Chapter 46

Yet Eui-rim could never bring this skill into the light. His resonance with the Fragment of the Origin, his sudden ability to view Hae-gun’s private status, and the revelation of the Guild Master’s hidden abnormality—all of it had to remain buried deep inside.

It was still far too early to lay his cards on the table.

Hae-gun sank into deep thought as he absorbed the explanation. Attribute increases awarded directly by a dungeon were extraordinary on their own, but a modifier attached to an awakener’s rank was unprecedented, leaving even the S-rank hunter visibly shaken.

“It certainly is bizarre,” Hae-gun murmured.

“Right?” Eui-rim chimed in.

“Yes. A reward manifesting in that manner is unusual enough… but neither Moonhyuk nor I received any clear rewards at all,” Hae-gun noted. “That weighs on my mind as well.”

Come to think of it, he’s right.

Normally, raid rewards were calculated and disbursed the instant hunters crossed the dungeon threshold. Yet this time, there had been nothing. Both Hae-gun and Ahn Moonhyuk had merely cursed the gate’s anomaly and Yuk Do-hwan’s cowardly retreat, making no mention of rewards.

Did the system siphon three people’s worth of rewards just to feed my stat points?

Given that both the dungeon’s distortion and his own fractured status window were linked to the ‘Scales,’ this disproportionate reward might well be an extension of that cosmic counterbalance.

Don’t tell me every future dungeon is going to funnel collective rewards into me like this. That would be disastrous.

“To be perfectly frank…” Hae-gun’s voice broke the heavy silence. Eui-rim lifted his head to find the Guild Master narrowing his blue-gray eyes with a faint, searching smile. “I was expecting a different sort of story. For instance, hmm… a confession of conscience?”

Why is he sounding so ominous?

It wasn’t as though Eui-rim had committed a crime, but bearing so many dangerous secrets made him shrink back instinctively. Forcing a composed expression, he asked, “Why would you expect that?”

“I felt a brief sense of dissonance yesterday,” Hae-gun replied.

“Dissonance…?” Eui-rim echoed.

“How should I put it—a strange void, as though time had momentarily fractured,” Hae-gun explained, his gaze piercing. “So I wondered if you might have tested your skill on me, Eui-rim-ssi.”

He felt that?

Beyond mere shock, Eui-rim was utterly dumbfounded. Even allowing for an S-rank hunter’s razor-sharp intuition, how on earth had he sensed a temporal freeze? Words failed him.

“You know very well that my skill doesn’t work on you, Hae-gun-ssi,” Eui-rim said.

“I do, but if you set your mind to keeping it hidden, I wouldn’t necessarily catch on,” Hae-gun pointed out. “Besides, your proficiency might have improved in the meantime.”

Hearing that, Eui-rim realized the idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched. Should I try testing it on him secretly later? As long as Seo Hae-gun was nearby, his mana consumption dropped to near zero, making an experiment sorely tempting. Concealing his inward calculation, Eui-rim retorted with exasperation, “What would I even gain by freezing time at that moment?”

“True enough. I suppose I’m reflecting on my own foolishness,” Hae-gun conceded.

Hae-gun held up both hands in surrender, letting out a soft laugh as if admitting how absurd his suspicion sounded. “I just wasn’t in the best state of mind back then. The sensation felt eerily familiar, leaving me with this persistent feeling that I had left something behind.”

“…”

“Because that unsettling sensation refused to fade, I suppose I grew overly sensitive,” Hae-gun admitted.

“That sensation of leaving something behind… you felt that?” Eui-rim asked quietly.

“Yes,” Hae-gun replied.

As if the mere memory rekindled a surge of instinctive aversion, Hae-gun’s brow creased faintly. His gaze, distant yet piercing, seemed fixed on something far beyond the present.

Thump. Thump. Thump

It felt as though someone were driving a heavy mallet against Eui-rim’s ribs. The violent thudding of his heart exerted a crushing weight across his chest. Rubbing his damp palms against his trousers, he forced himself to draw an even breath.

Did he instinctively sense the thoughtform of his past self?

The chime of the front doorbell abruptly shattered the stifling silence. As Eui-rim turned toward the sound, Hae-gun let out a low exclamation.

“Ah, looks like breakfast is here,” Hae-gun remarked.

Pulling a mask from his trouser pocket, Hae-gun hooked it over his ears and strode to open the door. Eui-rim rose awkwardly to his feet, watching two hotel attendants push in room-service carts piled high with covered dishes. After being plunged into grave, suffocating contemplation only seconds earlier, the mundane interruption left his mind completely blank.

“…We’re eating here?” Eui-rim asked.

“Where else would we eat?” Hae-gun asked with an easy smile.

He spoke as though the answer were completely self-evident.

No wonder he remained planted on the sofa the entire morning. Come to think of it, he ordered room service last night as well. Why had I assumed we would head down to the dining hall or find a restaurant outside?

Even so, the arrival of the meal at this exact moment was a mercy. Had the silence dragged on any longer, keeping his expression neutral would have proven impossible. Moreover, watching the dining table fill up dish by dish did more than merely distract him…

The sheer mountain of food before them was enough to make his stomach feel stuffed before taking a single bite.

“…”

Did he literally order every single dish on the menu?

Eui-rim had braced himself upon seeing two heavily laden carts, but this bordered on absurd.

Starting with rich abalone porridge, the spread featured simmered beef bone soup, abalone seaweed soup, spicy hangover soup, glazed short ribs, grilled sea bream, and an entire assortment of Western brunch platters. The sheer variety crowded across the table was staggering; the mere thought of consuming it all made his head spin.

“Please enjoy your meal,” the staff said with a polite bow as they finished setting the spread.

Hearing their cheerful greeting, Eui-rim felt his shoulders tense. The staff were merely offering standard hotel hospitality, yet an inexplicable prickle of self-consciousness warmed the nape of his neck.

Under ordinary circumstances, the kind of guests ordering an extravagant suite breakfast first thing in the morning were… usually honeymooners, weren’t they?

…Or not? Am I just overthinking things?

Seo Hae-gun and Ahn Moonhyuk treated luxury suites like private dormitories anyway. Even staying in separate rooms, sharing breakfast together was hardly unusual for guildmates.

While Eui-rim lingered awkwardly, fingering his damp hair, Hae-gun pulled off his mask, drew out two dining chairs, and set them at the table. Gesturing toward the opposite seat, the Guild Master made himself comfortable.

“Pick whatever you want,” Hae-gun said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

What an astronomical appetite. Did the man have a black hole for a stomach?

Eui-rim already knew the S-rank hunter possessed a massive appetite, but watching him prepare to demolish this banquet first thing in the morning inspired genuine awe.

“After clearing a dungeon, my appetite doesn’t settle down for a while,” Hae-gun offered by way of playful defense, having caught Eui-rim’s dumbfounded stare.

Nodding in understanding, Eui-rim surveyed the lavish spread once more.

Indeed, expending that caliber of monstrous mana would leave anyone ravenous. Hunter rations inside a dungeon were notoriously Spartan, which only compounded the deficit afterward.

“Will that really be enough to fill you up?” Hae-gun asked, eyeing his plate.

The moment Eui-rim reached for the simple omelet platter tucked in the corner, a skeptical remark flew across the table. Hae-gun looked genuinely baffled that, out of this entire feast, he had chosen nothing more than eggs and a cup of black coffee.

“I usually eat lightly in the morning,” Eui-rim replied.

“Dear me. You’re going to have a brutal time building up your physical stats,” Hae-gun teased with a clicking tongue.

Pretending not to hear, Eui-rim picked up the television remote from the side table, drawing a low chuckle from across the room. Leaving Hae-gun’s amused smirk behind, he clicked the TV on. While he certainly wanted to dodge the teasing, eating face-to-face in the quiet intimacy of the suite felt unexpectedly stifling.

The news anchor’s voice seemed to drag out into a distorted drone, like warped audio from a stretched cassette tape. The sudden, violent influx of news scattered Eui-rim’s thoughts into total disarray.

Closing his eyes, Eui-rim waited for the broadcast to finish. Struck by so many jarring shocks in rapid succession, a sharp spell of vertigo seized his skull, wringing a faint groan from his throat.

“Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun called softly.

A sudden warmth settled over his knee. Opening his eyes at the gentle voice, Eui-rim found Hae-gun kneeling on one knee beside his chair, having closed the distance without making a sound.

“What’s wrong?” Hae-gun asked, his expression taut with concern.