I'm Not a Hunter, Though (Part 2)
"...Morning already."
Ugh, my body aches all over. Yeah, first thing I do when I make some money is get a proper room.
"...Sleep well."
She really is pretty up close.
That pure white hair gives her this mystical vibe. It's like it's reminding me all over again that I'm stuck inside a novel.
I folded up the bedding and did some light stretches. Yawned, twisted my body around, arched my back.
Once that was done, I quietly slipped out of the room. Planning to take a morning lap around the Swamp Zone for some exercise.
But first, better let her know.
"Mina..."
"...Mm..."
"Gonna step out for a quick walk."
"...Okayyy..."
Alright then. Off I go.
I opened the door and headed out right away.
The Swamp Zone in the morning was busier than I'd expected. Not sure if it was because this was the most populated spot around, or just the morning rush.
"Anyone wanna join a west sector scouting run?!"
"Get your weapons serviced before you head out!"
"Grab a quick breakfast here!"
Merchants hustling with their morning sales, hunters weaving through the crowd.
This world isn't your standard hunter story, but anyone slapped with the "hunter" label has gotta be a fan of those tales. The vibe's spot-on for the early arcs—minus the gates popping open. Instead, you've got humanity's own homemade monster tags filling the monster role.
Still, this setup's better. Gates spew out every freak under the sun and turn everything to shit. If gates opened here, it wouldn't be a hunter world anymore—just straight-up post-apocalypse.
In that sense, yeah, grateful for no gates... bullshit.
I sighed and veered off the path to the Gray Forest, heading up through the city instead.
The scenery shifted. Men glaring from walls they leaned against. Folks trudging along with pickaxes and shovels. A sundries shop with its owner perched by the door, waiting for customers. Buildings reeking of gloom.
Luckily, no one picked a fight, but the sticky stares burned.
Surveillance? Or just wary of outsiders?
This place sees outsiders coming and going all the time, though. Probably 'cause I rolled in with Alligator Gang members.
As I pondered the stares, someone called out to me.
"Hey, what're you doing around here?"
"Oh, Bal—nah."
"Just call me Baldy! No need to apologize. Or Myeongho, if you prefer."
"Whatever... What're you doing here?"
"Just came back from a long trip home, got some good rest. But steer clear of this area."
"Something going down?"
"Heard some rumors—Vipers and the Fishermen are gearing up for a clash. Worried it'll spark another war."
"War, huh."
Straight out of the original story. Vipers and Fishermen as sworn enemies.
Though in the story, they both got obliterated by Quaker in a flash, no traces left.
"For guys like us, best to steer clear and wait it out till things quiet down."
"Got it."
Eh, I wasn't planning any big moves anyway. Time to make some cash.
"Hey, Myeongho, you know where I can snag a Gray Forest map?"
"Maps? From the map sellers, obviously. But quality's crap. Good ones are organization-only, and even then, you need rank. Might as well forget it."
"Hm..."
So, top-shelf maps are basically impossible.
"Newbie hunters buy rough terrain sketches and fill in the details themselves. Cheaper that way. Most die quick anyway, leaving map scraps littering the forest... but every now and then, you get skilled ones with solid maps."
"Don't even think about robbing 'em. No guarantee you'd win, and they mark 'em in personal codes. Useless without knowing how to read it—just pure risk."
"Wasn't planning to."
"Heh, with the boss around, you wouldn't need to anyway. Hard to find anyone here who matches that Guard Captain freak!"
Matching the Guard Captain...
Honestly, I only beat him by throwing every dirty trick in the book. If another one shows up, it'd be dicey as hell.
"Noted."
"Yeah, yeah. Got work, so catch you later."
I turned and headed back to the hotel.
"Mister... where'd you go?"
"Just scoping out the Swamp Zone. Gotta know the lay of the land if we're sticking around."
"...Take me next time."
"Sure."
Mina stared at me silently after my reply, then dropped her gaze and went back to eating.
I picked up my spoon again too.
Breakfast was simple: rice, fried egg, kimchi.
"Hotel food," my ass—barely a meal. But around here, this is luxury. Chickens are rare, and eggs don't come easy.
I wolfed it down and stood.
"Gonna chat with the owner real quick. Finish up."
"...Be safe."
My eyes stung again.
Something in 'em? I rubbed them and turned away.
He was in the lobby when I came back this morning too. Same deal.
Staff's around, but he's always the one at the counter.
Sure enough, there he was, weary-faced behind it. Hotel grind wearing him down.
"Cheolsu."
"Ahem... what is it?"
"Where do I go for a hunter qualification?"
"Head out, turn left—Gray Forest path on your right. Office is left of that."
"Costs anything?"
"Nah. But there's a simple test."
Same as the original. Good.
Whew, dodged any weird new requirements.
"On my way then."
"No weapon?"
"Don't have one. Gotta make do with my ability."
I shrugged and headed out.
Back to the restaurant to grab Mina, then outside.
"Don't get lost—stick close."
"I'm not a kid."
"...You sure look like one."
"Am not."
"Then I can let go of your hand?"
"...No."
Still a kid at heart.
I led Mina through the hunter paths. Stares lingered, but I ignored them.
No one here wants trouble.
And if they did... I'd roll 'em like that rusty ball over there.
"Mister, relax your face."
"..."
I smoothed my expression. Sighs echoed from around us.
Where's a harmless, innocent guy like me gonna cause problems?
Blame Quaker.
Fucking Quaker.
Chewing on Quaker in my head, I stepped into the building. Felt weirdly like a district office.
Wait, is it actually one?
Layout screams it.
Long lines of people, shouts echoing from somewhere, benches packed with burly guys in thick gear, weapons dumped beside them as they chatted.
"West side lately..."
"Any decent rookies these days? The ones I've seen lately are pathetic—don't last a week."
"You think survivors are common? Place is crawling with greenhorns dreaming of easy riches."
I eavesdropped while joining the hunter registration line.
It moved faster than expected.
Probably just rubber-stamping the dead men walking.
"Welcome. What can I do for you?"
"Here for hunter registration."
"Ah. Take this."
The clerk handed me an application form in a businesslike tone.
"Fill it out, head to the test area over there."
I took it, grabbed a pen from the corner station.
Ballpoint pens still around in this era.
Makes sense—Seoul's holding onto 21st-century civ, pricey but usable.
I gripped the pen—first time in ages—and scanned the form slowly.
Name.
What to put?
Quaker?
Nah.
Don't even know his real name.
"Mister, not writing your name?"
"Trying to figure out what to use."
"What's to think about?"
Mina tilted her head.
Fair reaction.
Who agonizes over their own name?
I finally scribbled Park Isak.
Birthdate roughly matched. 2069 now, so about 22.
Fudged the details and scribbled away.
"So your name's Park Isak. Unusual."
Most would think so.
In a world where religion's just cults, few know what "Isak" means.
I gave a wry smile and set the pen down.