The Smell of Money

A huge banner snapped and billowed in front of her.

Ahyeon pulled off her pink baseball cap and drew in a long, deeply satisfied breath. Ah. The smell of money.

Far off, people stood in line. What looked at a glance like an ATM was an automatic license scanner, and the crowd was so thick that the queue for authentication badges stretched nearly to the auction hall doors.

Wait my turn like an honest citizen and the sun will be down.

Money and time moved in proportion. Ahyeon didn't hesitate. She strode straight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the head of the line and—

"Been waiting long? Sorry, sorry."

She sidled up to the hunter in front and gave his shoulder a shameless little tap.

The man glanced back, and confusion flickered over his face. A complete stranger was acting as if they knew each other. Fair enough.

"Huh? Who are—"

"My stomach just started killing me. We're not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up yet, right?"

"No, you've got the wrong per—"

The hunter's mouth snapped shut.

Something heavy had slid into his pocket: a thick wad of 50,000-won bills. His throat bobbed hard.

"Oh, look, it's already our turn. Come on, buddy."

"Uh... y-yeah..."

Hooray for the twenty-first century, the age of capitalism. With enough money, you could become best friends in five seconds.

Guilt? She had none of that. Among the auction old hands, paid line-cutting was practically an unwritten rule. Smart, if you ask me. The real fools were the ones who camped from the crack of dawn straight through to the next morning, waiting on nothing but a badge.

Beep. She tapped her hunter license lightly against the scanner.

With the prompt, a badge tumbled out from under the machine—an authentication badge worked in the tangled shape of an H and an A. It was issued by rank to licensed hunters who had paid the entry fee, and simply carrying it unlocked automatic translation within designated zones.

Chips are exchanged. So next...

A Chip. If the Coin was the system currency used by hunters the world over, a chip was the one-use scrip the organizers issued for the Hunter Auction. You needed it to place an advance bid, and in that sense it might have mattered even more than coins.

Fail to stock up on the first and second days, and on the third—when the real auction starts—the finest lots in the hall are nothing but a feast behind glass, no matter how many coins you've got.

Let's see. Ahyeon popped her bubble gum and reached into empty air.

An inventory window rose to fill her vision. She set the opacity to forty percent, tapped Sort Items by Grade, and the list unfurled with a rustle, spilling all the way to her toes—the darlings she had hoarded so devotedly over the past year.

At that volume, ten thousand chips would be nothing. Oh, if only it were already the twelfth. Brimming with expectation, Ahyeon set her stall in handsome order.

But.

"......"

The wind whistled through. In a full hour her stall drew a grand total of three visitors. Items sold: zero.

Is this real?

Look around and the place was crawling with hunters, a crowd visibly larger than last year's. And yet not one of them was Ahyeon's customer.

She sank into thought. Something was wrong. Were her prices too high? No. Quality like this deserved exactly what she was asking. Was the spot bad? It wasn't. This was clearly the prime location.

Which meant—

There's a competitor. And a close one.

Ahyeon's eyes swept the surroundings and soon found their mark. Tucked into a corner like that, and still poaching everyone else's customers? Whoever the seller was, they were cunning. Thoroughly wicked.

She would see it with her own two eyes. Ahyeon paused her sales and strode toward the rival stall. And then—

"Huh."

Black tiger hide. Sharp fangs. Hard beast bone. The goods laid out on that modest table were far shabbier than she had imagined. And here I thought they were moving something incredible. What was this? Nothing special at all. She was almost embarrassed to have snorted at junk like this.

Deflated, Ahyeon uncrossed her arms and turned to leave.

"They're insane. Fifteen Black Tiger Hides for one chip?"

"I just swapped a Red Crystal over there for two chips."

"Where, where?"

And that wasn't all. From what she overheard, fangs went twenty to a chip—bones, twenty-five to a chip. This was practically our boss has lost their mind pricing.

Impossible.

Factor in the effort and time it took to win the right to clear a Gate, then the manpower, resources, and hazard pay spent killing monsters once you were inside, and even junk had no business going for one chip per fifteen hides. The price was absurd. A beginner who didn't know the market? No. Entry alone ran past three hundred coins; a novice would struggle even to set foot in an auction this size. That kind of coin was a distant dream for a beginner.

Then... a contract spoon? Rich not by a gold spoon in the mouth, but by the contracts in their pocket?

Curiosity rolled through Ahyeon's gaze. She wanted a look at the seller's face through the press of the crowd.

"Looking for something?"

Black eyes flicked her way, indifferent.

This person...

Ahyeon's eyes went round. The face was familiar somehow. A white T-shirt and jeans—nothing remarkable about the clothes, and yet, leaning over the stall, she spotted an over-decorated black parasol set in the corner. And with it, a memory cut across her mind.

Right. She remembered. The unhinged—no, the brave Concept Hunter who had sat beside her on the KTX that day.

"No way! Unnie, you don't remember me? From the KTX!"

"......?"

Those eyes had gone thin, and a question rose in them. She didn't seem to remember Ahyeon at all.

"Wow. Harsh. You don't know me? I even gave you candy."

Eunha's gaze drifted, and she answered a beat late.

"...Oh."

The memory had landed at last. So what. Ahyeon smiled, glad of it, and naturally took her place at Eunha's side.

"They say even a brush of sleeves makes a bond, but I never thought we'd meet again in a place like this."

"Yeah."

"So you did end up going to Busan? I saw it online. Is it true you went toe to toe with the Great Sage Equal to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Heaven? It's not, right?"

"......"

Eunha closed her mouth.

A murmur started around them. Ahyeon's voice had been too loud. Hunters passing by, hunters browsing near the stall—every gaze snapped to Eunha at once.

"Oops."

Ahyeon clapped a hand lightly over her own mouth.

Two in the afternoon. With the Hunter Auction running for three days at Sejong Central Park, every restaurant nearby swarmed with hunters like ants. By way of apology for wrecking the woman's business, Ahyeon had offered to buy lunch and brought Eunha all the way to this café.

"Unnie, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. My voice is just kind of loud."

Ahyeon laughed, awkward, and fiddled with her straw.

"It's fine. Call it advertising."

Eunha peeled open a sandwich wrapper and answered as if it were nothing. From the pitch of her voice, her tone, her face, she didn't look angry.

"......"

Pink eyes studied her without blinking. Ahyeon had expected a scolding—take responsibility—and instead she was being let off for a single sandwich. Nothing like the adults she knew. She seems pretty decent.

Ahyeon stuck a straw into Eunha's drink herself and smiled. Eunha looked at her, faintly puzzled, but said nothing.

By the time the sandwiches were nearly gone, Ahyeon noticed the black parasol Eunha had set neatly in the seat beside her.

"...Unnie, where on earth did that parasol come from? I don't think you could buy a design like that if you tried."

"Found it."

Eunha's answer was flat. The more Ahyeon looked, the stranger she seemed.

Rumors that she fought the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. That she's the one who truly cleared the Unknown Gate. None of it makes any sense. And here she is, walking into an auction whose entry fee alone is over three hundred coins...

Stirring her drink across from Eunha, Ahyeon wondered whether she was really F-rank at all.

That wasn't the only odd thing. The Concept Hunters and hunter streamers Ahyeon had known generally fell into two kinds. The first were simply attention hounds. She doesn't seem like that. Most of them would spin their own lives into heroic sagas without being asked. Eunha, though—on the KTX, and again today—answered only what she was asked, and briefly, and never unspooled a story of her own. They weren't close yet, but it was obvious this unnie did not enjoy being looked at.

Which left the second kind: hunters with a non-combat Unique Ability who had no choice but to walk the Concept Hunter path just to make a living. Yes. That seemed more likely. It would explain why she kept hunting in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that uncomfortable dress, and why she was scraping chips together even while selling at a loss.

"You said you were a Free Hunter too, right? Is the place you contracted with stingy about pay?"

Those pitch-black eyes turned her way. Eunha was quiet a moment, then her lips moved.

"I broke the contract halfway through."

What.

"Why?"

For a Free Hunter, a contract was both bread and lifeline.

"Then do you have a client?"

"......"

Eunha didn't answer.

Chin propped on the table, Ahyeon watched her and tapped a foot, thinking. A moment later she smacked the table.

"All right. Then, as an apology—and as your senior at the auction—I'll give you a few tips. Special. Just for you."

Tips? Eunha, reaching for her cola, looked up.

"First, forget everything else and raise your prices this afternoon. Fifteen hides for one chip is actually insane. Unless you've got tens of thousands of them or something."

"I do."

The slurp of the straw was suddenly very loud. Ahyeon, mid-lecture and full of momentum, froze where she sat like stone. Eunha added, perfectly unruffled:

"Fifty thousand, at least."

"......"

"......"

"...Pardon?"