Chapter 18
Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Motive (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I'd visited the funeral parlor when Lee Sanghun's father passed away.
It had been quite the lavish affair.
He'd had Lee Sanghun late in life, so he was plenty old, and he'd lingered for three years in bed, enduring torturous treatments for cancer.
The place had been packed with mourners, no room to stand.
Next to the deluxe private room where his father lay was a small standard room.
From there came the sound of rowdy revelry, filtering straight through, clear as day. The room was dim, almost empty.
Even the wreaths were from some unfamiliar vendor.
In the center of that half-darkened morgue sat the portrait of a man who still looked young back then, with his wife and kids—the presumed family—bowed low beneath it, listening to the noise from next door.
The contrast had been so stark that it stuck with me for years.
What brought that memory back was a single remark from Kim Daram.
"They say the funeral's running through dawn tomorrow. It's Park Jeong-ha style, sure, but in times like these, holding a funeral at a university hospital is a privilege in itself."
"You going?"
"Have to."
She let out a sigh as she replied.
"Don't want to, but I have no choice. He was my senior, my team leader, my director. Why? He gave me 30,000 won at my wedding—gotta go, right?"
"Minimum was 30,000 back then?"
"Nah, it was 50,000 even then."
"Ha, classic Lee Sanghun."
"Classic Mr. Lee."
For a moment, we reminisced about the past, each wearing a wry smile.
Kim Daram broke the brief silence.
"You coming too, sunbae?"
"Me?"
I should refuse.
That's the rational choice, and I have my reasons.
Yet for some reason, I couldn't answer right away.
"W-Well..."
"I get it. There's a capsule on the way, and it's night now. No need to risk a double funeral. Just pray for his soul from afar."
I wanted to say more, but the conversation naturally tapered off.
After cutting the radio, I sat in the bunker as silence settled in, lost in thought.
A flood of thoughts surfaced, but it felt like grasping at ropes made of sand.
Nothing came into clear focus.
I zeroed in on the most recent past.
Lee Sanghun had invited me for a drink.
Maybe that was his olive branch to me.
Or perhaps a plea for help.
But more than anything, what did he mean by that "back of the head" comment at the end?
The dead don't speak.
Lee Sanghun won't answer my questions.
Still, I decided to go to him.
I had this stubborn feeling that only by going there could my nagging doubts find some release.
*
I pedaled through pitch-black darkness, relying on my bike alone.
I could've used a car, but the roads were blocked by barriers I'd set up myself.
A bike was the only silent way around.
But my plan was thwarted by the roar and lights of a motorcycle approaching from afar.
"What're you doing? Standing there?"
The man asked gruffly, wariness in his tone, as he pulled off his night-vision goggles to reveal his face.
We recognized each other almost instantly.
"Oh, it's Park Gyu?"
Baek Seung-hyeon.
A year my senior, but as a freelance hunter, he handled all the dirty, dangerous work from the rear lines—basically the National Crisis Committee's errand boy.
"Where you headed?"
"Seoul."
"Mind if I tag along for a bit?"
He stared toward the distant lights.
"Can't you just let me pass?"
"I want to, but..."
Baek Seung-hyeon gave a wry smile and lit a cigarette.
"...I'm not the one in charge."
His radio crackled with noise, then a young, brash voice laced with violence blared out.
"Old man. What's the deal?"
I just stared at Baek Seung-hyeon.
"Hunter?"
Baek Seung-hyeon flipped down his triple-lens night-vision goggles and nodded toward the lights.
"One of my juniors spotted you."
"Spotted..."
Baek Seung-hyeon snorted.
"Real hunters. Not like us old relics."
In the end, I stood before the barrier I'd tried to avoid.
No other options.
Today, I was going to pay respects, not add to the body count.
Under the glaring lights visible from afar stood a group of people.
Up front were military police.
They weren't the issue.
Background at best.
The problem was the three shadows standing arrogantly behind them.
They wore matching jackets, each with a patch on the upper pocket depicting a roaring tiger baring its fangs.
Roaring Tiger.
The mark of the new hunters, trained under the latest doctrines that emerged about six years ago.
Hunters of our old era get called things like this by them.
"Old man."
A blond guy in his early twenties called out to Baek Seung-hyeon.
"So, what's this guy's deal?"
Behind him loomed a guy yawning with a massive shield on his back, and a woman glued to her phone.
"Former hunter."
Baek Seung-hyeon didn't bow his head, but his expression and demeanor made it look like he'd groveled a dozen times already.
"Former hunter? Like you, old man?"
"Haha, yeah."
The pair behind shot me cold glares.
I knew exactly what emotion burned in their eyes.
Contempt. Dismissal.
The blond upfront tilted his head, puzzled.
"Why's a former hunter sneaking around back roads instead of using the clear ones? Not a criminal or anything."
Baek Seung-hyeon glanced at me.
His face, desperately holding back disgust, was trying to dump his frustration on me.
"Heading to Seoul."
I answered.
Baek Seung-hyeon's eyes went wide.
Like something huge had gone wrong.
I ignored him and pressed on.
"Quietly."
I turned to the blond.
The blond looked incredulous at my behavior, turning to his teammates with an awkward grin.
"This old man's nuts."
"What class?"
I asked curtly.
The smile vanished from the blond's lips.
Wrinkles creased the shield guy's brow, and the phone girl finally looked up.
A tense, murderous air swirled between us like an sudden blizzard.
The blond glared at me with glowing eyes and spat out each word coldly.
"Eigh. Teen. Th."
"Thirteenth."
That's right.
I'm their senior.
A sky-high senior, even.
But these kids thought differently.
"Pre-18th aren't seniors."
The guy behind chimed in.
"Except for a tiny fraction."
They approached me.
Their eyes glowing faintly like lanterns, as if on cue.
"Can't call someone standing there like a dumb soldier a senior, right?"
A slimy sneer curled the blond's lips.
"Old man. You awakened? Got powers?"
I shook my head.
"Then you're no senior."
Humanity, fighting tooth and nail for survival against monsters, was always on the defensive.
Around the time 30% of us were gone, anomalies appeared.
Some humans started wielding magic-like superpowers against the monsters.
Scholars called it psychic energy from advanced mental processes and named it "Authority"—a bland term.
Ironically, this new power resembled the monsters, humanity's enemies, but it was clear: this fresh blood would swiftly sideline us old hunters.
These kids were that foretold future.
"You went to the same academy, so you know how dangerous those capsules are. Head back."
I could turn around now.
Rationally, that might be the best solution.
But something told me I couldn't just leave like this.
Why, these kids...
They're denying my entire life.
That wounds me.
A big wound, even.
In the lonely bunker where my thoughts already multiply, that scar could fester with old ones, growing huge.
And then Lee Sanghun's unseen face floated before me.
As if he were telling me:
Do it, if you can.
"It's that capsule, right?"
Then I have to, don't I?
"What're you gonna do?"
"Handle that capsule, and you'll let me through?"
"Hilarious. What can an old-school hack like you do? Go on, try."
The blond stepped aside.
"Succeed, and we'll escort this wise elder to Seoul ourselves."
"Why me?"
The blond grinned, and the woman snorted.
Utter disdain.
But now the stage was set.
The juniors who wouldn't acknowledge me as senior pulled back the military police.
"Everyone, get in the cars ahead. Just in case a monster shows."
Of the crowd, only Baek Seung-hyeon stood behind me.
Engine revving, ready to bolt on his motorcycle.
"Appreciate the thought, but no need."
"...Park Gyu."
I turned to him with a grin.
"You know who I am, right? Sunbae."
By the now-obsolete combat doctrines of the past, hunters had two ways to fight monsters in small skirmishes.
One: pinpoint sniper shots at areas without defensive fields.
Two: close-quarters combat.
I'd told Chairman Je Phong-ho the same.
Getting close to monsters is insanely hard, but once you're in, opportunities open up.
True fact.
If you can enter the duel arena within their minimum field-deployment range, and you've got the guts and skill to face the beast inside,
you can kill them.
"..."
I drew my two axes.
Painted black—blade and haft—this matched pair was one of the few things I'd taken upon retirement.
"Fight on~! Senpai~!"
Mocking voices from behind.
I stared down the capsule and swung one axe.
The instant the blade hit, two black spots—like dead pixels—popped into my vision, staggered in time.
Two pieces of info.
One: it'd deployed a reflective field.
Two: the counterattack spot from that field.
As I brought the axe down, my own blade flew at my neck—blocked by the other axe.
Clang!
I recovered the axe and launched the second attack.
Two more spots stained my sight, time-lagged, and my body moved like clockwork, attacking and defending in sync.
After several exchanges, the whistling from behind stopped.
Not important anymore.
A vortex swirled before me, twisting space into spiral arms like a galaxy sucking me in.
Time.
Monster emergence.
"Cr-Crazy! He actually woke it!"
"Monster!"
"Run!"
Amid the panic, I calmly watched the silhouette forming in the light.
Elongated head like a human, ancient statue vibe.
Dancer type?
No. Necromancer type.
Not the worst, but no pushover.
Mid-range would've been impossible without trained backup.
But I'm at zero distance, primed for melee.
That spells one outcome.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
I braced against organ-crushing shockwaves, waiting for it to fully manifest.
It turned, glared, and swung gray-matter arms.
My axes cleaved them.
Crack!
How long since I felt it.
The sensation of smashing them.
That hand-feel dragged buried memories to the surface.
The dance began.
The death dance I'd learned, mastered, now fading into legend.
In it, the monster was nothing.
At zero range, inside its field limit, it was just a slow, lumbering log awaiting the woodsman's axe.
It thrashed in final fury, spines erupting everywhere toward me—but my dance was already past them, targeting its head.
Crack!
Both axes buried in its skull.
Its convulsions traveled down the hafts.
The only lullaby that once soothed my endless hatred.
"That's... Professor...?"
Baek Seung-hyeon's voice pierced the silence.
Thud.
The mangled, shredded monster hit the ground.
White light flared like fire consuming it, dissolving into particles.
I took a deep breath, sheathed my axes, and turned.
The juniors stared in shock, faces saying they couldn't believe their eyes.
No wonder.
Different generation from us.
Different doctrines taught, trained.
But they'd get it a little.
Warriors who once dominated, defended an era.
"Gotta burn it, right?"
The guy who'd opened paths for me back then waited in the cold dark.
*
"G-Goodbye!"
The woman who'd driven me bolted without looking back, hasty farewell.
The hallway to the morgue matched Lee Sanghun's father's.
Father and son laid side by side.
But the vibe was night and day.
No wreaths filling the corridor, no mourners.
In the half-abandoned gloom, a young, flashy woman—identity unknown—sat bowed, keeping vigil.
A powerful sense of déjà vu hit as I gazed at Lee Sanghun's portrait.
"Sanghun."
Now I remembered clearly.
This is what he looked like.
*
"Moving to Jeju—that was Lee Sanghun's plan."
Kim Daram showed up at the funeral and pulled me outside.
"If anyone's got insight into what he was thinking, it's you, sunbae."
I nodded and recited academy theory verbatim.
"...Rift intensity scales with population nearby."
"Pushing top talent to the relatively weaker Jeju as prep for the future—that was his plan. Monsters are a phenomenon, not an army with intent, as you know."
"Not something one guy pushes alone?"
"President and top brass approved. The issue is..."
She turned sad eyes to the echoing streets.
"Everyone not chosen gets abandoned. Word leaked, and this mess happened."
"Why'd he take the blame alone?"
"Who'd claim responsibility for ditching ten million lives? Lowest rank in the decision loop gets the dump."
"His wife and kid? Not at the funeral."
"Already on Jeju."
"Got it."
Kim Daram lit a cigarette.
"Plus, no clue why, but he named the plan after himself."
"Lee Sanghun Plan?"
"Lee Sanghun Plan. Why? He knew scapegoating wouldn't end pretty."
"..."
I had a vague idea, but it slipped away.
"Oh, one more thing. Minor, but before dying, he mentioned you, sunbae."
"What?"
"Said your back of the head kept popping up."
"My back?"
"Yeah. Said he always wanted to smack that head blocking his path back in school."
So that's what it was.
Guess I was annoying.
Blocking his way like that.
"But he said it smiling before dying. Like now he could finally land a proper hit."
"Found something new?"
Kim Daram glanced around with a sigh.
"Dunno. After meeting Kang-sunbae, he started grinning like an idiot, then dropped that."
"Kang Han-min?"
"Sorry. Bad name to hear?"
"Nah, fine. Toughened my mental with Skeleton-style unpopularity training."
"Unpopularity?"
I looked around.
Beyond, crowds roamed the dark without candles, huddling and chanting "survival" desperately.
One world ending.
And I was there.