An Audience at the Blue House
A vehicle came to a stop at the entrance of the Blue House.
A hunter from the security detail approached the car.
“We’ll need to conduct a brief inspection.”
The rear window rolled down, revealing Yong Cheonwoo’s irritated face.
“Mir Guild. Yong Cheonwoo.”
“There are no audiences scheduled for today.”
“You. Do you know who I am?”
“...You are the Guildmaster of Mir Guild.”
“And I need your permission for every little thing?”
“My apologies. There are procedures to follow, however.”
“The guildmasters of the domestic Top Five can request an audience with the President without prior appointment. Don’t make a scene over this.”
Surprisingly enough, that rule was no invention of Yong Cheonwoo’s. It was one of the Blue House access regulations.
In the early days of the Great Cataclysm, a gate had opened even inside the Blue House itself. The nation had nearly lost its head of state in vain. The rule that followed allowed the Top Five guildmasters to enter the Blue House without higher approval in times of emergency.
Of course, once the country had recovered somewhat from the shock of the Great Cataclysm, the Blue House had never again been exposed to such danger. No Top Five guildmaster had ever actually invoked emergency status to force entry. What remained was the provision that once a year they could meet the President alone without a prior appointment.
It was a half-dead letter of the law, but if Yong Cheonwoo insisted on it, they had no choice but to open the gate. The security hunter knew the rule, so he stepped aside at once.
“You may pass.”
Clunk, clunk.
The massive steel doors slowly slid open. As the way into the Blue House cleared, Yong Cheonwoo relaxed his furrowed brow.
I’ll have to concede quite a bit to the current administration.
The anger he had shown moments earlier had been a diplomatic tactic. It was also true that Yong Cheonwoo was genuinely furious. But this was an opponent against whom he could afford to display rage, so he had taken the hard line. If the conversation partner was the President, the story changed entirely.
He had to suppress the flames boiling in his heart as much as possible, present the concessions he was prepared to make, and quickly resolve the present situation.
Grit.
Park Minho. Because of that bastard I have to endure this humiliation.
He had stuffed envelopes into the pockets of several politicians and pulled the many strings Mir Guild held to divert the Coast Guard and Rift Bureau’s attention. Even if the place was only an uninhabited island in the West Sea, moving a company-sized force of hunters without a whisper meant far too many eyes that had to be covered.
The Superhuman Bureau won’t have made a mistake.
Yong Cheonwoo knew full well how ruthless those people were. From prior talks, they had been mobilizing ten A-class hunters and over a hundred B-class—a force even an S-class hunter would struggle against. And yet Minho had somehow returned alive from that isolated island.
What scheme did those Rift Bureau bastards pull?
Yong Cheonwoo was certain the Rift Bureau was behind it. How could a hunter who had only been B-class for a few months possibly face ten A-class hunters? Even the Twelve Heroes of the Great Cataclysm had not possessed such might at B-class. Having been active since those days, Yong Cheonwoo was sure of it.
The media all dropping articles at once was their work as well.
The Rift Management Bureau had always wanted to reduce the influence of the domestic Top Five. They had supported Minho from the shadows and cunningly used him as a blade to strike at Mir Guild. That much was clear.
This once, I’ll play along with your schemes.
Kneeling was only once. He reminded himself it was solely to gain momentum.
The vehicle stopped in front of the main building of the Blue House.
“The President is waiting for you.”
Guided by an aide, he headed for the presidential office on the second floor.
“Guildmaster Yong Cheonwoo of Mir Guild.”
“Let him in.”
The antique door opened. He strode boldly into the spacious presidential office.
Rustle— rustle—
A man in his sixties stroked an orchid. The master of this office and the highest figure in the Republic of Korea’s protocol, President Cheon Yujin, slowly turned his head.
“It’s been a while, Guildmaster Yong. First time since the New Year’s meeting, is it?”
“I hope you’ve been well.”
“Me? Thanks to my capable ministers, I’ve had nothing but free time.”
President Cheon played coy. Yong Cheonwoo was not fooled by the lighthearted appearance. As a non-awakened, the traces of years on his face spoke of his true age. Sixty-two. Young for someone who had reached the pinnacle of Korean politics. That meant the man before him possessed exceptional political skill.
Gauging President Cheon’s mood, Yong Cheonwoo soon slightly furrowed his brow.
Why is the Rift Bureau Commissioner here?
Choi Jiung, Commissioner of the Rift Bureau, sat on the sofa. Yong Cheonwoo had been so focused on reading the President that he hadn’t noticed. Twice the usual security personnel were stationed in the office—all A-class hunters—plus S-class hunter Commissioner Choi Jiung himself. It looked as if they were prepared for armed conflict.
Something’s wrong.
When he had come to the Blue House, he had believed things would settle with moderate concessions. Yet the atmosphere in the office was clearly hostile toward him.
No. I haven’t made any decisive mistakes.
The uninhabited island incident? It was true Mir Guild had ignored principles and rules. When contact with the raid party was lost for an extended period, they should have verified the situation, checked the mana distribution of the relevant gate, and so on—they had ignored the procedures required when an incident occurred.
There’s no evidence.
They had placed constraints so the operatives could not speak. If the operation seemed about to fail, they were to bite the poison capsule fixed in their molars and commit suicide. How vicious were the Superhuman Bureau’s hunting dogs, the Turang? They were objects of terror across Southeast Asia as well. Even if prisoners remained, they would never reach as far as Mir Guild.
“Mr. President. Aren’t you persecuting our guild a bit too much?”
“You asked for an urgent meeting, so I thought some emergency had broken out. Apparently not.”
“It is a matter of utmost urgency, Your Excellency.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“Guild operations are at a standstill. For the sake of national security, shouldn’t we recover as quickly as possible?”
The media pouring out articles the moment the morning sun rose. It was only possible because the Blue House had condoned the attacks on Mir Guild. President Cheon gazed at Yong Cheonwoo with indifferent eyes—a profound gaze as if peering into his thoughts. Even as a non-awakened, as the head of state he radiated an aura.
Yong Cheonwoo first played the card he had prepared in advance.
“I heard the Rift Bureau is having difficulty expanding personnel for the Manchuria deployment.”
“What do you think, Commissioner?”
“Our organization is always short on manpower. Someone keeps snatching all the hunters away, you see.”
Choi Jiung made a grumbling complaint laced with reproach.
“So Mir Guild wishes to lend a hand.”
“Due to the Turang matter putting pressure on us, additional deployment isn’t necessary right away.”
“The more reserves, the better, wouldn’t you say?”
This was not the only card he had prepared. The countless vested interests Mir Guild held—returning some of them to the government and lending strength to the policies the current administration was pushing. The hunter industry was positioned in opposition to the establishment. They clasped hands with politicians behind the scenes, but on the surface, under the catchphrase of leading a new era, they often clashed with the old powers. If Mir Guild, the representative of that stance, released this much of what it held, the President would put a muzzle on the growling media world. That was a politician’s common sense.
Taking one more step from here would be the same as declaring the destruction of Mir Guild.
The current government doesn’t stand to gain much by making us enemies.
The calculations were already finished. The atmosphere was a bit strange, but if Mir Guild conceded rights, the President would accept them while pretending reluctance.
While Yong Cheonwoo was still confident, Commissioner Choi Jiung parted his lips.
“Mr. President. A breaking news report has come in.”
“Is it something I need to know?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s take a look. Guildmaster of Mir, is that all right with you?”
“As Your Excellency wishes.”
President Cheon Yujin picked up the remote. Ting—light spilled from the television that filled one entire wall.
Grit.
At this timing. They made an announcement like that?
There was no way the Rift Bureau would make a major announcement without the Commissioner’s approval. It was only reasonable to see it as something pre-set and detonated at the appointed hour.
“Can you handle this, Choi Jiung?”
“Aren’t I the one who should be worrying right now?”
Even in front of the President, he dropped the formal address he had been carefully maintaining. The killing intent Yong Cheonwoo emitted met Choi Jiung’s own aura, which spread to cancel it out.
“You shouldn’t do that in the presence of the highest person in our country.”
“Hmph.”
Yong Cheonwoo shot up from his seat. In a situation where he did not know what cards the Rift Bureau held, he had to return to guild headquarters if he meant to respond swiftly.
“We’ll continue the unfinished conversation next time, Your Excellency.”
“Indeed. You seem quite busy, so hurry along.”
Yong Cheonwoo left without looking back. As soon as the door closed, President Cheon Yujin clicked his tongue.
“I thought age might have mellowed his temper, but he’s still the same. Still the same.”
“People don’t change easily, Mr. President.”
“By the way, you set the board quite well.”
A smile lingered at the corners of President Cheon’s mouth. They had pulled three of the domestic Top Five to their side as allies, poured out articles in the morning to gauge Mir Guild’s reaction, then, timed precisely to Yong Cheonwoo’s visit to the Blue House, revealed an additional card they held.
“Was Commissioner Choi always such a skilled operator?”
“The one who drew up the picture is someone else.”
“Introduce them to me as well. I’d like to bring them into politics.”
“It’s Representative Baek Seonghyeon of Seungcheon Agency.”
“The fellow who was an executive at Chilseong Guild?”
“I didn’t expect the President would know as well.”
“How long has it been since the Jung Shinho transfer issue blew up? Of course I know.”
Choi Jiung’s cheek twitched.
“Just joking around.”
“You know how much hardship the Rift Bureau went through over that.”
“He was a talent I had my eye on even before. I’d like a chance to meet him sometime.”
Predicting all of Mir Guild’s movements and gradually driving them into a corner—the skill was superb. Someone with this level of ability would shine in the political world as well.
“But this is the first time I’ve seen the Commissioner step forward this far.”
“Is that so?”
“This hunter named Park Minho. Is he that great a talent?”
Hunters grew stronger as their rank rose. In proportion, the difficulty of promotion exams also rose. B-class was called the top one percent of the hunter industry. A-class sat below zero-point-one percent. S-class and above numbered only in the hundreds worldwide.
“I’ve heard that even gifted hunters often fail to surpass the walls, but—”
“Hunter Park will do it.”
Choi Jiung spoke with conviction.
“And within a few years, our country will become a hunter superpower exerting influence across the world. I’m certain of it.”
“A change like that will come because of one fellow named Park Minho?”
“That’s right.”
Choi Jiung answered in a tone full of conviction. President Cheon Yujin, who had been stroking the orchid, finally spoke.
“I’ll trust you on this.”
Rather than raising further doubts, he offered the answer of trust.