Mark of Bond (2)
“······Pardon?”
“Seo-ah, you’re a member of the Cheongmyeong Guild now, and I’m still just a D-rank hunter. Even if I make a comeback, it’s not like I’ll be running into you out in the field as fellow hunters.”
Kang Jinseong’s blunt words hit Yoo Seo-ah like a splash of cold water, chilling her mind in an instant. She’d been so overjoyed at the news of his return to hunting that she’d momentarily forgotten. The Yoo Seo-ah Team they’d built together was gone.
“Ah······ right.”
When she’d first heard that Kang Jinseong’s shattered mana circuit had been restored and he could return to being a hunter, Yoo Seo-ah had felt like she was walking on clouds. But now, hearing this icy dose of reality snapped her back—it felt like she’d been yanked straight down to the ground.
The floating elation settled, shrinking away, and cold reason filled the void left by her emotions. She realized it again. They lived in different worlds now. She could no longer hunt alongside him as a fellow hunter.
“······We can’t be together like we used to anymore, huh.”
For the four years she’d been active as a hunter, Kang Jinseong’s absence had been a gnawing void for Yoo Seo-ah. Even the Cheongmyeong Guild’s generous support couldn’t fill it. It wasn’t a material lack—it stemmed solely from the absence of this one person, Kang Jinseong.
That’s why she’d unconsciously longed for him, why she’d shed tears of genuine joy at his declaration of return. But even with his comeback, she couldn’t be with him. This vicious void couldn’t be filled.
Her massive hopes crumbled into deep disappointment, and Yoo Seo-ah’s shoulders slumped.
“······.”
“Uh.”
Just moments ago, Yoo Seo-ah had been so thrilled she was in tears. Now, her shoulders sagged, her head hung low, her lower lip jutted out in a massive pout—she looked utterly dejected. The sheer drop in mood hung heavy in the air, an awkward silence pressing down.
If that silence made things even more uncomfortable, Yoo Seo-ah would later kick off the covers in embarrassment from the memory. Not wanting her to go through that, Kang Jinseong quickly changed the subject.
“A-anyway, this is a real worry!”
“······Pardon? What is?”
At Kang Jinseong’s sudden remark, Yoo Seo-ah lifted her drooping head and asked. Satisfied that he’d piqued her curiosity, he scratched the back of his head and said,
“If I’m coming back as a hunter, I’ll need to form a new team. No matter who I end up with, they’ll be compared to you, Seo-ah. That’s gotta be a headache. Ahaha.”
What came out of Kang Jinseong’s mouth was an excuse wrapped around praise for Yoo Seo-ah. A sincere compliment that no one else could match her as a teammate. It was his way of lightening the heavy air and restoring the warm atmosphere.
“······.”
But Yoo Seo-ah couldn’t feel happy at his witty praise.
Jinseong’s going to···· form a new team?
The moment she heard those words, she pictured him—not with her, but with other hunters. Other women. Forming a team named after some other woman, just like he’d done with the Yoo Seo-ah Team. Elevating her to team leader, building her confidence. Sharing crises, hardships, joys, and sorrows. Forging bonds, deepening their relationship. Walking the same path together for the long haul. That gentle smile he never showed to others—directed at a new woman.
“······Ah.”
It played out before Yoo Seo-ah’s eyes like a panorama.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Yoo Seo-ah felt her heart pounding wildly. Her blood seemed to turn to ice, and she bit her lower lip without realizing it.
I can’t hunt with Jinseong anymore. But the new teammate he finds will get to stick with him from now on? That’s···· so unfair····.
Yoo Seo-ah felt deeply anxious. She lifted her head and looked at Kang Jinseong.
He was right there under the same roof, on the same sofa. So close that shifting her hips just a bit would make their shoulders touch. Even at that distance, he felt impossibly far away. And if she stayed still, he’d drift even further.
We promised each other we were necessary. We vowed to look out for each other from now on. He switched from calling me ‘Team Leader’ to ‘Seo-ah.’ The distance between us shrank. But it’s still not enough. Not nearly enough.
The crisis surging at the thought of him recruiting a new team made her incredibly restless.
I can’t just sit here. I need a tighter bond with Jinseong. Something anyone can see—a mark of our connection, just for us.
Yes, a clear mark of fate that any new teammate would see and think, Ah, better not touch this one.
Kang Jinseong was already precious to Yoo Seo-ah. And now, he’d saved her life. He’d healed her body and soul on the brink of death. She’d clung to his broad chest, sharing the warmth of life itself.
After that, she couldn’t tolerate drifting apart from him.
···This feeling is new. I don’t know what it is, but seeing Jinseong makes me unable to stay still.
She was shocked at how deeply she felt for him. At that realization, Yoo Seo-ah resolved to hesitate no longer.
“Jinseong, you said you can use my Man-gae-hwa now, right?”
“Pardon? Ah, yes. That’s right.”
When she’d heard Kang Jinseong could use Man-gae-hwa, Yoo Seo-ah had been thrilled. It was her one-of-a-kind unique ability, now shared with him. Man-gae-hwa had become an ability only she and Kang Jinseong could wield in this world.
She decided to leverage that.
“Then, since I’m the original owner of Man-gae-hwa, that means I’ve been a huge help to you, right?”
“Yes, absolutely. You’ve been a massive help.”
“Heh.”
Man-gae-hwa was fair recompense for saving her life, yet he credited her for it. She was about to exploit this good man’s kindness. Yoo Seo-ah was moved by his generosity once more, and disgusted with herself for trying to manipulate him like this.
But no matter the self-loathing, she wouldn’t stop. What mattered now was creating an unmistakable mark of her bond with Kang Jinseong.
“So, um, since I’ve helped you out···· could I ask for one favor in return?”
Gathering her courage, Yoo Seo-ah posed the question. Kang Jinseong nodded and answered immediately.
“Of course. Anything. Nothing’s off-limits between us.”
It was such a warm, affectionate permission. Feeling her chest tighten at his words, she pushed on.
“Earlier, you said naming that gun was a dilemma.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Let me name it.”
Her request was to name the hunter-grade automatic pistol Kang Jinseong would use going forward.
She’d acted like it was some huge ask, but it turned out to be this. Kang Jinseong tilted his head slightly, then grinned and nodded.
“If you’d do that, it’d be an honor.”
The same gentle smile as always. A smile that soothed her every time, one she craved more and more. Her lips twitched upward at it, then froze solid.
That smile of Jinseong’s is going to be for some other woman now.
She pictured him flashing that tender smile at another female hunter. Gritting her teeth, her eyes cold and unyielding, she met his gaze.
“I’ll name it Gun-hwa.”
“Gun-hwa···? Gun-hwa. Gun-hwa? Ah, wait—‘Gun’ as in the English word for gun?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“No way, that’s perfect. But why Gun-hwa? Mixing English and Hanja is unique.”
“My epithet is Geom-hwa, Sword Flower. So yours is Gun Flower—Gun-hwa.”
At the reasonable explanation, Kang Jinseong blinked, then grew uneasy and spoke up.
“It’s clever and cool, but··· it overlaps too much with yours, Seo-ah. People might say I’m copying you, riding your fame for attention··· stuff like that. Ahaha.”
“I’ll make it official, and that solves it.”
“Pardon?”
Kang Jinseong had tried to sidestep a refusal, but Yoo Seo-ah wouldn’t allow it. She pulled out her phone, opened the Hunterstar app—SNS for hunters.
“I’ll post on my Hunterstar account. That Gun-hwa is a name I made for you.”
“You’re on Hunterstar too, Seo-ah?”
“Yes, it’s one of the Cheongmyeong Guild entry requirements—having an SNS account. I don’t post much, but I have a decent number of followers. If I put it here, no one will misunderstand.”
Kang Jinseong was stunned by her aggressive push, almost like a pursued criminal.
“Seo-ah, you’re doing all this for me···?”
She had only one answer for that.
“Yes, because we need each other, right?”
“Seo-ah···.”
Her lips curved into a sweet smile, her voice warm and tender. Kang Jinseong’s face softened with emotion, touched that Geom-hwa Yoo Seo-ah would go this far for him.
“Then··· to verify for everyone, we need a photo together, right? Take one with me.”
“Got it. If you’re doing this much for me, I’d pose for a hundred shots!”
“E-eh?! A hundred? For real?”
“······Don’t take it so seriously. I just mean I’m that grateful.”
“A-ah··· yeah, of course. Ehehe.”
Yoo Seo-ah forced a smile to hide her slight disappointment. Meanwhile, Kang Jinseong scooted closer on the sofa.
Snap.
Their shoulders touched naturally.
“Heh!”
The moment his firm shoulder met hers, Yoo Seo-ah’s body went rigid.
“I’ll take the photos.”
Unlike her tense stiffness, Kang Jinseong casually took her phone and snapped away.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Alright, done. Here’s your phone.”
“······Eh? Ah, yes. Okay, I’ll post it on Hunterstar.”
It was a shame the photos captured her frozen, expressionless face from the tension, but first things first—the post.
“Whew······.”
She’d posted the selfie on her Hunterstar and officially endorsed the epithet Gun-hwa she’d created. An unmistakable mark of their bond was complete.
Only then could Yoo Seo-ah finally relax a bit.
“Ehehe······ Jinseong, I posted it.”
She giggled, feeling great. It was like she’d broadcast their deep connection to the world, like she was closer to him than anyone.
“Thanks, Seo-ah.”
Kang Jinseong smiled back, expressing his gratitude. Exchanging warm smiles alone with him—Yoo Seo-ah wished this moment could last forever.
※ The S-rank dungeon Monster Dragon’s Nest, located in the Republic of Korea’s Demilitarized Zone (DMZ).
“Daeju-nim, we’ve arrived at the boss room.”
The report echoed that the grueling two-month assault on this S-rank dungeon was nearing its end. They’d spent two full months in an S-rank hell where a single lapse in concentration could mean death.
Any normal person would be at their physical and mental limits, prone to rash decisions. But the one called Jamryong Daeju didn’t falter.
“Good. Short break here. Supporters, buff up the raiders while resting. Everyone else, check gear and condition, prepare for battle. We enter the boss room in 30 minutes—get fully ready.”
Without a hint of carelessness, she issued textbook orders to her subordinates. She looked like a grizzled veteran commander, but she was only twenty-five this year. Her leadership was far beyond her youth.
No one questioned her commanding an S-rank raid team at twenty-five. She was Baekga Guild—one of Korea’s three great guilds—blood. One of only three S-rank hunters in the family.
Baek Ji-an, the Jamryong Daeju.
“······Haa.”
After ordering the brief rest and checks, Baek Ji-an let out a soft sigh. It wasn’t from the weight of command.
It was for her childhood friend she hadn’t seen in two months. She missed him so much it slipped out unconsciously.
“I miss you. Kang Jinseong.”
The whisper, too quiet for anyone to hear, faded into the dungeon depths.