Opportunity Forged in Hell
82 hours after Silver Lining Guild entered. A change rippled across the skies over Guro District, shrouded in storm clouds. The sticky pressure weighing down space began to fade, and the acrid haze rising thickly started to dissipate.
"Hey? Look over there!"
"The haze is vanishing!"
The people waiting beyond the barricade shouted. Families trembling in anxiety, reporters on edge, soldiers tense—all eyes snapped to one spot. As the intense distortion eased and the haze cleared, only a horrific scene remained.
"My God..."
Sighs erupted from the crowd.
The massive Goryeo Workshop building had melted beyond recognition. Steel beams twisted like taffy, mangled grotesquely; the floor was scarred with pools of hardened molten metal. Scattered everywhere weren't machine parts. They were corpses of bizarre kaeyi—made of leather, wood, and iron. Humanoid, yet not human. It felt like peering into hell.
"Where are the people? Where's Silver Lining?"
Someone yelled. No signs of survivors amid the ruins. An ominous silence fell. The worst-case scenario—all dead—flashed through minds.
"There! Someone's coming out!"
A human figure staggered from the debris. Then another. Two, three, ten... dozens emerged in a line. Blacksmiths in Goryeo Workshop uniforms.
Their condition was wretched. Clothes charred, skin smeared with soot. Eyes vacant, unfocused. They lurched out like soulless puppets. But they were alive. Surviving that hell was a miracle.
"They're alive! Everyone's alive!"
Families burst into tears, rushing forward. Rescue teams hurried to support them.
Once all the blacksmiths were out, another group appeared from the ruins. Warriors in dark red scale armor and helmets. Silver Lining Guild.
"They're out! It's Silver Lining!"
Cheers exploded from the crowd.
Silver Lining's members were filthy too. Armor dented and scorched, helmet crests broken. Yet none collapsed or needed help. They strode out proudly on their own feet. No deaths, no severe injuries—a perfect return.
Reporters swarmed like bees. Camera flashes popped endlessly. But they hesitated to thrust mics forward. Park Cheolwoo's expression at the front was gravely serious. No victor's joy, no relief of survival. Only deep anguish and devastation.
Park Cheolwoo stopped at the barricade. He removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. His face, caked in sweat and ash, appeared. He slowly scanned the gathered crowd. Then spoke.
"This kaeyi incident raid was a success... but it can also be called a failure."
The shocking statement burst forth. The cheering crowd fell silent instantly. Success yet failure? Confused faces everywhere.
"The kaeyi we faced here... was hell."
Park Cheolwoo couldn't continue. That single phrase encapsulated the terror and horror they'd endured. Silence blanketed the crowd. Breaking the heavy quiet, a reporter mustered courage.
"H-how does it compare to the kaeyi in dungeons?"
Park Cheolwoo eyed the reporter with complex gaze.
"The kaeyi we've faced in dungeons... were flowers in a greenhouse."
An unequivocal answer. With that, he turned away. No more interviews. He led his guild out. The onlookers stared blankly at their retreating backs. Unease overshadowed any joy of victory.
Seojun sat motionless long after the TV screen went dark. Park Cheolwoo's final words echoed in his ears. Hell and greenhouse flowers. Same kaeyi, different circumstances.
Baegbaekgyo.
Seojun recalled the cult kaeyi's words. Ignorant fools coveted the faithful's possessions and suffered divine punishment. The Goryeo Workshop incident screamed Baegbaekgyo involvement. Which meant Silver Lining had faced their machinations.
Bzzz— His smartphone vibrated on the workbench. Caller: Park Cheolwoo.
"Hello."
"Boss. It's me."
Park Cheolwoo's voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion.
"You did great. I saw the news."
"...I need to talk. Can I come now?"
"Shouldn't you go to the hospital first?"
"No injuries. More importantly, I have personal questions."
Desperation tinged his tone.
"Got it. I'll wait."
The call ended abruptly. Seojun left the shutter half-open. Soon, a car pulled up outside. Park Cheolwoo entered, haggard. Still in his blackened scale armor, reeking of blood, smoke, and kaeyi aura.
"...Something happen?"
Seojun asked cautiously, handing him water. Park downed it in one gulp. His hand trembled faintly. He set the cup down, staring Seojun straight in the eye. His own were bloodshot.
"Boss."
"Speak freely."
Park hesitated, biting his lip as if dreading the words. After long silence, he spoke.
"...If we use anti-kaeyi equipment, do we become kaeyi too?"
The unexpected question jolted Seojun. Perhaps the most fundamental one.
"What do you mean?"
"Some Goryeo blacksmiths mutated into kaeyi and attacked us. They wielded anti-kaeyi gear made by Goryeo Workshop."
Park swallowed dryly, continuing.
"The gear had burrowed into their flesh, fused with bone. Like it devoured its owner."
He glanced at his own hand. The feel of gripping his custom gear—A-rank artifact-level tower shield—lingered vividly. Now it felt alien, frightening.
"Your anti-kaeyi equipment saved our lives, let us clear the kaeyi-type dungeon, seize this golden opportunity. But if we end up like those things..."
He met Seojun's eyes. Terror in his gaze.
"I don't think I can continue."
Park wasn't wrong. Gear made from kaeyi carried the risk of turning the user into one.
"We can't become kaeyi while hunting them."
Fear soaked his voice. Fighting kaeyi didn't scare him. Becoming something inhuman did.
"The choice is yours, Guild Master."
Seojun drew a firm line. Regrettable, but a blade that snaps in tempering ends there.
"My choice..."
Confronted, Park wavered. A flimsy excuse might've solidified resolve. Crossroads bred doubt.
"One question."
"Ask."
"Why do you handle... kaeyi materials?"
"I saw it as an opportunity."
"Opportunity?"
His surprise prompted a echo.
But personal reasons stayed hidden.
"Opportunity..."
Park's face shifted—grave, troubled, inscrutable.
"Gear from kaeyi is taboo among hunters. Nightmares, hallucinations, auditory ones. Worst case, inexplicable urges."
Seojun shared his insight.
"Most discard after bad experiences, never pushing further. Rare holdouts exist, but records are scarce—urban legends."
Park lifted his head, listening intently.
"One certain truth: becoming kaeyi might be real."
"Then..."
"Conversely, precursors exist before full transformation. Effects vary wildly by user, allowing mental corruption control."
"Meaning...?"
"Goryeo's anti-kaeyi gear used whole kaeyi, not byproducts. We confirmed it."
Park's eyes quivered. Legs jittered, body rigid with dread.
"I could've warned you beforehand, but didn't."
"Why...?"
"You'd have hesitated. Delay meant Hunter Association intervention. Opportunity lost—for me and Silver Lining."
Seojun glanced at the TV. Cleanup footage aired. Devastating yet minimal damage for urban kaeyi incident. Association would've scorched it early—post numerous kaeyi dungeon breaks.
"Ah..."
Park watched too, thoughts churning. Rescued blacksmith families interviewed. Resolve sharpened his gaze.
"Then I'll do it... for my sense of duty."
Strength laced the words. Unbreakable will.
"That's your choice."
Seojun respected it. But the reply stunned him.
"A-and... are you okay, Boss?"
No subject, but clear. Face stiffened briefly, then he smiled.
"I'm fine."