Me? Kong-i?
There are fewer than ten S-rank hunters in the entire country.
Precisely seven. Of them, only four are active in the field. The other three have retired, are too broken down to fight on the front lines, or have gone missing.
Four.
That number held simple meaning within the Management Bureau. It meant no refusals allowed.
If an S-rank wanted to do something, the Bureau had to accept it, practically speaking. Sure, there were nominal procedures—submit the application, have executives review it, grant approval. But in the Bureau's history since its founding, there had been just one case of an S-rank application being rejected.
Park Doyoung's application landed on Lee Seojin's desk that morning.
'Request for voluntary assignment of backup personnel to area around Calamity-grade related subject.'
Lee Seojin read the document.
Then read it again.
Name: Park Doyoung. Rank: S. Desired assignment area: 500-meter radius around subject's residence. Reason: 'Reinforce early warning system using on-site detection abilities.'
It was impeccable. Not a single flaw. If anything, it was ideal. An S-rank's detection skills stationed on-site could pick up fluctuations in the black dog's mana faster than any equipment. Early warning was the biggest vulnerability in Calamity-grade responses, and here was someone volunteering to plug that hole.
Perfect. At least on the surface.
Lee Seojin set the document down.
'This guy...'
The same man who'd been caught red-handed using detection skills without permission on the rooftop just three days ago had now shown up at the front gate with official paperwork.
Lee Seojin could submit a counter-opinion. As field commander, it was within the reporting structure. 'Considering Hunter Park Doyoung's unauthorized contact attempt 14 days ago, please reconsider the assignment.' She could write that.
She could have.
But then the report would read: 'A-rank Hunter Lee Seojin submits objection to S-rank Hunter's assignment request.' And the basis for that objection? 'The reporting officer pressed a blade to the hunter's throat after catching him using detection skills on the rooftop.'
An A-rank putting a blade to an S-rank's throat.
That's how it would read in the report.
Lee Seojin picked up the document again. Set it down.
She called Han Jeongsu.
"Senior."
"Yeah."
"Hunter Park Doyoung has applied for backup assignment."
"Saw it."
Lee Seojin opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it again.
"......What do you think, senior?"
A slurping sound came through. Coffee.
"I know you hate the guy."
Lee Seojin didn't respond.
"But with him on-site, you'll survive."
Han Jeongsu's voice was the same as always. Dry.
"S-rank detection on-site means we know before the black dog ramps up its mana. At least five seconds early. That's enough time to pull out."
Lee Seojin knew that too.
It wasn't about feelings. It was facts. Park Doyoung on-site raised the team's survival rate. Raised her survival rate. That number didn't change, no matter how much she distrusted him.
And that was the gap.
S-rank and A-rank.
Not in reports, but in reality, the gap manifested like this. Even if an A-rank shoved a blade in an S-rank's face on a rooftop, the S-rank showed up three days later with official papers. Even if an A-rank objected, S-rank requests were rarely—if ever—denied.
If that was power, then it was power.
"...Understood."
Lee Seojin hung up.
She took her pen to the bottom of the document. 'Field Commander Lee Seojin, no objections.' Signature.
As she set the pen down, the tip trembled slightly. Whether from irritation or resignation, even she didn't know.
And so, starting the next day, Park Doyoung appeared on-site.
Or rather, he was there.
Convenience store bench out front. Jeans, short-sleeved shirt. Sunglasses. Knee brace on his left knee. Eating triangle kimbap while scrolling his phone. He looked every bit the neighborhood layabout.
Lee Seojin peered down from the building rooftop through binoculars.
An S-rank hunter eating triangle kimbap on a convenience store bench. As part of his duties.
She grabbed the communicator.
"Crow, Park Hunter arrived on-site. Convenience store bench."
"Alpha, confirmed. ...The guy eating triangle kimbap?"
"Affirmative."
Silence on the line for a beat. Even Alpha seemed at a loss for words.
"Alpha, confirmed."
That was it.
Maybe I should stop relying on the convenience store so much.
That was the thought running through my head as I stopped by again anyway.
Heukgu waited outside, sprawled on the sidewalk curb, front paws stretched out, chin resting on them.
Kong-i clung to my pant leg inside.
Two tuna mayo triangle kimbaps today, as usual. Bulgogi lunchbox for Heukgu. One sausage bread for Kong-i. I'd recently discovered it was her favorite. The idea of sausage inside bread must've blown her mind. First time she ate one, she tore it open to peek inside. Spotted the sausage and looked up at me. It's in there. Her face was still vivid in my memory.
I paid and stepped out.
A guy was sitting on the bench.
Oh, the one from before who let me have the last triangle kimbap.
Tall, short sleeves, jeans. Sunglasses. Something wrapped around his left knee—sports injury maybe. Eating tuna mayo triangle kimbap.
Same taste as me.
I started to walk past without a second thought.
Then Kong-i stopped.
Her hand let go of my pant leg.
"Kong-i?"
Kong-i was staring toward the bench. Couldn't see past the sunglasses, but her head was definitely angled at the man.
And then she walked. Toward the bench.
"Hey, Kong-i. Where you going?"
Kong-i stopped in front of the bench.
The man looked up.
Kong-i pulled something from the bag. One of the things I'd just bought. Triangle kimbap. Tuna mayo. Held in Kong-i's tiny hand.
She held it out to the man.
"......"
The man looked down at her over his sunglasses.
"Giving it to me?"
Kong-i shook her head.
"Peel."
One word. Clear as day.
The man paused for a second. Then he took the triangle kimbap.
He peeled off the plastic wrap. Quick, practiced motions.
Handed the unwrapped kimbap back to Kong-i.
She took it.
Then, with her little hand, she tore off the very tip. Just a tiny piece, enough to fit between thumb and forefinger.
Held it out to the man.
"Eat."
The man's hand froze.
One second. Two.
He took the piece and popped it in his mouth.
Kong-i held the rest and came back to me. Grabbed my pant leg like nothing happened. Took a bite of the kimbap.
"...Kong-i, do you know that uncle?"
Kong-i looked up. Kimbap bulging in one cheek like a hamster.
She shook her head. Didn't know him.
"Then why'd you share?"
She took another bite. No answer. Topic closed.
......This kid baffles me sometimes.
Heukgu stood, tail wagging, watching us. Let's go eyes.
"Yeah, let's head home, Heukgu."
I glanced back as I turned. The guy was still on the bench, chewing the rest of his kimbap. My eyes lingered too long before I looked away.
Kong-i, clutching my pant leg, lifted the sausage bread bag. Showing it off to Heukgu.
"This. Inside."
Explaining the existential structure of sausage bread to Heukgu.
Heukgu's tail went wild. Not sure if he cared about the philosophy or was just hungry.
Probably the latter.
And so we headed home.
Miso stew for dinner today. My first proper home-cooked meal since the support funds came in.
Stuff from the mart: pumpkin, tofu, green onions, potatoes, spinach. No miso at the convenience store, so I'd gone to the mart. With Kong-i. With Heukgu. Heukgu saw the automatic doors and started wagging—must've been fascinated by how they worked. Went back and forth three times. Open, close, open. The employee stared. Sorry.
Anyway. Miso stew.
I wasn't great at it even as a guy. Thought you just add water, stir in miso, and boil. But a quick search said you need anchovy stock. No anchovies. No kelp either. So I just dissolved miso in water. Not authentic, but it'll be edible.
Heukgu lay at the kitchen entrance, staring up at the pot. Tail twitching as the miso scent hit. Matching the bubbling rhythm.
Kong-i sat at the table, holding a spoon in each hand. Not fork and spoon—two spoons. Dual-wielding?
I was slicing tofu to add when Kong-i spoke.
"Ha Yujin."
"Yeah."
"What am I?"
The knife froze on the cutting board.
I turned. Kong-i was looking up at me. Over her sunglasses. Head tilted slightly.
"What do you mean, what?"
"Me."
She pointed at her chest with one spoon.
"What am I?"
I took a beat to parse the question.
"You're Kong-i."
I smiled as I answered.
"Kong-i's your name."
Kong-i stared at me for a long moment. Then murmured it back.
"Kong-i..."
Her little lips moved. Barely audible. Like she was tasting her own name.
"Yeah. Kong-i."
I turned back to the board. Cubed the tofu neatly. The stew bubbled. Potatoes almost done.
"Rice'll be ready soon—just wait a sec~"
Kong-i didn't reply. Par for the course.
The pot bubbled in the kitchen.
The child sat at the table. Set down the two spoons.
She looked toward the window.
A single pigeon perched on the railing. Gray feathers. Head bobbing as it pecked at something.
The child's head turned. Toward the window.
Her eyes met the pigeon's.
The pigeon froze. Mid-peck. Body tensed. Feathers bristled.
Flap flap flap!
It bolted. Wings thrashing in panic.
One feather left behind on the railing.
The child's head followed it. Toward where it flew. Until it vanished beyond the building.
Her gaze returned.
To the table.
Spinach and green onions sat there.
The spinach leaves' edges turned brown. Curling, shriveling. Like all moisture had been sucked out.
Black spots mottled the green onions' white stems.
The child stared at the vegetables.
Her gaze drifted lower.
To her own hands on the table.
Tiny hands. The ones that tore off the kimbap. That petted the puppy's belly. That gripped the pant leg.
The child looked away again.
She walked. Toward the bed. Silently.
Nightstand by the bed.
A small mirror sat there.
The child stood before it.
Her reflection stared back. White short-sleeved shirt. Mint green shorts. Pink sunglasses.
The sunglasses slipped.
Slide...
Catching on her nose tip, then falling. Pink frame hit the floor. Tiny clatter. Rolled to her toe and stopped.
The mirror reflected the child.
The child stared into the mirror.
A voice from the kitchen.
"Kong-i, dinner's ready~"
Bright, light, shadow-free.
Pot bubbling. Miso scent. Clink of bowls.
The child stood before the mirror.
Pink sunglasses lay on the floor.
The empty eyes in the mirror met the empty eyes outside it.
"Me? Kong-i?"