After the Long Sleep (1)
After seeing the two of them off, Lee Jun gazed around a house that suddenly felt hollow. The living room still seemed to hold the warmth of all that raucous laughter.
Yelena was always full of energy. Not always, of course, but those moments were rare.Granted, she'd grown more and more anxious over time... but at least on the surface, that was who she was. How much pain was packed underneath it, he couldn't say. Her mask was simply perfect.
Lee Jun had learned that same trick from her, and while his version wasn't flawless, it had reached the point where it could pass for the real thing. Ebra was the same. As is the case for any hunter still active in this line of work, he too carried wounds buried in his chest. Both of them, in their own ways.
But they had more or less overcome them by now — Ebra was, in fact, the most mentally sound of all his former comrades. If Lee Jun had a psychological north star, it would be him.
He'd seen them both for the first time in ages, and nothing about them had changed.
But what about Lee Jun himself?
Hadn't he... changed too much? He excused it to himself as mental growth, but there had certainly been all manner of shifts. Still, he believed he was heading in the right direction. Ignore the useless noise, discard the thoughts that drag at your ankles. A person has to keep moving forward. Standing still was a luxury... the hunter's profession simply didn't allow.
He was standing there, sunk deep in these thoughts, when Seo Yoon's voice came from beside him.
"Boss."
"Ah, Seo Yoon."
She was still standing there beside him, looking at him. Her face wore its usual blankness, though by now he'd gotten fairly good at reading the emotions beneath it. Right now... she seemed to be hesitating about something.
Come to think of it, he'd been so wrapped up in those two that he'd badly neglected her.
"Did the two of them leave you feeling too pushed aside? I'm sorry — my head's been all over the place too."
"Not at all. In fact, I was glad to see sides of you I'd never witnessed before. However..."
However?
"It may be a childish question, but... I'd like you to take it seriously."
"Ah — yes. Of course."
Seo Yoon paused there for a moment, apparently choosing her words with care.
What is she trying to say?
Don't tell me she wants to go out on management duties? No, then it wouldn't be a "childish question." And honestly, after what he'd just witnessed, he was certain she had zero reason to quit. S-Class hunters came and went from this house like it was their own, and the boss wasn't just their former comrade — he'd built a bond of considerable trust with them.
And who were those S-Class hunters, exactly? Yelena Zaichik and Ebra Rubenter, of all people. Her trust in him could only climb, never fall.
...?
Then what is it?
{You read battlefield situations so well — why can't you figure out this one?}
Silhouette's voice drifted in, and he ignored it. This wasn't the same thing, okay?
While he was busy being obtuse, Seo Yoon spoke again. Whatever resolve she'd mustered, her tone was sharper and clearer than before.
"To you, Boss... am I simply an affiliated hunter, or am I a comrade?"
"......"
It was a question that struck a blind spot dead center.
Truthfully, Seo Yoon's position was considerably ambiguous. At the start, Lee Jun had intended to hire her as management staff. She was hardly a green rookie — a B-Class hunter could command respect anywhere. In Seolwon, she'd held a department-head-level post.
But she'd made herself clear from the very beginning: not as an employee, but as a hunter under his wing, one he would develop.
Which meant Lee Jun owed her treatment to match. He needed to resume the training that had lapsed for so long, and offer her the guidance she deserved.
Yes. He'd been badly negligent on that front.
"Um... first of all, I'm sorry."
"...Pardon?"
"You're not just some ordinary employee, Seo Yoon — you're effectively a development hunter under my direct charge, and I used my injury as an excuse to rest far too long. Let's start training again this weekend."
"Ah..."
{...That's really not what she was asking about.}
...? Then what was it?
{Hmm. Doesn't seem deliberate on your part. Are words just getting filtered out on their own before they reach your mouth?}
Lee Jun genuinely didn't understand. It wasn't about this?
{The comrade part. She's asking whether you think of her as one.}
A comrade?
Wasn't that a given? After all the time they'd spent together — of course she was a comrade.
{...Then say it out loud, that's the point.}
Lee Jun paused to think it over.
A comrade. They'd lived through training camps together, run dungeons together, cleared gates together. There had even been moments when both of them had nearly died in the process. If that wasn't a comrade, what would you call it?
A comrade. Of course he thought of Seo Yoon as a comrade. That was exactly why, when the question first landed, it had never occurred to him that that was what she'd been asking.
Still, it looked like he needed to correct himself.
Lee Jun looked at Seo Yoon again. She was her usual self, speaking in the same level tone as always.
"I'll... work even harder, then."
But he understood now. She never let a shred of difficulty or displeasure show. Inside, she was surely disappointed.
So he stopped her as she turned toward her room.
"Hey — Seo Yoon."
"Yes, Boss."
"You haven't heard the full answer yet, have you?"
"Pardon?"
Lee Jun thought for a moment. How should he explain himself to someone who'd already been disappointed once? What could he say that wouldn't come off as hasty damage control?
"It seems you're treating 'affiliated hunter' and 'comrade' as two separate things, but I don't see it that way."
"......"
"You're an affiliated hunter and a comrade at once — and at the same time, a comrade who is also a development hunter under my management."
There was really only one option in moments like this. Just speak the truth.
"I have never once not thought of you as a comrade, Seo Yoon. We've crossed the line between life and death together, after all."
"I... see."
The sincerity had landed. All that remained was to hope she'd accepted it.
Seo Yoon gave a small nod. Then she said, evenly:
"Thank you for saying so. Watching you with your comrades, I found myself wondering, and that's why I asked."
"Ah, so that's why—"
"And I will commit myself faithfully to training. I have my duty as an affiliated hunter to fulfill, after all. So I'll head up first and prepare for tomorrow."
"Hmm... it's only Thursday, though."
"A hunter, I believe, must maintain the same condition every single day. Good night, Boss."
"...Ah, yes. Good night, Seo Yoon."
Tap— tap—
Seo Yoon whirled around briskly and headed for the stairs. Her footsteps were strangely quick — quicker than usual.
Watching her go, Lee Jun thought: ...it's only four o'clock.
Did I say something wrong? Something felt off.
In that instant, Silhouette spoke.
{Unbelievable.}
What now?
{Look over there.}
Following her voice, he turned to watch Seo Yoon's back as she climbed the stairs. Silhouette's whisper curled against his ear.
{Her ears are bright red.}
Hm. Correction, then. Apparently she wasn't upset at all.
"What a relief."
Lee Jun flopped onto the sofa. He and Seo Yoon would be working together for a long time to come. Awkward silences like that were the last thing he wanted.
{And yet, you know — you really are dense.}
About what?
{You never show what you actually feel. It's like you're wearing a mask.}
Showing your true feelings was difficult. He'd been worn down, ground away, far too many times. The dulled emotions only piled up in the corner, and it felt as though the moment he closed his eyes and opened them again, nothing but negativity would come pouring out.
{...And you say it so flatly.}
It amounted to deceiving yourself. In order to keep it hidden from others, he quarantined those feelings from himself first. As long as he never approached his own emotions, they would never surface for anyone else to see.
{Which only makes you more pitiable.}
But everything has its trade-offs. In the climb all the way up to Vice-Chairman, that trait had served him undeniably well. If no one could ever catch a glimpse of your true feelings, you were bound to hold the advantage in political games.
{How long have you lived hiding your true heart? Is that why, by now, you've forgotten how to even feel things?}
Silhouette could sense what lay in Lee Jun's heart — emotions, thoughts, everything else. Which was how she knew: Lee Jun did not know his own sincerity. Not even himself.
{You need more emotional exchange with people.}
This is plenty.
{Is it, though? The inside of your head that reaches me is...}
Before he'd noticed, she had risen up out of the floor, and as she stroked his cheek she went on, in her palm-sized fairy form:
"A little different place, that's all."
"......"
She put on an expression of genuine pity. In those violet eyes, Lee Jun's face was reflected. That was how close she was. Those violet eyes he usually thought of as nothing but mischievous looked, for some reason, sad.
"What does it sound like, from where you sit?"
"......"
Silhouette didn't answer. She only stared at him, unblinking.
"Move."
Lee Jun brushed her hand away from his cheek. She melted back into shadow, dissolving into darkness. Only that voice, slick as black liquid, lingered at the edge of his ear.
{After you wake from the long sleep — what kind of truth will you show me?}
The dream Silhouette had been guarding was gone. Then what, exactly, was still asleep in him now?
"......"
He had a faint, hazy sense of it. But could that really be called waking? A worn-down shard doesn't grow back. He could no longer hear her voice.
Silhouette kept repeating the same pattern — shaking him, then vanishing. Before, it was as if she were ransacking his mind. And this time, as if she were carving straight into his chest.
"...Damn it."
It would nag at him a little, then pass. Familiar territory. So it was fine.
"......"
After sitting on the sofa a while longer, Lee Jun slowly closed his eyes. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't in pain. So...
...No.
"Things are going to get busy from here on out."
"Training starts back up this weekend, for one."
"My wrist is fully healed, so there's nothing stopping me."
"Seo Yoon isn't the only one who needs to get stronger — I do too."
"Styx's Shard needs taming, sooner rather than later."
"The Liberator business will have me running ragged again."
"I still have to verify the information Yelena brought back."
"And..."
And.
"...the way I am right now — that's fine too."
For no particular reason, he'd started talking to himself. He kept it up for a long while. Talking, and talking still. Was it because those two had come and gone? No matter how much he loosened the knots, it felt like a hard lump kept forming in some corner of his heart.
"Whew..."
He exhaled, out of habit. No — not out of habit. By now, it truly had become habit. And yet.
Something still felt vaguely off.
A darkened room.
A dead-end cubicle filled with nothing but the glow of monitors — and in it sat a woman.
"......"
She hadn't quite earned the dark circles, but her blue eyes were clouded, drowned in fatigue. The white lab coat splattered with stains of every origin, left unwashed, and the brittle brown hair told exactly how many hours she'd spent in this room.
Creeeak—
The chairback tilted and struck the stack of documents beside her. The precariously balanced pile of papers collapsed in a soft rush at that tiny jolt. She paid it no mind. She looked only ahead.
Between the monitors that covered an entire wall, the woman sat sunk into her chair, watching the screen with sorrowful eyes. One small, rectangular monitor. She stared into it, lamenting that there was nothing at all she could do, and quietly drew her knees to her chest.
— ...the way I am right now, that's fine too.
The voice spilling from the speaker tore at her chest.
"...Jun."
That murmured confession, half-buried in the crackle of static, scattered — heartbreakingly — into the dark.