Pheasant Instead of Chicken
In his private suite, Jeong-Hoon set down his teacup and let out a long sigh.
“Gaju, please put your anger aside.”
“I’m not particularly angry, you know?”
Lost in thought, Jeong-Hoon only then realized he had already drained more than half the teapot. He had been drinking in silence, so it was no wonder he looked furious—yet the truth was simpler. He was merely stunned that the Awakened training technique he had only half-believed in actually existed.
“There’s really a technique like that?”
“There is. Only Awakened can use it, and even among them only the talented can manage it at S-class.”
Jeong-Hoon clicked his tongue and turned away, any faint hope he might have harbored dying at the word “impossible.”
“Then what about Saturn—and AJ… saying the abbreviation makes it sound too much like AP, so let’s just use the full name, Ace Jack. Anyway, Ace Jack and X-ONE said they’d cooperate, right?”
“They agreed to cooperate without any conditions.”
Welcome news, yet Jeong-Hoon’s brow furrowed. From the start the plan had been to contact three of the Ten Great Guilds because the calculation said their combined strength was necessary to clear the dungeon without casualties. Saturn’s refusal had wrecked that plan.
Handing over the technique seemed simple enough, yet the moment they returned to Jeong-Hoon’s suite even Yeo Tae-Hyeon had looked grim. The technique was far too dangerous to leave in Saturn’s hands.
“Then we’ll have to find another way.”
“Before that, you must decide Saturn’s punishment.”
“They owe us a debt, but retaliating just because they refused feels… off, doesn’t it?”
Choi Jae-Yeon of Saturn certainly owed Lumen, yet Jeong-Hoon did not believe that debt turned the man into an unconditional slave. The Head Butler shook his head in firm denial.
“A simple refusal would have been fine. But when we approached Ace Jack and X-ONE, we told them we were also in talks with Saturn.”
Ace Jack and X-ONE, like Saturn, were among the Ten Great Guilds that owed Lumen a debt. Saturn had refused. If Lumen failed to answer that refusal with at least a minimal reprisal, one of the carefully built towers the family had spent ten years erecting behind the scenes to protect the world could collapse.
“Like it or not, a minimum punishment must be handed down.”
“But if one of the Ten Great Guilds falls, it leaves a hole in hunter strength.”
When Jeong-Hoon pointed out that the target was simply too large for open revenge, the three faces across from him hardened.
“…Is that the level of ‘minimum punishment’ you had in mind, Gaju?”
“Ah—no, that’s not what I meant.”
He had simply grown used to the Head Butler’s usual methods and assumed they would pulverize the opposition. Jeong-Hoon shook his head, a chill running down his spine as he realized how thoroughly he was absorbing their way of thinking.
“We only need to make it clear that refusing a Lumen request brings its own brand of hardship.”
“And how do we show that warning? Strip their membership again like last time?”
“The Ten Great Guilds serve as walking billboards for Lumen merely by staying here; that would hurt us as well. The damage must fall solely on them.”
In other words, Lumen would move, yet only those who needed to know would realize Lumen’s hand was involved.
“…How do we even do that? It’s not like we can shove Saturn onto the Frontline and slap them with a tax audit, right?”
Jeong-Hoon grumbled, naming the two things every guild dreaded most. The other three simply nodded.
“Hmm. That level should be about right.”
“I agree. Gaju’s insight never fails to impress.”
“The Frontline rotation happens to be changing soon. I’ll contact the government.”
The casual complaint had somehow become official policy, leaving the man who had spoken it staring in disbelief.
The Frontline. Once it had been called the Demilitarized Zone. Ten years ago the world changed, North Korea collapsed, and the entire region became a vast monster zone. Now the Northern Limit Line was the bulwark holding the tide of monsters at bay—South Korea’s harsh reality. The military formed the backbone while guilds rotated through the post. Even a Ten Great Guild could not escape the duty. The system was not unique to Korea.
“Saturn cannot avoid it either. And a tax audit—even if they come up clean—is exhausting simply to endure. They will clearly understand that a light reprisal has arrived.”
Once the decision was made—not to destroy the guild, only to make a visible point—Jeong-Hoon nodded. His choice might send people from Saturn Guild to die on the Frontline. The thought weighed on him, yet if Saturn did not go, people from some other guild would die instead. A single Ten Great Guild produced far fewer casualties than a patchwork alliance of mid-tier guilds. Statistics already proved it.
“All right, handle the punishment that way. What do we do now?”
Recruiting another guild was theoretically possible, yet Saturn remained the problem. Any leak through Saturn would bring official scrutiny down on Lumen. There was no realistic way to stop corporations and guilds from cooperating, but when a corporation poured massive capital into moving a guild, government sanctions inevitably followed. Speed was essential; contacting another guild was too risky.
With Saturn out, they somehow needed Ten-Great-Guild-level force. That meant gathering the mid-tier guilds already linked to Lumen—and that made a lightning operation impossible.
“…We can’t clear it ourselves either. This is a mess.”
“Would that truly be acceptable?”
“…That almost sounds like you’re saying we can.”
“Frankly, I alone would be enough.”
Jeong-Hoon wanted to tell him to talk sense—then realized the man was talking perfect sense. From S-class upward, Awakened were called superhumans among superhumans. Martial-arts fans even labeled S-class “Flower Realm.” Jeong I-Yeong was one such superhuman. Yeo Tae-Hyeon was SS-class—beyond Flower Realm, into “Profound Realm.” And the Head Butler was SSS-class. The three of them together outclassed any three of the Ten Great Guilds combined.
“Concealing the information would be simple. We simply never considered it because we thought you would not welcome the idea, Gaju.”
Hearing the reason they had kept silent, Jeong-Hoon nodded and spoke.
“Then we’ll clear it ourselves.”
The complicated dungeon raid that had been spinning in circles resolved itself with startling simplicity.
A dungeon was a danger zone where monsters could erupt at any moment—yet it was also a treasure vault of untapped natural resources. Hunting monsters alone never made a guild rich; no game-like item drops appeared, nor any new-age energy source. Profit came from clearing the dungeon and selling the development rights to corporations. That was why hunters permanently stood watch at every entrance against sudden monster surges, while outside security prevented anyone from slipping in unnoticed.
“I figured getting past the guards would be half the battle… yet it was this easy.”
Deactivating the cloaking device, Jeong-Hoon looked down at the suit he wore. It was the same one he had worn for the Lumen chairmanship announcement and every visit to Shine Mall. He had been told it was expensive; he had never imagined it contained a cloaking system.
“Butler Ju, wasn’t this just a bulletproof vest?”
“It also has bulletproof functions.”
Even after walking straight into the dungeon under full cloak, Jeong-Hoon still could not quite believe it. The technology surpassed anything modern science should be capable of. Some Awakened possessed invisibility, true, yet no one had ever engineered it. And here it was treated as ordinary equipment.
“Gaju, the cloaking drains energy heavily. You should swap the power pack soon.”
Yeo Tae-Hyeon approached and held out his hand. Jeong-Hoon unstrapped the watch and passed it over. It looked like a watch and functioned as one, yet it was also a micro energy pack. Yeo took it and activated his ability; the spent pack vanished cleanly into subspace—the rare ability that made him the natural head of the family’s logistics empire.
“…With just the family’s technology, I’m already a superhuman.”
Wearing the watch alone gave the suit enough protection that a C4 blast nearby would leave him unharmed. Activating it inside the dungeon granted physical abilities equal to an F-class Awakened. And for a limited time, complete invisibility.
“If the government ever found out, they’d come running for every last piece of this tech.”
“It is still incomplete. One day the entire human race will enjoy its benefits—that is the family’s goal.”
“That’s the most reassuring thing I’ve heard about the family yet.”
Not world domination, but an organization that protected the world from the shadows. Satisfied, Jeong-Hoon surveyed the dungeon. Despite the name, a vast grassland stretched before them. The gate itself was large enough for dump trucks to drive through. Calling it a “dungeon” felt odd, yet early gates had mostly opened into confined, closed spaces—hence the name.
“Seeing in person what I only ever watched online really hits different.”
“Are you satisfied?”
“I was starting to wonder why I insisted on coming along… but looking at this, I’m glad I did.”
Jeong-Hoon smiled at the untouched wilderness. When they decided to handle the raid personally and assigned personnel, he had said that with the three of them present he would be perfectly safe and wanted to go too. The request had been accepted without argument. Possible danger had never been a real concern. For these three to struggle, an SSS-class monster would need to appear—and if one existed, monsters would already be pouring out of the gate in a flood rather than causing a brief news-worthy stir. The dungeon was extremely safe. Thus Jeong-Hoon had checked off a bucket-list item—touring a dungeon—and indirectly fulfilled the wish of someday Awakening and clearing one himself. The actual clear still lay ahead, of course, but the moment three of the Twelve Vassals stepped inside, the dungeon’s fate was sealed.
“Then, Gaju, we shall begin the assau—”
“Butler Ju, do you not need weapons?”
“Butler Yeo, at my level would I require weapons here?”
“I know that, but if this is for Gaju’s sake, we should match the arms he will use.”
“…I failed to consider that. Thank you for the reminder.”
The three, now armed with pistols and short blades, took the lead. Jeong-Hoon likewise drew the pistol and dagger from inside his suit. He was not joining the hunt; simply holding the weapons made the experience more immediate. Sightseeing had been the goal, yet the Head Butler had allowed him to come precisely because the outing could serve as practical self-defense training.
“Then let us begin.”
At the Head Butler’s abrupt words Jeong-Hoon followed his gaze. A pack of monsters had gathered unnoticed and was watching them warily—kobolds, ranked among the weakest monsters alongside goblins. The Head Butler charged. The other two followed. Gunshots cracked; kobolds split apart. Jeong-Hoon saw nothing. Only sound reached him. Whenever a shot rang out, what had been a kobold went flying. The three’s movements? If a Non-Awakened could track S-class fighters moving in earnest, that person would not be Non-Awakened. Even B-class could only glimpse S-class motion as a blur.
“How was that? Kobolds are weak, so they are relatively easy opponents.”
“How was what? I didn’t see a single thing.”
When Jeong-Hoon pointed at the former kobolds and grumbled, the three looked troubled. To them it had been an ordinary hunt. Yet the person who mattered most had seen nothing.
“Ah—there is one thing I can say for certain.”
“What is that?”
“They say both Awakened and Non-Awakened feel no revulsion when monsters die. Turns out it’s true.”
Kobold corpses littered the ground, yet Jeong-Hoon felt neither horror nor disgust. He shrugged. The three nodded.
“It is etched at the genetic level.”
Even the most tender-hearted person grew numb to a monster’s death. That did not mean they became cold; more often panic from the fear of dying took over. Jeong-Hoon, however, had entered with three S-class-or-higher Awakened and felt no such panic. Instead, when a pig-headed monster—an orc—approached from afar, he raised his pistol and aimed.
Bang!
The shot rang out and the orc toppled.
“Gaju?”
“…This pistol is excellent.”
“Did you just shoot it in the eye?”
“Yeah, that was the plan. I didn’t think I’d actually hit it.”
Even a good pistol should not pierce an orc’s skull, so he had recalled advice that an eye shot was possible and aimed for the eye. Landing it on the first try left him staring alternately at the gun and the three companions in astonishment.
“You always hit the mark during marksmanship training. Why the surprise?”
“Those were stationary targets. That one was moving.”
Knowing how vast the difference was only deepened his amazement. Jeong-Hoon realized he truly possessed talent with firearms.
“It is fortunate that Gaju is so motivated. Then let us begin proper practical training.”
He had shot the orc almost on impulse, yet the Head Butler beamed as though he had witnessed eager enthusiasm.