Chapter 14

“Hunter Nam Shin-hoo, you are a much more wonderful person than I heard. To be honest, I was terrified at first. Given the relationship with our guild…”

Muttering so quietly it was hard to hear, Kwon Shin-joo shook his head. It was obvious what he had left unsaid. The bad blood between Kwon Hae-joo and Nam Shin-hoo was common knowledge. As his younger brother, he naturally had to see things from Hae-joo’s perspective.

“I really wanted to clear up the misunderstanding. I explained what happened to my brother. I told him that without you, I might have died. I told him over and over that it was definitely not your fault.”

Seeing Shin-joo appeal with clenched fists brought a dry laugh out of Shin-hoo. He was completely different from Hae-joo—still naive to how the world worked. After all, Shin-hoo and Hae-joo’s relationship was already at a point where a minor misunderstanding couldn’t make it any worse.

“You didn’t need to go that far. It’s true that I left my post, and Hae-joo was just saying what he had to as a guild master. Still, thank you for caring.”

Shin-joo’s eyes brightened even more.

“Actually, before I became a hunter, I really looked up to you.”

“That’s too much praise.”

“It’s true. And I’ve actually wanted to meet you for a long time. My brother…”

Pausing, Shin-joo hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“You looked after my brother a lot when he ran his first dungeon. You took care of him right from when he awakened. I’ve wanted to thank you ever since.”

“That’s an old story.”

Hae-joo had awakened as an S-Rank Hunter when he turned twenty.

All eyes were on the country’s fifth S-Rank Hunter. Because his awakening fulfilled the condition of having five S-Rank Hunters—qualifying South Korea as an S-Rank Hunter powerhouse—the public’s interest in him was intense.

The Hunter Association debated how to manage this rare S-Rank Hunter. After careful consideration, they decided to assign him a stronger mentor so the newly awakened rookie wouldn’t go astray.

The candidates at the time were Nam Shin-hoo and the guild master of Evil Nine, the guild holding the number two spot in the country.

“There’s no need to thank me for that, either. I only took the mentor role… because I couldn’t stand the sight of Evil Nine.”

“Ha, haha. Actually, I’m grateful for that too. If not for you, my brother might have joined Evil Nine.”

“Is that place still garbage?”

At the blunt assessment, Shin-joo wore a bitter smile—likely recalling the countless insults and sabotage Evil Nine had dealt them while they built their guild. The Saint Guild had grown by overcoming similar hurdles, so Shin-hoo understood without needing an explanation.

Although Evil Nine had vanished long ago in his past life, it was firmly holding the number two spot when Hae-joo awakened. Currently barely hanging onto second place, Evil Nine had the worst public image and reputation among hunters. Brandishing the title of the nation’s first hunter guild, it had abused its power for a long time.

Evil Nine had coveted Hae-joo first. They were not the type to pass up a chance to manipulate an S-Rank Hunter who lacked backing.

Shin-hoo originally had no interest in mentoring, but he hated the idea of Evil Nine pulling their dirty tricks even more. So he stormed into the Hunter Association himself and volunteered to take charge of Hae-joo.

Taken on out of a simple whim, Hae-joo proved to be exceptional from the very beginning. How to raid dungeons, how to control power efficiently, and how to coordinate with other hunters—he absorbed everything as soon as it was taught. The foundation Hae-joo possessed as a hunter today had all been taught by Shin-hoo.

Back then, their relationship wasn’t bad. When Shin-hoo stepped forward, Kang-hyun and Hae-joo would naturally flank him on either side as if it were only natural.

Though that past was hard to even imagine now.

Perhaps remembering the same period, a faint smile appeared on Shin-joo’s lips.

“I don’t know how things ended up like this, but honestly, I still miss those days sometimes… Ah, no. I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like it never happened.”

Gaining courage from Shin-hoo’s generous response, Shin-joo raised his head.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but if my brother did something wrong, could you give him one more chance? I’ll try to mediate. My brother is stubborn, but he’s not a bad person.”

“That might be difficult.”

“Ah… I guess so. There must be a big problem I don’t know about…”

“I don’t know the reason either.”

“Pardon?”

“Your brother was the one who drew the line first.”

One day, Hae-joo suddenly changed, refused Shin-hoo’s training, and distanced himself.

It was an abrupt shift. Shin-hoo never learned what misunderstanding had occurred, or what had disappointed Hae-joo—because Shin-hoo never bothered to ask.

If someone became hostile, he responded in kind. That was how Shin-hoo had survived all along. He had no intention of showing leniency to a junior who founded a new guild in no time and pointed a blade at him.

In truth, he had thought it was bound to happen eventually.

Mentoring an S-Rank Hunter was an impossible task from the start. Born as wild beasts, it was a hunter’s instinct in pursuit of strength to eventually bite their parents’ throats and claim independence.

That was why he never asked Hae-joo for a reason when he left.

“Don’t dwell on the past too much. Epic is doing well enough right now.”

Shin-hoo stood up from his seat.

“I appreciate you reaching out. I have urgent business, so I’ll take my leave.”

The half-finished coffee was left alone on the table.

Perhaps because he had recalled the past for the first time in a while, a bitter taste lingered in Shin-hoo’s mouth. Even as he left the café and stepped into the guild building, the bitter taste of coffee unpleasantly clung to his tongue.

Kang-hyun, who was working on the first floor, approached upon spotting him.

“How was your business?”

“It’s done. Nothing important.”

“I didn’t know you were close with Kwon Shin-joo.”

“It’s nothing grand like being close. He just wanted to say hello, so I went.”

“Say hello?”

“Just had a reason for it.”

He hadn’t told Kang-hyun what happened in the Gyeongju dungeon. Kang-hyun had opposed him entering alone in the first place; if he learned Shin-hoo had even been injured, he would immediately send a formal protest to the Epic Guild.

“Hmm.”

Kang-hyun studied Shin-hoo closely. Before his sharp friend could catch on, Shin-hoo quickly changed the subject.

“By the way, what’s going on on the first floor?”

“Ah, just a small disturbance. It’s settled now.”

“A disturbance?”

“Just an odd applicant among the new recruits…”

“Excuse me!”

A loud voice rang out from behind—coming from outside the guild building.

“Please reconsider, just once! Seriously, please! I really have to get in here! I really need to make money!”

It was a heavy impact, loud enough to rattle the glass windows made from dungeon byproducts. A man beating on the window with all his might shouted while kicking away the security guards swarming him.

“You accepted other B-Ranks! Why not me?! Damn it, what’s wrong with my ability?!”

“…Looks like that’s the disturbance.”

“Sigh…”

Kang-hyun pressed a hand to his forehead.

“He’s a B-Rank Hunter who applied this cycle. His rank is decent, but his ability doesn’t fit the guild, so he was eliminated during the document screening.”

A document rejection. A B-Rank wasn’t a low rank; it was enough to at least get an interview. He must have awakened with an awkward ability that was neither combat, gathering, nor crafting.

Watching the hunter continue to make a scene, Kang-hyun rolled up his sleeves.

“I’ll go take care of it right away.”

“Wait a second.”

Shin-hoo caught Kang-hyun’s arm. Kang-hyun frowned and shook his head.

“Shin-hoo, if you deal with every small fry like that, there’s no end to it. Everyone will cause a scene begging for a second chance. The longer we drag it out, the worse it gets.”

Through the window, Shin-hoo watched the man kicking wildly at the guards. Swinging his long, thin legs, the man put up a feeble resistance with a frail body that seemed hard to believe belonged to a hunter.

His face looked strangely familiar.

“Kang-hyun. Was that man’s skill Acid Poison?”

“What?”

“Instead of working on living creatures, his ability likely developed toward melting and dissolving materials. It must have been classified as a poor skill because of its low efficiency in dungeons.”

“…I don’t know how you know that, but you’re spot-on. It only applies to objects he touches directly, making ranged attacks impossible. How on earth did you know?”

“I happened to see it among the pile of resumes. It was unusual enough to stick in my memory.”

Looking at the familiar figure, Shin-hoo’s eyes gleamed.

Shin-hoo knew who he was. Contrary to the excuse he gave Kang-hyun, it wasn’t from a resume photo, but a face he had seen on the news.

“I’ll go out and talk to him.”

Ignoring Kang-hyun calling after him, Shin-hoo walked outside.

Pinned to the ground by the guards, the man squirmed and continued to resist. With one cheek pressed against the pavement, he muttered pitifully:

“Sob… I really… have to make money. Damn it… I really need to live a decent life. Please…”

Shin-hoo approached the sobbing hunter. Then, he lowered himself on one knee to meet his eyes.