, but the ripple effects had to be considered.

If a top guild closed its open recruitment, applicants would have no choice but to look elsewhere. Newly awakened hunters might turn to quick-cash jobs instead of waiting for the next recruitment cycle. In a hunter society that was already hard to regulate, it took only a moment for powerful individuals to stray into illegal paths.

If hunters went rogue, society would spiral into chaos. To prevent that, a visible, hopeful path forward was necessary. That was why the Saint Guild conducted open recruitments every year.

The domestic talent pool was still shallow. In particular, the guild stubbornly holding the second-place spot was of no help to society. While third-place Epic stood out, the rest below them were all similar rookie guilds. The Saint Guild could not ignore its social impact.

While Shin-hoo used to find this responsibility tedious and only considered it out of obligation, he now willingly shouldered the weight.

Because the stronger the hunters became, the closer he would get to his goal.

Shin-hoo switched off the tablet. His tired face reflected on the black screen.

“Would you like a cold drink?” Kang-hyun asked.

Rubbing under his eyes, Shin-hoo nodded.

“Something cold and sweet.”

“Alright. I’ll get it right aw—”

Just then, his phone vibrated.

“Who is it?”

It was an unknown number. Shin-hoo’s private number was expensive—only key figures in the Hunter Association and a few top guild executives knew it. Looking at the screen, Kang-hyun shook his head, not recognizing it either.

“Kang-hyun. This isn’t a spam call, is it?”

“That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard lately.”

Spam on Nam Shin-hoo’s private line was impossible. That was how rare it was for him to receive a call from an unknown number.

Hesitating for a moment over whether to answer, Shin-hoo tapped the screen.

—Um, Hunter Nam… Shin-hoo?

The voice over the phone sounded extremely young.

“Who is speaking?”

—I’m sorry. I really wanted to thank you, but I had no other way to reach you. I’m Kwon Shin-joo, from the other day.

Kwon Hae-joo’s younger brother, Kwon Shin-joo. Known as an A-Rank hunter, but more famous for his brother’s reputation than his own skill. An ordinary melee combat hunter with nothing special or outstanding about him.

“Saying ‘long time no see’ feels a bit awkward, doesn’t it? Hahaha.”

He was by no means someone who would normally sit across from Nam Shin-hoo to share a cup of coffee.

“I suppose so.”

“I’m sorry for reaching out so suddenly. I really had no other way.”

Kwon Shin-joo bowed his head deeply once more. Whether he was overly polite or simply lacked self-esteem, his deference was unusual for an A-Rank hunter.

“It’s fine. I was just surprised; I don’t mind.”

Shin-hoo had readily accepted Shin-joo’s request to meet and say hello in person. From Shin-hoo’s perspective, befriending Shin-joo brought far more benefits than drawbacks.

Reaching out through Shin-joo was a far more effective strategy than trying to break through Hae-joo’s iron wall. Unaware of Shin-hoo’s inner thoughts, Shin-joo tugged nervously at his collar.

“I was so sorry about last time. You were misunderstood by my brother because of me. He was so rude without even knowing the full story, when you were only trying to help us.”

“Like I told you back then, don’t worry about it too much. Nobody was seriously hurt, and that’s all that matters.”

“Wow…”

Shin-joo clenched both of his hands tightly.