Chapter 79

“By the way, how did Hunter Kang Eui-rim end up joining the Isolation Ward raid team? His rank wouldn’t have matched in the first place,” Yoo Tae-geun cut in. “Could it be related to what you said earlier about time stopping…?”

“Yes, exactly,” Seo Hae-gun answered smoothly. “Because he’s a scouting specialist. Kang Eui-rim-ssi, that is.”

A touch that had grown familiar by now slipped over Eui-rim’s shoulder, curving around his back. The hand resting against his shoulder blade was so firm that Eui-rim felt like he could surrender all his weight and lean right against it.

With an easy smile, Seo Hae-gun continued, “As you’d see from his evaluation results, his mental barrier is exceptionally robust.”

“Even so, isn’t he a D-rank hunter?” Yoo Tae-geun pressed, frowning. “Bringing him into a dungeon with so many variables is dangerous, in my opinion.”

“That’s only because Hunter Yoo knows nothing about Eui-rim-ssi,” Hae-gun countered.

“Then I take it the Cheongho Guild Master knows Hunter Kang Eui-rim well,” Tae-geun said stiffly.

“I believe I know him far better than Hunter Yoo Tae-geun does,” Hae-gun replied with a smirk.

At their utterly childish back-and-forth, Son Chaeyoon began sputtering with suppressed laughter from behind them. She seemed to be trying her best to keep quiet, but her twitching lips made it obvious she was dying to tease them.

Eui-rim let out a quiet sigh as he caught Chaeyoon flashing a discreet finger-heart behind Seo Hae-gun’s back. Regardless of the truth, she clearly found the entire spectacle hilarious. He was already dreading how she would tease him later.

Just then, an unexpected rebuttal followed. To Seo Hae-gun’s provocative claim, Yoo Tae-geun countered with a deadpan, serious face: “I was under the impression Hunter Kang Eui-rim had no contact whatsoever with Cheongho Guild during his time as a healer.”

Why is he taking this so seriously? He could just dismiss it as nonsense. Is it because Tae-geun is utterly hopeless with jokes?

Thanks to that solemn reaction, Seo Hae-gun grew thoroughly amused. Shamelessly keeping his arm around Eui-rim’s shoulder, Hae-gun turned to look down at him with a grin.

“Closeness isn’t proportional to time, after all,” Hae-gun said, nudging him lightly. “Isn’t that right, Eui-rim-ssi?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Eui-rim muttered. “I don’t want to get involved.”

“Why?” Hae-gun asked, feigning innocence. “Earlier, you said I was totally your type and that you wanted to date me. I was touched, thinking we had grown close enough to consider dating.”

For a split second, Eui-rim nearly cast 〈Rewinding Hand〉 on pure reflex. Had he not recognized that it was already far too late to undo the damage, he would have frozen time on the spot and grabbed Seo Hae-gun by the collar.

“No, seriously, stop it,” Eui-rim hissed, face burning. “That was just something I blurted out! It wasn’t something to take seriously. You know full well what the situation was, so why are you acting like this?”

“It was just something you blurted out?” Hae-gun repeated, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Yes! Because Kim Si-hoon kept babbling such bizarre nonsense…!” Eui-rim retorted.

“How cruel.” Hae-gun sighed with mock sorrow. “To think you were just playing with me. I thought you were sincere and even gave it serious thought.”

What are you even talking about? Don’t lie to my face. If you actually took it seriously, would you parade it around like this?

Between Hae-gun and Son Chaeyoon, they were clearly just itching to torment someone. Sincere, my ass.

Amidst all that, a roaring exclamation boomed from further back. “Whoa! It was a joke!” Eui-rim looked over his shoulder to find Ahn Moonhyuk laughing boisterously, his complexion far brighter than before.

“Man, and here I was, wondering what the hell we’d do if you two actually started dating!” Moonhyuk bellowed. “Especially with the Guild Master making such a bizarre fuss! Hahaha! So that wasn’t it! I was scared half to death—what a relief!”

Ahn Moonhyuk’s laughter was so hearty it echoed all the way down the corridor. Staring at Moonhyuk, who continued his boisterous guffawing, Seo Hae-gun spoke in an annoyed tone: “Moonhyuk-ah, you’re too loud.”

“Yes, sir! My apologies!” Moonhyuk barked back cheerfully.

Naturally, Ahn Moonhyuk acted as though his Guild Master’s irritation was of zero concern. Thoroughly relieved to have that terrifying misunderstanding cleared up, he beamed broadly and pantomimed zipping his lips shut.

Right. If Son Chaeyoon heard it, it must have reached Ahn Moonhyuk’s ears too. No wonder he’d been so unusually quiet.

He had actually been agonizing over it, convinced I made a genuine confession.

…Still, this rubs me the wrong way. Why is that? Beyond mere annoyance, I almost feel a little offended.

Pushing aside his complicated feelings, Eui-rim looked ahead to find they had arrived at a crossroads. The guiding light was circling in the center of the junction, but as he stepped closer, it resolved into a focused directional beam once more.

“It’s this way,” Eui-rim said.

“Not the right path?” Son Chaeyoon asked, surprised.

The moment Eui-rim pointed to the central corridor where the light led, Son Chaeyoon raised an eyebrow. According to the original layout of the Isolation Ward, the right fork was the standard route, so she was caught off guard.

“Yes,” Eui-rim confirmed. “This is correct.”

“I felt a draft of outside air, so I naturally assumed it was a trap,” Chaeyoon noted. “How unexpected.”

“I thought the same,” Seo Hae-gun said.

The moment Eui-rim took a step forward, a familiar stickiness clung to his boot soles. What kind of monster spawned here to leave behind this much bodily fluid? If this is saliva, the creature practically has no lower jaw.

Passing through the central corridor, they arrived in a chamber where a gaping hole was bored into the ceiling. No wonder a breeze had been blowing in; that opening seemed to be the source.

Eui-rim stepped closer to examine it, but all he could see was pitch-black void. Like an inverted sinkhole, an endless abyss stretched upward into the ceiling.

“There’s an entrance!” Son Chaeyoon shouted, having enthusiastically tapped along the walls while they inspected the ceiling. Sliding a rusted panel aside, she revealed a passage descending toward the first basement level.

Poking her head through to survey the basement stairs, Son Chaeyoon wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Whoa, damn! The stench of rot is no joke. It smells like rotting corpses down there.”

Ahn Moonhyuk, who peered in after her, recoiled with an immediate gag. Rushing beneath the ceiling hole for fresh air, he took deep, ragged breaths and asked, “Phew… the Isolation Ward originally went down to the third basement floor, right?”

“Yes. It spanned from the first floor down to B3,” Eui-rim explained. “However, since the layout has likely shifted, it wouldn’t be surprising if the Core Room appeared out of nowhere.”

“Ugh, god… I really hope it ends at B1,” Moonhyuk wheezed. “If that stench continues all the way down to B3, I might pass out midway through.”

Breezily ignoring Ahn Moonhyuk’s complaints, Seo Hae-gun pointed toward the dark stairwell. “Are you sure we’re heading underground?”

Gazing steadily at the beam of light descending into the darkness, Eui-rim nodded. “Yes. The remaining Sigils are down there.”

“Understood. Having a guide certainly makes things convenient,” Hae-gun mused, then asked Eui-rim, “By any chance, do you have a strong stomach?”

“Pardon?” Eui-rim blinked.

“I was wondering if I should lend you a mask if you’re sensitive to smells,” Hae-gun explained.

When had he retrieved it from his pack? A clean filter mask was already resting in Seo Hae-gun’s hand.

He’s certainly fast. Or should I call him well-prepared?

“No, I’m fine,” Eui-rim replied. “You’d better lend it to Hunter Ahn Moonhyuk or Hunter Son Chaeyoon instead.”

Having smelled the stench of decomposing flesh all too often in the previous timeline, Eui-rim was practically numb to foul odors. Above all, he didn’t have a weak stomach, so offering it to Ahn Moonhyuk, who was actively retching, seemed far more practical.

“Why on earth would I share a mask with them?” Hae-gun asked, baffled.

“…” Eui-rim stared at him.

Eui-rim had assumed it was common courtesy, only for Seo Hae-gun to look genuinely disgusted at the very suggestion.

…Wait. You’re the one who offered to lend it first. Why are you making a face like you just heard something repulsive?

Moonhyuk and Chaeyoon looked equally dumbfounded, their gazes locking onto Hae-gun with disbelief, but Seo Hae-gun remained completely shameless. Stowing the mask back into his pouch, he stepped toward the basement stairs. “Let’s go.”

Right. Let’s move. Moving quickly is the only way to break this absurd atmosphere.

Quickly stepping past the group into the stairwell, Eui-rim saw dim lighting along the steps. I was worried it would be pitch-black, so that’s a relief. While he had his guiding light and the others possessed sharp night vision, visible illumination was always safer.

Still, even for Eui-rim, the stench here made his stomach twist. Fueled by the draft rising from below, the pungent odor surged upward with sickening intensity, making his temples throb.

“Agh! I’m dying here! Even rotting sewage wouldn’t reek this bad!” Ahn Moonhyuk wailed from the rear.

“Moonhyuk-ah,” Seo Hae-gun warned mildly. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I might just shove the filth on the floor right into it.”

“How could you say something so cruel? I really am—urp…!” Moonhyuk choked.

“Ah, oppa! That’s disgusting! Don’t puke toward me, do it toward Kim Si-hoon!” Son Chaeyoon yelled.

Even so, that ridiculous bickering seemed to divert their attention enough to keep them from actually throwing up. To banter like that in a situation like this—Cheongho’s core members certainly possessed nerves of steel.

Stepping onto the final landing, which was noticeably slicker than the steps above, Eui-rim called back to warn the others: “Everyone, watch your step. The last stair is especially stick—”

The warning died on his lips.

The moment he looked down the subterranean corridor, he saw humanoid monsters rammed headfirst into the concrete walls and floor, their legs churning mindlessly against empty air.

Like creatures that had lost all pathfinding and become trapped in a code glitch, the monsters kept trying to press forward toward some unseen destination. Completely heedless of the solid barriers obstructing them, they failed to register the hunters’ presence, marching ceaselessly into the concrete.