Chapter 65: New Territory Residents -1
After hearing my father's words, I stepped out of the gate. Hoya, looking utterly uninterested in escorting me, climbed up the cat tower and began vigorously scratching at the scratcher. As if it were her mortal enemy. It was hilarious to see her like that—Hoya, who could demolish the cat tower in one swipe if she wanted—going at it with the most serious expression in the world.
That said, scratching like this had a huge effect on reducing a cat's stress, so it was best to install scratchers everywhere. As Hoya scratched away, she stared right at me. A clear sign she wanted something. I moved like the wind and presented her with a bag of crunchy treats. Hoya savored them with a deeply satisfied look. The faces cats make when munching on these salty snacks were just the cutest in the world. Most cats were like that.
"Alright, let's check the internet first."
To get a quick update on the current situation, I logged on. YouTube was flooded with videos from gate owners. Promotional clips from various countries had popped up too, pitching what they'd offer gate owners who came to their nation. And surprisingly, there were even videos of monsters. Not filmed inside gates, of course, but ones that had burst out. They came with explanations about how gates released monsters once certain conditions were met.
Unlike the early days when it was just goblins, orcs had appeared this time. Orcs could be classified as monsters, but in my case, I'd accepted them as territory residents, so maybe they were a demi-human race? It was ambiguous. From my perspective, anyway. To regular people, they were just monsters, plain and simple.
The comment sections were on fire. From guys calling them "Orc Bros" to others saying it was time to stockpile preserved food, the reactions were wild. But the orc appearances had happened far from urban centers, in areas with sparse housing, so damage was minimal. It was Canada, after all—a massive country.
The real takeaway? Far more people were aspiring to become hunters now. Unlike in novels, where you needed some special awakening, anyone could become a hunter just by entering a gate and hunting. The barrier to entry was way lower than in stories. So those who thought they had talent were lining up for it. But gate owners wouldn't take just anyone. They'd only accept those who followed their lead. Even if affiliation forced compliance, there were endless ways to cause trouble. Basic character mattered most. Otherwise, there were state-run gates. Governments would slot in the talent they needed and train them up.
Then I spotted one video. A gate owner advertising their gate.
"My gate has a 1:2 time ratio with Earth, and you get a whopping 3 unallocated points per level-up. Selling exactly 20 entry tickets. Auction format—show your interest!"
They were even spilling the beans on time dilation now. And auctioning entry permits? Ballsy move. But judging by the flood of comments already, it wasn't just some half-baked idea. Questions about the auction platform, pledges to buy no matter the price—it was a mix of everything. Point was, people wanted in.
"Hoya, how much do you think our gate's entry permits would fetch?"
It just popped into my head. But Professor Hoya? Thwack! She smacked me. Don't talk nonsense.
I dropped the nonsense and headed out to meet our territory's new potential residents.
The café was close to home. I'd heard my dad had acquired it under the company name. He was probably planning to sell coffee there—not personally, but through territory residents.
A group who would soon become our residents had gathered there. Folks from the village in Gapyeong where my father lived, people he'd known for years and vetted their character. Rare for a village to have no crazies, but this one was blessed—everyone had good hearts. And they'd just lost their homes. Perfect candidates for Siho Territory residents, right?
"Hello, Village Head."
"Hey there, Si-woo. You're the one who called us together?"
"Yeah."
"Your pa said you'd line up farmland for us."
"That's part of it. Think of it as a place where you can do a whole lot more."
The Village Head glanced around, then whispered in my ear.
"This about a gate?"
"How'd you guess?"
"The stuff you and your dad gave us weren't ordinary."
People were sharper than they seemed. They'd pieced it together from that. Though, if I'd really wanted to hide it, I shouldn't have handed out gate goods at all. But back then, the gates wanted them spread around. I still didn't fully get why, but maybe they were trying to reveal themselves to the world. My stunt in Japan felt like part of it too.
"Yep, that's right. And mine's a bit special. Since the village lost its fields, how about trying some real farming there?"
"You want us to become hunters or somethin'?"
"No way. Just farm. We've got fighters covered."
"Just farm, huh..."
"Profits'll blow away anything you've seen before."
He pondered that, then spoke.
"Ain't about the money, boy. We ain't hurtin' for food here. It's losin' our way of life that's got us..."
Loss was the bigger wound, probably.
"By the way, everything you plant grows. Super fast, too. Results so top-tier, it'd be embarrassing to call 'em that."
"That explains the stuff your pa brings sometimes."
"Most of it's grown outside and replanted. We need farming experts in our gate. You'll get 30% of the profits."
His face soured at "30%." Tell a tenant farmer that in Joseon-era Korea, and you'd have a riot. But he didn't get it yet.
"See it inside, and you'll know 30% ain't chump change. Wanna check it out?"
"Hold on, we'll talk it over. Your family's done right by our village—no way you'd set this up just to stab us in the back."
The Village Head rallied the group. But some eyes sparkled: two boys and a girl, around Si-yeon's age. They'd gone to school with her—her old posse, basically. They lit up at "gate."
"Hey, bro."
"Yeah, what's up?"
The one who spoke was a former judo prospect who'd quit due to injury. Probably thought hunter powers would heal it.
"Si-yeon's sword didn't look normal... is she...?"
"Yep. She's a hunter now."
"Could I...?"
"You think taking lives is easy?"
"Nah. But I wanna do it."
A rising judo star turned has-been by injury. Hunting might be his lifeline.
"I'm good at studying, but... could I be a hunter?"
Funny pairing—bottom and top of the class as besties. But they'd grown up together.
"You'd make a great mage. STEM kid, right?"
"Liberal arts..."
"Oops, my bad. Well, then."
"Won first in the province math olympiad, though."
"Whoa! Plot twist."
Perfect mage material. Good test subject for magic skill creation.
"I'm Si-yeon unnie's direct kendo junior."
The girl was in Si-yeon's kendo club. Si-yeon was her idol—eyes sparkled at the name.
"Your parents okay this? Can't just decide on your own."
"We're from Seongsim Orphanage."
The orphanage on the village outskirts. Locals supported it heavily—no kids went hungry. Remarkable place.
"Here as reps?"
"Yeah, with the director mom."
Didn't know their backstory. Made me like 'em more.
"Whoa, felt like you just pitied us."
"Nah. Anyway, you wanna be hunters?"
"Yes!"
"Others?"
"Too young for hunting..."
"You three the oldest?"
Math whiz nodded.
"Yeah. Older bros and sis went independent. Forced, kinda."
Law said out at 20, with pocket change. Tossing parentless kids to the wolves.
"What's their vibe?"
"Tough. But good people. Look after us, still visit."
That character? Pass.
Bonus hunter recruits incoming.
"Tell 'em to come. Good money."
"For real?"
"Would I scam kids?"
"Plenty of adults do."
Fair.
"Sorry. But I'm not that guy. He'd never forgive me."
Hoya eyed me like nonsense. But I knew she kept me straight. Thwack! Shut up and feed me. I whipped out treats from my pocket. Choi Si-woo, pushing 30—always prepared.
"I'll call 'em now."
"No pressure."
"Got it!"
Kids left to make calls. Village Head returned.
"Let's go see. Judge for ourselves."
"Sounds good. Gate in 20."
We headed for the gate. No need for papers. I could flaunt being the owner now, and if they joined, rebellion meant losing powers.