Dungeon Exploration
Dungeon exploration.
When the concept of Hunters first appeared in this world, anomalous phenomena began erupting across the globe. Monsters showing up was one of them — but dungeons appearing was another.
They earned the name because, when they first manifested, they looked exactly like the dungeons out of old stories. The primary objective, people said, was to hunt the monsters inside and harvest their essences.
"So it might be easiest to think of it this way: high-rank Hunters like you, Jisu, take part in raids that pay a lot more but are far more dangerous. Low-rank Hunters do dungeon exploration and scouting — the pay's lower, but the work is relatively manageable."
"I see. But what's the actual difference between exploration and scouting?"
"Scouting is wandering around looking for new dungeons that haven't been discovered yet. Exploration means going into dungeons that have already been found but not yet cleared, or ones that have been discovered and are currently under management."
"These days the clear strategies are well-known and Hunters in general have gotten stronger, so people don't worry about it as much — but unless a dungeon is fully cleared to the point of being sealed, monsters keep coming out of it. Leave it unmanaged and it becomes dangerous. If nobody volunteers, it's usually a handful of D- to E-rank Hunters who go in to explore."
"……Hmm. Would it be all right if I went?"
"Like I said, you're SS-rank, so you could walk in there alone with zero preparation and it'd be fine. Ah — of course, assuming… there's no issue on the status side of things!"
Seyeon's words brought back, with sudden vividness, the moment Jisu had told her his secret.
Did I mess up by saying anything?
A flicker of regret passed through him, but in the end, timing had been the only real question. He was going to have to tell her eventually if he wanted her help. Having arrived at that conclusion, Jisu answered in a vaguely sheepish tone.
"Well, it should be fine, right? It's gone without any real problems so far."
"All right! If you say so, then it is. Anyway — want me to hold onto a dungeon exploration job that's come in?"
Sitting around doing nothing was only going to bore him, and he'd been wanting to see firsthand how a dungeon actually worked. Jisu answered without much deliberation.
"Yeah. I'll go."
"Got it. You'll probably be heading out in about three days at the earliest! I'll be getting a few things ready on my end too. I'll call you then!"
A click, and the call disconnected.
Dungeon exploration. If that was work for low-rank Hunters, then for Jisu as he was now, it clearly wouldn't be any trouble at all.
Hah…
Jisu flopped onto the bed and let his mind drift back to the day he'd met Jihan.
Bitcoin Hunter. The new ICO Jihan was going to issue.
Every so-called Hunter coin that's come out so far doesn't actually do anything. That's why I still think there's an opening. If the Korean government gets behind it first and we can start with the Korean Hunter industry, we'll definitely get the first-mover advantage. As long as we can get it listed safely.
It was true that all sorts of no-name coins were currently advertising themselves as Hunter-related — Hunter Coin this, Hunter Token that. Jisu knew perfectly well that none of them served any real function.
But if Bitcoin Hunter (BCH) listed, and actually became a currency among Hunters?
I hope it works out.
After seeing the look in his hyung's eyes that night over drinks, Jisu simply could not imagine Jihan failing. Even if the listing fell through, this was someone who would succeed wherever he went. That, at least, was the impression Jisu had come away with after knocking around on odd jobs with him.
Once I'm more well-known, I have to help him — with everything I've got.
Having made that resolution, Jisu closed his eyes and let the stray thoughts drain away, one by one.
The waiting room before dungeon entry.
It was the place where search parties formed to explore or scout dungeons — where they divided up the profits and laid out the expedition plan. The description made it sound like some grand facility, but the people who gathered here were mostly F- to D-rank Hunters whose abilities didn't have much practical use.
That's right. This place was, in essence, a day-labor office — Hunter edition.
They'd awakened a talent, registered with the Hunter Association, and then discovered that talent wasn't remarkable enough to matter. So they ended up here, doing the thankless, poorly paid work that someone in this industry inevitably had to do.
The interior looked the part, too. Cheap chairs and desks dragged in and dumped wherever, an aging computer for whoever ran the place, a coffee vending machine sitting outside the door. Three or four people who'd shown up first thing in the morning, coffee in hand, milling around in hopes of a job — it was the classic day-labor office scene, so textbook even an elementary schooler could have pictured it.
And among that crowd, paper cup in hand, stood a novice Hunter who had only recently been assessed as D-rank: Han Gaeul.
I need to get onto an exploration team today.
Gaeul held the warm cocoa close to her lips, using the cup as a hand warmer. Steam unfurled across her mouth.
She didn't drink it, of course. The morning air was turning cold, and finishing this off only to spend money on another cup felt like a waste — this thing was doing the job of a heater, after all.
A lot of people showed up today, too.
Gaeul looked around and found herself thinking what a run of hard luck these lives were.
Awakening as a Hunter was the kind of thing people compared to hitting the lottery. Sure, you had to risk your life in combat — but was there any decent job in modern society that didn't ask you to stake your life on something? Either way, Hunter was considered an excellent profession: with that one talent, you'd never starve.
Except that was a story for A-rank and above. Or, being generous, B- to C-rank.
For the D-rank and below who made up the vast majority of the Hunter industry, every single day was a grind. No spotlight. You just quietly did your part — an utterly ordinary job, as far from money and fame as it was possible to get.
And over the past few years, the number of people awakening as Hunters had been on the rise. What always happened when supply outstripped demand was happening here, too. The value of labor was falling, bit by bit.
Of all things — of all the things she could have become — a low-rank Hunter.
A life that didn't open up even after you'd awakened your talent. Looking at a gathering of lives like that, a sigh came naturally.
Enough. Who am I to worry about other people… I need to take care of myself first.
Low-rank Hunters were closer to freelancers than anything else. The Hunter Association didn't offer exclusive contracts unless you were someone the Association itself could actually use. You were affiliated, in other words — but they didn't pay you a salary.
Those who'd awakened a unique ability had it better. You could leverage that ability and maybe, somehow, land a job at a mid-size company — even a major corporation, if you were lucky.
Gaeul had received her D-rank more on the strength of her unique ability than her stats, but even she had to admit that her ability was—
Where am I supposed to use a flashy-looking power like that?
Enough. Dwelling on the negative wouldn't change anything. If even a little work came in, she could eat for a few weeks. Today, she just had to get picked.
Gaeul steeled herself and drained the paper cup clean.
That was when the air in the office shifted, just slightly. The people who would be picking them had started to arrive, one by one.
"Hello. Kang Cheolmin, captain of the Immune Exploration Team."
Kang Cheolmin. A B+-rank Hunter who operated out of the Guro-gu area of Seoul — someone with a decent reputation in this line of work. He treated day-labor Hunters reasonably well, and if you proved your worth on an expedition, he was generous with exclusive contracts. That made him popular.
"I'm looking to take about three of you today. Anyone here with a combat-related special status, or a unique ability useful for exploration?"
At that, about eight people quietly raised their hands.
"Five, six, seven…. We'll do a short interview. Could you come this way?"
The unspoken rule was that you didn't advertise a special talent — but did the D-rank and below gathered in a place like this really have any reason to hide? If you could find a use for it, you were better off putting it out in the open and hunting for someone who'd actually let you use it.
…
Gaeul didn't raise her hand. She only watched. Even by her own cold assessment, her unique ability had nothing to do with exploration.
More people kept arriving after that.
"Nexton Guild, Sword Saint Exploration Team. Five people. You'll be going out as the vanguard — there's a follow-up team behind you, so anyone who can hold out reasonably well is fine. Anyone with Mental Strength of forty or above? Strength, Stamina, and Agility just need to not be too low and we're good."
Another seven or so hands went up. Mental Strength, they said, was the most important status for dungeon exploration. Nobody knew exactly how the principle worked. But you needed high Mental Strength to discover treasure inside a dungeon, or to bring your abilities to bear against the monsters.
Gaeul didn't raise her hand this time either. More precisely, she couldn't.
Even with a unique ability, stats this low make it worthless.
Gaeul's stats sat well below the D-rank Hunter average. She'd learned that with painful clarity on her first day at the manpower office, when she'd raised her hand at a call for D-rank and above — and been turned away.
The only reason she was D-rank at all was that her unique ability had been factored in. Special abilities counted toward your rank, after all. The criteria for judging an ability's worth were vague enough that some Hunters with incredibly useful powers still ended up with low ranks — but that wasn't Gaeul's situation.
How many people had been picked for exploration teams and gone off to work?
At last the crowd that had filled the cramped office was gone, and Gaeul sat alone on the bench, holding an empty paper cup that had long since gone cold.
Another bust.
How many days did this make now? She'd gathered up her restless heart before leaving the house, steeled herself with a fresh resolution, and come here — and with nothing to show for it, the energy drained out of her on its own.
Not having work wasn't some catastrophe. She could go looking for a night-shift exploration team. There were still things she could do.
She couldn't collapse here. Not now.
When she came back to herself, she was the only one left in the office. A hush filled the room that wasn't even particularly large.
I'll wait a little longer, just in case.
Once more, she pressed down hard on everything threatening to spill out.
Even if she went home empty-handed, it was fine. There was always tomorrow. It was hard right now, but it wasn't more than she could bear. She'd lived this way all along.
That was when it happened.
—Jingle.
"……?"
Gaeul looked toward the sound, at the door that had just opened. A man stood there, glancing around — a man she could have sworn she'd seen somewhere before.
He took in the empty benches and spoke in a small voice, as if to himself.
"……Am I too late?"