I Shouldn't Have Done That
Having received an offer for the adjutant position from Are, I felt a slight instinctive rejection and began to think it over carefully.
Naturally.
No matter how much money they threw at me, I absolutely refused to take on the title of adjutant if it meant cleaning up after a pack of deranged hunters the way I had before.
I had just heard a similar warning from my sister the day before, so my stance on the matter was already rock-solid.
For the sake of absolute clarity, I turned to Are, who was watching me with a faintly nervous expression, and asked,
“Adjutant… Well, since that was originally my job, I have a rough idea of what it entails. Could you go into a bit more detail? What exactly does the company expect from me? What kind of work would I be doing?”
Unlike the military, where I had been half-forced into service, joining a company was, strictly speaking, a contract. Both sides set the terms, work was assigned within that framework, and if those terms were violated, you had every right to push back.
Of course, whether those terms were actually respected would depend on the company’s nature, and I would only know for certain after I joined. Still, I wanted that part spelled out clearly before we even began—so I would never again be left powerless the way I had been before.
Are seemed to grasp my intent. She nodded with a serious expression.
“In our company, the adjutant’s duties fall into two main categories. First, organizing personnel when we receive a commission. Second, establishing the tactics needed to complete that commission. There are times when the adjutant is deployed to the field as needed, but regarding the danger level of any given job, you have the basic right to refuse.”
“I see…”
Black Hunter commissions would differ from military missions, so I would need to study those on my own. Everything else, though, I already understood just from listening. At the very least, I was confident no one would call me incompetent once I took the job.
The real question is how many extra little tasks get piled on top of that…
With that thought, I casually asked the question I had truly wanted to ask all along.
“Um… is there anything else I’d be expected to handle? Things like mental care for the hunters, or managing the dorms…?”
“No? You don’t need to concern yourself with those minor matters… Or did you want to take care of those yourself? If, as adjutant, you feel you must—”
“No, I’m fine. I don’t… want to deal with any of that. At all.”
I answered a little too quickly under Are’s openly puzzled gaze.
I’ll only know the full picture once I’m inside, but it looks like that side of things won’t be a problem… right?
Reassured that the surface-level duties seemed acceptable, I gave a positive response.
“As far as the work itself goes, it doesn’t sound all that different from what I’ve done before. In that case… next I’d like to ask about compensation.”
Depending on how you looked at it, this was a matter even more important—and more sensitive—than the workload itself. Yet Are answered with surprising lightness.
“The base salary is set at three million won a month.”
“…As expected, given the difference in scale, it’s not as much as I thought.”
“Yes. Unlike the military hunter guilds, we only have about thirty people total.”
Compared to managing two hundred people in the past, the volume of work was completely different, so a lower salary was only natural. Besides, as long as the job itself was manageable, I was willing to be fairly generous about the money. I decided to accept it cleanly.
“However, when you successfully complete a commission as adjutant, you receive additional incentives. Depending on the nature of the job, those can range from three million to over six million. But that part depends entirely on your own ability, Mr. Jinhyun, so I can’t give you an exact figure.”
“I see.”
In the end, even if the base pay was a bit low, once the incentives were factored in it wouldn’t be a small sum. And compared to that hellish environment that had been worse than begging, this was already a vast improvement.
Of course, in the worst case it could turn out to be just as miserable a place with an even stingier paycheck—and if that happened, I fully intended to throw my resignation letter in their faces on the spot.
Looking at it that way, there’s definitely one advantage right from the start. Unlike the military, I can walk out the door whenever I want.
The newly realized freedom to quit lightened the weight in my chest. I looked at Are, who was watching me with a faintly tense face—waiting, more precisely, for my answer—and said,
“All right. I’ll join. Looking forward to working with you, Miss Are.”
“Ah… yes! Thank you, Mr. Jinhyun. No… Adjutant.”
In that instant, the serious expression she had worn until now vanished. For the first time she smiled brightly, pure and unguarded joy lighting her face.
Looking at that smile—so much like my sister’s—I felt a sudden warmth bloom in one corner of my heart. Along with it came a quiet sense of anticipation for the company life I would soon share with her.
Choi Han, the new adjutant of the 28th Hunter Guild.
He had entered this rising guild with considerable expectations. Beautiful, proven S-class hunters and the countless guild members under them. As an elite adjutant recognized by the state, he believed that combining his own skill with their combat power would leave nothing to fear. Full of confidence, he began his duties as adjutant.
And then… exactly two weeks later.
Choi Han, once acknowledged as a capable talent by the nation, was now fully aware that his life had fallen into the gutter.
I shouldn’t have done that… I was a complete idiot. What the hell was I thinking, volunteering for this insane place?
The past two weeks had been nothing more than a preparatory period; he hadn’t even sortied once. It wasn’t a short stretch of time, yet it wasn’t particularly long either. In that span, Choi Han already felt his body and mind shredded to pieces.
The sweet dream of a young soldier spending pleasant days with the famously beautiful female hunters had been smashed to dust long ago.
To the outside world, the S-class hunters of the 28th Guild were known as beautiful, intelligent goddesses with wonderful personalities. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that the faces those bitches wore in front of the cameras were no different from demons crawled straight out of hell.
Cleaning, laundry, even meal preparation were the basics. On top of that came endless petty errands and the management of their entertainment-industry schedules. Already exhausted from adjusting to the new environment and his actual duties, Choi Han was buried under a workload that was nearly impossible to handle.
For the first time in his life, he felt true despair toward the profession of adjutant.
Of course, at first he had tried to push back against the way they treated the guild’s second-in-command like a slave. But after several rounds of “physical education” and threats that followed, Choi Han finally understood that he had tumbled into an ant pit from which there was no escape.
Damn it… I heard the previous adjutant walked out laughing the moment he was discharged. Now I know why.
With that thought, Choi Han dragged his tattered body and mind toward his private quarters once again. Only two weeks earlier his head had been full of confidence. Now the only thought that filled it was getting the hell out of this guild as soon as possible—before the one-month adjustment period even ended.
“It’s lacking…”
“Hm? What is?”
Sena looked up from her tteokbokki with a questioning expression at Yujin’s muttered words. Yujin frowned at the freshly made, still-steaming tteokbokki and said,
“This tteokbokki… it doesn’t taste as good as I expected. Tteokbokki really was best when Jinhyun made it.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that. Who would’ve thought that Choi Han guy couldn’t cook at all.”
“It’s not just the cooking. The laundry and cleaning I ordered him to do are half-assed, and the coffee he brought the other day was straight-up dirty water. Honestly… the government called him an elite and everything, so I had some expectations, but the disappointment is huge.”
“Mmm…”
Sena nodded, quietly agreeing. In her mind, an adjutant’s image was someone who provided perfect support so that they could slaughter Abysses at full condition. By that standard, this Choi Han fellow might have a decent face, but he completely lacked the “minor support skills” her standards demanded.
Was this what Seo Jiyun was talking about before…? Tch. Fine, I have no choice but to admit it. That Lee Jinhyun guy… he was a more useful adjutant than I gave him credit for.
Even so, Sena considered these issues secondary when it came to running the guild. Life had become a little less convenient, but honestly, as long as they put up with a bit of annoyance, it wasn’t a major problem.
In the end, what mattered most to hunters like them was combat and mission performance. Their conditions as S-class hunters might drop a little from the daily inconveniences, but she didn’t believe it would deal any real blow to the 28th Guild’s fighting strength.
Come to think of it… our first mission since the adjutant change is coming up soon, isn’t it? Perfect timing. I’m already in a foul mood, so I’ll just go wipe those Abyss bastards out clean. While I’m at it, I’ll request a change of adjutant from higher up.
Changing an adjutant once was no big deal; changing one twice wouldn’t be either. And since the one-month provisional period still hadn’t passed, using her authority as guild master would make the process simple.
Next time I’ll ask for someone who can actually handle the chores properly… Looks really aren’t everything after all.