Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Land of Distrust (2)
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“So, which gate are we going to?”
“The Land of Distrust.”
“The Land of Distrust? Where’s that?”
Geon-ju asked as he emerged from the steamy bathroom with a white towel draped over his head. Sa-yoon gave his pretty little newbie a pitiful look for not even knowing about the Land of Distrust.
It was the most famous among C-grade gates, after all. Setting aside the fact that he was a fresh chick who had just awakened, Geon-ju had way too little interest in the hunter world. How could someone be this ignorant of basic knowledge? It was at a level where you’d believe he’d been locked away somewhere his whole life.
Tsk tsk. Sa-yoon clicked his tongue and shook his head, prompting Geon-ju to furrow his brow.
“What do you even do in your free time, pretty? How does it make sense that you’re this clueless after joining an info guild?”
“Before becoming a hunter, I was too busy living my own life. So, what’s the Land of Distrust like?”
“I’ll show you the basic docs while we head there, so check them out then. Is that all for prep?”
“Yeah, pretty much...”
Geon-ju shook out his wet hair as he replied, grabbed some clothes, and headed back into the bathroom. Sa-yoon waited until he finished changing, then pulled out a dagger and spun it idly.
“Has your inventory unlocked?”
The virtual storage space the system automatically grants after a certain time post-beginner graduation: inventory.
It made storing items from gates a breeze, holding up to 100 kilograms per slot, so most awakeners stopped carrying stuff around by hand once it opened.
Sa-yoon eyed Geon-ju expectantly, and the guy tilted his head slightly.
“You mean that space that pops out when you say it?”
“Yeah.”
Does this kid not even play games?
Most guys his age would go, “Oh, you mean the storage from games?” when hearing “inventory.” But Han Geon-ju was just guessing at it. He was worlds apart from other young folks familiar with games, systems, and quests.
Considering a decade had passed since the Great Collapse, it was pretty unusual. Basic info like inventory was hard to miss unless you had zero interest in awakeners.
Has he always been disinterested in this stuff?
“I’ve got inventory. And?”
Lost in thought over this odd case, Sa-yoon snapped back as Geon-ju summoned a blue window in midair and looked at him expectantly for the next step.
Like the status window, inventories were private—no one else could see them. Sa-yoon told him it was fine since nothing showed up on his end, then hopped off the bed.
“Got a weapon?”
“I have the reward from the beginner dungeon.”
“Let’s see it.”
“...”
“...You don’t think I’m saying that because you’ve got nothing good, right? I could fill this room with weapons better than yours and still have leftovers.”
The system’s “suspicion” and “wariness” labels were spot on. Han Geon-ju was eyeing his inventory and Sa-yoon alternately, clearly weighing something with distrust written all over his face. Sa-yoon was dumbfounded. Even when he pointed out the misunderstanding, Geon-ju didn’t drop his rude attitude. Sa-yoon made an incredulous face.
“Then why do you wanna see it?”
“To swap it if it’s crap. Weapons for low-grade gates won’t cut it in a C-grade.”
“...”
“I’m seriously offering to upgrade it.”
Those eyes screamed disbelief. Frustrated, Sa-yoon boasted about his massive weapon stockpile—“I’ve got so many I could play darts forever”—to flex his wealth. After some hesitation, Geon-ju finally spoke.
“You’re just looking, right?”
“Have you only ever been screwed over?”
“Feels like a scammer’s right in front of me.”
How many times has he even been around me to call me a scammer?
If he knew the losses Sa-yoon had eaten searching for him, he wouldn’t say that.
As Night Rat leader and top-tier S-grade awakener, every step Sa-yoon took cost money, every order he gave was intel. Distractions meant losses multiples of what others faced.
Yet he’d ditched everything for three months to hunt a trait holder. How could Geon-ju distrust him after that?
Maybe his pretty one needed to see the damage bill with his own eyes—at least 10 billion credits lost. No way he’d look at Sa-yoon like that then.
The payday from clearing one unraided gate is insane.
Sa-yoon’s face flickered with regret at the memory of that juicy side income.
Gates popped up by the hundreds worldwide daily; unraidables were inevitable. An S-grade soloable S-gate existed alongside ones that stumped seven S-grades—those were unraided gates.
Once spawned, they became national headaches.
Gates didn’t saturate if people were inside, so countries extended lifespans by tossing death row inmates in. Sa-yoon’s side gig was clearing them instead.
When guild funds ran low, he’d take jobs as “China’s Number Six.” Nations preferred paying island prices to eliminate risks over dealing with S-grade nightmares, offering fair sums Sa-yoon gladly took. Sometimes he jacked prices shamelessly since it wasn’t even under his real name.
Every two months like clockwork, until recently—he’d stuck to Korea for three months chasing Geon-ju. Guarding him till S-grade meant no unraided clears for half a year.
All worth it for Han Geon-ju, he thought.
Muttering about needing some appreciation for his devotion, Sa-yoon watched Geon-ju reluctantly pull out a sword.
It materialized midair with a whoosh, and Sa-yoon instinctively appraised it.
[False Medusa's Fang (A)]
A massive serpent from Medusa's domain was an imugi that stole Medusa's name. This sword, forged from that spirit beast's fang, will grant you a fine opportunity.
• +20% Attack Power vs. Poison-attribute foes
• +1 Stack per wound inflicted. At 10 stacks, next attack is 100% accurate. • 80% chance to Poison on weak point hits • Damage scales with Luck
“...”
Sa-yoon got why his pretty one hesitated to show it. This was beyond A-grade performance. No way a beginner snagged it—had to come from killing and looting a high-rank awakener.
Naturally, suspicion colored Sa-yoon’s eyes.
“Where’d you get this?”
“They said it was the full clear reward from the beginner gate.”
“Full clear?”
“Yeah.”
“...You’re saying you perfect cleared all three beginner gates?”
“Something like that.”
Sa-yoon let out a hollow laugh at Geon-ju’s casual reply.
Perfect clear meant satisfying every gate clear condition. Seemed simple—just do them all—but the real killer was the gate closure after one condition. You had to nail the rest before it sealed.
Yet this pretty boy claimed he’d aced it three times.
Full clear: perfecting every beginner gate. A term awakeners coined, but no one had ever done it. If true, Geon-ju was the first.
Hard to believe. Sa-yoon’s narrowed eyes scanned him—no lie detected.
“Huh.”
Sa-yoon recalled his own first gate raid.
Back then a D-grade, he’d flubbed it nearly to death, hidden nearly to death, grinded nearly to death. Team wiped; he barely survived soloing the easiest condition. Cringe-worthy now.
“Is that a big deal?”
Geon-ju snatched the sword back, mumbling while staring at False Medusa’s Fang. At this point, it was deception.
“Perfecting the first gate alone makes it huge.”
“Guess the guild leader couldn’t?”
This punk.
Geon-ju’s eyes glinted mischievously, like he’d caught something. Frowning at the teasing undertone, Sa-yoon added he’d perfect cleared from his second gate on.
All lies, of course.
Sa-yoon struggled with second-difficulty clears in beginner gates, let alone perfects. The system, unimpressed, tossed him straight into S-grades to grind him.
Immortal body anyway—die plenty, get strong, come out.
That backstory forged his True Evil of Humanity trait.
Shamelessly stonewalling with years of con-man polish, Sa-yoon faced Geon-ju’s probing hum. Geon-ju eyed his face.
“...If the guild leader says so, then it must be.”
That familiar phrase rolled off his tongue now like habit. Sa-yoon chucked the pillow he’d been hugging onto the bed.
Thank god beginner gate scores were private.
If exposed, Geon-ju would mock him forever. The guy he knew would absolutely do it.
If his pretty one found out, Sa-yoon’d beat him unconscious till amnesia hit.
Perfect plan. Back to business, he glanced at the weapon in Geon-ju’s hand.
“That’ll do for a weapon.”
“Heading out now?”
“Hair’s still wet—gonna head out like that?”
“It’ll dry on the way.”
“It won’t.”
“Why not?”
“My skill’ll freeze it solid. Frost hits, it’ll freeze-thaw loop. Hate that? Dry it proper first.”
Sa-yoon nodded toward the bed corner where ice patches lingered.
Geon-ju followed his gaze and shrugged.
“Just don’t use your skill then.”
“Fair point.”
True enough.
The perfect “yes, die” answer.
Why say that when skipping skills might doom them in a C-gate? Eyes narrowed, Sa-yoon headed to the table. Grumpy Geon-ju only started blow-drying after Sa-yoon grabbed the dryer like a bat, offering to “help” personally.