Chapter 16

Could the difficulty of life suddenly drop out of nowhere?

Nam Shin-hoo had always lived his life as if playing a game on hard mode. He had to overcome everything on his own from the start and achieve results with his own hands.

It was rare for others to be of help to him, even by coincidence. Because of that, he never relied on luck and strictly excluded chance from his choices. A situation like this was genuinely unusual.

‘A piece of good fortune practically rolled right to my feet.’

And an exceptionally large, brilliant piece of amber, at that.

Shin-hoo smiled inwardly as he watched Kwon Hae-joo enter the meeting room. It had been a long time since he saw him wearing a proper suit instead of combat gear.

A faint hostility radiated from Hae-joo’s face, where curly bangs lightly covered his eyebrows. For someone who requested the meeting first, his gaze was far from friendly.

“…”

Standing in silence, Hae-joo looked quite out of place. He glanced around quietly, as if he found being in the Saint Guild’s meeting room awkward himself.

“I didn’t expect you to ask to see me first.”

Shin-hoo suppressed a smile trying to creep onto his face.

Their last meeting had been a mess. His last memory was Hae-joo criticizing him for abandoning his post at the Gyeongju dungeon and turning his back on him. It had hardly been a situation that led to polite face-to-face visits.

“Have a seat first. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. This won’t take long.”

“Really? Since you’re already here, you can take it easy. If you don’t like tea, how about coffee?”

“…”

Look at him. Hae-joo kept his mouth shut and let it slide, even at comments that would usually irritate him. His behavior was definitely out of the ordinary.

Anyone would expect a fight if Hae-joo and Shin-hoo met in private. Kang-hyun had insisted on joining them until the very end, stepping away only because of other duties. Even as he left, he repeatedly urged Shin-hoo to hold back, reminding him that fixing the meeting room would be a hassle.

Yet the atmosphere wasn’t as bad as anticipated. Shin-hoo had no intention of fighting Hae-joo in the first place, and for whatever reason, Hae-joo’s usual sharpness had dulled.

“What are you planning?”

After standing still for a long time and licking his dry lips, Hae-joo finally spoke with difficulty.

“About what?”

“You saved my brother. Even taking an injury in the process.”

Ah. So that’s what he came to ask about.

In truth, it wasn’t something to confront him over. Strictly speaking, Shin-hoo had helped, and Hae-joo was the one on the receiving end.

However, a stiff Hae-joo seemed to think differently.

“Aren’t you someone who doesn’t care if a hunter or two dies?”

It was a sharp jab, and it was the truth. Shin-hoo had seen countless hunters die during dungeon raids without paying mind to any of them. He had thought that since they threw themselves into that hell by choice, handling both the risks and rewards was entirely their responsibility.

“I didn’t expect a thank-you, but this is quite unexpected.”

“If there’s something you want, name it.”

“There’s nothing like that.”

Hae-joo clenched his fists tightly. He set his jaw, chewing over Shin-hoo’s response.

“…Is that so?”

Ah, damn it.

It seemed he had completely misinterpreted Shin-hoo’s words. Shin-hoo had simply meant he needed no compensation, but it must have sounded different to Hae-joo’s ears.

“It’s not like that. I just needed to clear the dungeon quickly. I had an appointment right after.”

“…”

“No need to overthink it.”

Hae-joo’s expression did not soften easily. He didn’t know his brother was fated to die that day.

“Regardless, it’s true that I’m indebted to you. So please, name your compensation. Wouldn’t it be better for both of us to settle this cleanly?”

Insisting stubbornly on compensation, Hae-joo kept his jaw set firm.

To him, Shin-hoo had resolved a crisis he could have handled himself—and broke his promised position to do it. Yet because he owed a debt, he was forced into a position where he had to come in person and offer a reward.

‘Well, I can understand that.’

Given his strong pride, it must have been an uncomfortable situation. Sensing the awkward air, Shin-hoo changed the subject.

“Did the gatherers waiting at the entrance make it back safely that day?”

“…”

With a sigh, Hae-joo nodded.

“None of the gatherers were harmed, and everyone returned home safely thanks to you. We recovered the shield artifact you deployed and disposed of it according to protocol since it was single-use.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is that all?”

“What else is there? As long as everyone got home safely, that’s enough.”

“…”

Frowning, Hae-joo eased the tension in his shoulders. He spoke with a slightly softened expression.

“You may criticize me for my rude remarks earlier.”

Shin-hoo straightened his posture from where he leaned against the chair. Having refused a reward, he was now being told to criticize him instead. Neither option was appealing. On top of that, he could feel the fever he had briefly suppressed rising again from the tension.

“I really don’t need any reward. It wasn’t significant enough to warrant gratitude, either.”

“…”

At this rate, the lucky piece of amber would turn into a cold, black lump of rock. As Shin-hoo hesitated over what to say, Hae-joo spoke first.

“Understood. Instead…”

Straightening up as if making a major decision, Hae-joo bowed deeply. It was the first time he had dropped his rigid demeanor.

“This is not as a Guild Master, but my personal gratitude. I heard my brother caused you trouble. Thank you for saving him.”

It was a greeting carrying genuine sincerity for the first time. Shin-hoo waved his hand dismissively.

“That’s hardly something to thank me for. Kwon Shin-joo did his part well enough. Besides, his thanks were plenty. Oh, and please don’t be too hard on your brother for defending me earlier.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. It’s nice to see brothers get along. Keep treating each other well.”

“…You seem to think quite highly of my brother.”

Perhaps because of the mention of his brother, the frosty atmosphere softened a bit.

“He’s good-natured. And honest.”

Hae-joo wore a complicated expression—a mix of awkwardness and annoyance. It shouldn’t have been unpleasant to hear his brother praised, so his reaction was unexpected.

“…Well, never mind. It seems I’ve said everything that needed to be said. I apologize for taking up your time.”

“Sure. I appreciate the thought. We’ll be seeing each other often from now on, so feel free to speak more comfortably.”

At the casual remark, Hae-joo’s face stiffened again. Though he had made the difficult visit out of a sense of duty as an older brother and Guild Master, the situation clearly went against his nature.

If he hated it this much, he could have just looked the other way.

“If there’s nothing else, you can head back. You’re busy too. Ah, send my regards to Kwon Shin-joo.”

Shin-hoo sent his regards to the biggest contributor who had gotten Hae-joo to move. At the mention of Shin-joo’s name, Hae-joo looked even more uneasy.

“…”

Brushing back his bangs, Hae-joo revealed a smooth forehead. After hesitating for a moment, he spoke to Shin-hoo.

“Actually, my brother asked a separate favor of me. May I mention it?”

Shin-hoo nodded lightly.

“…He insisted that I check on your injury. He said he was worried about whether it had healed properly. Of course, you may ignore it. There is no need to indulge his childish request.”

So that’s why he sighed so heavily every time Shin-joo’s name came up. It couldn’t have been easy to ask such a favor from someone he felt uncomfortable just looking at.

“Is that so? Hmm…”

What should he do? Should he turn it down, claiming it was awkward? Or would it be better to grant a minor favor and close the distance between them?

Shin-hoo didn’t deliberate for long. Using Shin-joo as a bridge was the most comfortable way to approach Hae-joo. While unintended, creating a modest sense of obligation would make bridging the gap much easier.

With that calculated thought, Shin-hoo raised a hand to his neck and immediately unbuttoned his neatly fastened shirt.

“What the…!”

The wound stretched across his shoulder and back; verifying it with the naked eye naturally required taking off his top. Before a flustered Hae-joo, Shin-hoo’s pale back and shoulders were exposed beneath the light.

“I can’t show it with my clothes on.”

“…”

The one who had asked to see the wound froze without a response, taking a step back.

“If you look that shocked, it makes me feel embarrassed. You can come closer to check.”

After a brief pause, Hae-joo composed his expression back into a neutral look.

“Excuse me, then.”

As Shin-hoo nodded, Hae-joo approached carefully.

“As you can see, the wound is completely healed.”

“A mark was left behind. Like a spiderweb.”

Because it was hard to see without a mirror, Shin-hoo hadn’t looked closely himself. But just as Hae-joo said, the toxic substance that flowed through his blood vessels remained as faint blue, vein-like lines—the marks of the monster’s desperate struggle to corrupt its host until the very end.