The Gray Zone
If sexual desire wasn't an option, then at least the dopamine rush...! Hunters colliding with hunters. Blood sprays through the air, and the sharp crack of breaking bones echoes. No matter that this was a guild merger and acquisition issue. Even if this land belonged to the Baekho Guild. Was something like this truly allowed in the heart of the city, with journalists watching?
The rookie journalist holding the camera unconsciously furrowed her brow. It was violent. It was barbaric. As if someone had simply taken an old-school restructuring bloodbath from the 1980s and overlaid it with the superhuman power of hunters.
At that moment, the senior journalist beside her let out a soft chuckle. A veteran who had covered hunter-related stories for over a decade.
“Strange, is it?”
“Pardon?”
“A mess like this exploding right in the middle of the city, yet neither the police nor the Hunter Association jumps in immediately. Wondering why?”
The rookie flinched. It felt as if her inner thoughts had been laid bare.
“S-Senior, you don’t find that scene the least bit strange?”
“I do find it strange.” The senior kept her eye pressed to the camera’s viewfinder. “But in the hunter world, not every strange thing can be stopped right away.”
“What do you—”
“Look at it as an ordinary private company and it makes no sense. It’s like the target CEO refusing the merger at the final hour and the acquiring CEO throwing down right at the front gate.”
“Exactly! On top of that, hunters are strictly prohibited from using their powers outside dungeons without Association approval. If they do this, they’ll face severe punishment later—”
“They will.” She nodded. “Provided this counted as an all-out war between guilds, that is.”
“...Pardon?”
Of course, in principle, hunters clashing in the middle of the city should never happen. All the more so when the combatants were professional hunters capable of ripping through tank armor with their bare hands and shattering the support columns of skyscrapers. If the situation escalated even slightly, it would become a catastrophe requiring not only the Hunter Association but the police tactical units and military forces to mobilize.
But this was different.
“Look carefully. The ones fighting over there aren’t the entire Hyeonmu Guild and the entire Baekho Guild. It’s just Hunter Yun Mija and Hunter Han Sora—one against one.”
“Even so, isn’t it still violence?”
“It is violence. However, hunter guild mergers and acquisitions differ from ordinary corporate M&A. What’s being transferred isn’t merely money and shares.”
The senior journalist’s gaze shifted toward the Baekho headquarters.
“Dungeon defense rights. Regional response authority. Command over guild members. Control of equipment and properties. When one guild is swallowed, it means an entire armed organization in that area is being restructured from the ground up.”
The rookie journalist fell silent. She was beginning to grasp the meaning.
“Surprisingly, mergers and acquisitions between hunter guilds are common. Many get hurt in the process. In severe cases, people die.”
“And they simply allow it?”
“They don’t simply allow it. They’re drawing a line.”
The senior lowered her voice.
“In the past, the government tried to block this sort of thing unconditionally. But the more they suppressed it, the bigger the accidents became. ‘Rather than be acquired, we’ll blow up the entire guild warehouse.’ ‘We’ll abandon the defense zone.’ ‘The executives will take the hunters and defect en masse.’ That kind of talk.”
“Insane...”
“It is insane. But hunters were never a normal profession to begin with. They’re the kind of people who enter dungeons prepared to die every single day and seize wealth and fame with nothing but their own power.”
Hunters are still human. When the guild they belong to vanishes and the status and command structure they spent a lifetime building is suddenly handed to another, resistance is inevitable. And if every person carrying that resistance possesses superhuman strength, ordinary organizational conflict can transform into disaster in the blink of an eye.
“That’s why the Grey Zone was created.”
The unofficial legal buffer zone recognized by the government and the Hunter Association. Private duels and physical clashes during guild mergers are overlooked here, provided there is no all-out war, no civilian casualties, and no breach in dungeon defense systems.
“The Grey Zone?”
“Exactly. Personal conflicts arising during the merger and acquisition process between guilds. As long as it doesn’t become total war, doesn’t harm civilians, and doesn’t open holes in dungeon defense… the Association and the government pretend not to see it.”
“Does that even make sense?”
“It doesn’t. That’s why they call it the Grey Zone.”
The rookie journalist glanced behind her. The police remained motionless. Hunter Association personnel stood at a distance. They were not refusing to intervene—they were measuring the exact line where intervention became necessary.
If every member of Baekho came rushing out. If Hyeonmu’s full forces pushed in. If attacks began flying toward the press corps or civilians. Then the story would change.
But not now. For the moment, it was only Han Sora personally blocking the front gate, and Yun Mija personally attempting to crush that resistance.
“The real problem is that the public actually loves scenes like this.”
“...Pardon?”
“You know how it is. This world cheers far more loudly for proven strength than for gentle power.”
A world whose gender ratio had collapsed. A world where dungeons were everyday life. A world where power equaled survival and strength equaled worth. The women who formed the majority in that world might curse the blood-soaked clashes as barbaric, yet they could not tear their eyes away.
Who was stronger. Who endured. Who broke. Those scenes always delivered ratings. Especially when the clash was between hunters. Because it was not mere violence—it was the moment this world’s order revealed itself most nakedly.
“Korea is still relatively tame. Just cross over to Japan and you’ll see that during guild mergers, dissatisfied executives still come forward one by one, announce their names, and fight. The old ‘nanori’ culture remains.”
“Ah… the name-announcing ritual? I’ve seen it on broadcasts. They declare their names, hang their guild crests, and duel like something out of a historical drama.”
“Yes. Officially it’s nothing more than an ‘agreed-upon duel.’ But everyone on the scene knows exactly how much blood that agreement really costs.”
The senior journalist clicked her tongue.
“China is even worse. Over there the guilds have devoured the Association rather than the other way around. In some regions, they say public security only shows up after full-scale wars to collect the corpses.”
“It’s that bad?”
“That’s how this industry works.”
With that, she raised her lens once more.
“So keep your eyes open and shoot. That isn’t simply a fight.”
Click.
“It’s the world deciding whether Baekho still has the strength to remain an independent guild.”
Click.
“Whether Hyeonmu possesses enough justification to swallow Baekho whole.”
Click.
“It’s being proven before everyone’s eyes.”
Journalists were watching. Cameras were rolling. Soon the eyes of the entire nation would converge here. If Han Sora fell in front of them, Baekho would be finished. Hyeonmu would gain the righteous banner of restoring order. Conversely, if Han Sora held her ground, Baekho could prove to the world that it was not yet dead.
“So don’t miss a single frame. Today’s scene alone could redraw the map of Seoul’s four major guilds.”
The rookie journalist swallowed hard. Then she, too, lifted her camera.
Beyond the lens, in front of Baekho’s main gate, the bloodied Han Sora was steadying her stance once again.
“Sora, stay down!”
“I… won’t…”
Blood dripped steadily from beneath Sora’s feet. The red spots that had first bloomed like scattered petals had now formed a small puddle. Hunter or not, she was still human. Lose enough blood and shock would set in; eventually, death would follow. On top of that, the back was a primal vital point. Difficult to see. Hard to reach with one’s own hands. A single deep gash could collapse the body’s center of balance before any proper response could be made.
Yet Sora was trying to rise again. Legs trembling violently. Spine bent forward. The girl who seemed like a granddaughter, pressing blood-soaked hands against the ground, desperately attempting to regain her stance.
Watching her, Yun Mija’s lips began to quiver.
And in the next instant—
“Seomun Hui!!!”
Grab.
Her hand seized the collar of Seomun Hui, who had stepped close. Not content with sullying an honorable duel through a surprise attack, this woman was the true culprit behind reducing Han Sora to such a state. The white uniform’s collar crumpled savagely within Yun Mija’s grip.
“I assume you’re prepared?”
“Prepared for what, exactly?”
“For committing this kind of outrage!”
In her other hand, an enormous mass of mana coalesced. Its density was on an entirely different level from when she had faced Sora. Mana so overwhelming it could erase even a first-rate hunter in a single blow compressed into her fist.
Crack.
The stone pavement beneath her feet split apart. A tingling friction of air swept across the surroundings. The scale was so great it seemed a minor earthquake had struck the center of Seoul beyond the hanok village. It was the moment one human’s fury took the shape of calamity.
Even so—
“This kind of outrage?”
Seomun Hui’s lips twisted.
“...Fuck.”
“What?”
“I said fuck, you senile old bat.”
“!!”
Seomun Hui grabbed Yun Mija’s wrist. With a squeeze of power, the crumpled collar slowly loosened. Yun Mija’s eyebrows twitched. The sly smile that had decorated her face until moments ago had vanished completely. The narrow, mocking eyes and the calm, condescending smile were gone. All that remained was raw irritation—the expression she wore when things deviated from plan.
“Did you think I wanted to do this? If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have deliberately thrown the match to Hunter Han Sora just now, wouldn’t you?”
“...!”
Yun Mija’s lips tightened. Seomun Hui continued as if that reaction alone was confirmation enough.
“And then what? For today, it would have looked like Baekho successfully defended against the acquisition. The acting guild master, Han Sora, had blocked Yun Mija, guild master of Hyeonmu. What a beautiful story. But what happens next?”
“......”
“What if Geumseong or Cheongryong come knocking in a couple of days? The fact that a guild without its master has been exposed to the public, and even Hyeonmu stepped back, would spread nationwide. Do you honestly believe they would sit still?”
Every word was true. She had been momentarily blinded by sentiment, but the acquisition should have ended quietly. Documents transferred in private. Internal resistance from Baekho minimized. Guild members and their families smoothly absorbed under Hyeonmu’s protection. That was the path that spilled the least blood.
But Saeng Ja-cheong had deliberately leaked the information. Summoned the journalists. Turned it into a public spectacle.
And if Hyeonmu withdrew now? Today might pass peacefully, but tomorrow another hell would begin. Geumseong would scent money and charge in. Cheongryong would find every opening and tear away pieces without end. Especially Cheongryong… those thuggish bastards might very well choose to destroy Baekho entirely rather than let anyone else have it. They would plant a few disposable pawns to shake the interior, open holes in the defense perimeter, and burn the hanok village to the ground amid the chaos.
“We have no desire to work with Cheongryong—a den no different from a sex offender’s playground—or with Geumseong, who loses all restraint at the smell of money.”
“Even so, do you believe the public will view two people ganging up to crush a single hunter in a favorable light?”
Her voice had sunk low. Yet Seomun Hui could not have failed to anticipate even this level of objection.
“You need not worry about that. Who do you think arranged this entire stage from the beginning?”
“You bitch…”
“I have already made arrangements for them to overlook something of this scale. Both the Association and the police, as well as the press.”
Seomun Hui lightly brushed off her crumpled collar.
“Why do you think we are the International Reproductive Resource Management Agency? We are the institution that manages the nation’s male population. Show the right executives a few attractive men and they suddenly become remarkably cooperative.”
The air around them grew several degrees colder.
“The media operates the same way. Toss them moderately stimulating footage and dangle suitably sweet bait, and they will chatter in exactly the direction you desire. Not ‘Hyeonmu’s forced suppression,’ but ‘restoring order to Baekho’s unstable chain of command.’”
“Seomun Hui…!”
“Please, don’t raise your voice.”
Yet a smile had already returned to her lips. Polite. Thin. The smile of someone who did not view other people as people.
“In the end, Baekho will be finished today. Hyeonmu will grow larger, and we will use its image and connections to manage this country’s male resources with slightly greater efficiency.”
Her expression declared that everything was rolling along perfectly within the palm of her hand.
But—
“What the hell is this?”
“?!”
It was at that exact moment.
The Baekho Guild headquarters, which should have been empty. From within the closed doors that had remained tightly shut, someone was walking out.
The steps were slow.
Yet with every footfall, the air in front of the gate changed.
“What…”
“…Who are you?”
A person who had been considered as good as dead. The very reason the name Baekho had begun to crumble. At the same time, the final piece of evidence that Baekho had not yet completely ended.
Han Yura.
She was stepping across the threshold, standing tall and perfectly upright.