Misdirection (1)
Ttiriring— ttiriring—
The familiar sound of an alarm pierced through my sleep, sharp and grating, dragging me back into consciousness.
"Mmmgh…."
Lee Jun stretched and hauled himself out of bed.
"When did I fall asleep, again?"
Ah, right. He'd been researching ways to utilize Silhouette when he'd drifted off.
"Haahm… barely got any sleep at all."
His body had recovered, but it seemed the accumulated fatigue hadn't fully worked itself out. Then again, that had been the story ever since he'd become a hunter. Most likely, spending several days bedridden in a hospital room was what had done it this time.
And then—
The moment he set his feet on the floor and pushed himself up to stand, thinking all of this—
Fwaah—
"Morning?"
A figure popped up out of his shadow with a cheerful little flourish.
"…Yeah."
Silhouette.
Thanks to last night's experiments, he'd learned that she could freely emerge from any shadow Lee Jun himself created. That much, at least. Of course, she had no offensive capabilities whatsoever, and he wasn't even sure what other abilities she might have. Judging by what he'd seen so far, her usefulness seemed limited to being company.
"Rude. I'm still adapting to my newly bonded body. I'll be back to my old self soon enough, so look forward to it."
"Sure, whatever you say."
Lee Jun wasn't particularly interested in that. Considering what she'd shown him in the previous loop, her abilities were nothing to worry about.
No, the most important thing right now was… how on earth he was going to explain this to Seo Yoon.
"Do you really need to make it complicated? Just tell her it turned out this way, plain and simple."
"Unpacking 'it turned out this way' into actual words isn't simple at all."
And there were plenty of parts he'd inevitably have to skip over, too. For instance… the regression. The past. The fact that he'd jammed her into his heart at the risk of his own life.
"Why would that be risking your life? Everything's turning out fine, isn't it?"
"Only if she can bring herself to trust me on that."
"You still doubt me?"
"Even if I trust you, Seo Yoon might see it differently."
"Hmm… I see?"
At his words, Silhouette put on a languid, indifferent expression.
"Comrades really are such a hassle."
"……"
"Isn't that right? You have to make them understand, one thing at a time, then make them accept it. Out on a battlefield where you're gambling your life, all of that is nothing but dead weight."
Lee Jun couldn't bring himself to argue. Not because he agreed with her opinion, but because of the cynicism underneath it—her distrust of the very concept of a comrade.
He still found the word companion awkward on his tongue, too.
"I do wonder… when you'll finally be able to treat that wound of yours."
"…It doesn't matter."
"Well, that's not really your call to make, is it?"
He didn't respond to that. He simply opened the door and stepped out.
Dalkarak— dalkarak—
From downstairs came the sounds of Seo Yoon preparing something. Lunch, maybe? He was thinking that as he descended the stairs when the familiar face peeked out from the kitchen.
"You're awake, Boss?"
"I am. Did you rest well too, Seo Yoon?"
"Well enough, thanks to you, as always."
She was immaculately put together as ever, a kitchen knife in hand. Judging by the egg smeared on the blade, she appeared to be making rolled omelette. Though with no apron over her crisp white shirt, it was a little nerve-wracking to watch. One splatter and that shirt would never come clean.
Not that she would presumably manage just fine. And as it turned out, the worry was mutual.
"You're up later than usual. I suspect your body hasn't fully recovered yet."
"You're right. There is some fatigue left over."
"Please have a seat at the table and wait. I'll be finished shortly."
Seo Yoon seated Lee Jun at the table and returned to the kitchen. He watched her back and forced down a rising unease.
And what, exactly, was this unease about?
'Can I… trust her seasoning…?'
Remembering the coffee Seo Yoon used to brew him was enough to make anyone anxious. And it wasn't just coffee—she might dump sugar into everything she cooked.
"Um… Seo Yoon? I could do the cooking, you know."
"That won't be necessary. You always handle the cooking, the cleaning, everything, Boss. At the very least, on a day like this, allow me to do it."
"A robot vacuum does the cleaning, though…"
In truth, every household chore at Lee Jun's place was fully automated. The Director of the Bureau of Technology had wallpapered the entire house with his own creations—vacuum, washer, food waste processor, the works. Lee Jun had only barely managed to refuse a machine for the cooking as well.
"Ah, um… Seo Yoon."
"It's nearly done. Just a moment, please."
"…Alright."
Fine. He'd eat it.
Given Seo Yoon's personality, she'd surely measure every ingredient down to the gram and follow the recipe to the letter. It would definitely taste good.
{Just how good, exactly?}
Why don't you try it yourself.
Lee Jun sat watching Seo Yoon prepare the meal with the heart of a condemned prisoner awaiting his cup of hemlock, doing his best to hide the anxiety in his eyes.
And a short while later, she began setting the dishes on the table one by one. On the surface, everything looked perfectly neat and appetizing. Lee Jun relaxed at the sight of the beautifully prepared food.
"Seo Yoon, you're quite a good cook."
"I've lived alone for quite a few years, so I know my way around a kitchen."
His worries had been for nothing, it seemed. Relieved, Lee Jun took the first spoonful of the stew.
"……"
Ah.
"How is it?"
Contextually speaking, there was expectation in her question. And behind that blank expression… she might genuinely be looking forward to his answer.
But how was it?
…Sweet.
"…Seo Yoon, did you by any chance put sugar in the kimchi stew?"
"I did. Is the seasoning not to your liking?"
"Uh… you only add sugar to kimchi stew when the kimchi is sour from being well-fermented."
"It was fermented, so I looked it up and added some. But it seems I should have added more sugar."
"……"
What on earth was wrong with this woman's sense of taste? Sometimes awakeners developed side effects along with their powers—was it something like that?
{What? How is it?}
……
You try it.
{Fine, give me a taste.}
Lee Jun discreetly touched a finger to the back of his spoon. Slowly, Silhouette stretched her shadow toward the stew.
It was a little absurd, going this far for one taste… but apparently this counted as a usable application of her powers too.
Well?
{Urp— ugh…! What is this…!}
Her groan reverberated through his skull.
See? That's what I said it was.
Still, Lee Jun had no intention of hurting Seo Yoon's feelings. Where life-and-death matters like combat were concerned, he could be brutally direct—but in situations like this, he simply couldn't bring himself to criticize. And so, wearing his usual flawless poker face, he said:
"Mm, it's delicious."
"Really?"
"Yes. Those years living on your own really do count for something."
"I'm glad it suits your palate."
Right. It would have been so nice if it suited his palate.
"Then from now on, I'll handle the cooking—"
"No! I can't possibly burden a hunter under my employ with chores like that. This time it's just because I haven't fully recovered. It won't happen again."
"Even occasionally, it would be no trouble at all."
"Really, it's fine. I enjoy doing it, so there's no need to feel indebted. None whatsoever."
"Ah… yes. If you insist…"
Whew.
And so the peace of the dormitory was preserved. Apparently he'd been suffering through that coffee she brewed him every day all this time, too.
{Then why not just tell her the truth?}
No need to go out of my way.
It wasn't as if it would poison him. A few cups of slightly-too-sweet coffee was all it cost. If he nitpicked over something like that and it caused friction later—during a gate raid, say—then what?
{'Slightly' too sweet?}
…Extremely sweet.
Anyway.
Lee Jun had always been like this. Once he truly acknowledged someone as a comrade, he never raised the small things that bothered him about them. Never directly, at least.
'……'
And he could feel it now. Somewhere in a corner of his heart, the consciousness of Seo Yoon as a comrade had taken root.
'Is that why?'
It was one of Lee Jun's defining traits: sharp-edged on the outside, endlessly dull on the inside. And no matter how well he disguised it, human nature can't be hidden. Not even in the smallest things.
{You have to be hard when it's time to be hard. That's a leader's job.}
Obviously I'd do that when it mattered.
And I was—
never the leader.
{Honestly… I wasn't trying to bring up the old days.}
Silhouette said it with something like regret.
…Regret?
Yes—her emotions were slowly bleeding through into his mind. Perhaps because he'd made her take root in his heart; the connection carried far more now than it had when it was a simple contract.
"…Boss…?"
You're hiding something from me, aren't you?
{Hmm, who knows? Why would you think that?}
Ever since that time…
it's been getting stranger. More and more.
"Bo…ss."
{Since when is 'that time'?}
Since… I first met you.
{How does it get strange?}
More… fragile.
Shakier.
Sentimental.
{Dear me. But those are natural emotions, you know. You're only now becoming like everyone else.}
No…
I was always… the same as everyone else.
{Was you, though? From the very beginning, something in you was blocked off. Sealed shut, you could call it. And this whole affair blew it wide open.}
What are you talking about?
{It's not that I did something. It's that your heart… finally started functioning the way it's supposed to. And when did that start, you ask?}
Nonsense—
"Boss."
"…Yes?"
"Just as I thought. Your body really hasn't recovered yet."
"No, I was just lost in thought for a moment—"
"That's precisely my point. You've certainly had your mind on other things before, but you've never once been this far away."
"……"
Lee Jun felt vaguely dazed.
Was he really… still not fully healed?
So thinking, he naturally reached for the TV remote beside him. He'd put on the news and clear his head. Then, with a fresh mind, he'd explain Silhouette to Seo Yoon.
That was the plan.
"S-Class…?"
"Ah, so that was today? It's been so busy I'd completely forgotten."
There was no way that was true. Today was Tuesday, September 2nd. By all rights, the magician shouldn't be entering the country for at least another week—
{Are you sure you're not mixing up your dates?}
Absolutely not.
He arrives on September 11th.
{But wasn't that a request made at the national level? Nobody just bumps a date like that up on a whim.}
And there was no chance the schedule had been renegotiated, either. It had only been two months since Lee Jun stepped down from his post. No way an S-Class hunter's itinerary could be moved up or pushed back within that window.
And the problem didn't end there. Compared to a mere change of dates, what came next was on an entirely different scale.
When the broadcast cut from the anchor to the airport, and the camera found its subject, Lee Jun froze solid.
―The S-Class hunter visiting Korea this time is Ebra Rubenter. Hunter Rubenter arrived in Korea via Incheon Airport at approximately 1 p.m. today, Tuesday, September 2nd, 2025.
―Reporter Kim, wasn't someone else supposed to make this visit?
Yes. The one who was supposed to come was—
―According to information just received, the change was apparently relayed to the Hunter Association roughly two hours ago.
―Two hours ago? That must have been decided at the very last minute.
―The government has expressed regret over this unprecedented development. Further details will follow along with Hunter Rubenter's interview.
"……"
Lee Jun was dumbfounded. The one person who was not supposed to come here at this point in time was coming.
Which meant… the future he knew had been completely derailed.
'The silver lining is that nothing catastrophic happens this time.'
The only incident this visit would produce was a handful of Liberation grunts running wild and getting stamped out. Almost no casualties—nothing more than a passing sideshow. Even Ebra, an S-Class hunter himself, could shut that down without breaking a sweat.
So the question burning in Lee Jun's mind was simply: why on earth did that man come?
And on the screen, an interview containing the answer was beginning.
―Hello, Koreans! Nice to meet you. I've always wanted to come to Korea, so I'm glad to be here.
"…'Always wanted to come,' my ass."
All this pleased to meet you nonsense was pure boilerplate. He couldn't care less. Just get to why you came, already.
Apparently the reporter shared his curiosity, because she asked Ebra directly why he, of all people, had ended up coming to Korea. Her Korean was relayed to him in English through interpretation.
A few seconds passed. Then he answered—not in English this time, but in the common tongue of the awakeners.
―Hey there, Jun. I know you're watching this.
"……"
―You must be pretty shocked. After all, I'm not the one you called. But cut me some slack here. She's always been like this, hasn't she? Oh—and there was a message I was told to pass along. Let's see… ah, here it is.
With that, Ebra pulled out a slip of paper. The fact that it was written down rather than memorized meant it really was her message.
And… the contents were even more absurd than anything Lee Jun had imagined.
―'So, you thought I'd come, didn't you? Wrong. If you'd wanted me to go, you shouldn't have made that decision. And why didn't I send word ahead? Because then it wouldn't be a surprise. This is basic misdirection, Jun.'
Misdirection…?
"…What kind of lunatic pulls a stunt like that on a request made at the national level?"
But thinking it over again… she really was a lunatic.
Right. Thanks to her, he was now newly aware of just how much crazier she was than he'd remembered.
'Could it be because I resigned as Vice-Chairman?'
She was someone who moved on a whim, after all. At least… she had been, back in the state she was in then.
Neither the current Korean government nor the Association would have had any means of piquing her interest. Which meant, in the end—
"…She pawned the job off on Ebra, huh."
Seriously… this is insane.
"Boss… that man, he…"
"Yes, well, the people I used to run with were all deranged in their own special ways… ha. I really did not see this coming, though."
The Initial Awakeners were an especially eccentric lot. And his old comrades, you could fairly say, were a curated collection of the worst offenders among them—every last one a few screws loose.
And now, the one among them he'd always believed to be the most stable was talking to him through the screen.
―See you tomorrow, Jun. I have something to deliver, so it's better if you come out in person.
With that final announcement… Ebra vanished from behind the camera.
Without a trace.
{Hmm…}
And as for explaining Silhouette…
He'd completely missed his window.