Chapter 22 - The Bureau Director
Seoul's Hunter Management Bureau Central Headquarters. Deep within the topmost floor lay the director's office—not opulent, but meticulously orderly to an excessive degree. Only the essentials: a wide desk, bookshelves lining the walls, a simple sofa and reception table. And beyond the window, the glittering nightscape of downtown Seoul.
The room's occupant mirrored the space perfectly. Ash-gray short bob haircut. Suit impeccably tailored without a single wrinkle. Eyes cold as ice, clear as glass. Yoo Eun-ha, Director of the Korean Hunter Management Bureau.
She slowly turned a page of the report in her hands.
Seoul City Center Abnormal Gate Incident Report
Thud.
The finished report settled quietly on the desk. Beneath it, the next one stacked atop.
Medical Wing Precision Measurement Equipment Total Loss Report
And below that.
Temporary Analysis Data on Unidentified Awakener
"..."
In the silence, only the faint rustle of turning pages echoed softly. Her expression remained unchanged. But when she reached the final page and paused, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"A person who doesn't exist in the database..."
Her low, icy voice cut through—like a murmur to herself, yet it chilled the very air in the room.
"An estimated S+ rank gate in the city center."
Thud. Her fingertip lightly tapped another report.
"Medical Wing precision measurement equipment destroyed."
Thud. This time, the last document.
"And... instant teleportation escape from inside the Management Bureau."
"...Hmm."
A flat tone, devoid of admiration, irritation, or scorn. She leaned back in her chair, gazing up at the ceiling. A few seconds of stillness stretched on. Then, she pressed the intercom button.
"Summon all parties involved."
"Yes, Director."
"Professor Kim Suhyun and the university president. The two Medical Wing examiners. And the one field recorder."
"We'll bring them right away."
A curt reply. Eun-ha released the intercom and reopened the slim black folder on her desk. Inside were several photographs: the girl snapped near the dormitory, walking with a student affairs staff member, and a blurry golden afterimage captured from Medical Wing CCTV just before the teleportation.
"..."
She stared at the girl in the photos for a long while. A petite build that looked unmistakably young. An overly childish face. Holding a udon packet with an expression she'd seen somewhere before—familiar from the past on someone—it seemed like just an ordinary student anywhere.
But the numbers in the report were anything but ordinary.
The Medical Wing precision meter's final record before destruction.
Eun-ha averted her gaze from the photo and trailed her hand once over the slim metal cane propped beside her chair. Her combat gear and prosthetic aid. It looked like an ordinary cane, but once activated, it forcibly disrupted and twisted an opponent's mana flow, neutralizing them—allowing her to wield her skill most efficiently.
She gripped the cane in one hand and used it to rise from her chair.
Clack—thud. Clack—thud.
Standing before the full-length mirror on one wall, Eun-ha straightened her appearance. The lower part of her suit pants revealed the metal prosthetic replacing her right leg, peeking quietly from beneath.
She took in her reflection.
"...Hoo."
Composing herself briefly, she returned to her seat. Though not S-rank, she had ascended to director of the Hunter Management Bureau. Her power fell short for clearing gates swarming with monsters, but in interpersonal combat, she could claim supremacy over anyone. That was Yoo Eun-ha.
"...If those numbers are real."
She murmured softly.
"Even my skill might not work on her."
It hadn't fully worked on Prometheus, hailed as the world's No. 1. And this mana value far surpassed even his.
At that moment, a knock sounded.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
The door opened. Kim Suhyun entered first, followed by the university president, then the two Medical Wing staff and the field recorder, filing in one by one. Every face was tense. Small wonder—Director Yoo Eun-ha of the Korean Management Bureau was infamous in her own right. Feared and reviled among villains, an iron fist who tolerated no mistakes within the Bureau.
Eun-ha surveyed them.
"Sit."
A calm voice. Yet no one sat comfortably. Even as they settled on the sofa, their backs remained half-rigid.
She tapped the folder on her desk with a finger.
"Let's begin."
Her gaze first fixed on Kim Suhyun.
"Professor Kim Suhyun."
"Yes."
"From your first contact with the subject until just before the Medical Wing departure. Explain in sequence."
"...Understood."
Suhyun took a short breath and began. The mysterious girl repeatedly appearing near the dormitory. A face unverified in school records. The process revealing she wasn't a student. Their conversation in the counseling office. Temporary guardian registration. Accompaniment to the Bureau. The portable meter's initial result. And the precision equipment's destruction followed by teleportation escape.
Throughout Suhyun's account, Eun-ha didn't interrupt once. She simply listened, her expression unchanging, her eyes missing not a single word or breath.
When the explanation ended, she spoke for the first time.
"Did the subject attack first?"
"...No."
"Did they show clear hostility?"
Suhyun paused briefly, then shook her head.
"At least not from the start."
"Not from the start?"
"Stress accumulated from ongoing examinations and restrictions. By the end, she was clearly angry, but..."
Suhyun chose her words carefully, pausing fractionally.
"Up to that point, she consistently wanted to flee, not harm anyone."
Eun-ha nodded faintly.
"Good."
Her gaze shifted to the Medical Wing staff.
"Situation during precision measurement."
The dazed female staffer flinched.
"Y-yes."
"Was the equipment in normal operating condition?"
"It was fully operational. Pre-check records confirmed, error margins fine."
"Possibility of tampering?"
"None."
"Certain?"
Icy stare. The staffer swallowed dryly.
Gulp.
"Yes. Certain."
"Then there's only one cause for that measurement spike."
"...The subject's actual mana capacity."
The words hung heavy in the room. Eun-ha flipped a report page.
"Equipment destruction at 742,113."
Her voice remained even.
"Your opinions. How reliable is that figure?"
The two staff exchanged glances. The male spoke cautiously.
"The final value the equipment held is likely genuine."
"And after?"
"Unknown. Impossible to calculate."
"Meaning it could be higher than 742,113."
"...Yes."
Suhyun's fingertips trembled faintly. The president grimaced silently. Eun-ha scanned them once, then asked again.
"Subject's physical response right before equipment failure?"
Suhyun answered this time.
"...She seemed fine."
"Contradictory."
"Yes."
Eun-ha let out a brief laugh—more confirmation than amusement.
"Portable meter: 'Patient requiring immediate medical intervention due to circulation distortion.' Precision meter: 'Subject exceeding equipment limits, unmeasurable.' Yet she claimed to be perfectly fine throughout."
"...Yes."
"And."
Her fingertip rested on a photo atop the desk.
"No student ID. No birth records. No residency registration. No Bureau enrollment."
She raised her eyes slowly.
"Professor Kim."
"Yes."
"What do you make of this subject?"
Suhyun hesitated. Dangerous. Undeniably. But...
Reducing her to that felt wrong. Too immature, too hollow somehow. After a silence, Suhyun spoke haltingly.
"...Less an intruder."
"Yes."
"More like someone who suddenly tumbled in from outside this world."
The room fell quiet. The president's brow twitched subtly. The medical staff said nothing. But Eun-ha showed no surprise—almost as if she'd reached the same conclusion already.
"I agree."
"...Pardon?"
Before Suhyun could question, Eun-ha continued.
"Typical intruders forge identities. Erase, steal records—leave something. This one is blank. Not forged—a void."
She tapped the desk lightly.
"Her behavior's inconsistent too. Hides her nature, yet acts so naively. Immense power, but zero grasp of societal systems."
The president asked lowly.
"Meaning..."
"Not someone who deliberately infiltrated. More likely, never integrated into society through normal channels to begin with."
The female Medical Wing staff ventured timidly.
"Then... a protection case?"
Eun-ha turned to her.
"No."
Firm.
"Can't classify her that simply."
She added calmly.
"Could be an unregistered awakener needing protection. Or a ultra-high-risk entity capable of upending the entire Bureau."
"..."
"Both possible."
Everyone on the sofa held their breath. Eun-ha leaned forward slightly.
"Which is why."
Her ash-gray eyes gleamed coldly.
"We mustn't provoke her."
Suhyun looked up. But Eun-ha pressed on, allowing no interruption.
"No wanted orders. No unauthorized tracking. Externally, never give the impression the Bureau is hostile."
The president asked.
"Then we let her go?"
"No."
Immediate.
"We make contact."
"How?"
"...In a way she won't fear us."
Dry tone.
"Especially since we already failed once."
Suhyun's shoulders twitched faintly. Eun-ha noted it but moved on—no rebuke intended, not now anyway.
"Professor Kim."
"...Yes."
"You spoke with her longest. If contact resumes, you're primary handler."
Suhyun pressed her lips tight.
"...Understood."
"University side, minimize leaks. Rumors are out, but curb student speculation—it could provoke her."
The president nodded.
"We'll handle it."
"Medical Wing, backup all destroyed equipment logs and send to me."
"Yes."
"And."
Eun-ha closed the final folder in her hand.
"Bundle and reanalyze all past Agent of God incident files with this case."
Suhyun's eyes wavered.
"Agent of God...? What connection does that have to Lea...?"
She trailed off. Eun-ha's gaze was too frigid.
The Seoul nightscape faintly illuminated her profile through the window. At last, she spoke very softly.
"Just speculation."
Her eyes lingered on Lea's face in the enclosed photo.
"But I believe it's the same person."
No one in the room breathed easily. City center gate. Unidentified origin. Unmeasurable power. Teleportation. And the Agent of God. If all linked to one individual?
More dangerous than any case the Bureau had faced. Yet Eun-ha's face held no fear—only cold calculation.
"Meeting adjourned."
All rose cautiously. But Suhyun hesitated, then spoke.
"...Director."
"Speak."
"...That child."
Eun-ha's eyes turned to her. Suhyun steadied her breath briefly.
"She might truly be dangerous."
"Likely."
"But..."
She glanced down, then continued haltingly.
"She knows so little of the world. Like someone utterly ignorant from the start."
Eun-ha regarded Suhyun silently for a moment. Then nodded curtly.
"That's why we must be careful."
"..."
"An ignorant monster is dangerous. However."
She glanced out the window, then faced forward.
"An organization that brands a frightened child a monster... is far more so."
Suhyun's eyes widened briefly. The president and medical staff stared at Eun-ha in surprise. They'd never expected such words from someone so coldly rational. But Eun-ha's face remained impassive—as if stating plain fact.
"Go."
All bowed quietly and left. Alone again, Eun-ha pressed her fingers to her temple briefly. Then picked up one photo from the desk: the girl, udon packet in hand, being led like a reluctant student by staff.
She stared at it long. Childish face. Expression naive to the world. Wary, cowering, yet without true malice in her eyes.
"..."
Gazing at it, a face from long ago overlapped. Dusk's faint glow streamed through the window into the quiet office.
"...Agent of God."
A very low murmur, laced with unfamiliar nuance.
"Why do you come to mind when I look at this child?"
Her grip on the photo tightened faintly.
'...Seo-yun...'
The stern director's facade from moments ago was gone. Only silence remained—that of someone unable to release an old name.
"...Back then."
Eyes closed, she grasped at fleeting ancient memories, speaking slowly.
"What could I have done to save you...?"
A quiet, wistful voice.