Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Kurokawa Ren
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Kurokawa Ren.
Kurokawa Ren.
One of only three S-Rank Hunters in all of Japan.
She might be the youngest of the trio, having just recently advanced to S-Rank, but even so, the other two wouldn't dare think of crossing her.
The reason was simple.
She appeared to possess overwhelming "talent," but in truth, she was a monster who had chewed through human limits with sheer madness and obsession.
More than half of typical S-Rank Hunters are just born different.
They come from good bloodlines, prestigious families, noble lineages... something innate like that.
In fact, one of my patients, Yunhwa, hails from the Cheok family, Korea's premier Hunter dynasty—even if it's just a branch line—and Narae, right before her promotion, was a beastkin with specs beyond human from the start, social stigma be damned.
In the end, S-Rank is a seat reserved for those born with skulls fit for a crown.
But Ren had nothing to do with any of that.
She was an orphan from a nursery with no background, no bloodline, not even a family name.
No parents, no sponsors, no home.
A quick internet search turned up just three words: "Origin: Unknown / Institution."
Dirt-poor underdog?
No, a monster who crawled up naked from the mud.
From elementary school age, she sneaked into dungeons, sleeping on monster entrails, while kids her age gripped pencils in classrooms. She survived by slicing off monster tongues and roasting them over firewood.
And before she even hit twenty, she tore apart veteran Hunters and etched the name "Ren" across Japan.
Now, at twenty-nine.
A year younger than Yunhwa.
Earlier this year, on the cusp of thirty, she finally advanced to S-Rank.
People called her a genius.
Others called her a madwoman.
A woman who spritzed blood like perfume, who would lop off her own arm like a toy to win a fight.
And that woman was now gazing down at me, her dazzling white shoulder peeking from a kimono, wafting a pink sakura scent.
Blood and floral perfume.
Two scents that could kill a man or make him hard.
Clawing her way to Japan's S-Rank without a single backer was impressive enough, but on top of that— this face, this body, this aura.
A monster and a goddess crammed into one body.
Maybe I was facing Japan's top superstar right now.
But.
Me, counseling her?
And I'm with the Korean branch?
Naturally, my first instinct was to refuse.
Sure, as the Hunter Association's lead psychiatrist and counselor, it's my duty to take on any Hunter who seeks help, barring extreme cases.
...But the problem was, I'm Korean branch.
And sitting before me was Japan branch's S-Rank.
In other words, a national asset that could stick its nose in cross-border affairs and smack the back of heads.
If I "casually" counseled someone like that, who knew what fallout it'd cause.
If it ended as a mere hiccup, great—but mental treatment via counseling usually spans months or years.
If Ren was dissatisfied with my care, that'd be trouble. Worse if she loved it and decided to stay long-term in Korea.
The moment Japan's counselors heard their top asset was crossing borders for Korean treatment... they'd weep blood and call.
Then it'd be, "If you're jealous, train better yourselves—why steal our Hunters?" sparking inter-nation conflict.
One wrong move, and my dick becomes a national incident.
So I opened my mouth to draw a firm line.
But.
"I—"
"...?"
"Am your lifesaver."
"Kuh?!"
"And you won't even chat with me?"
Ren spoke with a cold, smileless face.
Her red eyes felt like they pierced straight to depths beyond my heart.
More than that.
"Is this... Korean courtesy?"
She even dabbed at her eyes dramatically, utterly unconvincing.
Her acting was so awkward it screamed fake, yet my brain drowned in guilt anyway.
Ah.
I really wanted to ignore her to the end.
But those eyes.
Like, "Refuse now, and I'll upgrade you from benefactor to enemy?"
Glowing faintly red... so I sighed and spoke.
"W-Well, Ren. As you know, I'm a Korean branch Hunter counselor... If you want counseling, we need approval from upper management first—"
"Just dinner and talk."
"Pardon?"
"Tonight. Reserved Busan's finest hotel. Come alone."
Fuck.
Not even counseling—just framing it as "dinner with my lifesaver," that sly fox move.
At this point, refusing felt like rebellion, making it a luxury I couldn't afford.
...Precisely, refusing might shred my nationality before my dick.
"Thank you for joining me for dinner."
"Ah, no problem..."
That evening after discharge.
Leaving behind Narae, who—seeing her healthy master—dripped pussy juice while naked-storming the ward.
I arrived at a glass palace skyscraper hugging Busan's famed beachfront tourist spot.
Top floor.
A luxury restaurant with panoramic ocean views through glass walls.
The air felt different the moment I stepped in.
Cowhide carpet studded with golden threads on the floor, walls rippling with live coral reef tanks like waves.
There sat Ren, legs crossed casually as if it were natural.
Her black kimono loosely draped only around her waist this time, wine-red lighting seeping into her deep cleavage.
On the table before her, something steak-like sizzled on a silver platter, white smoke rising.
I snuck a peek at the menu and froze.
'Dinner lunch... over a million won?!'
A single meal that vaporized my monthly rent.
Whoa... the prices alone are insane.
Of course, to an S-Rank Hunter, this was pocket change.
But what bugged me wasn't the free meal...
'...What the hell does she want to counsel about, dragging me to a spot this nuts?'
The faint classical music and her bare leg subtly crossing under the table kept snapping my focus.
"Rumors about Counselor Kim Seungbin... are fairly well-known in Japan too."
"Pardon?"
That was the moment.
As I, tense as hell, shoveled unidentifiable steak—Hanwoo or whatever—down my throat without tasting it, Ren quietly dropped a bomb.
"Heard you treated Cheok Yunhwa, Korea's sole current S-Rank Hunter, right from your first gig at the Association. Even played strategist, ending the corruption and nepotism of the four major guilds, rebirthing them as her solo 'Moonlight Sword House.'"
"...Yes?"
"Also heard... you come and go from the home of Yoo Geumhui, Korean branch chief—the enigmatic one whose face is a rarity—like it's your parlor. And her granddaughter, Yoo Narae from earlier, you snapped her out of her slump, got her back to Hunting..."
...Hmm.
Uh...
Too much to say about that.
First, yes, I treated Yunhwa.
Yes, but... fuck, I wasn't some puppet master black curtain pulling strings to make her wipe out the four guilds.
She just smashed through a window one day and came back with their guild masters' necks snapped, that's all?!
And Branch Chief Yoo Geumhui.
Mysterious or not... I don't treat her house like a parlor.
She comes to me, shaking her eighty-year-old granny bod in a loli frame, yapping about marriage like it's breakfast.
Narae's case is true, though.
True, but—
"Rumor has it you're grooming her as the next S-Rank... with some 'special training.'"
"Haha..."
That "special training" was just her naked-pussy-juice-trail walks down the ward...
Can't exactly say deadpan, "Yes. Masturbation reinforcement training."
What insane legend filter turned my pussy-walk project into "S-Rank awakening bootcamp" that crossed to Japan?
This vibe... one wrong word, and my dick gets lopped before my medical license.
"Finally... you resolved the woes of Saint Kim Sohee, the Goddess Church's sole saint. Truth is... I met her a year ago. I knew how bad it was."
"Oh... really?"
"Yes. She came to bless our Japanese Hunters... but kept flinching like she had a fever, face flushed red. Sweating buckets too—little puddles formed under her feet with every step."
That was pussy juice.
And the heat? Probably her brain fantasies running wild, imagining getting trained by someone right then.
Of course, publicly, Saint Sohee is a saint... so to avoid shattering that illusion, I zipped it.
So.
"Uh, so... you sought me out?"
Despite the wild exaggerations, maybe she sized up my specs and rumors, wanted help.
I asked.
Ren hesitated, then locked her red eyes straight on mine, spilling her trouble.
"Truth is... I want to get married."
"...Pardon?"
"But—"
She slowly lifted her wine glass.
As her lips brushed the rim, deep rouge smeared, that curve alone melting the front of my brain.
"Strangely enough... no men hit on me."