Weekend!
“...Did you hit her by any chance?”
Yu Ye-na asked quietly, eyeing Mosco Bi Chacos's puffy, swollen face. She knew it was just a precautionary question, but she hadn't expected it to be asked outright.
“Hit her? As if she'd let me. You think she'd just take a beating?”
“Ahem.”
Mosco Bi Chacos awkwardly averted her gaze, clearly unused to this kind of situation herself. Yu Ye-na didn't press further and looked up at the sky, urging her on.
“We really need to head back now. The time difference excuse won't fly anymore.”
“You're dropping me home first, right?”
“Of course.”
Thinking about it, getting her home would take forever anyway. I figured she'd hop straight into the car, but then the distant thrum of helicopter blades echoed over.
It was heading straight for us—probably sent by the Tower Administration to pick up Mosco Bi Chacos.
“That's for you. You take the chopper back, and we'll drive.”
The helicopter drew closer. I was staring up at it blankly when Mosco suddenly nudged me with a 'tap.'
“What?”
“...Look after the kids sometimes.”
“Oh, that? No problem.”
My employees loved playing with the kids anyway.
“Ahem. And... if you need a job done, call me.”
“A job? The matchmaking agency boss needs to outsource?”
With a short sigh, Mosco grabbed the rope dangling from the chopper.
“They... see you like a dad.”
“Me? I was good to them, yeah.”
She nodded in satisfaction, then fixed me with a stare before suddenly flipping me the bird and climbing the rope to the helicopter.
As it flew off, Yu Ye-na jerked her chin toward the car.
“Let's go home.”
What a strangely long week. Finally, the weekend had arrived.
I was boiling ramen in comfy sleep pants and a loose short-sleeved tee—easygoing weekend wear. The pants were an old gift from Ryu Seram; the design was meh, but surprisingly comfy, so I wore them often.
“Hum de dum, ramen time~.”
I carried the finished bowl to the TV. My tiny studio felt cozy in a way a fancy apartment never could. Still, apartments ruled.
Flipping channels, I passed the baseball station and spotted a familiar face: Ryu Seram, cheering her heart out.
“Doesn't she ever get tired?”
It was amazing seeing her sweat more than the players while cheering.
Slurp.
Mid-bite of ramen, noise erupted from next door again.
“Did this lady's pudding vanish?! Do you know how much this lady loves pudding!?”
“Ah, no...! It was my first time trying it. But it was so good.”
“So you ate all three!?”
So damn noisy. Living together, Renea and Baek Yeonhwa turned every day into a noise fest. I'd complained at first, but now it was too much hassle.
Slurp! Slurrrp!
Savoring simple bliss when my phone rang. Unknown number—I hesitated, then picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Meracle?”
Low voice, slurred speech—not naturally bassy, more like a sore throat.
“Yes, it is. May I ask who this is?”
“This is Min Hwa-young. Min Ho-sang's younger sister. My brother was a Meracle member.”
Min Ho-sang? I vaguely recalled a B-rank hunter. Not everyone stuck in my memory perfectly.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“Sob... My brother died hunting in the outskirts. How do I cancel his membership?”
“Ah...”
I set down my chopsticks with a natural sigh.
“My deepest condolences. May he rest in peace.”
“Sniff, thank you.”
“We'll process the refund first thing Monday. Thank you for reaching out despite your grief.”
“No, no, it's fine.”
After hanging up, I stared at my bloated ramen and sighed. Appetite gone. I fished out a few noodles, dumped the rest, and washed up.
Changing to head to the office quick, the TV I'd left on blared news.
Spring Outbreak Season. The annual event in April-May. Neo Seoul's outskirts teemed with magic beasts, hunted by us hunters. Spring swelled their numbers, sparking turf wars and feeding frenzies that turned them feral. The industry called it outskirts purge season—prime earning time, but deadly.
For Meracle, hunter matchmaking specialists, it meant bad news piling up.
Click!
Lights on in the empty office. Eerily quiet without the usual buzz.
I pulled Min Ho-sang's file from the client binders. Sturdy face suited a soldier more than a hunter. His chiseled jaw jogged my memory—I'd consulted him.
“Tch.”
Smoked on the way in, but craving another already. Prepping docs for Monday's refund amid sorting.
Bzzz! Phone—Meracle group chat.
“...”
No visuals, but I could picture the grandma and granddaughter cracking up. Their comedy tastes were old-school, same laugh triggers.
Baek Yeonhwa picked up phone skills fast—now texting like a pro. Fine, they're out. Back to work.
Footsteps in the hall.
“Hm?”
Looked up—office door opened, Kim Yang in casual clothes stepped in.
“B-Boss. G-Good afternoon.”
“What're you doing here?”
“P-Passing by.”
“Passing by?”
Nothing to pass by here, but she offered the coffee in her hand.
“H-Here.”
“Thanks, but... no pay for weekend work.”
“N-Not working.”
She sat at her desk anyway, booted the PC, and glanced over.
“Wh-Why're you here?”
“Sigh, y'know...”
Quick rundown of earlier—Kim Yang nodded, face darkening.
“Th-That's too bad.”
“Can't be helped. Hunter life's like that. Matchmaking firms avoid it for a reason.”
Big bucks, but sudden death loomed. Top hunters ditched risky outskirts hunts, joining corps like Ryu Seram's Black Line Risk for steady pay.
Outskirts hunters? Desperate for cash or unqualified for firms.
“Min Ho-sang was ex-small firm contractor, went solo.”
“...”
“Sigh, lots like this in peak season. Buck up—we can't let emotions rule our job.”
Working matchmaking bred odd disconnects. Handling love's raw emotion, yet colder logic ruled. Selling marriage, not romance—though I hated that phrasing.
“B-Boss.”
“Yeah?”
“B-Been wondering... f-for a while.”
“Shoot.”
Leaned back—she set down her coffee, asked.
“Wh-Why matchmaking firm?”
“...”
“D-Doesn't suit you.”
Her bluntness cracked me up. I agreed—even Yu Ye-na and Ryu Seram reacted the same hearing my plans.
“Dunno. Wanted to check something.”
“Ch-Check?”
“If marriage's worth running away from home over.”
“...”
Not forced unions, but bonds from chance meetings—I wanted front-row seats. Money meant business, so matchmaking was pragmatic compromise.
[I command thee.]
[Hold us in thy heart, Sword Custodian.]
The hallucinations, more frequent lately, rang in my ears. If the 7th Floor really opened...
What would I do?
“Kim Yang.”
“Wh-Why?”
Sipping coffee through a straw, she flicked her eyes. She'd warmed up nicely—proud moment.
“If I vanish, wanna take over Meracle?”
“Wh-What?”
“Just... seeing Min Ho-sang hit me—could happen anytime.”
“M-Matchmaking boss?”
“Car crash or whatever.”
She scowled, annoyed at my joke.
“B-Boss. I-I still stutter.”
“...”
“Y-You said... y-you'd stay. T-Till I adjust.”
Right. Promised that bringing her on.
“Study up, though. Vocab sucks, stuttering forever? C'mon.”
“K-Korean... h-hard.”
Mocking foreign laborer... nah, she was legit. Chuckled at her rookie act, stood.
Ramen half-eaten—stomach growled.
“Hey, lunch?”
“B-Boss. Gone.”
“Yeah yeah, first-floor gukbap?”
“P-Porridge?”
Lights off, we debated lunch heading out.