Farewell
It was not a dungeon. That single fact let everyone lower their guard. No monsters would appear here, so there was no real need for vigilance.
The Odyssey guild members were already dead, their life force drained away, which left nothing worth watching for either.
“We came to deal with the Odyssey people, but now that it’s turned out like this, the whole thing feels kind of anticlimactic.”
“Chairman Lee, I used to be Odyssey too. Change that title.”
“You’re not anymore, are you?”
Jeong-Hoon shrugged and strode forward without hesitation.
Without him, the others would have had their life force siphoned away just like the Odyssey people. But the heart of the seal was linked to Jeong-Hoon, so as long as he was present they were safe—which was why he took the lead.
“S-save me…….”
Instinct told him they were almost at the center of the barrier when something caught against Jeong-Hoon’s foot and a voice rose from the floor.
A man lying collapsed on the ground lifted his head and spoke, drawing every gaze in the group.
“Hm? That’s Kim Gyeong-Hwan, Guild Master of Odyssey.”
The man was so emaciated he looked more skeleton than human; no one should have been able to recognize that face. Yet Butler Joo identified him at a glance, and Jeong-Hoon blinked in surprise.
Nothing remained of the healthy face from the photographs. This was the face of a man about to die.
“I-I’ll submit to Lumen’s sanctions. P-please, just spare—”
“You planned to raise your power here, clear the place, then use that information to negotiate with the government and pressure Lumen. That was your solution—and you still have the nerve to say that?”
Butler Joo’s voice cracked like iron as he snapped at the dying man. Kim Gyeong-Hwan managed a weak shake of his head in denial, but no one present failed to realize the butler’s guess was exactly right.
An unknown dungeon where no monsters appeared and abilities simply rose. Clear it, and the information alone would be valuable enough to bargain with. There was no other reason to enter a place like this.
“But the decision isn’t mine, so there’s nothing I can do. What will you do, Chairman?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“Will you show mercy?”
At the butler’s question Jeong-Hoon looked down at the dying Kim Gyeong-Hwan. Left alone, the man would be dead in moments.
“What do you think, Noona?”
“Hm? You decide, Chairman Lee. Even if we keep him alive he won’t last long anyway.”
Jeong-Hoon nodded and gave Butler Joo his order. Even in death, the law’s judgment was necessary.
“Show him mercy.”
“Understood, Chairman.”
Butler Joo nodded, drew the pistol he kept in his pocket, leveled it at Kim Gyeong-Hwan’s head, and fired.
Bang!
A large-caliber round designed for monsters shattered Kim Gyeong-Hwan’s skull. Instant death—no need for a second look.
“Aaaah! What the hell are you doing?!”
“I showed him mercy, did I not?”
Jeong-Hoon shouted at the horrific scene unfolding before his eyes; Butler Joo only answered with a question of his own.
“His life force was being drained to the last drop. Even if we had spared him, only suffering remained. Making it easy was the only mercy left.”
“Then explain that first!”
Jeong-Hoon had expected the man to be saved; the clean execution left him stunned. Yet the shock came only from seeing someone die on his order. Strangely, no guilt followed. Instead a quiet sense of relief remained—as if a knot had been untied even though the case itself was unfinished.
The heart of the barrier.
Past the place where Kim Gyeong-Hwan had fallen, they reached a cavern, and the moment they saw it everyone knew they had arrived at the center. They had no choice but to know.
At the cavern’s heart floated a sphere similar to a dungeon core. Unlike those massive gem-like cores, this one glowed gold; countless geometric shapes and unknown characters orbited it, pouring out an immense wave of power.
The instant that wave touched them, the others crumpled as if swept away by a torrent. They could barely breathe, lost and helpless—yet only Jeong-Hoon remained standing, calmly studying the sphere.
“Butler Joo, what happens if I say I’ve seen this before?”
“……That would not be strange.”
More precisely, it felt as if he had seen it. Jeong-Hoon took slow steps forward while gazing at the heart of the seal.
He had seen it. Ten years ago. Or earlier. Perhaps from the moment he was born.
“One thing’s certain—I think I know why I’m a Non-Awakened.”
Instinct told him the sphere itself was what kept him Non-Awakened. He stepped up to it and raised his hand, pressing his palm against the surface.
Woom, woom.
The moment Jeong-Hoon touched the sphere, the people crushed by the waves felt their bodies free themselves. When they lifted their heads—
The sphere blazed with brilliant light.
“……Butler Joo!”
“Yes, Chairman!”
Startled by the sudden radiance, Jeong-Hoon squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and called for the butler.
“It’s all right. You may open your eyes.”
Butler Joo’s reassuring hand settled on his shoulder. Jeong-Hoon cautiously opened his eyes and looked around.
What he saw was not the cavern that had held the heart of the barrier. It was the hideout Odyssey had prepared—the inside of a container building. The fractured space that had looked like a dungeon entrance was gone as though it had never existed.
“Is that the end of it?”
“That’s what I’d like to ask you, Chairman Lee.”
“Because the seal’s core made contact with you, Chairman, it returned to its proper place and we were automatically ejected from that space.”
“So it’s over, then?”
“No. Odyssey still remains.”
The seal had been resolved, but Butler Joo gently reminded them that the reason they had come here was Odyssey from the start, a small smile on his lips.
And Odyssey, with its Guild Master and every executive missing, was pushed into formal dissolution. Those who knew of Lumen’s involvement never believed for a second that the disappearances were accidental. They simply assumed the entire leadership had been disposed of for crossing Lumen.
A few days after Odyssey was cleaned up—exactly one week since he had first met So-Hyeon—she collapsed.
The final stage of Hunter’s Disease brought extreme agony, so she was transferred from Lumen to Myeongil Hospital and given massive doses of painkillers.
“……I can’t even imagine this is the same lively unnie.”
Once So-Hyeon lost consciousness after her cries of pain, Si-Eun finally opened the mouth she had kept tightly shut.
She was the youngest S-class hunter, a girl who had been clearing dungeons since high school. Even so, the death of someone close shook her hard.
“She was facing death, so she forced herself to look bright. That’s just the kind of person Noona is.”
The first time Jeong-Hoon met So-Hyeon, her face had belonged to someone who had already given up on everything. Then, the moment he mentioned volunteer work, she flipped her attitude and became cheerful. It hadn’t been hope—she had been considering him.
“You saw that at a glance? You really are the chairman of a conglomerate beyond imagination.”
“It’s not because I’m Lumen’s chairman. I was similar once.”
“……?”
“My parents were hunters too, actually. Just F-class, though.”
Information about Jeong-Hoon that the world knew nothing of. He should not have said it, yet he did. The emptiness of So-Hyeon’s approaching death washed over him, and he suddenly wanted to speak about the real self he still had to hide from the world.
“One day those parents went into a dungeon and never came back.”
A boy of only seventeen had become an orphan overnight. Of course he had not been in his right mind. Jeong-Hoon had seen his past self in So-Hyeon, dying alone in a private room. That was why he had done everything he could for her—everything except the one thing that mattered: curing her Hunter’s Disease and saving her life.
“In the end I’m just a rich kid with too much money…….”
“Th-that’s not true. If it weren’t for you, Chairman, unnie and I never would have met. You did everything you could.”
Jeong-Hoon truly had done his best; there was no pretense in Si-Eun’s words. Yet the helplessness he felt refused to lift.
“Hup! Hey, I’m in pain and it’s getting on my nerves, so save the crying for after I’m dead, okay?”
So-Hyeon, whom they had thought completely unconscious, suddenly sat up, pulled off the respirator, and spoke to them.
“Noona!”
“Unnie!”
“Y-yeah, I know. Ugh, it hurts like hell. But these painkillers are something else. It’s bearable right now.”
She lay back down, eyes still wide open, looking at the two of them.
“Is this that final sparkle before death? Anyway, I’m glad I can still leave a will.”
Sensing the end, she squeezed out the last of her strength.
“Chairman Lee—about my funeral.”
“I’ll make it as grand as possible. If you want, I can even push for a state funeral.”
“No, not that. What kind of state funeral is a D-class hunter’s funeral?”
So-Hyeon started to scold him for going too far, then remembered he actually possessed the power to make it happen and shook her head left and right.
“I just have a few things I want to say about my funeral.”
“I’ll accommodate as much as I can.”
“Then first—the retirement pay I received last time? Use only that money. And don’t accept any condolence gifts.”
So-Hyeon’s retirement pay was not a large sum. Still, it was enough for one person’s funeral.
“Not just the funeral—handle everything after with that money too.”
“……You don’t want it more elaborate?”
“I’ve already received more than enough help. Ah! A funeral without a chief mourner is a problem……. Could I ask you?”
“Of course.”
“I-I’ll do it too! Chief mourner!”
“……That’s kind of you, but are you sure?”
“I’m sure!”
“No, it’s not that kind of problem. Ah, whatever. Do what you want.”
Something still nagged at So-Hyeon, but she suddenly declared defeat and gave a hollow laugh.
“Too bad I’ll have to watch the scandal between Lumen’s chairman and the youngest S-class hunter from the afterlife.”
“……You don’t need to worry about that.”
Not a single line of such an article would ever appear. Setting everything else aside, the entire country was currently walking on eggshells around Lumen. People would keep their heads down of their own accord just to avoid catching any flak.
“Is that everything you wanted to say?”
“Ah! One last thing—yukgaejang!”
“What about yukgaejang?”
“I always ate it whenever I went to funerals, and I always thought it tasted awful!”
“I’ll find a good restaurant.”
Jeong-Hoon burst out laughing, thinking how perfectly So-Hyeon it was to worry about funeral-home yukgaejang. Staying bright until the very end was exactly like her.
“No—because yukgaejang tastes bad! Prepare budae-jjigae instead!”
“……Budae-jjigae at a funeral home?”
“Yeah! Tell people who came all that way to have some budae-jjigae and a shot of soju before they leave. Don’t bother with mourning or any of that stuff.”
Faced with a demand that left him speechless, Jeong-Hoon shook his head. He could not tell whether this was lucid talk or dying delirium.
“Not many people will come to my funeral, but they’ll all be hunters. In a job where people live and die every day, you should feed them something tasty.”
“……If the funeral home says it’s fine, I’ll do it.”
“Then that’s settled! If Chairman Lee is handling it, nothing’s impossible, right?”
“……There are actually a lot of impossible things.”
Tormented by the helplessness of being unable to save So-Hyeon, Jeong-Hoon’s expression hardened. He was staring at one of those impossibilities right now.
“Is that really true? You have the power to move the world with a single finger, don’t you?”
“……Even so, impossible is still impossible.”
“If you’re thinking that because you couldn’t save me, don’t. This week was so much fun I’m just grateful instead.”
For So-Hyeon, who had been waiting only for death after catching Hunter’s Disease, meeting Jeong-Hoon had been the greatest luck. She had already accepted that she would not live. Dying here held no fear for her.
“You’ll keep protecting the world with that power that has no impossibilities, right?”
“……I have to protect it.”
“That’s enough. It’s a little disappointing I never got to see all the power of the mysterious Chairman Lee, though.”
At So-Hyeon’s words—spoken as if she had already guessed something—Jeong-Hoon let out a short sigh.
“I was happy knowing that the one who protects the world from behind the scenes is a good person.”
“……Unnie.”
“Ah. Si-Eun, thank you too. You must have been busy, yet you hung out with me for a whole week.”
“……It was too short.”
“No, it was enough. The power you saw from Chairman Lee back then—you remember it, right?”
“Yes.”
When she mentioned the seal, the barrier, and its maintenance, Si-Eun slowly nodded.
“Keep an eye on Chairman Lee, and if he ever tries to misuse that ridiculous power, stop him from the side.”
“……That’s a terrifying request.”
“Anyway! I’m counting on you. Ah, I’m going now. Bye-bye!”
At So-Hyeon’s final words Jeong-Hoon and Si-Eun both broke into hollow laughs. Even in a moment like this she could still joke.
Beep—
“Noona?”
“Unnie?”
But the sound of the heart monitor made Jeong-Hoon and Si-Eun turn their heads at the same time.
Words that could never be mistaken for last words.
Leaving those behind, So-Hyeon closed her eyes.