Hero of the Era
The newspaper clearly identified him as Kim Jun, carrier with Uramata Guild.
Kim Ji-hyun sidled up to her brother, who stood there blankly rubbing his eyes, and peered at the paper.
"Oh, it's you, oppa."
"...Yeah."
"Mom! Mom!"
Her little sister was making a huge fuss.
Startled, her mom dropped the ladle she was using to taste the dried pollack soup and came rushing over. Upon seeing her son's face in the paper, she was at a loss for words.
The phone rang.
Having surrendered the newspaper to his mom and sister, Kim Jun retreated to his room and picked up the phone.
"It's me."
―Daily Raider? You see it?
It was Choi Muhyun.
"Just saw it."
―How'd this happen? You turned down that interview.
"No idea."
―Anyway, congrats. You're officially Korea's most famous carrier as of today.
"...Congrats?"
―Of course! Honestly, I'm a bit jealous. My story should've come first. See you later.
Choi Muhyun hung up in high spirits.
Kim Jun appreciated his friend's pure-heartedness, but it did nothing to lift the heavy weight of his worries. He couldn't even begin to predict what this article might unleash.
The incident that drew all this aggro had happened during last year's raid.
Back then, it hadn't made the broadcast or even gotten a mention in the papers.
Why the front-page splash now?
"Oppa, oppa, Mom's crying."
His sister called out.
Kim Jun emerged into the living room and found his mom clutching the newspaper, sobbing on the sofa.
He sat beside her and took her hand.
"Mom, why are you crying?"
"...I had no idea. It was this dangerous."
She pulled her son into a tight embrace.
Others might read the article and praise Kim Jun as amazing, but not his mom. The image of terrifying monsters chasing her son was a massive shock.
"You know how it is, Mom. The paper... it's exaggerated. It wasn't that dangerous in reality."
"Oppa, there's a video online."
On the tablet Kim Ji-hyun brought over, footage played of Kim Jun from last year's raid—charging out alone, luring the monsters.
It was a razor-close call, teetering on the edge of capture.
Kim Jun shot his sister a glare.
The quick-witted Kim Ji-hyun immediately stashed the tablet. Fortunately, Mom hadn't seen that part.
Kim Jun escorted his mom to the master bedroom. He laid out the bedding, helped her lie down with gentle care, then returned to the living room.
His sister was glued to the tablet.
"Is that really you, oppa?"
"Put that away. Mom might faint if she sees it."
"...Okay."
She stared at her brother intently.
"What?"
"Oppa, you're seriously amazing. I never imagined you were this incredible. Oh, time for breakfast. I'll set it up."
Kim Ji-hyun's eyes sparkled as she headed to the kitchen, ladling soup into bowls and pulling out the side dishes to set the table.
In the meantime, Kim Jun pored over the newspaper in detail.
The first photo was from last year's raid. The second was from the second test hosted by the Dungeon Association, facing off against the Wyress Rex.
The Dungeon Association hadn't released the test footage.
Not even the participants could view it. Yet here was a crystal-clear photo splashed across the paper?
The Association must've leaked it. Handed it straight to that reporter. But what's their angle?
Mom emerged from the bedroom and went to the kitchen, mustering strength to prepare her son's breakfast.
Kim Jun sat silently at the table.
He'd always figured his brutal dungeon battles would eventually hit the airwaves, and Mom would see them someday—but he never dreamed it'd be today.
"I'll be fine, Mom."
Her face twisted in pain.
"...Sorry."
"No. I'll get stronger, Mom. Not just me—other carriers, raiders too—they all risk this to enter the dungeons. I'll be okay. Really."
She set the dried pollack soup in front of her son and turned away, not wanting to show him her tears.
Kim Jun forced down a couple of bites, but it felt like shoving sand down his throat. That was it.
His sister chattered on, oblivious.
"You're the real hero, oppa. They say the raiders held back out of fear? Now everyone knows. You're the real deal. Our oppa!"
Kim Jun managed a wry smile.
If even his sister thought that way, most readers probably reached the same conclusion.
Brave carrier versus cowardly raiders.
Inside Uramata Guild, it wouldn't be an issue. Choi Muhyun, Yoo Min-jeong, Yeom Sang-taek—they'd endured the hardships alongside him, so an exaggerated article wouldn't hurt their feelings.
The problem was the other raiders.
Right then, the doorbell rang insistently.
"I'll get it."
Kim Ji-hyun headed to the entrance.
As the door opened, flashes erupted. Blinding bursts poured from every direction, freezing Kim Ji-hyun in place.
"Daily Raiders—have you seen it?"
"As his sister, are you proud?"
"What do you think of the assessment that he's better than raiders?"
Questions rained down.
Kim Jun pulled his sister inside, slammed the door, and locked it tight. The hallway, elevator area, stairs above and below—reporters packed every inch, no room to breathe.
"O-Oppa."
His sister was still dazed.
Mom's reaction was much the same.
Kim Jun called the Master.
* * *
A red Ferrari pulled up at the apartment complex entrance.
Yoo Min-jeong, engine idling for a quick getaway, unfolded the newspaper from the passenger seat.
"Photo turned out nice."
Not fighting a monster, but locked in a death struggle—his face leaped vividly from the page.
That shameless reporter had at least picked a good shot.
The other photo evoked David before Goliath.
Kim Jun, atop the skyscraper-sized Wyress Rex's head, plunging the digger in... like a pro mountaineer planting a flag on Everest's summit.
She sighed.
Kim Jun was a carrier.
The higher his fame climbed, the more vicious hatred would pour from all sides. Unless he quit being a carrier, this kind of popularity would poison him.
Yoo Min-jeong glanced at the entrance and sighed again. Not just reporters swarming—it looked like broadcast vans were shoving into the cramped parking lot, waiting for Kim Jun to emerge.
Shed come here on Master Go Cheolmin's orders to extract him, but punching through that media frenzy didn't look easy.
She couldn't just barrel through with him in tow either.
Frustrated, she stepped out, looked skyward—and spotted something leaping from the apartment rooftop, hopping grasshopper-like to the neighboring building.
"...No way."
It was a person!
That figure vaulted from one rooftop to another. The gap between buildings was nearly 15 meters—no, 20.
Now he was Spiderman-ing down the wall.
Yoo Min-jeong recognized Kim Jun approaching across the lot—training sweats, hood up.
They said extreme shock brings laughter, and sure enough, she found herself chuckling.
Kim Jun slid silently into the passenger seat.
Then one reporter shouted.
"That's Yoo Min-jeong!"
Zombie horde charging.
Yoo Min-jeong hopped in and floored it. The Ferrari's explosive acceleration had never felt more clutch.
* * *
Lee Wan-yeol gazed out the window at the city below.
Through the skyscrapers, the Han River glimmered faintly. The city, shaking off sleep, writhed back to life.
"Hoo."
He sighed, returned to his desk, and snatched up the newspaper with evident irritation.
Hero of this era.
Whether a carrier was a hero or not meant nothing to him. Unless that second photo hadn't leaked from the Dungeon Association.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
It was Guild Management 1 and Section Chief Park. Hesitating, he bowed under Lee Wan-yeol's sharp glare.
"At least Guild Management didn't leak it."
"Didn't?"
"Well, to confirm for sure, we need more time, but we checked emails and SNS—no suspicious staff. Call logs require police access... couldn't verify."
"You contacted Daily Raiders?"
"Couldn't reach the reporter. Spoke to the editor—they cited source protection, won't reveal the leak path. Said to do it by the book. And..."
Lee Wan-yeol circled Section Chief Park like a shark eyeing bleeding prey, timing his strike.
Park swallowed involuntarily. As Lee passed behind, his ankle and shin ached preemptively.
"What do you make of this, Section Chief Park?"
Lee Wan-yeol thrust the open Daily Raiders in his face—the offending photo.
"...Second test photo."
"We didn't release it, right?"
"Y-Yes."
"So why's it in the paper? No leaker means the Daily Raiders reporter broke into our office for the footage?"
"......"
Park was speechless.
Then—a flying loafer.
Thwack!
Park crumpled, thinking at least he'd taken the full hit—crisis averted.
"Out."
"...Yes, Director."
As Park vanished, Lee Wan-yeol shredded the paper and tossed it in the trash. Turning, his mouth fell open.
The second test footage had leaked outward exactly once.
Hed personally taken the disc to show Yang Hee-seon.
Crazy Buffer? If not us, then that old hag. Gotta confirm.
Phone rang.
Lee Wan-yeol took the brief call. Deputy Director's order: report immediately.
Play dumb—no choice. Hed take the heat, but could soften the blow.
Lee Wan-yeol pulled bandages from his desk drawer and wrapped his ankle and shin.
* * *
Even the Ferrari's signature roar couldn't shatter the awkward silence.
Yoo Min-jeong gripped the wheel tight, eyes fixed ahead. She wanted to check Kim Jun's expression in the passenger seat but kept staring forward.
Unable to stand it, she flicked on the radio.
"Folks, do you know who the true hero of this era is..."
She hastily changed stations, but every program was hot on today's issue.
She killed the radio. Silence thickened, heavier than before.
Shouldn't have turned it on.
Self-reproach hit as she glanced sideways unthinkingly.
Kim Jun stared straight ahead like a statue. Unblinking, mannequin-still—crafted to perfection.
What deep thoughts brewed?
Todays raid?
Or the media firestorm?
Left alone, hed burrow deeper, never resurfacing.
"You okay?"
"Huh? What?"
"You okay?"
"Of course."
The rigid mask vanished, replaced by a beaming smile—carefree as could be.
Miraculous shift.
It reminded her of her father. His solo face versus his public one—night and day. He hid the real one even from his daughter.
You're already wearing a thick mask.
"It'll fizzle fast. The reporters. Something else breaks, poof—they're gone. Might even feel snubbed then."
She forced brightness.
"Really?"
"Grew up with it thanks to Dad."
"Ah, got it."
Kim Jun nodded emphatically. Ordinary folk fired up by the article and video would forget soon enough.
Prideful raiders won't.
Kim Jun knew it, so peace eluded him.
The Ferrari roared toward the guildhouse.
* * *
Skyla wore a straight wig, bug-eyed sunglasses she loathed, and—horror of horrors—a black suit. Stumbling in heels, she entered the Uramata Guildhouse parking lot.
Shed parked her beloved Harley Davidson far off and walked. Spot it, and the gathered reporters would clock her instantly.
Thankfully, no one approached.
Skyla milled about like any other reporter, recorder and notepad in hand.
She overheard the journalists.
"Think that guy can enter the dungeon today?"
"Won't even make it out the apartment."
"Sane, he wouldn't."
She recognized the responder instantly—a rival paper to Daily Raiders.
"Yeah, the high-and-mighty raiders won't let it slide. In the dungeon, dead's dead—no one's fault."
Journalism exposed you to whispers civilians never heard. Dungeon murders were one such tale.