Chapter 30

Over the weekend, Eui-rim received more messages than in his entire previous life. Calls and texts flooded his phone relentlessly: Director Lee Sang-jong, now his former superior; colleagues from the public health center; Yoo Tae-geun; and Lee Seonha. To make matters worse, Kim Si-hoon had realized his number was blocked and started texting from a burner line, vibrating Eui-rim’s phone incessantly.

Eui-rim sighed, staring down at the texts that had arrived at dawn. He had always known Kim Si-hoon had a screw loose, but this unhinged persistence was downright exhausting.

When Director Lee had fretted over Si-hoon’s vindictive nature, Eui-rim had assumed it was mild exaggeration. Clearly, faking mana depletion and walking out had provoked the guild master to an alarming degree.

…If I block this number too, will he chase me all the way to my house?

He couldn’t fathom why Si-hoon was fixated on stalking him, but once his contract with Cheongho Guild was signed, he intended to consult Lee Seonha—inquiring whether the guild could file restraining orders against White Noise to halt the harassment.

“Oh! Good morning!” a booming voice called out.

Waiting in the ground-floor lobby, Eui-rim looked up as a familiar figure approached: a burly man whose towering frame and jovial features resembled a brown bear in every conceivable way. It was Hunter Ahn Moonhyuk.

Articles often noted that he resembled a grizzly bear more in person than on camera, and the description was entirely accurate.

Eui-rim bowed politely to the massive hunter.

“You’re Hunter Kang Eui-rim, right?” Moonhyuk boomed.

“Yes, nice to meet you,” Eui-rim confirmed.

“They said I’d spot you immediately just by looking at your face, and they were right! Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ahn Moonhyuk.” Flashing a boisterous grin, he added, “The Vice Guild Master asked me to escort you up. I’m joining the deployment to Utopia anyway, so I’m attending this morning’s briefing.”

“Ah. I see,” Eui-rim said.

So I won’t be alone in the dungeon with Seo Hae-gun. What a relief. Anxious over the intelligence he had verified over the weekend, Eui-rim found Moonhyuk’s presence immensely reassuring.

He had notified Lee Seonha earlier that morning, who promised to brief Hae-gun immediately… but knowing the Guild Master’s arrogant streak, Eui-rim worried Hae-gun might brush the warning aside as inconsequential.

“Anyway, I look forward to working together, though we’ll do the formal introductions later.” Moonhyuk chuckled, extending a hand.

The outstretched hand was as broad as a bear’s paw. Smiling politely, Eui-rim took it. He had expected a rough, calloused grip, but Moonhyuk’s palm was surprisingly soft and plush—cushioned like a teddy bear’s paw.

“Is the Guild Master upstairs as well?” Eui-rim asked.

“Ah, yes. A visitor dropped in, so they’re in a meeting. As soon as he finishes, he’ll come straight to the conference room.”

“Understood.” Eui-rim nodded.

Having arrived thirty minutes early anyway, Eui-rim didn’t mind the wait, following Moonhyuk down the lobby corridor.

The guild headquarters comprised six above-ground floors and one subterranean level; their destination was the main conference hall on the fourth. Guiding him toward the elevators, Moonhyuk pointed toward the stairwell leading down.

“For reference, B1 is our armory. More accurately, it’s the guild vault where we store weapons, high-tier artifacts, and raid spoils.”

“How unusual. Are weapons owned collectively rather than individually?” Eui-rim asked.

“No, personal gear stays with each hunter,” Moonhyuk explained with a grin. “It’s just that unassigned raid drops or weapons bought on impulse at auction get tossed into common storage.”

“Why do they put them into storage instead of keeping them individually? Is there any benefit to rotating them?”

“Haha! Nothing so strategic.” Moonhyuk laughed. “The Guild Master is the only one without an exclusive weapon, you see. So everyone stashes gear like squirrels hoarding acorns—just so he has something to swing, even if it shatters after a single strike.”

Mmm. So that was why.

Recalling past headlines, Eui-rim remembered reports stating that over fifty high-grade weapons shattered each year under Seo Hae-gun’s overwhelming mana. Smaller guilds had even protested publicly that Cheongho was monopolizing the domestic arms market.

Watching the elevator floor numbers tick upward, Eui-rim spoke cautiously. “By the way, regarding the Guild Master.”

“Yes?” Moonhyuk asked.

“Why does he expend incompatible weapons to channel his skills? Inside dungeons, couldn’t he simply sweep everything away barehanded?”

From what Eui-rim had witnessed on Mount Gamak, Hae-gun’s hydrokinetic techniques seemed precise enough; he wondered why the Guild Master went to such lengths burning through arms.

“Whoa! Absolutely not! It’s fine when he raids alone, but whenever companions are present, a catalyst is mandatory!”

The reaction was startlingly intense. Moonhyuk practically hopped in place, shuddering with genuine horror. His massive weight made the elevator cab shudder on its cables.

Noticing Eui-rim instinctively press against the wall, Moonhyuk offered an apologetic grimace. “Since you’ll be serving as his personal supporter, take this as vital survival advice.”

“I’m listening,” Eui-rim said.

“If the Guild Master has no weapon in his hands… assume you need to stay at least three kilometers away. That’s the only way you won’t get swept away.”

“Three kilometers?” Eui-rim echoed.

If that’s the case, isn’t it better not to travel together at all?

“Yes,” Moonhyuk said gravely. “Just think of him as a walking typhoon. Your mind will be far more at peace.”

“Is he truly that dangerous?” Eui-rim pressed.

The elevator chimed and the doors parted. Stepping into the fourth-floor corridor, Moonhyuk glanced around before whispering, “You know how weather broadcasts tell civilians never to approach storm surges or riverbanks during a typhoon? It’s exactly like that.”

Hearing Moonhyuk’s explanation only deepened Eui-rim’s confusion.

Like bodies of water during a typhoon? Then what was that clean slaughter of only the monsters around the Abyssal Origin Cave? Was it because he had about three minutes of leeway?

Even when he slaughtered the giant annelid that nearly swallowed me, there was no uncontrolled catastrophe—he simply severed the creature in two with surgical precision.

“Please make yourself comfortable inside,” Moonhyuk said, opening the door. “I’ll bring you something to drink.”

Lost in thought, Eui-rim hadn’t realized they had reached the end of the hall. He politely shook his head as Moonhyuk held the door open.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself,” Eui-rim demurred. “I’m fine waiting.”

“It’s no trouble at all! The only thing Cheongho has in infinite supply is food and drink.” Moonhyuk chuckled. “What’s your preference? Coffee? Green tea? Fruit juice? Cola? Popsicles? Hovenia tea? Energy drinks? Vitamin water? For reference, we stock both regular and zero-calorie sodas. Lemon-lime cider too. Ah, do we still have sparkling water?”

Aren’t office beverages usually just instant coffee or green tea? Did they loot an entire convenience store refrigerator?

“…Just coffee, please,” Eui-rim replied.

“Hot? Any syrup?” Moonhyuk asked.

“No syrup… and if possible, iced, please,” Eui-rim answered.

“Got it. Pure Americano style. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” Moonhyuk grinned, turning toward the lounge.

Following an enthusiastic barrage of questions, Ahn Moonhyuk headed toward a room on the opposite side of the corridor. Only after his figure vanished from view did Eui-rim step inside the conference room.

The most striking feature of the room was the long conference table anchored at its center. Six chairs faced one another in rows of three, flanked by a head seat. Comfortable single armchairs were tucked into various corners, alongside a couple of beanbags piled high with plush cushions.

Eui-rim took in the ceiling-mounted projector, the glass whiteboard spanning an entire wall, and the laptop docks before taking a seat at the foot of the table. Though he had visited various guilds on dungeon dispatches over the years, this was his first time seeing a briefing room of this caliber, leaving him quietly awed.

The door swung open just as he was passing the time in quiet contemplation.

Assuming it was Moonhyuk, Eui-rim rose from his chair—only for his eyes to widen the instant he saw who stood in the doorway. “…Huh?”

There stood Seo Hae-gun, slouching lazily against the frame, wearing a white mask.

Gazing at the man’s eyes, which had shifted to a deep shade of brown, Eui-rim recalled the mask’s effect. Hae-gun had explained that it was an artifact designed to alter one’s physical appearance. Seeing it up close, it certainly cast an uncanny, more subtle impression than the familiar black mask.

“Hello, Seo Hae-gun-ssi.” Eui-rim offered a polite nod. “You’re earlier than expected. Has your guest already left?”

Seo Hae-gun’s brow furrowed at the calm greeting. Tilting his head without returning the pleasantry, he strode over, pulled out the chair directly opposite Eui-rim, and tossed a question right back.

“How did you know it was me?” Hae-gun asked.

“I recognized you immediately,” Eui-rim replied.

“Really?” Hae-gun asked, leaning in.

“Yes. After all, the only change is that your eyes turned brown,” Eui-rim answered plainly.

When Eui-rim answered with forced composure, Hae-gun’s eyes crinkled with amusement. Whatever he found so entertaining, he was clearly laughing behind the mask.

What is this? Shouldn’t we be discussing the report I gave to Lee Seonha instead of asking about masks? A critical defect was discovered in my support skill, yet he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Um, Seo Hae-gun-ssi—” Eui-rim began.

“Shh.” Hae-gun raised a finger, cutting him off.

“…Pardon?” Eui-rim blinked.

“Stay still. If possible, try acting a little awkward, too,” Hae-gun instructed in a whisper.

Baffled by the bizarre request, Eui-rim chose to comply for now. After all, Hae-gun was the master of this domain. In quiet silence, he let the seconds tick by, staring into those brown irises and the slightly mussed fringe of Hae-gun’s hair.

“Huuuh?” a voice gasped from the threshold.

Right on cue, the conference room door swung open. Ahn Moonhyuk appeared with a stupefied expression, gripping two iced coffees in his hands.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Moonhyuk demanded, freezing in the doorway.

Instead of answering, Hae-gun turned back toward Eui-rim. A subtle smile danced in his eyes, as though underscoring just how abnormal it was that Eui-rim had recognized him on sight.

Wait, even with the mask on, how could he fail to recognize his own guild master? Does Moonhyuk suffer from face blindness or something?

“Aargh!” Moonhyuk shrieked.

A moment later, Moonhyuk let out a strangled shriek as Hae-gun pulled the mask down. The instant their eyes met, Moonhyuk bolted straight into the corridor, only daring to peek back around the doorframe after several long seconds—like a startled squirrel checking whether the coast was clear.

“I’m hurt, Moonhyuk-ah,” Hae-gun chided smoothly. “Failing to recognize me just because I switched masks.”

In stark contrast to Moonhyuk’s panic, Hae-gun remained utterly poised. Watching him slip the mask back on, Eui-rim tilted his head.

Come to think of it, why does he wear a mask even inside his own guild? Outside, people might feel overwhelmed by his presence, but surely there’s no need to go this far in here.