Chapter 31

“N-No, I mean, uh… Guild Master, when did you switch masks?” Moonhyuk stammered, shuffling inside. “Your build and face were completely different! I didn’t recognize you at all! I thought some random ajussi was sitting in here!”

His build was different?

Wondering what on earth that meant, Eui-rim looked at Hae-gun, who merely signaled with a subtle gesture that he would explain later.

What is going on? Could the mask have an illusion effect I wasn’t told about?

As Eui-rim pondered this, Moonhyuk stepped over and handed him a cup of iced coffee. Noticing the faint tremor in Moonhyuk’s fingers, Eui-rim accepted the cup with a quiet nod.

He must be surprisingly faint of heart. Even without knowing the full story, if Hae-gun’s appearance looked completely altered, not recognizing him was natural enough. To think he’d tremble this much over it…

Letting out a long sigh, Moonhyuk sank onto a beanbag chair in the corner. “Did you buy that just now?” he asked in an exhausted voice.

“Yeah. Bought it from Chief Hong earlier,” Hae-gun replied. “She said it’s a new release.”

Chief Hong? The name rings a bell, but who was it again?

As Eui-rim searched his memory, Hae-gun caught his puzzled look and smoothly clarified. “Hong Somin. She’s a broker from 〈The Forge〉. Whenever new items come out, she drops by each quarter with catalogs.”

“…Ah, the chief sales director from 〈The Forge〉,” Eui-rim murmured.

Hearing the word broker, the memory clicked into place. She was the most famous sales director belonging to the Production Skill Users Commercial Association—commonly known as 〈The Forge〉.

Director Lee Sang-jong had mentioned buying items from Chief Hong in the past. He had noted that while her prices were exorbitant, the craftsmanship was guaranteed, making her goods difficult to secure even with a hefty premium.

A world-class guild truly operates on another level. Having vendors visit in person with catalogs so the hunters never have to shop around—what an extraordinarily convenient luxury.

“By the way, why did Chief Hong come by earlier than scheduled?” Moonhyuk asked.

Having regained his composure, Moonhyuk spoke with his usual hearty cadence.

So why was he trembling so violently just a moment ago?

“I called her over because there was something else I needed to buy,” Hae-gun answered.

“Didn’t we already ship our supplies to Jeju Island in advance?” Moonhyuk asked. “Was there still more to buy?”

“An item for Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun said.

The instant the words left Hae-gun’s mouth, both pairs of eyes turned toward Eui-rim.

Touching the Watch of Seclusion on his wrist by reflex, Eui-rim asked, “Is it the stealth artifact I requested previously?”

“No. Stealth items consume a substantial amount of mana, so I prepared something else instead,” Hae-gun replied. “You mentioned that your time skill drains a heavy amount of mana as well.”

“…You heard that from Vice Guild Master Lee,” Eui-rim said.

Thank goodness. I was worried since he hadn’t mentioned my report to Lee Seonha, but it seems the message got through after all.

Still, having the issue raised stirred a fresh wave of unease. Pushing down his apprehension, Eui-rim narrowed his eyes.

The time-stop skill—specifically the duration of 〈Rewinding Hand〉—was unexpectedly inconsistent.

He had discovered this over the weekend while practicing for his supporter duties. The root of the problem was that, unlike on Mount Gamak, he couldn’t sustain it for even a single minute.

“You said that when you cast it twice consecutively at home, you nearly suffered mana exhaustion,” Hae-gun remarked after a brief silence.

Letting go of the straw he had been chewing, Eui-rim replied, “Yes.”

“Have you tried casting it since then?” Hae-gun asked.

“No. By the time I came to my senses, it was already this morning,” Eui-rim admitted.

Severe dizziness had struck after consecutive activations, his vision blacking out as consciousness slipped away. Despite having plenty of mana at the start, it had drained completely, as if poured into a bottomless jar.

“How about now? Do you feel recharged?” Hae-gun asked.

“Yes.” Eui-rim nodded.

When he had first woken this morning, his mana had been depleted to the point of dull numbness, but he had recovered to a reasonable degree by now.

Glancing toward Ahn Moonhyuk, Hae-gun suggested casually, “Then why not try casting it again? Since we’re here, expand the range as wide as you did on Mount Gamak.”

“How large an area should I cover?” Eui-rim asked.

“The size of this entire conference room? If that’s difficult, you’re free to refuse,” Hae-gun said.

“The whole room might actually be easier,” Eui-rim said thoughtfully. “Isolating specific sections is much harder.”

The issue had only ever been duration; freezing a designated space was not particularly difficult. All he needed to do was trace the mana circuit and release the energy.

“Great. Then give it a freeze,” Hae-gun said. “We can figure out the mana drain after testing. The conditions might be different this time.”

It was a sensible suggestion. On Mount Gamak, he had been right beside Seo Hae-gun, whereas at home, he had cast it in solitude. Comparing the two environments might yield a plausible clue.

“I’ll begin casting, then,” Eui-rim said.

At Eui-rim’s quiet declaration, Moonhyuk sucked in a tense breath. Eui-rim closed his eyes and attuned every sense in his body.

Having activated it several times already, channeling the skill proved easier than before. As he poured mana into the circuit like molten gold into a cast, brilliant light blossomed behind his eyelids.

The ethereal clock advanced its hands at a swifter tempo. Then, the moment it crossed a certain threshold, the second hand ceased ticking, and golden embers resembling kerria petals dissolved one by one, nudging the minute hand forward.

In an instant, absolute silence enveloped the room.

Even the window that had been rattling in the draft fell completely still. Everything ground to a halt, swallowed by the silence of a frozen second.

The familiar translucent timer window materialized before his eyes.

Displaying the exact same numbers as when he had first cast the skill on Mount Gamak, the countdown began ticking away.

Before long, Eui-rim sensed movement across the table. Looking up on reflex, he found Seo Hae-gun blinking back at him.

“You haven’t…” Eui-rim trailed off, stunned.

“…stopped. As you can see,” Hae-gun finished with a dry smirk.

Eui-rim turned a bewildered gaze toward Ahn Moonhyuk.

“Fortunately, it seems to have worked on Moonhyuk,” Hae-gun remarked.

Just as Hae-gun said, Moonhyuk sat frozen mid-breath. Like a sculpted mannequin rather than a living man, he rested without the slightest twitch, his wide eyes pinned to empty air.

Only then did Eui-rim exhale, the stillness settling around him with vivid clarity. His own heartbeat sounded loud in the silence. The coffee Moonhyuk gripped, the beanbag beneath him, the stopped wall clock, the window pane… Everything was stranded in a single, motionless moment.

“How many minutes left?” Hae-gun asked.

There was no time to indulge in sentiment. The only man untouched by the time-stop addressed him in a crisp, clear voice.

“Three minutes,” Eui-rim replied.

“Anything different from Mount Gamak?” Hae-gun asked.

“Nothing at all,” Eui-rim said.

Nodding faintly, Hae-gun pulled the mask down below his chin. “Seonha theorized that because of the gap between the skill’s rank and your own, your mana consumption accelerated. What do you think? Does the drain feel heavy right now?”

“No. Right now, I barely feel any drain at all,” Eui-rim answered. “It doesn’t feel exhausting in the slightest.”

Too flustered initially to realize it, he had pushed himself to the brink of depletion at home before truly appreciating how absurd this was. To sit here completely unburdened after freezing time itself was nothing short of a miracle.

Watching the dwindling numbers on the timer, Eui-rim spoke up. A hypothesis had taken shape in his mind.

“This is merely a theory, but…” Eui-rim began.

“…”

“Could it be that I’m being influenced by you, Seo Hae-gun-ssi?” Eui-rim asked. “The fact that my mana drain is minimal compared to when I’m alone, and the fact that the freeze doesn’t affect you—they seem linked.”

“The source of that influence could just be an S-rank hunter in general,” Hae-gun pointed out.

Eui-rim considered the point, but his conclusion remained unchanged. If looking strictly at the skill’s failure to affect him, rank couldn’t be ruled out. But the extended duration and negligible mana consumption had nothing to do with general rank.

Above all, if acquiring this skill was tied to the regression ritual, being influenced specifically by Seo Hae-gun was only natural.

After all, Hae-gun was the very person who had sacrificed himself to send Eui-rim back.

Yet because it was impossible to disclose the truth right now, Eui-rim simply shook his head, letting the matter rest as an idle conjecture.

“…I can’t say for sure beyond that,” Eui-rim said.

“If I’d known, I should have had you test it while Shim Woo-joo was around,” Hae-gun mused.

Indeed, had he activated the skill in the presence of an S-rank healer, they might have reached a clearer diagnosis.

“I’m sorry,” Eui-rim said quietly. “I reported this far too late.”

“It’s not your fault, Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun said. “No one understands their skills right after awakening. Even I was like that.”

Just as Eui-rim was about to offer to cancel the supporter contract if necessary, Hae-gun brushed it aside as if it were nothing.

…Is he comforting me?

Cautiously glancing up, Eui-rim met eyes warm with amusement. He swallowed hard as he looked into Hae-gun’s irises, deep as a nocturnal sea. In that fleeting second, an unexpected calm settled over his thoughts, anchoring him with steady reassurance.

As if all his clamoring anxieties had been swept away by a gentle tide.

“Well, I planned to evaluate your skills as soon as we entered the dungeon anyway, so don’t worry about it,” Hae-gun said gently. “If anything, we’re fortunate to discover this early.” His smile softened his sharp features, lending him an unexpected warmth. He gave a slight shrug. “Still, it really is fascinating.” Hae-gun broke eye contact first, his gaze drifting into the quiet air before he murmured in a low whisper, “That we are exceptions to each other.”

“…Am I an exception to you as well, Seo Hae-gun-ssi?” Eui-rim asked softly.

An object of curiosity, perhaps, but hardly an exception.

Rather than answering, Hae-gun offered a faint smile and rose from his chair, gesturing toward the frozen clock with a tilt of his chin.

“How much time do you have left?” Hae-gun asked.

“About a minute,” Eui-rim replied.

“And can you deactivate the skill at will?” Hae-gun asked.

Only then did Eui-rim realize he hadn’t considered that at all.

Right. If I cast it of my own volition, I should be able to release it at will. There was never any need to wait out the full three minutes.

Focusing on the floating timer with a sensation akin to dismissing a status window, reality snapped back in an instant. The window began rattling in the draft again, the clock resumed its ticking, and…

“Whoa, what the—! When did you take off your mask?!” Moonhyuk cried out in sheer panic.

…Moonhyuk leaped to his feet, clutching his coffee cup in terror.