Chapter 4

“You could have at least washed off the blood before coming.”

“It would be a problem if someone with an impatient temper used that as an excuse to call off the meeting and leave.”

Kwon Hae-joo pulled out a chair as far away from Nam Shin-hoo as possible and sat down.

Seeing him after so long, Hae-joo looked younger than Shin-hoo remembered. Then again, the last image Shin-hoo had of him was when he was thirty-five.

Perhaps because of that, the face that used to annoy him every time they met now felt surprisingly refreshing and handsome.

Shin-hoo leaned back against his chair. Noticing blood splattered even inside the shirt collar, he watched Hae-joo rub his neck with the back of his hand.

Looking closely, an unhealed wound was visible on the inside of his neck. It must have been deep enough to leave a mark even after pouring potions on it.

“Are you disappointed the wound is shallower than you thought?”

“Hm?”

Hae-joo roughly ran a hand through his curly bangs. Tilting his head back slightly, the wound became plainly visible.

“You might feel it’s a shame you couldn’t pierce my neck cleanly.”

Ah, so the past Shin-hoo was the one who caused that wound. Shin-hoo cursed his immature past self inside and let out an awkward smile.

“I’m not disappointed, but it does catch my eye.”

“Is that so? Personally, I’m a bit disappointed to see your shoulder looks perfectly fine.”

So this aching shoulder was Hae-joo’s doing.

Shin-hoo’s awkward smile turned bitter. He remembered that they hadn’t gotten along in the past, but apparently, they had fought with the intent to kill. Thinking back carefully, that seemed about right.

Is this why people say memories get romanticized?

“I only looked because your clothes seemed uncomfortable. The blood has dried up and made quite a mess.”

“I care about how I look when I meet people who deserve formality.”

A sharp reply came back. The two were the type who couldn’t wait to get away from each other whenever they crossed paths. The Shin-hoo of the past wouldn’t have cared if Hae-joo showed up naked, since he hated delays caused by changing clothes even more.

Hae-joo irritably rolled his wrist. A small scratch showed below his sleeve. Shin-hoo couldn’t tell if that was also a wound he had inflicted, or if it happened while handling the crack. He decided to change the subject.

“It looked like you had a rough time with that sudden dungeon crack. Were there any casualties?”

“…”

Hae-joo’s face twisted strangely. It looked like he had barely swallowed the urge to tell Shin-hoo to mind his own business.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“…It was handled cleanly. Naturally, there are no casualties.”

“I see. That’s a relief.”

At this point, the Epic Guild was a new guild suffering from a manpower shortage. A guild of that size naturally lacked a dedicated crack-response team.

Even though managing cracks personally could hurt a Guild Master’s pride, Hae-joo handled every single one himself without complaint. That was just like him: a response driven by hatred of showing any weakness or flaw.

In the past, Shin-hoo had found that attitude arrogant. But to his mid-forties mindset, it now looked like the reckless, unrefined ambition of a young man. It was an inefficient method that burned through his own body.

“Instead of having the Guild Master handle cracks directly, set up a response team. Taking on all the burden alone will wear you out fast. It’ll be even harder to manage once the guild grows.”

“…”

“A response team of Rank-C hunters or below will be enough. In emergencies, they only need to track the target and call for backup. Equipping them with escape-focused gear will raise their survival rate.”

Hae-joo furrowed his brow. Suspecting the sudden advice, he glared at Shin-hoo. It made sense to feel annoyed when someone who had aimed for his throat just a while ago was suddenly acting concerned.

“I’ll handle it myself, so you don’t need to worry. Let’s just focus on the meeting.”

Contrary to his calm response, Hae-joo tightened his grip on the documents. He had apparently chosen to finish quickly and leave rather than argue over the interference.

Opening the papers prepared by the association, Hae-joo asked, “Did you check the agenda for this meeting?”

“Roughly.”

Leaving the documents untouched on the desk, Shin-hoo crossed his arms. There was no need to check them. He already knew the purpose of the meeting and how it would turn out.

The reason the Hunter Association called the two guilds today was for a new upcoming policy. It was an initiative to build a cooperative system among guilds, later known as the ‘Eclipse Hunter Network’ (EHN).

The plan was for the two most active guilds to lead efforts in protecting small guilds and freelance hunters. It aimed to raise the survival rate of freelancers and the dozens of small guilds emerging each year through mutual cooperation.

In the past, Shin-hoo had opposed this policy.

‘Take care of solo hunters when they chose to act alone knowing their low survival rates? If they made a foolish choice, they should take responsibility for it. I see no reason for the Saint Guild to care about such people.’

Awakened hunters were welcomed everywhere. Even if joining top guilds was difficult, joining mid-sized ones was easy. Yet freelance hunters chose solo play simply due to their personalities or a dislike of belonging somewhere.

In the past, Shin-hoo despised those hunters. He dismissed them as people making irrational choices due to overconfidence in their own strength, concluding that protecting them was a waste of resources.

However, Hae-joo had supported the EHN initiative.

‘There are still very few properly established guilds. We need a system to protect small guilds and freelance hunters while they grow.’

Back then, Shin-hoo listened to Hae-joo and mocked him inwardly, thinking, ‘He’s just trying to expand his power by absorbing small guilds.’ It was a natural reaction during a time when everything Hae-joo did annoyed him.

“Since you said you read it, you must know…”

Hae-joo continued slowly in a low, steady voice.

“It’s about the newly implemented hunter system. It doesn’t seem like a topic Hunter Nam Shin-hoo would welcome, but it’s worth discussing.”

It was identical word-for-word to his previous life. The time, the place, and the people were all the same—except for Shin-hoo.

Shin-hoo tapped his fingertips lightly against the documents.

“It doesn’t seem like a bad policy.”

“Pardon?”

“It looks fine. It’s a system we need at this point in time, too.”

Having expected Shin-hoo to object given his personality, Hae-joo froze. He set down the papers and examined Shin-hoo closely, trying to figure out what he was plotting.

In the past, Shin-hoo thought there was no need for guilds to cooperate. But having lived through his previous life, he saw things differently.

In the face of the Nuckelavee’s overwhelming power, he had painfully realized how desperately they lacked combat strength.

If only we had a few more hunters. Even if they weren’t strong, if only there were more hunters to protect the civilians… we wouldn’t have met such a catastrophic end.

“If the Epic Guild has no other objections, let’s proceed as planned.”

“Are you serious?”

“Like you said, we’re not close enough to joke around.”

The Nuckelavee was powerful. Even if the ‘true savior’ from the quest stepped up, a certain level of damage was inevitable. Having returned, Shin-hoo wanted to preserve as much strength as possible until then. To save even one more life, they needed far more hunters than they had now.

“Aren’t you the one who hated caring about things that don’t help the guild? I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“Right? I didn’t expect it either.”

“Are you kidding with me?”

“Of course not.”

As Shin-hoo smirked playfully, Hae-joo’s eyes narrowed.

“…Well, I don’t care what whim brought this on. We’ll proceed with this policy as planned. I’ll inform the association.”

“Sure.”

“I just hope you won’t throw a tantrum later and cancel it.”

Shin-hoo gave a light nod. The young Hae-joo stared at him with an intense gaze, as if trying to pierce right through him, searching for hidden motives.

In the past, Shin-hoo thought that look was arrogant and presumptuous. But deep down, he had known even then: Hae-joo wasn’t just a man full of ambition and drive. That was why Shin-hoo disliked him even more.

After awakening as a hunter, Hae-joo willingly entered dangerous dungeons. He cleared low-survival zones himself and rushed to support any scene with civilian casualties.

Hae-joo was completely different from Shin-hoo. He didn’t weigh efficiency; he moved wherever he was needed. Even when accused of hypocrisy, he stood by his convictions until the end.

‘Back then, I thought I was in the right…’

Shin-hoo had called Hae-joo a hypocrite, claiming he would eventually trip over his own ideals.

Now, all of that was meaningless stubbornness. Having experienced the future, Shin-hoo knew the answer: he was wrong, and Hae-joo was right.

“It seems we’ve said everything, so I’ll be leaving first.”

Hae-joo stood up from his seat.

“The Hunter Association will send each of us the detailed documents once they’re organized. Since we reached an agreement faster than expected, there’s no need to waste more time.”

“Hmm…”

“What is it? Do you have other business with me?”

Looking at the quest telling him to find the true savior, Shin-hoo resolved to save Hae-joo. To do that, he had to get close enough to stay by his side when the time of his death arrived.