The Principal and the Butcher
After that, everything moved at a breakneck pace.
Then again, there wasn't much else for me to do. After my little tête-à-tête with the goddess, nothing remained that was within my power to influence. So from the moment I sent the information I'd compiled over to Lee Joongoo, I was more or less just killing time.
Not that it was pure idleness, of course. I had to edit the textbooks in my own fashion, and I needed to familiarize myself with the academic calendar and the like. I'd been saddled with the job half by accident, but it was still work with a pack of young brats' lives riding on it. I had zero intention of half-assing it.
Ja Hayeon needed raising, too. No matter that she was now a licensed hunter, the fact remained that she'd been an ordinary civilian barely days ago. So I poured a considerable chunk of my time into training her to actually live up to the phrase "next-generation hunter."
Rarely, but occasionally, I'd hear from people who knew me. Not friends from my hunting days — the acquaintances of Park Woochan, the jobless shut-in rotting in a basement studio. Maybe it helped that I'd never once missed a rent payment? My landlady congratulated me with visible astonishment when I told her I'd found work, while some of the others wailed that I'd finally gone off the deep end.
Anyhow.
Between all these tasks, the boredom kept itself at bay, and before I knew it, the entrance ceremony was upon us.
The Hunter Academy welcomes your enrollment!
And then.
March 2nd.
With the modestly staged entrance ceremony behind me, I found myself in the administration office of the Academy's main building.
Ordinarily I should've been making an appearance at the ceremony itself, but that much, at least, was out of my hands.
Within this Academy, I was, after all, just one rank-and-file staff member.
And a mere staff member cannot afford to ignore a summons from the Principal.
If anything, I probably should have come around much sooner. At any rate, I was sitting here as a parachute hire — a name inserted into the payroll on the strength of Lee Joongoo's influence. From the way the man had vouched for me, it seemed Lee Joongoo was fairly involved in this project himself, but even so, the Principal of a school he had to actually run would have been handed a request he could hardly refuse.
Yet, as it turned out, that didn't seem to be why I'd been called here.
Oh? How can I be so sure, you ask?
Well, what do you know. Life's full of surprises.
Because the punk standing there to greet me in the Principal's office was a face I knew all too well.
Choi Seungjun.
Even amid the endless upheaval of the South Korean business world following the gate outbreak, he was the grandson of a colossal conglomerate chairman whose name alone opened doors. At the same time, he was himself a shrewd operator who had defended the family legacy through this turbulent era and expanded its reach by several steps besides.
But that wasn't how I knew him. I mean, when would a lone hunter ever rub shoulders with a chaebol dynasty? It's not like I had connections to the Association's upper crust, either.
No — the place our paths crossed was not some chaebol wedding hall. It was a battlefield.
Family of magnates, a businessman whose acumen was already being acknowledged, and a top-tier hunter.
Setting raw combat power aside, he ranked S by the Association's own metrics.
In other words, on paper, he was every bit the equal of that Lee Joongoo.
And in truth, this was no rank some clueless rich boy had strong-armed his way into. The Hunter Association's rank measurement standards simply weren't the sort of thing that could be gamed in the first place.
And this bastard was unrivaled in raw power besides.
Even I, who had watched more hunters than I could count, had never seen such a walking mountain of talent.
The record-breaking feat of dispatching an A-Rank monster the moment he awakened. And the output and total reserves to sustain an ability of that caliber for hours on end without breaking a sweat.
Either way, judged purely on natural gifts, this guy was a monster you could count among the very first names on any global list.
Oh, and he was handsome and tall on top of it all. Rumor even had it the Hunter Association tried to poach him as a magazine cover model — which he, being who he was, refused without a moment's hesitation — and he'd since leveraged that dual hunter-businessman image to stand among the most famous hunters of the age.
And now this Choi Seungjun had taken the post of Principal of the Hunter Academy.
'Please, God, let his dick be 3cm…….'
Seriously, how does a bastard like this even exist?
Every time his résumé crossed my mind, I sank into a gloomy funk. Unlike other hunters, I put little stock in the phrase "talent for hunting," yet even I couldn't bring myself to say it in front of him. No — forget talent as a hunter. A guy my own age, with that face, set to inherit a megacorp, and business instincts besides? Of course I was bitter. Anyone would be.
Naturally, then, the prayer slipped out of me unbidden. Yeah, obviously.
The moment I settled into my seat with that thought, I felt the sharp gaze of the secretary standing behind him.
By my memory, she was the girl he'd kept on staff since his hunting days. Childhood friend, or something?
Apparently my unwholesome reflections hadn't gone unnoticed.
Fair enough. If his really was 3cm, I'd owe the young lady a very sincere apology.
Choi Seungjun's dick — please, PLEASE be 3cm!!
Can't believe the Butcher's joining my payroll.
Be that as it may, the seat itself was neither especially comfortable nor uncomfortable. This was the man who would technically be my boss going forward, but I'd never been all that attached to keeping this job in the first place.
Choi Seungjun, however, clearly saw it differently. He said nothing outright, but his narrowed eyes all but asked, and what exactly are you playing at?
Not that it was any of my concern.
"No, seriously, who comes up with those nicknames? The Association? Do the top brass sit around rubbing their bald heads together going, 'This one shall be the Thunder God, this one shall be the Winter Gale'?"
"It's part of the hero-making machine. Without marketing like that, how would people ever manage to sleep at night with both legs stretched out?"
"A needlessly serious answer. You really haven't changed at all, have you."
"And you seem to have changed quite a bit."
With that, he slowly lifted the teacup set before him — the exact same cup the secretary had placed in front of me only moments ago.
"I thought it was a joke when I first heard it. That you, of all people, had accepted a teaching post at the Academy."
"Were you that surprised I pulled the strings?"
"Why wouldn't I be? This is the guy who threw himself into politics spouting rhetoric about hunter rights. If you're going to drink poison, you'd better have the guts to bring your own cup. Honestly, I was relieved."
Choi Seungjun snorted and declared it so. Rich-boy worldview, through and through — the man simply looked at the world differently than I did.
Still, however casually he framed it, the fact remained that what Lee Joongoo had done was string-pulling. Sure, I had confidence in my own abilities, but I couldn't exactly ignore how the world would see it.
"Didn't that sting your pride?"
"Hardly. Though what stung wasn't that part."
"Oh? Then what? That punk Lee Joongoo's mug? To be fair, he does have a punchable face."
"You."
Cutting off my quip without a trace of ceremony, he declared it flatly.
And then — would you look at that — he actually looked down at the cup in his hand like it genuinely bothered him. That reaction sat so ill on a man like Choi Seungjun it came off almost petulant.
"Getting an offer like this, now of all times. What on earth possessed him?"
"Beats me?"
"It's not money, that much is certain. No — if he needed money, he'd have accepted my offer ages ago."
At those words, grumbled out with a note of genuine displeasure, my composure cracked before I could stop it.
Because I understood, all too well, why he was throwing this childish tantrum.
And at the same time, I couldn't help but realize:
'This bastard seriously hasn't changed one bit?!'
He'd have thrown a fit if he heard me think it, but there was no other way to see it.
He'd been like this since his active days. Choi Seungjun — the young genius who seemed personally blessed by the very concept of "talent." No, honestly, it felt like the ancients who coined the word must have foreseen his existence, given how he excelled in every field he touched. And yet this same prodigy was… far more petty than people imagined.
His possessiveness was spectacular, too. His absurd wealth meant it rarely showed where material things were concerned, but when it came to hoarding talent, nothing on earth could stop him. At his peak, the man nearly split the entire Hunter Association in two with cold, hard cash and carved out his own personal faction.
Which meant I could piece together exactly what he was getting at.
'Oh, for fuck's sake~ that was you steamrolling people, you know~'
Because back in the day, I had turned down his offer.
Same as the case just mentioned — he'd wanted me to become a hunter under his corporate banner. Naturally, with the South Korean government cracking down hard on the privatization of hunters and private hunting organizations, he couldn't have come out and said it that bluntly.
But then, in a society in freefall, the government couldn't possibly keep tabs on every single hunter, either.
And Choi Seungjun possessed precisely the kind of clout that could smooth over the government's watchful eyes.
What exactly he'd been planning, I still had no idea. Maybe he'd meant to spin up a second Hunter Association with his company at the center, or something of the sort.
Either way, I refused.
It wasn't a choice made out of concern for the coming collapse of hunter society, or the future of the South Korean government. And honestly, I couldn't rule out a quiet fear that I might be the one snuffing out the very first spark of hunter privatization.
The reason was one thing only.
At the party he'd thrown to make me that offer, I got an education in social inequality.
To protect the honor of chaebol spawn everywhere, let me say this upfront: they weren't hostile to me. If anything, those men — who'd clawed their way to survival in hunter society by any means necessary — tossed me the occasional courteous remark once they heard I was a hunter Choi Seungjun had his eye on.
The problem was that I couldn't even digest the small talk they were serving.
Yes.
Standing in that dazzling, gilded banquet hall, I came to a realization:
That chaebol bastards and I lived in entirely different worlds──
And that day, for the first time in my life, I truly understood just how literal the phrase "when intellect differs, conversation cannot even begin" actually was……
"Still not interested?"
That was then. Now, the man was Principal of this school.
Presumably Choi Seungjun had taken the post at this late stage for the same reason — because this Academy was a project operating on cooperation between the political and financial worlds and the hunters themselves.
And for a post like that, there was simply no one better suited than him.
But he was, at his core, a businessman.
However necessary the process was for me, he couldn't help weighing corporate image and the like.
Much as it galled him, if I looked like an obstacle to this project in his eyes… he'd have no choice but to cut me loose.
"As if."
Even as that worry was still forming, he dismissed my words out of hand. No — rather, he burst out laughing, as though he were the one dealing with an idiot.
God, this punk. Filthy personality, every time. Huh? Do you have any idea how rare it is for your hyung here to extend this much consideration? A little gratitude wouldn't kill you.
"I only summoned you because I worried Lee Joongoo going into politics had rotted his judgment. The man I knew would never have accepted an offer like that."
"What the hell do you people take me for?"
In response to the grumble that escaped me unbidden, he gave no answer — just lightly rattled his teaspoon.
After that, it was all small talk.
And the single most astounding thing among them was what he said next.
"The project's still in its early stages, but the students aren't bad. Nothing but gems I picked and picked over."
Fuck off — even if the little runts are decent, no way they're better than you, right?
Those were hardly words for Choi Seungjun to be saying.
And so, that day's conversation ended there.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Click. The door to the Principal's office closed. And in the room the Butcher had just vacated, only Choi Seungjun and his secretary remained.
"……I genuinely never imagined Park Woochan would accept."
"That's what I've been saying. I was half-convinced Lee Joongoo had been swindled."
Choi Seungjun burst out laughing — and in that laughter lingered a mirth he'd been suppressing and suppressing until only moments ago.
Natural, really. As his secretary, attending to him since childhood, she knew precisely what kind of man Choi Seungjun was.
A collector.
That was the simplest way to put it. The notorious hunter-poaching spree that gossips still loved to cluck about had begun for exactly that reason.
In short: Choi Seungjun loved watching the gems he acquired gleam.
A raw stone only he had recognized, shining brilliantly in the palm of his hand.
Nothing in this world thrilled Choi Seungjun more.
He'd never had any intention of splitting the Hunter Association, no real reason to build his own faction. He'd simply scouted talents he couldn't bear to see flickering and dying unseen, wishing only to make them shine.
"Ah, forget it."
And the one person he'd never managed to acquire was Park Woochan.
Those listless eyes. Dark, muddy eyes that said: whatever you're scheming, it's none of my concern.
For a man who had gotten everything he wanted on the strength of his overflowing resources, it had been a genuine shock.
Plenty of people claimed money wasn't what they needed. But in Choi Seungjun's experience, that only meant the price hadn't been met yet.
And reality bore him out. Even the ones who swore money wasn't the issue folded, in the end, when faced with ten, twenty times the sum.
There are things money cannot buy. But most of the time, you simply haven't paid enough.
It was the family motto, handed down through generations of his house.
Which was why Park Woochan's flat, unhesitating refusal had struck Choi Seungjun like a thunderbolt. It wasn't a matter of money — nothing of the sort. Whatever his circumstances, this capable hunter, who'd never once set foot in the Association, simply seemed to have no intention of hearing him out at all.
That, too, was why he'd lost interest in collecting hunters back then, despite being in the thick of the obsession. When you can't obtain the one thing you want most, gathering the rest only dulls their shine.
And so the independent faction the ever-watchful Association had guarded against so anxiously — Choi Seungjun's shadow organization — quietly dissolved.
Yet contrary to what Park Woochan might have assumed, that day had left a single change in Choi Seungjun. Where he had once savored polishing flawless gems with his own hands, he had since come to appreciate that even a finished jewel has a luster all its own.
"Are you certain about this?"
"Hm? What — are you doubting my eye for talent now?"
"I would never, sir. I'm merely… worried."
It was a project launched under a tangle of competing interests, but even by her assessment, this incoming class was, frankly, beyond anything she'd imagined.
The hero's little sister. The genius who'd butchered a monster with the first sword she'd ever held. And then there was the girl trailing a scandal of no small consequence behind her.
Park Woochan's abilities as a hunter had been proven time and again since. But could he actually teach these fledgling hunters well?
"Who knows? Spoiling the answer this early would take all the fun out of it."
"……"
"But feel free to expect great things."
However brilliant a player, no one is guaranteed to become a great coach.
And yet — even after dumping every last one of those problem children, without a word of explanation, into Park Woochan's class — all Choi Seungjun did was keep that sly, knowing smile curled at the corner of his mouth.