Who Cares What They Say?
“Who cares what they say?”
Choi Muhyun, who'd been holed up here for three months, wasn't the type to come down just because someone showed up. He had his own reasons, after all.
“Still, it's nice to see you after so long, right?”
Choi Muhyun had been about to head out to greet Kim Jun, but Kim Jun beat him to it, stepping right into the hermitage. A storeback was slung over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Staying here too.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. There's nothing much to do down below anyway.”
“Don't talk nonsense!”
“Huh? Why? I already got permission from the monk down the hill. He said it's fine if I crash here.”
Kim Jun set down his storeback and flopped onto the floor, arms behind his head. Choi Muhyun was at a loss for words.
The two lay there, staring at the ceiling in silence.
As evening fell, Choi Muhyun stepped out to light the fire under the kitchen hearth. Kim Jun pulled out a burner and pot from his storeback, cooked some rice, and when the fluffy white grains were done, laid out side dishes—squid jeotgal, young radish kimchi, braised beef, and more. They dug in.
Choi Muhyun, who'd been surviving on rice and wild greens for months, couldn't ignore the aroma.
“...Let's eat together.”
He set aside his pride for the moment.
“Promise you'll come down, and sure.”
Choi Muhyun said nothing, just ate his rice with the greens and finished with a monk's bowl offering.
Kim Jun started boiling ramen.
“Man, food tastes even better up in the mountains.”
Slurp.
The sound of Kim Jun sucking up noodles.
The hermitage room was tiny. In that cramped space, Choi Muhyun glared at Kim Jun devouring his ramen, the smell filling the air, then sighed and headed outside.
Moments later, Kim Jun came out with a paper cup of steaming coffee and stood beside Choi Muhyun, who was gazing down at the darkened valley.
The sweet coffee scent made Choi Muhyun's stomach rumble loud enough to echo.
“Want some?”
“You're such a pain in the ass.”
“Just drink it. I won't even mention going down tomorrow.”
Choi Muhyun took the cup and sipped.
Sweetness flooded his mouth.
For a fleeting moment, he imagined leaving this place, descending to the chaotic, wondrous world brimming with incredible food.
“Your mom was worried.”
Kim Jun had met Choi Muhyun's mother on his way here.
“...Yeah, probably.”
“Your dad too.”
“Don't joke.”
His father, stronger than anyone, had raised his son the same way. Even Devils Day hadn't broken him.
Cheonhondan Guild had suffered massive losses too, but his father was surely working tirelessly to rebuild.
“I'm jealous of you.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
Choi Muhyun looked at Kim Jun.
“You've got a dad.”
Choi Muhyun crumpled the paper cup and tossed it into the hearth below.
It turned to ash in the blazing red flames.
Nearly an hour of silence passed before Choi Muhyun pulled out a sweet potato.
“Want one?”
“Sure.”
They sat on the porch, peeling and eating the hot sweet potatoes. They paired perfectly with the cola Kim Jun had brought.
Belly full, Choi Muhyun propped himself up on his hands and eyed Kim Jun.
A distant bird call echoed faintly.
“You're something else.”
“Something else?”
Kim Jun had sweet potato smudges on his lips.
“Everyone who miraculously survived that dungeon left. You're the only one who stayed.”
“Oh, that?”
“I'm never stepping into a dungeon again. I swore it back then. Or rather, I realized I could never raid.”
“So you ran here?”
“...I came up to rest and sort my head out. Not running.”
Choi Muhyun made excuses, but he knew better than anyone—he'd fled.
He stared straight at Kim Jun, eyes like daggers.
“Aren't you scared?”
“Of going into dungeons?”
“...Yeah.”
Choi Muhyun was more honest than ever, surprising even himself.
Kim Jun set down his sweet potato.
He sensed the gravity. He understood why people abandoned guilds and the raider life. But Kim Jun knew how to face the monster called fear—making him wiser than them.
People fear the unknown.
Terror of the unidentified is unbearable. At first, it's the thing itself. Then, you fear your own fear, even come to hate it.
Kim Jun had first felt dungeon terror through his father's disappearance.
The reason he'd gone to the guild house in high school first year, declaring he wanted to be a carrier, was to break that vicious fear cycle.
To know the entity's true face.
Insomnia, sudden shortness of breath, auditory hallucinations—all vanished like lies the day he decided to become a carrier.
From the day he targeted the unknown that swallowed his father—the dungeon—Kim Jun slept soundly. He could go anywhere without unease.
Kim Jun calmly recounted those grueling days, the sudden realization and resolve, the intense studying and mad marathon training.
Though close friends, Choi Muhyun had never heard such depth from him. His eyes widened slowly. When the story ended, he understood why only Kim Jun stayed at the guild house.
That overwhelming terror was a tunnel Kim Jun had already passed through.
Suddenly, hot strength surged in his chest.
If he made it through that tunnel, so can I.
Kim Jun was friend and rival.
But he shook his head with a sigh.
No matter what, he didn't want to step into a dungeon where you'd die in a nuclear blast only to miraculously survive.
“Coming down won't help. Uramata Guild has zero raiders. The master's probably still drowning in booze.”
“One just joined.”
Kim Jun said it like he'd been waiting.
“No way?”
Choi Muhyun knew Uramata's dire straits.
The building was on the verge of foreclosure. Without a miracle, it'd be demolished or turned into a shop.
“For real.”
“Who?”
“DF6 dealer Yoo Min-jeong.”
“Level 6 dealer? Joining Uramata? Is she nuts?”
Choi Muhyun got excited despite himself.
“That's why we need you. Can't raid without a tanker. Carriers are fine with Earth's strongest guy, but still.”
Choi Muhyun chuckled, then burst out laughing openly.
“Didn't know you could crack jokes like that. You've changed a lot.”
“Someone's gotta say it.”
Kim Jun grinned, but Choi Muhyun felt the heavy weight behind it.
The guild house had emptied overnight.
Even close friends fled. Raiders vanished like the tide. Then creditors swarmed.
The guild master just drank.
That's why he'd held on for nearly three months, spouting stuff like that.
Respect welled up for his friend. And mischief.
“How much you offering? I'm TL7.”
“300 million won a year.”
“...What?”
Choi Muhyun was stunned.
Holed up or not, he knew the world. Raiders weren't hot anymore. They were public enemy number one—death at any moment.
“What do you think?”
“You win the lottery or something?”
“Soon enough.”
“Meaning?”
“Dungeons are opening soon. Go in, scratch the winning lotto—cores.”
“Quit being a carrier and become a con man. You'd kill it.”
“Con man? Oh, scammer?”
“You make the craziest stories sound legit.”
“So that's a yes?”
Kim Jun's eyes sparkled.
“Even if I wanted, no. No buffer.”
“I'll find one.”
“How?”
“I've got ways.”
Kim Jun brimmed with confidence.
Choi Muhyun couldn't tell if it was real or bluff. Maybe three months of hell had turned his cool friend into a hustler.
“Can't go tomorrow.”
“When then?”
“Takes two days. Gotta show some gratitude to the folks letting us use this place.”
“Cool.”
Kim Jun knew Choi Muhyun's pride.
“Anyway. More ramen?”
“Boil some?”
“Crazy. Hurry up. Three packs. Eggs too.”
Choi Muhyun smacked his lips.
Yoo Min-jeong stood in front of the club.
She could just push through the thick glass door, but she stood there nearly five minutes, wondering why she had to scout for a buffer.
She'd joined Uramata for the 700 million won salary, great terms, and curiosity about that weirdo carrier Kim Jun. But running errands for a buffer?
When she found the vanished tanker-hunting carrier, she'd smash him.
“Hey, Yoo Min-jeong!”
She turned, biting her lip. Of all people, here?
Jushin's buffer No Jeong-hak approached.
“Hey.”
“Long time no see? Month or so?”
“Something like that.”
“Let's go in. Why you standing there?”
No Jeong-hak led her inside.
The 'Young Raiders' club was where young raiders drank, listened to music, and chatted. Dim but with tasteful lighting, it had a strangely soothing vibe.
“Hey everyone, look who it is!”
No Jeong-hak shouted, and raiders turned to stare. A few approached.
“Heard you left Jushin.”
Brave's tanker Son Hyun-su. Huge but agile, late 20s.
“Kinda happened.”
“'Kinda'? You got too proud, that's what.”
Jushin's buffer Baek Hee-ju chimed in.
Yoo Min-jeong stayed silent.
Once Korea's strongest raider, her father Yoo Wan-seop opposed the Korean Dungeon Association and Jushin publicly—shaking her position. She had to leave.
“Why here?”
No Jeong-hak asked.
“...Just.”
“'Just'? Ice Princess doesn't do anything without purpose. Oh, right—joined Uramata? Heard they got one raider, a tanker, who's MIA. Here for a buffer? Good one's all you need to raid.”
Baek Hee-ju again.
Yoo Min-jeong's face flushed. More curiosity than anger—how'd they know details?
“For real?”
Min Tae-sik.
She didn't know why Kim Jun popped into her head. His nonsense, delusions—she was speaking before she knew it.
“Yeah. Looking for a buffer. 500 million won salary. Spread the word. Tell 'em to come if interested. At least level 7, don't forget.”
Her deadpan delivery left them speechless.
Not the Yoo Min-jeong they knew.
To them, she was haughty, arrogant—daughter of Korea's top raider, hard to approach.
Slowly, back straight like a model, she exited the club and bolted from the building. Her face burned.
Why'd she say that?
“That guy's fault.”
Panting, she ran faster.
No matter how much he drank, he couldn't forget.
32 dead.
All teams except Socrates vanished in the dungeon. Days passed—one, two, a week. Some gates spat out dozens, or one or two.
But no Uramata members.
Socrates returning safe was the miracle.
A nuclear blast inside Gwanghwamun Dungeon. Everyone in the raid died.
Even Jushin's Nakdonggang team wiped.
Other dungeons had grade disturbances and losses, but Gwanghwamun was worst.
Dungeon Association stats: Devils Day raider survival 65%. Of 100, 65 returned—35 dead.
Uramata, riding high, hit bumps too. Exhausting times, suicidal thoughts.
Especially guild house issues—bank loans blocked over trifles, Association conflicts hurting raiders. Rage to smash it all.
Past struggles seemed trivial now. Bereaved families' curses sounded like sweet songs.
He drank in resignation.
Sobering led to more drinking. Kim Jun was always there.
He figured he'd leave eventually.
No—he'd snarled curses, telling him to go.
To detach and seek new paths.
Kim Jun just laughed it off, bought booze.
He handled incoming creditors. Kept the guild house clean-ish while cleaning.
Go Cheolmin couldn't fathom why Kim Jun stuck around.
Waking sprawled on the master room floor, he reached out. For the kettle.
It touched his hand on the table.
He gulped water, groaned, collapsed onto the sofa.
Eyes still shut.
Fatigue crashed.
Just sleep peacefully? No—faces of the dungeon dead would haunt vividly. Dreams too. Those sobbing families.
“Booze!”
Go Cheolmin bellowed.
No response.
His heart sank. Even Kim Jun left. Thought it'd ease his mind. Wrong.
It stung.
That kid's presence was reassuring.
Proof his life wasn't total failure, total despair.
“Kim Jun!”
Shouted with all he had. Still nothing.
Yeah, yeah. Life's like that.
End up alone anyway.
Skipped marriage for his dream guild house—now crumbling. Cops coming soon to drag him out.
Then how to live?