The Fearless Han Yura
Han Yura was a woman who knew no fear.
Through Baekho’s intelligence network, after several careful detours, the information painstakingly obtained indicated she should have been a person incapable of ever standing on a battlefield again. Eight years ago, while solo-clearing a high-grade dungeon, she had been pierced through the waist and pelvis by a boss monster’s venomous stinger. The contamination had spread all the way to her spine. Officially, she was retired. Unofficially, she was little more than a vegetable—her consciousness not even fully intact. That was the Han Yura Seomun Hui had known.
Yet that very woman was now walking straight toward them with firm, confident strides. And she was holding hands with a man.
“Oh ho. I wondered who it was, but if it isn’t the branch director of the Reproductive Resource Management Agency.”
“Guild Leader Han Yura…? How is this possible…? I was told your mind wasn’t even intact?”
“Ah, are you referring to that old tale?” Han Yura laughed calmly. “It is true I suffered greatly from dungeon poison once. But as you can see, I am an S-class hunter. I recovered from such a thing long ago and have been undergoing rehabilitation.”
Nonsense. Utter nonsense.
There’s no way that’s true. Anyone with even basic medical knowledge could tell. Han Yura’s condition had never been a simple injury. Dungeon-related infectious spondylitis. Spinal abscess. Nerve root compression. Chronic contaminated tissue fused to her pelvis and spine. The fact she had endured eight years at all was only because she was S-class; any other hunter would have died long ago. Even if she survived, that should have been her absolute limit. Yet she spoke of it as casually as if she had simply gotten over a cold. It made no sense.
But a far bigger problem stood before them now.
Click. Click.
“That’s Han Yura. It’s really Baekho’s Guild Leader Han Yura!”
“Zoom in! Get her face!”
“Wait, if Guild Leader Han Yura is walking around perfectly fine, the whole story changes. Wasn’t Hyeonmu’s justification for absorbing Baekho based on her injury?”
“They officially said she could never return to the front lines, right?”
They had set the stage so perfectly. Baiting the upper management of every broadcasting station, leaking the scent of an exclusive story to draw the reporters in. Yet those same reporters were now turning into poison.
This place should have looked like a public integration ceremony—Baekho being swallowed by Hyeonmu. The guild leader had collapsed, the successor was broken, and Hyeonmu was restoring order. That was how it was supposed to play out.
But the moment Han Yura walked out alive, the entire picture flipped. Baekho had not yet fallen. The message Han Sora had tried to convey became even clearer with her mother’s appearance.
“Yura… you… just how…”
Yun Mija’s voice shook. Han Yura, however, gave a small shake of her head.
“Guild Leader. We can speak of that later.”
She turned her gaze forward.
“Right now, we must focus on the enemy before us.”
“…!”
In an instant, the killing intent that had begun to scatter condensed once more into a single point.
Until a moment ago, Seomun Hui had observed the situation from a third-party vantage. Yun Mija’s rage, Han Sora’s resistance, the reporters’ gazes—every variable had simply been moving across the board she had prepared.
But now it was different. Two gazes locked onto her.
Yun Mija. Han Yura. Two of the only three S-class hunters in all of South Korea.
“For the International Reproductive Resource Management Agency—which claims to act for the well-being of humanity and the protection of men—to interfere in hunter affairs.”
The combined pressure of those two hit like a force that could tear flesh from bone.
“What is this absurd behavior!”
“What did she say?”
“Didn’t she just mention the Reproductive Resource Management Agency?”
“So that woman wasn’t from Hyeonmu Guild?”
The reporters’ cameras swung instantly. The woman who had appeared to be nothing more than Yun Mija’s attendant was now the focus. Lenses locked onto Seomun Hui in her white uniform, the one who had been standing unobtrusively in the background.
“Our Baekho… will not fall!”
And at that moment—
“Sora…”
“Ugh…!”
From behind, Han Sora, still bleeding, forced herself upright. Her wound prevented her from straightening her upper body. Her lips were blue, her legs trembling as though they might give out any second. Yet she swallowed a breath thick with blood.
“Do you truly believe Baekho would lose to the likes of you—wicked creatures trying to disturb the stable hunter order of our South Korea with your vile schemes?!”
“This is…”
Seomun Hui’s lips slowly twisted.
“It seems the plan to improve our image has instead produced only worse results.”
“There is a saying that excessive greed invites calamity,” Yun Mija said in a low voice. “You people tried to take far too much.”
Han Yura stepped up beside her. In truth she was barely staying upright by leaning some of her weight on the older woman, yet her outward presence showed no weakness whatsoever.
“Even if you had used Guild Leader Yun Mija as your promotional figurehead from the start, the outcome would not have changed. You fools who view men—those who must be protected and cherished—as mere tools. Did you honestly believe you could stand on the side of justice?”
“Oh ho. So you knew about that as well?”
“Of course. My mind has remained fully awake this entire time.”
“…!”
Han Yura forced down her labored breathing.
“It might have been easier had I truly lost consciousness. But I could not. Thanks to that, I unwillingly overheard everything.”
Her gaze briefly touched her daughter.
“Through Sora, who always poured her worries out before me, I learned exactly what schemes you were plotting.”
“Ha. I thought it was quite a meticulous plan, yet the security was utterly pathetic.”
“Well, well. So I was supposed to lie there in silence, mouth shut from beginning to end, just as you wished?”
Grind.
Seomun Hui’s molars clenched tightly. Just how long had it been since events had refused to flow according to her will?
On the western front. During the Red-White Civil War. In the Pacific War. Plans had been shaken before. Variables always existed, and humans always made foolish choices. Yet the one who smiled in the end had always been her. The one who survived and claimed her compensation had always been Seomun Hui.
But this time was different. This sense of defeat. This disgustingly unpleasant feeling. There was only one source.
Han Sora. If the girl had simply stayed quiet like a dead mouse, everything would have been fine. If she had trembled behind the door like a coward, the plan would have succeeded. Yet she had crawled out and turned a minor event into this disaster.
The main culprit behind this mess.
…Fuck. S-class or not, should I just wipe them all out here?
She couldn’t kill them all, but she was confident she could at least leave them crippled. It had been a long time since her head rang with such clarity. With her reason half-severed, Seomun Hui’s gaze turned toward Han Sora.
But at that exact moment—
“Miss Sora.”
A calm voice, utterly out of place amid the killing intent, shouts, and camera shutters, cut through the chaos.
“Lie down carefully on your side. With a back wound, you must not lie flat. I’ll examine you.”
“Jihou…”
“Don’t try to sit. The wound will reopen. On your side. Yes, just like that.”
Seo Jihou. The man who had been supporting Han Yura only moments ago was now kneeling beside Han Sora.
“You’re fortunate. The wound avoided the spine. The muscle layer is deeply torn, but it didn’t reach the lungs or major blood vessels.”
“R-really?”
“Yes. The bleeding looks heavy, but there is no arterial spurting. We’ll apply pressure, clean the wound, then suture. You should recover quickly.”
A white coat that seemed unfitting for a man. A solid, robust physique that appeared anything but small even while kneeling on one knee. A body trained with discipline, unlike the men of this world. And a low, clear voice that carried an authority equally uncharacteristic for a man.
Seeing him, Seomun Hui’s reason snapped back into place. Because this was the moment she finally stood before the one person in all of Korea she most wanted to meet—the Korean Branch Director of the International Reproductive Resource Management Agency.
“Student Seo Jihou?”
“You know me?”
“Of course. As an employee of the Agency, how could I fail to recognize you!”
An international organization with branches across the globe. The International Reproductive Resource Management Agency. Inside it existed an internal classification system unknown to outsiders: the Male Rating System. A framework created under the pretext of protecting precious men, but in truth designed to measure, classify, and manage them.
Starting from the lowest tier—men unable to produce descendants, judged infertile and rated E-class. Men with sperm but excessively long collection cycles, low stamina, and poor responsiveness requiring special management—D-class half-men. Men capable of three or four collections per week whose volume, physique, and appearance fell below average—C-class small men. Men who could provide stable weekly collections, met standard health and appearance criteria, and complied with management—B-class standard men.
And then the elite. Robust physiques, high baseline stamina, superior health, far more stable hormone levels than average. The extremely rare beta males possessing high genetic value for future generations and strong physical symbolism.
But the reason Seomun Hui refused to let Seo Jihou slip away was because he was an exceptional case even among A-class beta males. On top of that, he had entered medical school through pure merit without relying on male-special policies, and maintained a balanced lifestyle that listed exercise and self-management as hobbies. Truly A-class among A-class. Internally, though not written in official documents, he was treated as an S-class management target.
A man who must be registered.
Seomun Hui’s eyes narrowed.
An individual who must be milked within the system until the day he dies.
She had attempted contact multiple times. Each time, Seo Jihou had evaded the Agency with various excuses. Yet the man who had always escaped her grasp now stood right before her eyes. With that fact alone, the absorption of Baekho Guild no longer mattered in the slightest.
“A pleasure to meet you, Jihou.” Seomun Hui extended her hand. “This is our first time meeting face to face. I am Seomun Hui, Director of the Korean Branch of the International Reproductive Resource Management Agency.”
“Branch director…?”
“Yes. We even share the same family name. Since fate has brought us together like this, might we speak properly next time? I noticed you have yet to register with the Agency despite being a man.”
Her tone was courteous. But her eyes were not. They were the eyes of an administrator who had discovered a rare treasure, not a person.
Therefore Jihou did not take the offered hand.
“So it was you.”
“Pardon?”
“The big head at the Reproductive Resource Agency who’s been bothering me constantly.”
Seomun Hui’s smile froze for the briefest instant.
Normally, men did not behave this way in front of Agency personnel. The moment they realized what the institution that managed them was capable of, most—whether beta or otherwise—would cower and lower their heads. That was simply how men were.
But the man before her was different. Even after learning she was the Korean Branch Director, he didn’t blink. Instead—
“I have much to say, but I have a patient to treat right now. Please step aside.”
It was far too arrogant for a man.
“Excuse me, Jihou.” Seomun Hui’s voice dropped. The threat was obvious. “Do you understand who I am and still speak to me that way?”
“I do. Seomun Hui, Korean Branch Director of the International Reproductive Resource Management Agency.”
“If you know that, then—”
“If you continue, I will contact the Ministry of Male and Family Affairs.”
“…!”
At those words, Seomun Hui’s lips tightened. Reporters’ cameras were rolling all around them. Two S-class hunters stood before her, glaring. Pushing any further would not simply increase her enemies.
Therefore—
“…I will withdraw for today.”
With those final words, Seomun Hui’s toes pressed against the ground. The next instant, the figure in the white uniform vanished over the wall.