Because I'm a Hunter

"Unni... I'm hurt."

They were on their way to a movie. As they walked through the park near the theater, Ayeon said it with a sulky face.

Eunha, half a step ahead, spun around. Ayeon had stopped in her tracks, brows drooping into a mournful arch, and was staring up at her.

"You didn't say a single word to me about being close with that fuzz— no. With that Great Sage Equal to Heaven guy."

"Close?"

"I heard all of it. That fuzz— no, no. Great Sage Equal to Heaven calling you his little sibling."

The moment Eunha stepped out of Bulmyeol Headquarters, Ayeon had seen him. The hairy man had followed her all the way to the entrance and sent her off, waving both hands.

"Take care on your way, little sibling—!"

Promising they would meet again, he laughed, big and open, and kept waving until Eunha was long out of sight. At his side, burly guild members in martial-arts uniforms folded themselves into ninety-degree bows.

"Safe travels, boss!"

It was a scene out of a noir film. Their manner had shifted to match the way Great Sage Equal to Heaven treated the Princess of Dark Flare, and on that point Ayeon felt a strange sense of being left out. It was like a best friend who ate lunch with her every day slipping off to the cafeteria with someone else and never saying a word.

"I don't need any of that, so unni, don't go to a place that smells like that."

"Smells?"

"It's awful. Just standing at the entrance, the place reeked of sweat and booze."

"Ugh. Seriously."

Ayeon fanned the air with a look of pure disgust. There was, as it happened, a being who agreed with her to a violent degree.

The cat disliked nearly everyone around Eunha. Strangely enough, that same cat was a little gentler with Ayeon. Perhaps the two of them simply suited each other.

Backed by the cat's support without even knowing it, Ayeon began to pour out the complaints she had been holding in, like a waterfall.

"You said it was something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠important, and there I was, wondering what. So a gate blows open on the Namhae Coast—what am I supposed to do about it? And do they even pay you for going? They absolutely do not. I know the Association. They'll suck the marrow out of your bones, toss you a medal while they preach patriotism or whatever, and call it done."

A hunter was not a volunteer. Ayeon had no wish to become a hero, and no wish for honor either. Someone might call that selfish and immoral. She didn't care. She had no intention of playing the sucker.

And besides...

"I never meant to trust a word from those GIA or CIA types who hide in the back and play at being heroes."

Ayeon kicked a stone on the walkway. It dropped into the park's little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pond with a plop, and round ripples rolled out across the water.

And then...

"..."

"..."

A strange silence settled over them.

Ayeon, who had been staring at the circling ripples, suddenly looked up as if she had been caught. Eunha was gazing straight at her. Those pitch-black pupils seemed to ask—

How do you know that?

To keep needless seeds of fear from sprouting, the Association had told the public nothing of the Namhae Coast gate operation. Not only the public. Even among the hunters active in Korea, it was known only to a carefully chosen few, the four great guilds among them. Ordinary hunters did not know, and those who did were keeping quiet. And yet...

"Uh... um... actually, they contacted me too."

"...You?"

"Ahaha. Did I never mention it? I'm actually a dark-attribute hunter."

Ayeon laughed, sheepish, and glanced around.

"You heard too, right, unni? The Association is tearing the country apart looking for fire-attribute and dark-attribute hunters."

She whispered it. Only after she had carefully made sure no one was nearby did she flick her fingers, light and quick. Then—

Sss...

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shadow Ayeon cast across the walkway began to grow. Stretched as long as a streetlamp, it waved a loose, floppy hand, then suddenly slid down into the pond. Ayeon herself, the shadow's owner, remained standing perfectly still.

"I've got a few shadow skills. This one's dark-attribute."

It could not be used in a pitch-black space without a single thread of light, or when rain was falling, but it was tuned perfectly to Ayeon's way of fighting. A skill she treasured above all the rest.

Eunha lowered her gaze to the shadow swimming through the pond. Watching it move as freely as if it possessed a will of its own, she stirred her lips.

"So you're joining the operation too?"

"As if."

Ayeon swept a hand through the air, and the shadow swimming in the pond darted back and clung to her feet once more.

"Even if the Association sweetens it with a fat survival bonus and hazard pay, I'd still be on the fence. I don't start deals I'm going to lose."

Having said that much, she looked at Eunha with suspicious eyes.

"Unni, I'm only asking on the off chance. You're not thinking of joining, are you?"

"..."

Eunha did not answer.

No. Seriously? Ayeon blinked, unable to believe it.

"You didn't just let everything I said go in one ear and out the other, did you? Why would you go? Did that hairy guy talk you into it?"

That was it. That was exactly it. Ayeon snorted and planted her hands on her hips. To her eye, Eunha had a quietly sheltered streak, a corner of her that did not know how the world worked. Great Sage Equal to Heaven had clearly put ideas into her innocent unni's head.

"Just drop it. The clear is obviously going to be more of a pain than any other gate, and the pay will be scraps."

She could not say this part to Eunha outright, but there was something else that worried her. Ranking one another was as good as an unwritten law among hunters. Whatever her real skill, they would laugh at an F-rank hunter in a dress. That much was obvious.

I can't let my unni be treated like that. Ayeon meant to stop her, desperately.

"You'd get so much more out of using that time to win the bid on a decent B-rank gate and pick up one more hero-grade item."

Eunha, who had been listening in silence, spoke shortly.

"I'm going."

She added it without changing so much as the light in her eyes.

"I'm a hunter."

"No, why would that even—"

Ayeon gaped at her, dumbfounded, her lips working. Answer the Association's call because she was a hunter? That was how things used to be. Had this unni only just become one? If so, she needed to be set straight, and firmly.

"Unni, a hunter these days is a professional. A doctor doesn't treat a patient who can't pay. A hunter doesn't have to stake their life on work that doesn't make money."

A hunter was a job. The point was to earn a living, not to offer some luck-won ability up to society. And would the world thank you for it? No. Absolutely not. They would take it as a given, and you would be lucky if they did not turn the public on you. All the more so if the one who contributed was an F-rank.

"Why force yourself to do something you don't have to? It's not like you want to be a volunteer."

When Ayeon asked as if she truly could not understand, Eunha answered, detached.

"There are things in this world that money can't do."

As if she were calling up some faint old memory, something deep in those pitch-black eyes sank.

"When a gate opens, the monsters will pour out. And—"

Eunha gazed quietly at her own two hands, then closed them tight into fists.

For a brief instant, Ayeon saw her eyes turn sharp. What passed through those black pupils—anger? Revulsion? Or perhaps a long, bitter waiting.

"I couldn't, before. But the way I am now, I can protect something."

Black hair streamed in the rising wind. When Eunha's eyes showed again, they curved, faintly.

"..."

Ayeon slowly closed the lips that had fallen open. There was no need to persuade her any further. She could not have, even if she tried.

Blinking slowly, Ayeon let her gaze be drawn toward the park pond. Their figures lay on the water. Across the surface, rippling gently in the wind, her own face wavered in crooked lines.

And yet it was a strange thing.

The reflection of Eunha beside it did not seem to tremble at all.

"How is the master?"

The moment Suhyun found Junhwan at the hospital, she asked after Minju without a word of preamble.

A few days earlier, Minju had opened his eyes, if only for a moment. By the time everyone reached the hospital after that call, he had lost consciousness again. They had succeeded in lifting the curse with Pixie Powder, but remnants of it still remained in his body—more precisely, in his blood vessels and his blood. From here, Dr. Plant had said, it was a problem only time could solve.

Instead of answering Suhyun, Junhwan glanced at Minju, lying as if dead upon the hospital bed. He still could not open his eyes, but by one small mercy amid the misfortune, the black blotches that had covered his small body were gone without a trace.

"According to the nurse who came in last night to change the IV, he's even talking in his sleep now. You know how it is. The master talks in his sleep all the time."

Suhyun gazed at the line of Junhwan's face, then lifted one corner of her mouth without strength. Of course he was worried. He had to be longing for Minju's full recovery more than she was, more than anyone else in the family. She could not keep showing him a gloomy face. Even as it was, Junhwan was carrying every duty alone in Minju's place, great and small, appearances before the Association among them.

She sat quietly at his side and began again, her voice a shade calmer.

"...Of course I know that awful sleeping habit. I was the one putting the master to bed until not long ago. How could I not?"

A boy about middle-school age was not so young that he could not sleep alone. But Minju had always hated places that were shut in and dark. Sleeping with the lights on would have solved it, of course, except that once the lights were on he would stay up the whole night making weapons or figurines. Lately, though, that same master had become able to sleep soundly even with the lights off. Perhaps he had simply grown steadier than before. Or perhaps something good had come to him.

Suhyun looked at Minju on the bed and spoke.

"Nothing particular from the Association?"

"Same as always. They ask how the master is."

What the Association wanted was a definite answer. Whether Legion would take part in the Namhae Coast gate operation.

"They seem pretty on edge over there, too. For now the six of us, not counting the master, have made it clear we'll join, but—"

Junhwan scratched his head and went on.

"Well, that won't satisfy them. What they really need isn't a B-rank or an A-rank. It's the S-rank Trickster. And our master is a fire-attribute hunter, on top of that. They can't help being desperate."

A matter this grave was not something he could decide as a stand-in, so he was holding it back. So he added. Suhyun, who had been listening in silence, slowly raised her head.

"...I'm still against it."

Her voice was firm. Junhwan turned his eyes to her. Suhyun kept her gaze fixed on Minju where he lay and moved her lips again.

"This happened because of the Pohang Unknown Gate. Pixie Powder may have lifted the curse, but it's a curse of unknown cause, so we have to watch him for a while."

Pixie Powder was an item that could release a curse, but that was all it did. It was never meant to analyze the curse itself. So neither Dr. Plant nor the Legion family yet knew what Minju's curse actually was.

Suhyun's gaze settled exactly on the nape of his neck. On that slender neck, a red, swollen mark stood out clear. It might have been a bee sting. It might have been a snakebite. But according to Junhwan, Minju had not been stung or bitten by any monster during the Unknown Gate subjugation. That peculiar scar might be a clue to the curse.

"Either way, the master needs rest. Even if he opens his eyes tomorrow, throwing him into a fight the moment he leaves the bed would be cruel—to a middle-school boy, and to a patient. Even if the request comes from Dr. Plant and not the Association, this time I am completely against it."

Seok Gyeongho and the rest of the family felt the same. Suhyun drew her eyes from Minju and turned to Junhwan.

"What do you think, Bae Junhwan?"

"I—"

His lips had only just parted.

"Ugh, uuu... too loud..."

A voice thick with complaint drifted from the hospital bed. Both of them whipped their heads the same way.

"Master...?!"

"M-Master!"

And, as if they had promised it, they shouted at the same time.

Minju rubbed his eyes like someone roused from a deep sleep, then flinched at their voices and looked over. His hair, nested like a magpie's, shot up like a pair of antennae.

"Ah, you scared me. What? What are you two doing over there?"

He winced faintly at the buzzing in his head. Junhwan's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Surprise, joy, relief, longing—every feeling surged up at once, and the words would not come out right.

"M-Master... y-your body..."

"My body?"

Minju sprang off the bed like a released coil, stood barefoot on the floor, and rolled both shoulders around.

"Mmmmm. Feels kind of heavy. Also kind of fine—"

Before he could finish, a huge body filled the space in front of him. Junhwan, a full two heads taller than his small master, wrapped him in a crushing embrace.

"I— I truly thought the mas— hk, I thought the master was going to die..."

"Ack! Why are you being so gross?!"

"I'm so glad... hk, really... I truly am..."

A full-grown man began to bawl at the top of his lungs. The shock of a sight he had never seen washed over Minju like a tide.

"Waaah, Masterrr..."

Something warm touched the crown of his head—tears or snot, impossible to tell. Minju leapt and shrieked.

"Suhyun-unni! Why is Junhwan-hyung doing this? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ah, come on! I said let go!"