The Vacation Ultimatum

The core modification was finished, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that didn't mean there weren't other finishing touches left to do — so Dr. Lee told me to come back after three days.

And so, after quite a bit more time than I'd expected, I finally found myself standing before Dr. Lee to collect my goods.

“Here, take it.”

Even as he handed over the finished work, Dr. Lee couldn't wipe the look of displeasure off his face.

A magic stone infused with a Concept — the kind of thing a man could spend his whole life without ever touching. And he'd been forced to fuse the damned thing into who-knew-what dime-store utility knife. No wonder his stomach was churning.

“A word of caution.”

At the same time, he stroked his chin and warned me carefully.

“In theory, that blade can cut anything. But don't forget — the body itself is still cheap junk—”

His eyes narrowed.

“A durability problem, then.”

“Exactly. Slash with the edge and it might hold, but take an impact on the flat of the blade or twist it too hard, and it'll snap clean in two. No matter how strong that Precision is, it only applies to the edge.”

He clicked his tongue and added, “I still can't fathom why you insisted on tempering a thing like this of all things—”

Watching Dr. Lee lick his lips as if the regret still lingered, I let out a small chuckle.

As a craftsman, his point was a hundred percent valid. Perfectly common sense, even.

But for me, this is the right answer.

I gripped the newly reborn utility knife — no, the crafting knife.

A light, snug grip that settled perfectly into my hand. Zero difficulty in handling, plus the convenience of an adjustable blade length.

And above all — the overwhelming mana conductivity of that thin, razor edge.

Yes. That was the whole point.

Whatever anyone said, the fact remained that I had no innate offensive ability. The core of my damage output was channeling the Precision Concept through a weapon.

Which meant that rather than swinging some premium weapon around, a blade with even marginally higher mana conductivity would extract far more destruction from the same strike.

Whether an attack lands or not is decided by my eyes anyway. As long as I can pierce the exact pinpoint, that's all that matters.

There was another reason, too.

What if I got stronger later, or found a better-suited weapon?

…I'll just head back to the next Dimensional Phase Shift, when the graveyard of blades opens up, and grab another one.

That place was nothing more than a free supply warehouse to me.

Materials rotting away in bulk — why would I bother sparing them?

I gave a light nod and gathered my things. But my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠luggage was more than one item.

“Ah, and, Doctor. The other thing I asked for.”

“I may not be long for this world. Here it is.”

This was also why his work had run longer than expected. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled out some surprisingly handsome pieces from under the workbench.

A sleek, black leather briefcase with immaculate finishing.

And tucked into its inner pocket, three luxurious fountain pens.

Needless to say, none of these were ordinary items.

They'd been made in exchange for the magic stone powder I'd handed over — the shavings left over from the [Precision] stone as he worked it.

“It's the special briefcase you asked for, with the [Expansion] Concept applied. Looks like it'd fit a few sheets of paper, but inside, it'll swallow a compact car's trunk, no problem. Though why on earth you'd want that in briefcase form—”

“…And the fountain pens?”

The briefcase I could understand, but this was something I hadn't requested — a genuine surprise.

“Pocket change. Figured you were the type to like these things.”

Dr. Lee grinned.

“Huh.”

Fountain pens? Not one, but three of them. Acting on a strange hunch, I popped the cap of one — and sure enough, a chill of Precision radiated from within.

A bluish shimmer. He must have refined the leftover 'Precision magic stone' shavings and set them into the nibs.

“Throw it or stab with it — ought to make a fine one-hit-kill dart, don't you think?”

The cutter knife and the suit had been unintentional, but now a briefcase and fountain pens on top of that?

Sure, they were tailored to convenience and my particular traits, but still…

“Have I accidentally become a Concept-chong?”

“You're a lunatic, through and through.”

Listening to Dr. Lee's final verdict, I walked out of The Archive with an incredulous laugh.

My next destination was Seoul Chilseong Hospital.

“Guardian… you're confirming the upgrade to a VIP suite, correct?”

The billing clerk's eyes went wide as she glanced back and forth between the tablet screen and my face.

Well, fair enough. Back when my payments had been falling into arrears, I was now asking to move her to a place where a single night cost a fortune. Of course she had to double-check.

“That's right. I'd also like your best dedicated caretaker, please. I'll pay in full, upfront.”

There was no hesitation in the hand that offered my card.

380 million won. A sizable chunk of that vanished in an instant — and I didn't regret a single won of it.

A little later…

A private VIP room with a sweeping, hotel-grade view and top-tier facilities.

Mom found the new surroundings unfamiliar, but she couldn't hide the smile creeping across her lips.

“Oh my, Doyun. I've lived all these years and I finally get to stay in a room like this. Thanks to my son, your mother's living in luxury.”

“Luxury, nothing. This is just the beginning.”

“Aren't you overdoing it, though…?”

“I got promoted, so my pay went up too. This much is fine.”

Sitting beside her, nibbling on neatly sliced apples, we chatted away about this and that.

A reasonably embellished story about work, talk of the hospital food, small everyday nothings.

It was a peaceful stretch of time — so much so that fighting my way through that wind-scoured gorge yesterday felt like a distant memory.

Then it happened.

“Oh, have you seen this? Young people these days sure know how to have fun.”

Mom suddenly pulled out her smartphone as if she'd just remembered. It was a Nutube video.

“The caretaker showed it to me — apparently hunters post videos like this now. But look at this one, will you? What he gets up to is something else.”

The video played on her screen.

…A familiar back. A very familiar back.

A suit and tie. And a masked man.

The Nutube title caught my eye.

“Hrk—!”

The apple chunk I'd been chewing nearly went down my windpipe.

“…Wa. Water. Please.”

“Honestly, this boy. Chew slowly, will you?”

Even as Mom thumped me on the back, my eyes stayed locked to the smartphone screen.

As the video played at full volume, the comments below jumped out at me.

A chill ran down my spine.

They say the world is small, but I never imagined something like that would already be spreading. No — even if it had spread, what were the odds I'd end up watching it in front of my mother?

Thank god for the mask.

Without it, I'd probably be eyeing the window and contemplating a dive right about now.

…And Mom wouldn't have been thrilled, either.

Anyway, having barely recovered my composure, I forced my poker face into place and asked, “...Hah. It is pretty entertaining, I guess. My company has plenty of hunters, but nobody like this. You find this stuff fun, Mom?”

“It's not that it's fun, it's fascinating. Everyone else struts around in flashy armor with high-tech gear floating around them, and this one just goes about like that.”

Mom gazed fondly at the man on the screen and went on.

“But this young man — he's no ordinary hunter. Your mother did watch over your father's shoulder back in his hunting days, you know.”

“……”

“Look at that. Not a single wasted movement. He's not fearless — he's certain. Like he can see the path in there.”

For a moment, I froze.

She'd stood beside a first-generation hunter, back when hunting was practically the modern Wild West — of course she'd cut straight to the essence that others couldn't see.

“But still…”

Mom clicked her tongue.

“The mask is a bit much… Honestly, you hunters always do have a screw loose somewhere, don't you?”

“You're right about that. Haha… The hunters posting videos these days all go for concepts like that. Trying to grab attention. It's a trend, they say. A trend.”

I broke into a cold sweat and hurriedly agreed.

I'd thought the mask was reasonably tasteful, but apparently the very concept of a mask was a hard sell after all.

“And the hunter name is 'CorporateSlaveLife', of all things. How miserable must he have been at his company… tsk tsk. Thank goodness our son doesn't work as a field hunter. Truly.”

“Oh, absolutely. Whose son am I, after all? The Managing Director throws a fit that the company can't run without me.”

…I'm lying through my teeth without so much as a pretense of shame.

But it was half true, in its way.

It just wouldn't show for a while yet — I was certain Managing Director Han Tae-seok was going to come crashing down.

Meanwhile, Mom smiled in visible relief only after hearing my answer, and squeezed my hand tight.

“That's my boy. I don't wish for anything else. Just for my son to stay healthy. To live an ordinary life, without going to dangerous places. I'm already this happy.”

In the warmth of those words, a corner of my chest ached, just for a moment.

Ordinary…

But I'd already come too far. And I intended to go farther still.

Which was precisely why I made up my mind anew.

If only for this small, simple happiness — my identity could never be discovered.

Is there anyone in this world who actually likes going to work? Probably not.

And the reason I'd named my hunter alias CorporateSlaveLife, dripping with resentment, was exactly that.

The misery of living like corporate livestock. A life of office politics, stolen credit, and — eventually — being cast aside. That disillusionment was baked right into the name.

But lately, going to work had never been more fun.

I had nothing to do, literally clocking in to stare at my monitor like a professional salary thief, but—

How could I possibly sleep, wondering how the show's going to unfold?

Before I knew it, I'd arrived far earlier than usual.

It was about time for Park Jin-chul to drag himself back from the dungeon, and when he did, I'd get to watch Field Exploration Team 1 churn through their mountain of backlogged paperwork in real time.

I was just about to savor that prime popcorn moment with a fresh cup of coffee when—

“T… Team Leader.”

Out of the darkness, someone abruptly popped out through the emergency stairwell.

“…You scared me. Min-woo?”

It was Choi Min-woo, the youngest of Field Exploration Team 1.

And he was a complete wreck.

Dark circles sagged beneath his glazed eyes all the way down to his jaw, and he looked haggard in a way that was nothing like his usual self…

“What happened to you? Pulled an all-nighter?”

“C-could I ask you for just one favor? Please.”

What the kid thrust forward, on the verge of tears, was an e-approval tablet.

What on earth could drive a man to wait here at dawn looking like death itself?

“……”

I was briefly speechless.

At this point, that's not a leave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠application — that's a declaration of war, isn't it?

I'd lived a long time, and I'd never seen a vacation request like this.

“You. Is something going on? You're sane, right? You really think Park Jin-chul is going to approve this? He'll reject it on sight and cuss you out, obviously.”

At that, Choi Min-woo answered, voice trembling on the edge of tears — but with a glint of outright madness shining in his eyes.

“That's exactly why I came to you, Team Leader. On the system, you're still the final approver, aren't you?”

…That was true.

Given that my job was stable team operations and risk management, I — the one separated from the field — held the final approval authority.

“If you approve it now… I'll switch off my phone and go dark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the entire vacation. I'm begging you. Just consider it saving a life—”

“Park Jin-chul tore into you that badly?”

“Park Team Leader called me yesterday and unleashed a tidal wave of profanity at me… If I show up to work today, an ashtray might actually come flying at my head.”

Hearing the whole story, I could absolutely sympathize. It was exactly the kind of move Park Jin-chul would pull.

Still, things were already dire enough, and I knew burning twenty days of leave wouldn't solve anything — so I looked at Choi Min-woo and—

For all his haggard appearance, his eyes were resolute.

So the kid's made up his mind too.

It didn't seem like a desperate, knee-jerk escape at all.

During those twenty days, he'd probably forget about that bastard Han Tae-seok's face for a while, sort things out here, and start scouting for a new job.

Seeing that, I couldn't help but chuckle.

I genuinely thought it would be a good choice for him, too.

It had only been a few days since I deactivated the Crisis Perception sensory sync — and even I was at this point. Asking him to keep enduring any longer was simply unreasonable.

And there's really no reason not to do it.

I'd come for popcorn — but maybe, just maybe, I'd get to watch something even more entertaining than I'd imagined.

“All right. Min-woo, I'm on my way out anyway, so what do I care.”

“Go. Run, before Park Jin-chul clocks in!”

I flashed a grin and made a shooing gesture, as if chasing him off.

“Thank you!! Hyung! No — Team Leader!!”

Choi Min-woo bolted back through the emergency stairwell without a second's delay.

And about ten minutes later? Park Jin-chul walked into the office.

What impeccable timing.

Holding my breath, I focused entirely on Park Jin-chul's reaction.