Thoughts (2)'

Kang-hoo, having met with K, quietly followed him down the path.

Although they could have taken a car, it seemed K wanted to walk along the peaceful forest trail.

Kang-hoo also felt he hadn’t had enough conversation with K lately, so he silently followed behind.

Moon Hyeong-seo and Hwang Bo-hye walked a moderate distance ahead and behind, respectively, ensuring K’s safety.

About five minutes passed.

Without a single word exchanged, they just walked, listening to the rustling of fallen leaves.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

That was how solid the trust between Kang-hoo and K had become. There was no awkwardness.

Then K broke the silence.

“How’s the training going?”

“I’m just grateful for the opportunity. If it weren’t for you, K-nim, I wouldn’t have even had the chance to meet Master.”

“I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments. I was just wondering if the elder suits you well.”

“I’ve been training intensely. He points out all the parts I’ve missed, so it’s been very helpful.”

“Is that so? That’s good to hear.”

“I almost regret not meeting such a great teacher earlier. I’m satisfied—just frustrated with my own lack of skill.”

“You’re a truly humble person. But the thing is, that humility isn’t annoying or off-putting. It actually adds to your charm.”

“You flatter me.”

“Being humble in all things, yet showing merciless hell to those who don’t deserve it—that’s your charm.”

K patted Kang-hoo on the shoulder.

The bond had begun with Jung Yuri and led to a connection with K, eventually resulting in a remarkable master like Celestial Assassin.

Unlike the original story, Lee Hyun-seok was still alive, making Kang-hoo acutely aware of how much the future had changed.

K probably felt the same.

In the original story, Master K had almost no connection to Shin Kang-hoo, but now they were closer than anyone.

That would continue to benefit Kang-hoo greatly. A relationship with no loss, only gain.

K continued speaking.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you a new solution to your mana problem. I’ve tried a few experiments, but the responses haven’t been promising.”

“It’s fine. It’s a pain I’m already used to. It’s not the kind of suffering that makes me feel stifled or despair because we haven’t found a way.”

“Still, I feel bad, and I have to say it.”

“Just the fact that we’re looking in the same direction and working through it together is enough. I don’t feel lonely.”

“Is that so? Then I’m glad.”

“Please don’t let it weigh too heavily on you.”

“Right. Either way, I’ll keep researching and investigating steadily, so I hope you’ll trust and watch over me.”

“I always do.”

Kang-hoo smiled.

Truthfully, even while saying that, if someone asked whether he trusted K 100%, he might have tilted his head slightly.

But no matter how you looked at it, K was someone close to his side. He wanted to show his trust in his own way.

Silence returned to their walk.

At some point, Kang-hoo realized K wanted to bring up another topic.

Though what they’d just discussed was something K wanted to talk about, there seemed to be a topic he considered even more important.

But seeing how he couldn’t bring it up easily, it looked like he was struggling with it internally.

So Kang-hoo guided the conversation.

“Perhaps… is there something on your mind, or something else you’d like to say?”

“Hmm, I guess it was that obvious?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“This damned face of mine just can’t do a poker face, that’s the problem. Honestly, I’m not sure if this is something I should be talking to you about.”

“Please speak freely. I’m sure you’ve already judged for yourself whether it’s something you should tell me or not.”

“Then I’ll ask comfortably. What do you think about elitism, or the organizations they create?”

For a sudden question, it was quite profound.

It was too weighty to be dismissed as a simple inquiry.

There was no way K was just throwing out vague questions. He must have his own tangled thoughts on the matter.

‘It doesn’t seem like he’s talking about The Thirteen Stars…’

Was something coming to mind?

For now, Kang-hoo simply said what he had thought.

It was a topic he had considered and reviewed when shaping the elite group called “The Thirteen Stars” in the original story.

“I think it’s only natural that such organizations exist. Profit invites the desire for monopoly, after all.”

“That’s true.”

“In the end, that greed necessitates tacit collusion and control by a select few beneficiaries. That’s what I believe an elite organization is.”

“They inevitably become extremely closed off. Controlling sensitive information becomes essential.”

“Yes. Isn’t greed wanting to have it all for yourself? I’d probably do the same.”

Kang-hoo spoke honestly.

If there were factors that would help his growth, he’d want to monopolize them as much as possible.

Strategically, there would be times he’d have to share with those around him.

But that would only be when there was no real benefit in keeping it for himself…

Never once did he think about giving something away as a kind of sacrifice—by ‘giving up’ the gains he could’ve taken for himself.

It wasn’t because he didn’t trust his companions.

It was because he believed that his own growth was far more beneficial than having his companions grow stronger.

Indeed, Kang-hoo was judging his growth purely through the cold lens of profit and loss.

“In fact, Bo-hye has been collecting and analyzing big data, the trends of named hunters, and related information for a long time.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, and recently, she came across a pretty interesting result. Apparently, there’s an elite organization nearby.”

“Who are they?”

“There’s an elite group led by Jang Si-hwan.”

“…….”

K was clearly referring to The Thirteen Stars.

Of course, their current name is Justice, and not all 13 members have joined yet.

But now, aside from Kang-hoo, someone outside their circle had come to recognize their existence.

It wasn’t just a vague guess—K presented concrete, specific evidence.

In a few photos he casually pulled out, Jang Si-hwan was seen meeting secretly with other Justice members.

“The ones we’ve clearly identified are Chae Gwanhyeong, well-known as Jang Si-hwan’s friend, Casey Rex, the master of America’s Fortuna Guild, and Yu Cheonghwa from China’s Shinto Guild. Those three.”

“Interesting information. Do you have leads on the others?”

“We’re investigating. So far, we’ve only seen their backs. But we’ve identified at least eight people. They’re all from different countries. Jang Si-hwan and Chae Gwanhyeong are the only ones with the same nationality.”

A chill ran down his spine.

There was no one who could’ve shared the original story with K, and no situation where that would happen.

Was it really possible to recognize The Thirteen Stars just by investigation alone?

Kang-hoo was amazed that he wasn’t the only one aware of the group that had become a hidden power.

Perhaps this meant there would be more room for deeper cooperation with K going forward.

“The real issue is that I’ve discovered a few more elite organizations even stronger than this. And they’re incredibly secretive.”

“Excuse me?”

Kang-hoo, who rarely raised his voice, was genuinely surprised.

To be blunt, it was completely new information to him.

In the original story, The Thirteen Stars were the only elite group that emerged from behind the veil.

Other groups existed only in concept, as fragments of unconscious thought.

Even if similar factions existed, none matched The Thirteen Stars in power.

But now K was saying they were stronger? Kang-hoo had no clue what to make of that.

“We’ve preliminarily confirmed the existence of at least one more. Circumstantial evidence points to as many as three. Of course, this could still turn out to be a wild goose chase.”

“So there could be as many as four organizations like the one led by Jang Si-hwan?”

“Yeah, that’s right. And none of them seem purely good-natured. If I were to borrow another term—they’re more like ‘shadow powers.’”

“…….”

Kang-hoo went silent without realizing it. His thoughts were racing.

In the original story, what he had conceived as unconscious possibilities was of a completely different nature.

Back then, he had imagined not another group like The Thirteen Stars, but a possible ‘superior power’ above Shin Kang-hoo.

If that subconscious vision had manifested, that higher-up figure should now exist in his world.

But it didn’t.

There was nothing.

Which meant… there was now a variable not present in either the original or the unconscious realm.

‘Then… is it the Demon King’s side?’

Only one conclusion remained.

Like with God’s Wind, anything Kang-hoo couldn’t clearly identify could only be linked to the Demon King.

Because in the original story, it ended before the Demon King’s full arrival.

In other words, the Demon King’s emergence was the unpredictable ending the original story couldn’t account for.

So all knowledge and structure related to the Demon King were inherently outside Kang-hoo’s grasp.

‘No, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself and start over-interpreting things like I’m writing the novel again. K’s information isn’t guaranteed to be 100%.’

As with God’s Wind, Kang-hoo decided to withhold judgment for now.

The information K had obtained was still too vague to form a solid theory or belief.

But it was clear that K knew more about The Thirteen Stars than Kang-hoo had expected.

“Anyway, getting this kind of intel has made me question things. Like whether continuing dealings with the Jeonghwa Guild is the right call.”

“But K-nim, aren’t you the one holding the reins anyway? I think your choice is the direction.”

“I admit, the Jeonghwa Guild isn’t exactly appealing. But that doesn’t mean I want to help The Abyss or anything.”

“So your hesitation comes from the existence of these elite organizations?”

“Exactly. If it were just about breaking ties with the Jeonghwa Guild, I wouldn’t care. But once you go against multiple elite factions and their networks, it’s a different story.”

In a short span of time, the conversation between Kang-hoo and K had conveyed an overwhelming amount of meaning and information.

It gave Kang-hoo a lot to think about.

If there were organizations similar to The Thirteen Stars, their orientation would be critical.

If they leaned toward the Demon King, it meant new enemies. If they leaned toward Kang-hoo, they could become allies.

Then—

K stopped and turned to look at Kang-hoo.

A crisp wind swept away the fallen leaves between them, casting a quiet stillness over the forest.

K was smiling, and Kang-hoo, as always, wore a neutral expression as he looked at him.

K’s eyes gave the impression that he was about to ask something important. Kang-hoo quietly waited for his words.

Finally, after gathering his thoughts, K asked.

A short but deeply meaningful question.

“Whose side are you on?”