The Archive's True Face

On the commute home, the Seoul night blazed brilliantly beyond the window. But the brighter the light, the deeper the shadows it casts.

With familiar steps, I came to a halt before a sleek building tucked away in a Gangnam alley—one that wouldn't have looked out of place housing a luxury boutique. The Archive.

On the surface it was nothing more than a private gallery catering to moneyed matrons, but the reality was different. The ground floor aside, below it lay the largest and most discreet black market for hunters in all of Seoul.

Work in the hunter industry long enough, and you inevitably end up with goods from the 'gray zone.'

What I'd obtained was, frankly, exactly that kind of merchandise.

Even if the law says ownerless goods are fair game, whoever they belonged to is never going to feel good about it.

And if you swaggered around wearing something like that and ran into its original owner inside a dungeon? Count yourself lucky if it ended with nothing more than an awkward moment. Handing it over to the official auction house wasn't much of an option either—the original owner could come sniffing around with a claim, to say nothing of the migraine of proving provenance.

Which is why a black market is a necessity. Though that wasn't the only reason.

Now that hunter work has been corporatized and dragged into the daylight, there are corners you simply can't avoid.

Corporations always want better exploration results, and that lands them in a dilemma: stronger weapons, more reliable performance. But so long as 'regulation' and 'law' exist—so long as government oversight and restraint exist—it isn't easy to just ignore them. Reinforcement serums laced with toxic substances. Biometric experiment data that crosses every ethical line. Modified parts banned for excessive lethality or the risk of misuse.

Get caught manufacturing hunter equipment directly from that stuff, and the whole company gets turned inside out. Whatever way you slice it, a corporation lives in the daylight—its stock would crater, and its executives would find themselves hauled before a hearing.

So they come here.

"Welcome."

The moment I stepped into the lobby, cool air conditioning and the faint scent of a diffuser brushed past my nose. A crisply dressed employee bowed his head.

Nothing here leaves an external paper trail. Neither does accountability. So corporations buy their 'problematic items' here, and the books record it as an 'art acquisition' or 'consulting fees.' That, in the end, is why hunter firms own so much fine art. Outsourcing the risk—while keeping the good bits for themselves. The crowning achievement of a system forged from colossal hypocrisy and desire. That was the black market known as The Archive.

I cast a brief glance at the red abstract painting hanging in the center of the lobby, appraised somewhere north of several hundred million won, and started to head toward the basement hidden behind it—the 'real trading floor.'

"One moment, please, sir."

A curator with neatly combed hair and white gloves politely blocked my path. "Do you have a reservation?"

"...No. I'm a walk-in."

"My apologies, but the main floor operates on a membership basis. Entry without a prior reservation is not possible."

The curator's gaze lingered briefly on my shabby bundle before drifting up to my masked face. There was no contempt or dismissal in it—only the businesslike look of someone moving strictly by the manual.

Well, it is a place not just anyone can walk into.

I had, of course, been here plenty of times under Arc Industry's banner—disposing of goods the team had acquired, or scrambling to source something on short notice. Back then, a single card reading [Arc Industry Strategic Planning Team] was a free pass. Not anymore.

This is awkward.

With hunters corporatized the way they are, trade here runs almost entirely business-to-business. Individual transactions—B2C—are the domain of genuine heavyweights; nobody else gets the time of day. And flashing my credentials here was out of the question.

There's really only one way.

Even if I couldn't prove an entry privilege, I could show them something that would make their eyes bulge. Worst case, maybe the sight of the [Sharpness] concept magic stone inside this bundle would change the man's attitude—

Just as I was weighing it, the curator's eyes narrowed. He froze mid-gesture, then, as if noticing something he'd missed, looked me up and down again. The plain business suit. The bundle. And... a mask covering my face.

His gaze snagged on the bundle and the mask.

"Ah—"

A short breath of realization escaped the curator. "Forgive my rudeness in the presence of such an honored guest. I failed to recognize you."

"...?"

"The manager is waiting for you inside."

The curator's demeanor did a complete one-eighty. The officiousness vanished without a trace, replaced by a deference on an entirely different level from the days I'd flashed my Arc Industry card at this place—a smile brimming with VVIP hospitality.

I was shown into a meeting room sealed behind soundproofing walls, looking for all the world like a gallery director's office converted for private negotiations. Plush leather sofas and subdued lighting, masterpieces by famous painters lining the walls. It was more opulent than any luxury boutique, and refined classical music drifted over a mahogany table set at its center.

The man seated on the opposite sofa rose first and offered his business card.

"Good day. I am Jang Hyun-woo, manager of 'The Archive.' It is an honor to receive such a distinguished guest."

A immaculate suit, and behind gold-rimmed glasses that caught the light, a pair of eyes that looked remarkably meticulous.

...Manager Jang Hyun-woo, though. Never heard the name.

I'd been in and out of this place dozens of times as Arc Industry personnel, and I'd never seen his face. Given how long that stretch had been, I should have crossed paths with him at least once.

"I never imagined the man behind all the buzz would come in person. As I'm sure you know, famous individuals tend to send proxies. But it seems I get to see the 'Hunter in a Suit' who dominated the industry headlines in the flesh."

"...I'm no different from any other proxy. I've simply come to trade goods."

"Modest, aren't we?"

Jang Hyun-woo flashed a pleasant smile and continued his polished customer service. He was unmistakably a stranger, yet he exuded a fluency that outstripped any manager I'd dealt with before. And in what he said next, I understood why that impression had formed.

Seasoning.

"As you're aware, the industry's been in an absolute uproar since that incident. It was such an enormous affair... and [Ohsung] hates nothing more than that sort of thing, don't they?"

He's no ordinary manager.

I could confirm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it from his very first sentence. It sounded like casual small talk, but—

He's probing me.

He was deliberately dangling the name of the megacorp [Ohsung], watching for a reaction, trying to gauge who I was. No run-of-the-mill manager would bother feeling out my identity in the first place—so he clearly wasn't one.

Ulterior motives aside, honestly, it was just tiresome.

"And what would you do if I were [Ohsung]? What if I weren't?"

What would he even do with someone who'd been on Arc's planning team until they quit?

...Frankly, from the position of someone who'd just resigned, the answer hardly mattered.

I'd had my fill of tedious reconnaissance games.

"Right now, I'm here to talk about goods."

Stung by my flat dismissal, Jang Hyun-woo retreated a step behind his affable smile. "Ah—of course. It's simply that transactions with guests of such uncertain identity are far from common... If I've unsettled you, I hope you'll forgive my candor."

He admitted to the test and stepped back in the same breath. Instead of responding further, I began unpacking the battered bundle slung over my shoulder. From inside the bundle that looked ready to shed dust with every touch spilled an assortment of high-end knickknacks.

Crash—

The magic-stone core engine extracted from the wrecked drone. The joint alloy frame of a mana doll. The suit fabric I'd been using as wrapping cloth until moments ago. And topping it all off, the magic-stone-coated plate armor pauldron.

Jang Hyun-woo's gaze locked onto the goods. Then, as if something had clicked into place, he nodded slowly.

"...Just like the rumors say. Administration Bureau equipment, gear used by [Mir] and [Dokkaebi]—the condition is wretched, but these are certainly the genuine articles."

He fingered the suit fabric with his white-gloved hand. "But as I'm sure you understand... goods like these aren't easy to process."

He frowned as if in apology and examined the merchandise through a jeweler's loupe. "As you know, Administration Bureau items have identification codes embedded in them, so whose they were is written in black and white. And things like magic-stone cores need reprocessing by end use regardless."

At the same time, he tapped at a calculator and spoke with decisive finality. "I can match you at around thirty percent of market value. These goods carry no small amount of risk to absorb."

Hmm. Certainly.

A textbook lowball. The kind of practiced squeeze that would work perfectly on even a capable hunter who'd never traded directly before, or a rookie without enough deal history to know what quotes should look like. Anyone else would have mumbled something like 'could you go a little higher,' concluded it was a bigger sum than expected, and let it slide.

Wrong address.

I leaned back against the sofa immediately and asked with deliberate insolence, "Manager. You're calling me a fool right to my face."

"...Pardon?"

"Every one of these items is going right back to their original owners. And I know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it."

Then, channeling my inner madman, I picked my words a touch harsher and clutched at my throbbing head.

Just how much more could this haul actually fetch?

I flicked the drone's magic-stone core engine sitting on the table. "This is a third-generation magic-stone core from [Mir]'s Technology Development Team 2, isn't it? The core alone is expensive—by now that team leader is writing incident reports over losing it. But if they reorder through official channels, it amounts to admitting an 'operational debacle,' on top of the disciplinary review. To avoid that, they'd be desperate to source one through unofficial routes, wouldn't they?"

Recovering things through the black market, naturally, never shows up explicitly in any official ledger—and it's incomparably cheaper than the reorder price. Dip a little into a team budget, and everything gets cleaned up neatly.

The manager's eyebrows twitched. But I didn't stop, pointing next at the [Dokkaebi]-made mana doll alloy frame beside it.

"And the same goes for [Dokkaebi]'s procurement team. Slip it in as 'maintenance materials' and the books write it off as 'research material costs,' recouping the loss on the cheap. But if you go through the pointless rigmarole of laundering these and dumping them on the market? That means you're either incompetent—or you were trying to stiff me. One or the other."

I stared him dead in the eye and smiled, my expression twisted with displeasure. "You aren't selling me dangerous stolen goods, Manager. You're selling a handful of 'safety' and an indulgence to executives who fumbled their own missions. Skimming a fee off both ends—isn't that a bit past the bounds of common decency?"

A frigid silence settled over the room.

Jang Hyun-woo straightened his glasses and studied me for a long moment. Then, with both hands raised as if admitting total defeat, he let out an awkward laugh.

"...Ha. I'm thoroughly ashamed. I made a mistake. Anyone with this grasp of the industry must be an executive... I was squaring off against a tiger, not knowing it."

"..."

He reset the calculator and punched in numbers again with rapid-fire fingers. "Very well. It's true that we already have orders pending from the companies in question. As an apology, I'll match the highest possible purchase price—our commission waived."

He turned the calculator toward me.

Beyond my expectations. Special-room hospitalization fees for my mother, of course—and no money worries for the foreseeable future.

"How would you like the payment made?"

"...Cash."

Just as Jang Hyun-woo reached for the intercom, I raised a hand to stop him. "Hold on. We're not finished yet."

When I carefully pried open the plate armor pauldron I'd laid at the bottom of the bundle, today's main course came into view.

Ssss—

For an instant, a strange chill seemed to carve through the very air of the meeting room. A crystalline mass catching the light, radiating a bluish—no, a glow closer to the color of blood.

"Hahk—"

Jang Hyun-woo gasped, despite knowing full well that visible shock never reflects well on a negotiation. This was no ordinary magic stone.

"That's a Concept Magic Stone, isn't it?"

He reached out as if entranced, caught himself, and hurriedly withdrew his hand. Instinct must have screamed danger.

A grade ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on an entirely different plane from the knickknacks he'd just inspected. Before it could even be converted into money—it was the very reason hunters existed, the reason the whole world had its eyes fixed on the Tower and the dungeons within it. The reason people said that with the Tower's resources, one could become 'omnipotent.'

"I want this processed."

I said it point-blank. "None of your halfway-decent smiths. The most skilled lunatic you have."

Jang Hyun-woo swallowed dryly and pressed the intercom. "Basement level 5. Open Workshop 0. And... call Dr. Lee. Explain that a rare guest is on his way down."

Click.

As the intercom cut out, I fished around in my pocket and pulled out a weapon, then tossed it carelessly onto the smooth tabletop.

Skreeech.

The light sound of plastic dragging across wood—the body of a box cutter.

"Oh, and for reference."

I indicated the cutter knife with a jerk of my chin. "I want the magic stone I just showed you processed and coated onto this."

"...Pardon?"

Jang Hyun-woo's expression froze blank for a moment. Then, as if trying to fathom my meaning, his eyes darted between the cutter knife on the table and my eyes behind the mask.

He was probably thinking something along the lines of, 'Is this guy... actually insane?'

Well. I was dead serious.

The same moment. Top floor of the gallery, the director's office.

A vast space bathed in soft lighting. Paintings hung along the walls, but what Na Heera was watching was no artwork. A translucent glass panel filled one entire wall, streaming Midas Enterprise's real-time hunter profit margins, graphs of the artifact auction house's price movements, and Nutube's live trending data.

...

Head of Strategy and Planning at Midas Enterprise, and the owner of this very gallery. Na Heera, Managing Director. Her eyes refused to leave the video that had surfaced so abruptly.

At the same time, a report filtered through the speakerphone.

Even with Jang Hyun-woo's excitement bleeding through the line, Na Heera remained composed. More than that mysterious trinket, her gaze stayed riveted on the suited man in the trending video, as if she'd discovered something far rarer.

"A magic stone carrying a concept... interesting. Well, considering how the Hunter Administration Bureau has been salivating over them, it's not exactly unforeseeable."

"That's not all. He's no ordinary customer. I deliberately lowballed him a little, and his response... he handles real-world business with a fluency you'd never expect from a hunter who spends his days in the field."

"And?"

"...There's no scent of any particular corporation. If anything, he carries himself like someone who commands every company at once. What troubles me is how intimately he knows our side of the business."

"Hmm."

Capability backed by nerve. And the display he'd put on against Jang Hyun-woo besides—

I'd assumed the trajectory was too eccentric for anyone to actually be attached to an organization. An executive embedded somewhere, then?

[Mir] had been played for fools outright, so it wasn't them... which left [Ohsung], conspicuously absent from the raid?

Her thoughts stretched long, but no easy conclusion arrived. One thing, however, was certain: if he was an unaffiliated solo hunter, she absolutely had to land him.

Capability backed by nerve. And the slick professionalism he'd shown dealing with Jang Hyun-woo.

But above all... that near-'madness'—that sheer strangeness.

Na Heera enlarged the screen with evident intrigue. Picking up a treasure beyond monetary valuation and driving it straight into a mere box cutter—what kind of reasoning was that? The kind of lunacy no ordinary hunter could bring themselves to commit, trembling hands or not.

The public tires quickly of handsome, upstanding model-student hunters. And the true front lines of the hunter world are locked up tight by America anyway. Even dressing flamboyantly and talking a good game only ever gets a hunter consumed as one more broadcast persona.

But if a creature like that existed—

"A bizarre unpredictability that shatters common sense. And insane stunts no one can see coming."

And overwhelming skill—

The corners of Na Heera's mouth curled up seductively. He'd be the ultimate star, plain and simple. If the recruitment succeeded, Midas would gain its results, and the man would gain fame and fortune. A trade that enriched everyone at the table.

"Hyun-woo."

"Yes, Director."

"Lay the groundwork so that temperamental Dr. Lee takes an interest, and don't let him worry about labor costs. Aim to leave him owing a debt of the heart, as much as possible."

"I'll do my utmost. Or... would you care to meet him yourself?"

"No."

Na Heera raised her glass in a toast toward the 'corporate-drone veteran hunter' video. "It's still too early."

She recalled the sight of him haggling with Jang Hyun-woo. Razor-sharp command of the industry and masterful exploration ability. Not someone to take lightly—by her own assessment, he was skilled enough to have already secured an executive seat at some other corporation.

"A hunter with nothing to lose doesn't exist... So instead—once we know what we can offer him. What it is he truly wants."

That would be the day they finally meet.

Na Heera's words rippled quietly through the director's office.