An Understandable Response
It wasn't a response I could fault.
The national emergency council, attended by the top leadership alone, had convened in the immediate aftermath of the news that S-Class Rank 1 Mumyeong had abruptly announced his retirement.
The groups gathered at that emergency council broke down as follows:
The government's top brass.
The Hunter Defense Division, under the direct authority of the Ministry of National Defense.
The Hunter Investigation Bureau and its analysis teams, operating under the National Police Agency.
The National Central Research Institute.
And, last of all, the Hunter Association itself.
Every one of them was riveted to the real-time stream of news concerning Mumyeong. From the moment of his sudden declaration of retirement onward, each of his actions had defied prediction.
Long years of surveillance and meticulous investigation had established that, despite possessing overwhelming physical power since childhood, he had never grown into the kind of man who would wield it. His kindness was as blank and upright as an unwritten page, and Seo Yeram, Guild Master of [Geobhwa], had proven in practice that she could control him directly.
For South Korea, that had been an immense stroke of fortune. Mumyeong was insurance against whatever national crisis might one day arrive—a joker up the state's sleeve. Naturally, information about him had to be controlled with total thoroughness.
He should never have been elevated to S-Class Rank 1 in the first place—but that had been Seo Yeram's demand. Her reasoning: only by placing the title in Mumyeong's hands would it pay off later, when the time came to play him as a card and throw him away. Opinions had been divided, but in the end the government accepted her view. After all, every proposal Seo Yeram had made until then had proven correct.
Now, however, that trust was shaking badly.
First, they had dispatched association investigators through the proper official channels. Then came the report that the [Baekya] guild tower had collapsed and everyone inside had perished—and the mood of the emergency council transformed.
Everyone had watched it happen with their own eyes, live on the broadcast. And on top of that, S-Class Rank 3 Shin Yuri had been reduced to a pitiful wreck in the blink of an eye.
The whole thing had unfolded faster than the cameras could follow, so the details remained unknown—but one fact was beyond dispute. Just as they had feared, the conclusion was that the Mumyeong of today could not be subdued, arrested, or shot dead by any force currently in existence. They had been accumulating data on him for years; there was no pretending otherwise.
For now, the Investigation Bureau's rapid response team was tailing Mumyeong under strict orders: absolutely no engagement, maintain a fixed distance. The team itself was composed of hunters of A-Rank or below; they could never hope to take him. For the moment, that much was the best they could do.
The problem was what came after. They needed a process and an outcome the public could accept. For now, the sheer scale of Mumyeong's power would not truly register with ordinary people. What they wanted instead was accountability for the failed raid on the final floor—the raid the whole nation had been waiting for. They would demand, loudly, the arrest of the criminal who brought down the [Baekya] guild tower and left so many dead. Which meant that to restore order, someone would have to act.
The leadership cut that hardline argument down with a single stroke.
The intelligence on Mumyeong laid out before each of them left no room for anything else. The meeting silenced those who had been pushing for aggressive action, and from then on the discussion revolved around the cautious faction.
Among the documents, one title caught the eye.
As long as they judged there was still room for negotiation and dialogue, they must not—under any circumstances—make an enemy of the former S-Class Rank 1, Mumyeong. Even if it meant public opinion souring on the government's handling of the crisis, even if approval ratings plummeted. That was what the long-accumulated data on Mumyeong told them.
A group was tailing him, careful to keep a measured distance. Odds were they were the rapid response team that handled hunter incidents.
'Ten years from now in the original, the government gets portrayed as pretty incompetent, though.'
He had expected things to get busy. The response was more passive than he'd anticipated.
'It wasn't a response I could fault.'
Right now, the ones who understood the protagonist's power best were probably the current government and Seo Yeram. So this looked like an initial response aimed at keeping up appearances for the sake of public opinion, rather than any serious attempt to take him in. The way they held their distance, taking care never to provoke him, was proof enough.
"Well, it's a shame, but nothing to be done about it."
Come to think of it, having fewer hassles to deal with wasn't bad either. The headache that had been creeping up on him for a while now made him reluctant to go swatting flies. And honestly, the idea of losing his composure halfway through and melting down in front of everyone was too humiliating for words—absolutely not.
In any case, their intent to talk and negotiate was plain to see. He might as well read it as a move the government had laid in advance.
'Seo Yeram won't believe a word I say about the Tower, no matter what. But what about the current government?'
This was, after all, a government that had been dragged around by Seo Yeram from the very start, forced to swallow her unreasonable demands. All of it because of a single reason: the protagonist listened to Seo Yeram and Seo Yeram alone. But with that gone, the government would have no choice but to stand against her as well.
'Wherever you go, there's always a fight over the rice bowl.'
Which meant all he had to do was skim his own profit from between them. Even better if nobody made a nuisance of themselves while he did.
'Speaking of which—Mugan.'
Over there too, a very serious meeting would be underway at this very moment, all because of him. As the lawless zone straight out of hunter-novel clichés, it was a place where countless factions were tangled together in a dense web. With a boulder like him thrown in as an unknown variable, every head over there was surely aching already.
The faction that ran the black market and dominated Mugan's economy: [Black Hand].
The faction that ran the underground fighting pits and supplied Mugan's muscle: [Red Heart].
The fanatical cult screaming that the world would end if the Tower ever fell: [Doomsday Cult].
The collective of scientists obsessed with human experimentation, in league with any number of corporations: [Evolution Lab].
And beyond them, every manner of foreign faction that had slipped illegally into the country, drawn by South Korea's Tower and its awakened.
It was a free-for-all in the most literal sense.
'At any rate, there's no better place for me right now than Mugan.'
A hellish environment where people died around the clock was more than enough to grind down the original personality's psyche. And it was a place where the trigger called murder was all too easy to pull. Even if only to raise his hold over the body, going to Mugan was essential.
'After all, "I" never had any other choice to begin with.'
Since the original story's middle arc unfolded inside Mugan, as a reader he couldn't help but know the place well. The only problem was the ten-year gap. Which meant most of the original's cast would still be young and green. The makeup and leanings of the leadership could be different as well.
'I'll know once I get there.'
In the setting, Mugan was a criminal city built atop land seized without authorization from the green belt designated on Seoul's outskirts. Government agents and overseers were embedded there under cover as well, so there was a chance they would reach out later to talk.
'Come to think of it, money was the problem.'
Living there would require a certain amount of funds, first of all. He would have to solve that from the inside.
Judging by how things stood, the odds were high that his personality would switch upon entering Mugan. The question was whether the hesitation-riddled "him" could push through and keep going—but the more he regretted his choices and the more worn down he became, the wider the opening for the other one to seize control would inevitably grow.
What he was most curious about was memory. Given that all his memories were surfacing properly now, the things he had done must be shared as well.
'Oh. Then the memory of me groveling pathetically later will be shared too?'
That seemed a little unfair.
In any case, after all that hurried movement, he was gradually leaving the night lights of Seoul behind. Ahead, a place sinking deeper and deeper into darkness came into view—an entire city veiled beneath a colossal shroud, not a single light bleeding through.
Before long, he arrives before the entrance to [Mugan].
The mood in the meeting of Mugan's faction heads was quiet. Every eye was fixed on the footage of Mumyeong revealing himself to the world.
"So this one's coming in?"
License registration: revoked. A man stripped of his hunter's license for the crimes he had committed. The head of [Red Heart]—the man who ran the underground fighting pits—wore a rattled expression that sat poorly on a frame his size.
"Honestly, isn't he way off the charts? I don't know that we can handle this one."
"Oh my."
At the man's words, a girl with a soft voice let out a scornful laugh. A fan spread open, her face half-hidden behind it, the black dress she wore catching the eye.
"Terrified before you've even lived up to that bulk of yours? And you the man they used to call the arena's human meat press?"
"Yeah, I'm terrified. Better that than dying because I got cocky, no?"
"What a dull answer. How disappointing. Aren't you conceding a little too quickly?"
"Of course I am. Overwhelming force always gives you the answer. When something is strong and dangerous, you avoid it—that's just survival. That's how you live a long life, so learn from it instead of staring at money all day, you little miser."
"Miser, you say? I'm not stingy in the slightest. Money is simply better in greater amounts. Tell me, what in this world can't be bought with it? How does a fully grown man not know that?"
"Sure. Go buy up the whole world, then."
Unlike the two trading glares, one person could not tear their eyes from the screen.
"There it is. The pinnacle of humanity. The ultimate evolution. The finest specimen yet."
Eyes locked on the screen, hands busily sketching the man's figure. At that grotesque sight, the big man recoiled in horror.
"Experiment-crazed freaks, every time I look at you. Anyway—did the Doomsday nutjob and the rest not show? Even with the Warden of Mugan doing the summoning?"
"That's what I'd like to know as well. How do they intend to answer for it later?"
Amid their exchange, the figure who had stood at the head of the room through the entire meeting turned around.
"Ahaha, I suppose everyone must be busy."
The laughing voice drew every ear in the room. At it, the man and the girl broke into cold sweat. Even the hands taking notes stopped, and both turned their eyes toward the Warden.
"Now, now, no getting angry. My test subjects will dwindle. A devastating loss."
"...Am I the only sane person in this room?"
"What nonsense are you spouting? Anyone can see that I am the most normal one here."
"Good grief."
Amid the cozy warmth of the gathering, the man on the screen settled into the Warden's eyes—along with the presentiment that Mugan would soon be shaken to its foundations by that very man.
"Big crime or small, it makes no difference. If someone has sinned, then someone must take them in."
Because that was the very reason Mugan had been built here in the first place.