Leaving the Guild

Once I'd actually decided to leave the guild, my feelings only grew more tangled.

How hard did I work just to get in here?

At the Academy, where the nation's geniuses gathered, I had neither family nor connections. I had to work several times harder than everyone else just to keep up. Baekya was the guild I'd only managed to join after barely scraping my way through graduation, and I'd be lying if I said I felt no lingering attachment.

Still. Gotta do what I gotta do.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the guild headquarters in Gangnam. I'd originally planned to submit my resignation yesterday, but the injuries and stress from the gate had knocked me out cold the moment I got home.

Just thinking about yesterday still makes the back of my head throb.

Before long I arrived at the executive office on the thirty-seventh floor of Baekya Guild headquarters.

"Contract termination, is it..."

The man sitting across from me crossed his arms as he spoke.

Vice Guild Master of Baekya Guild, Kwon Taesoo. With the Guild Master currently absent, he was the man who held every scrap of Baekya's real power in his hands. He was also the one who'd pulled that stunt yesterday — a man who cared far more about money than saving lives.

"Team Leader Lee. Is this because of what happened yesterday?"

"That's one of the reasons."

"A shame. The guild had quite a high opinion of you, Team Leader Lee."

Bullshit. If there'd been civilian casualties, they would've pinned the whole thing on me in a heartbeat.

Now that I'd survived and actually cleared the gate, they were changing their tune.

The articles have been pouring in, too.

Since yesterday, the internet had been flooded with pieces Baekya had planted.

Among the mountain of articles, not a single one mentioned that the raid had been delayed. They made it sound as if my going into the gate alone had been unavoidable.

The comments are probably manipulated too.

The government that was supposed to regulate this sort of thing was too busy watching the guilds' faces, and the tyranny of the major guilds grew worse by the day.

"Did you happen ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to see the articles, Team Leader Lee? The response has been excellent. We were planning to really push you this time."

"...Push me?"

"A hero needs more than skill. They need a story."

I frowned. I could already tell what he was about to say.

"Orphan background, youngest strike team leader, and a hunter who risked his life for civilians."

He spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

"Isn't that the kind of hero the public loves?"

"...A hero."

Heroes were, without a doubt, a product the masses adored. A moving past, outstanding ability, and a healthy dose of self-sacrifice on top of that — you couldn't ask for a better package. So to this man, I was merchandise that would sell well. That was all.

Disgusting.

There was nothing left worth listening to.

"I'm done."

I smiled and slid the termination papers across the desk to him.

At those words, Kwon Taesoo's smile vanished. The look in his eyes as he stared at me turned ice-cold.

"...Team Leader Lee."

A low, sunken voice. Faint mana rode on his words — a hunter's way of displaying the gap in rank, a show of pressure.

Lv.7 Hunter Kwon Taesoo. This man, too, was a hunter who had crossed countless lines of death.

"I'd suggest you think this over while I'm still asking nicely."

"Is that so?"

The sensation of mana pressing down on my skin was vivid. But—

So what?

Just yesterday, I had cleared a Lv.6 gate by myself.

The boss in there was stronger than you.

Besides, his level was an inflated number that reflected the achievements he'd piled up sitting in the Vice Guild Master's chair. His actual combat ability fell far short of it. I put mana into my own voice as well.

"Then I'd suggest you let me go while I'm still asking nicely."

A deep hum resonated through the room as our mana collided in the center of the office. The documents on the table trembled, and a crack spidered across a glass. Kwon Taesoo's eyebrow twitched. He clearly hadn't expected me to meet him head-on.

A moment later, the first to withdraw his mana was Kwon Taesoo.

"...Very well."

He swept back his sweat-dampened bangs and slipped his poker face back into place.

"If you're that determined to leave, I won't stop you."

This easily? Of course not.

"But a contract is a contract. We'll have to handle it accordingly."

What Kwon Taesoo pulled out was a single contract. At the very top sat the title Guild Membership Contract. And at the very bottom was the clause I'd least wanted to see.

When I saw the figure written there, I was speechless.

4.7 billion.

Even for a hunter — a high-income profession — it wasn't a sum you could just shrug off. On top of that, most of my assets were tied up in equipment. If they demanded cash on the spot, I didn't have a prayer.

Once the conversation had swung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back in his favor, Kwon Taesoo recovered his composure.

"Considering what the guild has invested in you, Team Leader Lee, this is actually on the low side. Education support, equipment loans, publicity... you can hardly say you reached your current position without Baekya's help."

He wasn't wrong. I'd gained a lot thanks to the Baekya name myself.

Still, 4.7 billion is insane.

...Of course, that was partly because I'd been a fresh Academy graduate, a complete rookie, and I'd barely skimmed the contract.

"Do we really need to make things ugly with each other? If you come back even now, we'll drop the disciplinary action. Pretend it never happened."

"Disciplinary action?"

"Entering the gate on your own. The results were good, I'll grant you... but that's insubordination, isn't it? I also heard there was a clash with your teammates."

"I see."

Park Dohyuk talked, huh?

Petty little shit.

I pulled a stack of documents from my bag.

I figured this might happen, so I came prepared.

During my three years at Baekya, I'd been keeping a separate record of everything that felt off. At the time I'd written it off as mistakes or coincidence... but after yesterday, when I put the pieces together, the story changed.

Damn. They really stuffed themselves, didn't they.

Yesterday's gate abandonment was just the most recently added page. If Baekya was the average Korean guild, this country had no future.

I slid the documents across to Kwon Taesoo, wearing a thoroughly pleasant smile.

"Before we talk about disciplinary action, why don't we discuss these first?"

That felt good.

Stepping out of the office, I rolled my stiff shoulders. To cut to the chase, the negotiation moved fast. Contract termination by mutual agreement. Penalty waived in full — on the condition that I wouldn't leak the materials I had to the outside.

Ended pretty anticlimactically.

Well, they weren't about to risk torching the image they'd spent years building just to squeeze 4.7 billion out of me. Part of me wanted to mess with them a little more, but—

This is enough for now.

Even a rotting herring is still a herring. If a major guild like Baekya collapsed, gate clearing would take a hit, and the ones who'd suffer in the end would be the civilians. I couldn't just blow it all up without a plan.

Thinking that, I headed for the strike team office. Three years of accumulated belongings didn't amount to much — a few pieces of personal gear, some clothes, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and Academy-era photos stuffed in a drawer.

The team's probably at training.

I had no particular intention of saying goodbye. There had always been a distance between me and my teammates anyway.

Let's just slip out quietly.

I was stuffing things into my bag when a voice came from behind me.

"...You're really leaving."

I turned my head. Han Yuju was standing there.

"Yeah."

"Hajin. About yesterday..."

"Forget it."

I turned back and went on packing.

"You don't have to make excuses."

"I'm not trying to make excuses..."

"Then what?"

Han Yuju's lips moved, but in the end she chose silence. Watching her, I let out a sigh.

"Haa..."

I'd known her since the Academy. I knew what kind of person she was, and I knew she'd had her own reasons for standing there yesterday.

In the end, you're the one who made the choice.

I had no intention of pitying her. I zipped the bag shut.

"You do what you think is right."

"..."

"I'll do what I think is right, too."

I slung the bag over my shoulder and walked past her.

"Take care, Han Yuju."

"W-wait—"

Han Yuju tried to say something behind me. I didn't stop.

After Lee Hajin left, Kwon Taesoo sat alone in the office, staring down at the termination papers for a long while. The smile he always wore in front of people had already vanished without a trace.

"...You filthy mongrel bastard."

A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later a man in a suit stepped inside.

"You called for me."

"The materials Lee Hajin has. We need to recover all of them."

Kwon Taesoo didn't believe the documents Lee Hajin had brought were everything.

He probably made copies. Backups, too.

If even one of them leaked outside, it would become a serious headache.

The man hesitated before answering.

"Handle it ourselves?"

"No. We've been running articles calling him a hero. If Baekya puts a hand on him a day later, how would that look?"

"Then..."

"Let's do it the usual way."

Didn't they say dead men tell no tales? No matter how far the copies had spread, there was no method more time-honored for shutting a mouth than killing the speaker. And Kwon Taesoo, true to his old noble lineage, was fond of that method.

Understanding his meaning, the man asked again.

"How much should we put on it?"

"No need to spend too much on taking out one mongrel."

Those commonly called innate ability users had passed their own power down through the generations — martial arts, magic, shamanism, psychic abilities. The forms differed, but they all shared one thing: inheritance through bloodline and secret family manuals. On the other side were those who had gained power later in life, shaped by the mana of the gates. People from prestigious clans like Kwon Taesoo looked down on those acquired ability users, dismissing them as mongrels.

"He's still a Lv.6."

"I know."

Kwon Taesoo recalled what had just happened — Lee Hajin meeting his pressure head-on. Considering he'd also cleared a Lv.6 gate solo, he'd clearly gotten stronger than before.

"So send someone reliable."

In other words: send someone cheap who could still get the job done.

The man was going to have a headache that night.