Castaway: Baek Jaeseong-2
The vast ocean filled my vision. More than the briny smell of the water or the cries of circling gulls, it was the sheer immensity of it that declared, beyond any doubt, that this was the sea. Gazing out at the water glittering under the sun, I felt a breathless, exhilarating rush.
"The ocean~!"
Jisu, the most cheerful of us, bounced up and down with delight. The pink swim ring slung over her right arm and the goggles worn around her neck like a necklace suited her perfectly.
For today, Jisu had gone and bought a fishing rod that cost a million won. It sounded expensive, but apparently it wasn't even that high-end as fishing rods went.
"I'm gonna catch a shark! Or a whale!"
Lina snorted at Jisu's bold declaration.
"Pfft! Why not just fish up a monster while you're at it?"
"Should I!? Ah, maybe I should've bought a more expensive rod. I don't think I could land a monster with this one."
Jisu gave her fishing rod a few taps as she said it. I looked out at the brilliant sea.
"I'd rather monsters not rain on our parade on a day this nice."
"Hehe! It's fine, oppa! We're Dungeon Hunters, aren't we?"
After a string of successful dungeon clears, Jisu's confidence was soaring. Our party was clearly stronger than a typical Rank 9Dungeon Hunter party, and because of that we'd been knocking over dungeon after dungeon without any real trouble.
The sea, however, was a region even we had to treat with caution. On land — humanity's own domain — people still had to watch out for monsters. The ocean needed no further explanation.
The sea occupies a vast seventy percent of the Earth, and of course dungeons exist there as well. Ocean dungeons are far more troublesome than their counterparts on land. The monsters that spawn in them are almost all marine types, and since the vast majority of Dungeon Hunters are accustomed to fighting on solid ground, hunting sea monsters presents them with no end of difficulties. Should an Open-type Dungeon appear at sea, the entire surrounding area becomes a zone beyond any control.
That was a massive headache for humanity, because monsters made import and export by sea routes extraordinarily difficult. Nations around the world studied the ecology of marine dungeons and carved out "safe shipping lanes" where the odds of a monster encounter were vanishingly low. But dungeons were stubborn, unpredictable things that appeared without warning, and no amount of that kind of effort could guarantee a clean passage.
In the end, what you needed at times like that was a Hunter. Large vessels were in fact required by law to hire one. It didn't necessarily have to be a Dungeon Hunter — anyone who had awakened an ability and registered with the Hunter Association was a Hunter, and Dungeon Hunters were simply the combat elite among them, the handful who had passed a special examination. Even so, most companies of any size hired Dungeon Hunters. What they needed was that overwhelming firepower.
The waters off Korea were relatively well-managed, at least. The Hunter Association was aggressive about clearing marine dungeons, and the military had a hand in it as well. A good number of Hunters who enlisted ended up stationed along the coast. Marine dungeons were so dangerous by their mere existence that, unlike dungeons on land, they were fully cleared and erased even when the profitability was reasonably high.
"So what are we taking?"
At Jisu's question I scanned the pier for the boat we'd reserved. There was only one vessel that ran to Dangsado Island, our destination — a six-person boat that the pension owner on the island drove himself. I'd seen photos of it, so I spotted it quickly.
"There it is. Let's go."
We headed for the boat. Someone else was already standing in front of it.
I checked the time on my phone. Eleven in the morning — exactly when we'd booked. A man in his forties who looked to be the pension owner was dealing with two people, his expression thoroughly flustered.
"Excuse me. We have an eleven o'clock reservation. We're trying to get to Dangsado."
At that, the owner's face grew even more pained. Something was wrong. He spoke in a voice thick with embarrassment.
"I-I'm sorry. Due to my mistake, there's been a double booking."
He looked back and forth between me and the two guests who'd arrived first. They were a couple — a man and a woman.
The man was a tall young guy with a piercing in his right ear, early twenties by the look of him. Lettering I couldn't decipher ran along the left side of his neck, and a flashy tattoo covered the back of his right hand.
The woman had dyed her hair purple. She had a bold, cheerful look about her — the type who'd been chewing gum in the back of class. In more ways than one, they made a matching pair.
"I definitely booked eleven o'clock. What the hell kind of operation is this?"
The man dropped informal speech on an owner who looked twice his age. I understood the feeling completely. The old man had botched the job that badly.
I wanted to tear into him myself, but there was a woman standing right there, so I held my tongue. Someone else was already lined up to go nuclear on him. No reason for me to open my mouth and tank my own image.
"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."
The owner bastard, well aware of his guilt, kept bowing his head. I checked the boat behind him. Including the driver's seat, it was a six-person boat, exactly. If someone squeezed into the back or sat in the cargo space, you could maybe cram seven aboard.
But our party was exactly five, and they were two. Add the owner and that made eight.
"I… I'm sorry, but it looks like one of you will have to wait a little."
"How long are we talking?"
Time was what mattered to me. We'd arrived right on schedule. I had no interest in killing a long stretch at the harbor.
"It's about thirty minutes one way, so you'd be waiting around an hour."
The owner's answer made my face twist.
Fuck. He screws up and we're supposed to wait a whole hour? Is this a joke?
The moment I let the scowl show, the owner bastard flinched and took a step back.
"We reserved first, so we go first, right? I'm getting on."
With that, the man plopped himself onto the boat. The woman who seemed to be his girlfriend climbed on after him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I stared at the two of them, incredulous.
"I'm sorry, what kind of nonsense is that? We have a reservation too."
"The hell? Get lost. I was here first."
He slouched with his hands laced behind his head and planted a foot on the front seat. That front seat was the driver's seat. Apparently the owner had wounded his pride something fierce.
That was whatever. The problem was that this bastard's attitude toward me was just as rotten.
"He's a Dungeon Hunter. Don't make this bigger than it needs to be. Just take the next one."
His girlfriend said it while wrapping both hands around her boyfriend's arm. It was like watching a whore hanging off some rich punk. A hollow laugh slipped out of me.
Reading his presence, he was definitely a Hunter. But he didn't have the kind of power that justified acting like he owned the place. The riper the rice, the lower it bows. Then again, looking at myself, maybe not.
Still, the words "Dungeon Hunter" had sweat pouring down the owner's forehead. To an ordinary person, Dungeon Hunters were a difficult breed — people who put their lives on the line at the world's front lines.
I'd had that same vague, romanticized image before I became one myself. Once I was actually inside the group, I realized Dungeon Hunters were just people.
Anyway, the owner bastard was thoroughly intimidated by that slouching idiot.
"I… I'm truly sorry, but I'll take these guests across first. When we do the barbecue later, I'll throw in plenty of extras."
He tried to bargain. The fact that he'd offered compensation at least meant he wasn't a complete lost cause.
That said, that thug had gotten under my skin, and just backing down like this didn't sit well with me. If he'd been a 5-Rank Hunter, maybe. He wasn't. A wet-behind-the-ears brat that young making 5-Rank would've been splashed across every headline in the country.
"There are still seats left, so we'll take as many as will fit. That's fine, right?"
"Ah… yes. There are three seats remaining, so please go ahead and board."
I sat down behind the man. His eyes narrowed. Matching him, I planted my foot on the front seat. He stared at me like he wanted to kill me.
"You gonna get your feet off, you bastard?"
I didn't bother answering. I just slowly raised my middle finger. He and his girlfriend both stared at me, dumbfounded. My women watched with worried faces.
"Oppa is seriously pissed."
Lina folded her arms and offered her commentary.
"Heh! That's my man. No need to show any courtesy to a classless bastard like that."
Yeonji, who'd known me longer than anyone in the group besides Sujin, nodded as if my reaction were the most obvious thing in the world.
Sujin counted the remaining seats and spoke up.
"The seat next to Jaeseong and the one next to the driver. Two left. How about just one person sits next to Jaeseong, and the other three go together on the next trip? So nobody gets bored, you know."
"That sounds good. Then who sits next to oppa?"
At Jisu's words, a taut tension sprang up among the four women.
"Rock-paper-scissors, then?"
"That works. No take-backs."
The four of them threw down. The match was over in a single round, amazingly enough. Jisu played paper. Everyone else played rock. My women were all combat types — they liked a fist.
"Losing a seat to the youngest, of all people."
Sujin looked down at her own rock with a bitter little smile. Jisu, beaming, declared no take-backs and dropped into the seat beside me. The owner, still sweating bullets, took his own seat.
"Get your feet off, you bastard."
I still had my foot planted on the seat in front of me. He glared, but I wasn't remotely intimidated. If anything, he just looked pathetic.
Far from moving my foot, I shook it out right in front of his face. He couldn't take it. He shot up from his seat.
"You wanna die?!"
I pulled out my phone. There was no need to waste actual power on a guy like this.
"Hi Bixby. Start the recorder."
I shrugged at him. His fists trembling, he moved to the seat beside the driver. Assault by a Hunter was treated as aggravated assault, and the Association-level penalties were considerable.
Of course, plenty of Hunters ignored all of that and beat people anyway. And even when they did catch a penalty, Hunters were such a precious human resource that a fine was usually enough to keep them operating as if nothing had happened.
The reason he'd swallowed my provocation wasn't simply that I'd started recording. He'd figured out I was a Hunter too. On top of that, Jisu sitting next to me was a Hunter as well.
A civilian mouthing off to a Hunter? In any reasonable world, that was impossible. He'd read what I was from my presence.
"Y-you! He's a Dungeon Hunter! You, acting that arrogant—"
"Shut up!"
The girlfriend tried to lean on her boyfriend's status to threaten me, and all she got for it was a snap from a boyfriend whose mood had already gone sour.
The slouching bastard had realized he was in a bad position. Even in raw numbers, we had him outmatched. After getting chewed out by her boyfriend, the woman pulled out her phone with an embarrassed look. Jisu leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"I feel a little sorry for her."
"For what?"
"Her boyfriend looks really violent."
"She's just as bad. Glomming onto a guy with power and throwing her weight around — you saw it too."
She was clearly the type who'd latched onto a hunter boyfriend and put out just so she could play the big shot. Her face was decent enough, but he was going to dump her. That much was certain.
To a Hunter, a pretty face — or a pretty boy, for that matter — was nothing more than a toy. In the end, they always ended up with whoever had the money.
Looking at her up close, though, her face is even prettier than I thought. Hmm.
I clicked my tongue, tasting the thought.
"Th-then I'll really get us underway."
The pension owner grabbed the wheel with a face that looked ready to suffocate in the boat's murderous atmosphere. This was supposed to be a pleasant trip, but it had already gone sour from the jump.
Well. Once we got to the pension and settled in for some proper rest, a little trouble like this would just be a story.
The boat eased forward, cutting through the water. A cool sea breeze brushed the tip of my nose. The boat picked up speed, and seawater the color of spilled blue ink unfurled endlessly before our eyes.
Watching that open sea, the sour mood loosened a little. Jisu rested her face lightly against my shoulder. I set my hand on her head.
The boat ran on without hesitation. The woman in the front seat was busy taking pictures. Even that insufferable bastard sat in silence, watching the ocean.