Dungeon & Commander (156)
“...Something’s missing. Something very important. If I can’t figure it out, there’s no way to predict anything about Kim Jun.”
The image came to mind of Kim Jun clutching the memorandum and firing back sharply, word for word. If there hadn’t been people around, he would have crushed him right there on the spot.
Knock knock. A knock echoed through the room.
He closed his laptop and walked to the guest room door, opening it. An unexpected figure stood in the hallway.
“What brings you here, Director?”
“Mind if I come in for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Kim Se-wi stepped back, glaring at Investigation Director Seo Yunhyeong as he strode into the guest room, eyes sharply scanning the surroundings. This wasn’t the kind of man to show up without an agenda.
Seo Yunhyeong sat on the sofa, crossing his legs.
“This place a bit uncomfortable? For someone like you, used to luxury hotels, it must have its flaws. But what can we do with the Association’s budget?”
“With a lockdown in effect, we can’t expect better accommodations.”
Kim Se-wi figured the old fox was taking a roundabout jab at him. The Dungeon Gentleman was an honorable nickname, but it sometimes carried the image of being overly particular.
“Regarding the Honor Hall incident, you handed out valuable books to the examinees and had them sign memorandums.”
Seo Yunhyeong cut to the chase.
“The examinees are victims, after all. And with an ongoing investigation during a lockdown, if the media starts running wild, it’ll only make things harder, won’t it?”
“The Security Section Chief commissioned me.”
“Yes.”
Kim Se-wi’s eyes narrowed.
“The other departments agreed.”
A commission was one of the cards the Association played when thorny issues arose, clashing departmental interests. Normally, they’d convene a committee if time allowed, but for urgent matters, they’d commission prominent raiders from major guilds like Jushin, Cheonhondan, Brave, or Miracle.
The Honor Hall fiasco entangled the Education Division, Dungeon Management Division, Security Division, and Core Division, so Kim Se-wi had been commissioned as special executor to handle it.
“Is there a problem?”
“Some examinees who were badly injured during the practical awakening test and sent to the hospital have gone missing.”
“What do you mean?”
Kim Se-wi was genuinely surprised.
How had this old man found out about that?
“Jo Nam-sik and Siuba. Both vanished. Since you’re handling the awakening test matters anyway, look into their whereabouts too.”
“...Understood.”
Kim Se-wi couldn’t read the Investigation Director’s intentions.
How much did this old man know? Had he figured out that Lee Eun-ji had taken care of Jo Nam-sik and Siuba?
“One more thing. With all the public attention on the awakening test, I’ve been paying closer attention than usual. Something struck me as odd. That examinee Kim Jun. There were issues during the written exam too, and the practical test seems tied to him. Even the Awacum test.”
“The written exam was ruled a proctor’s error.”
“The cause of each incident isn’t important now. The problem is the conspiracy theories cropping up. Rumors that the Association or some faction is targeting Kim Jun are getting loud. If something happens to him again, the media will sink their teeth into those suspicions.”
It was a warning.
Don’t touch Kim Jun anymore. If anything like that happened again, he wouldn’t sit idle as Investigation Director.
“I understand. I’ll take special measures.”
“I’m counting on you.”
Seo Yunhyeong rose and headed into the hallway.
“Let’s grab a drink sometime.”
“Sure.”
As Seo Yunhyeong disappeared around the corner, Kim Se-wi shut the door and ground his teeth.
Then his phone rang.
Recognizing the caller, Kim Se-wi answered with immediate deference.
“Elder.”
―Come up.
“Yes, sir.”
Kim Se-wi tossed the phone aside and changed clothes.
The Planning Coordinator’s office was a garden.
A stream bubbled gently, and one side featured a small pond surrounded by orchids and rare plants. There was even a pavilion where one could chat over tea.
He’d turned the office into a private sanctuary, yet no one—not even the Association President—objected. That was the extent of the room’s master’s influence.
Ma Jung-hyeon, feeding logs into the brazier in front of the pavilion to light a fire, beckoned.
“Come over here.”
“Yes.”
Kim Se-wi approached demurely, hands clasped in front.
“Wait just a bit, and you’ll enjoy some truly splendid tea.”
Ma Jung-hyeon prepared the water and tea with ritualistic solemnity, like performing a religious ceremony. He carried the purple teapot to the pavilion and poured into the cups.
“Try it.”
“Thank you.”
As the sip entered his mouth, a refreshing energy seemed to spread through his entire body.
“What do you think?”
“It’s excellent.”
“Heh, find some spare time and take up tea as a hobby. You’ll love it.”
“I will.”
“You must be wondering why I called you.”
“...Yes, Elder.”
Ma Jung-hyeon was the Dungeon Association’s Planning Coordinator, but also Jushin Guild’s strategist. He’d played a pivotal role in Jushin’s growth to its current size and was nicknamed “the Pivot.”
“I’m hearing some discord.”
“My apologies. I’ve caused you inconvenience, Elder.”
Kim Se-wi bowed low. Falling out with this powerhouse would get him booted from Intelligence Chief. Even Jushin’s Guild Master didn’t ignore Ma Jung-hyeon.
“I once saw you as my successor.”
Kim Se-wi jolted at the astonishing words. Becoming the Pivot’s heir? A dream come true. But the past tense—“once saw”—gnawed at him.
“But I see a flaw. Your vision is too narrow. You can dive deep into details when focused, but that blinds you to the big picture and costs you valuable opportunities.”
“Please guide me, Elder.”
Kim Se-wi dropped to his knees before the Planning Coordinator.
At Ma Jung-hyeon’s gesture, the tea water rose from the pot into the air.
The liquid shimmered brilliantly, breaking into large and small droplets before merging into bigger clusters, repeating the cycle. Amid the mystical transformations, letters emerged.
First came a name.
Kim Jun!
Next, Seo Yunhyeong—the Investigation Director.
Even the terrorist group Puritan popped up.
At first, Kim Se-wi couldn’t grasp what Ma Jung-hyeon meant. But thanks to the dynamic, three-dimensional, compressed narrative and structure formed by the liquid, he understood “broad vision” and let out a gasp of admiration.
A three-birds-one-stone scheme!
Worth of Ma Jung-hyeon.
But one issue: Investigation Director Seo Yunhyeong was highly likely to interfere. He’d already issued a warning.
“Don’t worry about the Investigation Director. I’ll handle it.”
Ma Jung-hyeon had seen that far too.
“I’ll execute it immediately.”
“I won’t tolerate mistakes.”
“Understood.”
It was a plan Ma Jung-hyeon had devised himself. Failure meant death. Only after stepping outside did Kim Se-wi realize his mouth was parched.
He took a deep breath, chest swelling.
A flawless plan. He couldn’t fail.
Nam Jun-sang lifted the barrel to peer inside.
The cleaning was solid. Reassembling the barrel, bolt, grip, and other meticulously polished parts took less than a minute.
The other squad members were cleaning their firearms at the wide table.
The mood was somber. One of their own had just been injured.
“Captain.”
It was Son Ju-young.
Nam Jun-sang set his core gun aside and eyed the Mobile Strike Team’s psychologist.
“Is a full cure really impossible?”
“Probably.”
Yuk So-jeong had been bitten by a wax doll resembling Park Hyun-woo.
Tests before hospitalization detected vampire factors in her blood, throwing the medical team into chaos. Drugs were administered, but the transformation had already begun—no cure.
Fortunately, a drug to halt vampirism existed.
The problem was its price: “Anti-Vamp” cost tens of millions per month. Stop it, and full transformation hit in as little as ten days or up to a month.
“Don’t worry too much. It happened on duty—the Association will cover it.”
“You’re too naive, Captain.”
No Il-seong slotted his core gun back into its case.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Association cuts costs wherever it can. You think they’ll keep Lieutenant Yuk around? They’ll find excuses to boot her. How’s she supposed to afford yearly eight-figure drug bills? It’s a death sentence.”
Nam Jun-sang couldn’t deny it. The Association’s track record matched No Il-seong’s words exactly.
The mood sank further.
“But isn’t it weird? That wax doll was definitely the first Association President, Park Hyun-woo. How could it vampirize?”
Jeon Taek-jo spoke up.
The Honor Hall wax dolls weren’t mere statues. Special magic replicated not just the model’s appearance, but personality and physiology. Vampire factors in the doll’s fluids implied Park Hyun-woo had vampire ties.
Silence fell. They wondered, but answers eluded them everywhere.
Gun cleaning ended.
They dispersed to the lounge as usual—working out, reading—but the air hung heavy, uncomfortable.
“Captain, I have a way.”
Son Ju-young again.
“What way?”
“To protect So-jeong.”
“Spit it out.”
Everyone gathered around the captain and Son Ju-young.
“We catch a villain. The Mobile Strike Team does.”
Nam Jun-sang grasped her intent instantly.
Capturing or killing a villain earned medals and rewards per regulations. As squad leader, he could ensure Yuk So-jeong got one. The Association couldn’t then ditch her over costs—the media wouldn’t stand for it.
“What do you think?”
“Move without orders, and the team gets disbanded.”
No Il-seong.
“We can’t just sit idle.”
Son Ju-young shot him a glare.
Then the bell rang.
Nam Jun-sang checked the caller and stepped out.
“Mobile Strike Team, Nam Jun-sang speaking.”
―Investigation Director Seo Yunhyeong here. Come see me. Fifth-floor lobby.
“Yes, sir.”
He bounded up the stairs, heart pounding. The Investigation Director calling him directly? A first.
Why bypass Security Section Chief, Security Division Head, and command chain?
Because of the villains?
The lobby’s rest area, filled with tables and chairs, stood empty. The Investigation Director sat alone in the center.
Nam Jun-sang stood opposite and saluted.
“Sit.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Things tough lately?”
“No, sir.”
“Word is they’re isolating the Mobile Strike Team. Not true?”
Nam Jun-sang met Seo Yunhyeong’s gaze silently. The man knew everything. It wasn’t a question.
“People are strange. You’d think excising the organization’s cancer would earn praise, but reality’s the opposite. That’s organizational nature—hate to admit it, but unavoidable.”
“I think so too.”