Second Child (1)
Lee Jun decided to recruit Choi Jeong-hyeon into the management company.
Needless to say, he'd also gotten the blessing of Seo Yoon, his one and only employee and homegrown hunter.
"Wait. One and only?"
At that, Silhouette threw a wrench into his thoughts. Apparently something about that phrasing rubbed her the wrong way.
"Why don't you ever ask for my consent?"
You are…
…technically an employee, I suppose.
"Exactly! So you should be asking for my approval too!"
Well, even if you objected, you'd get outvoted two to one anyway.
"Wh-what?"
It's the twenty-first century, and this is a democracy. What can I say?
For a woman who came from a world of monarchies—and spent over three hundred years sealed away on top of that—this ideology was probably a bit much to keep up with.
But hey… when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Right?
"Uuuugh…."
Silhouette let out an indignant growl, but he ignored her.
In any case, the most important opinion right now wasn't anyone else's.
Choi Jeong-hyeon's own.
That was, obviously, priority number one.
"Hmph. What reason would she even have to turn you down?"
She had a point.
Choi Jeong-hyeon was currently a D-rank hunter with a mere seven months of experience—a thoroughly mediocre résumé.
If she were a complete rookie, maybe things would be different. But half a year in and still stuck at D-grade…
Frankly speaking… she'd have a hard time getting into a good outfit.
With credentials like those—compounded by a serious injury to one arm, no less.
Forget the major guilds; even the mid-sized ones would balk.
A government-affiliated hunter position was technically possible, but in her current state she wouldn't last long under the Association's banner either.
"Then obviously she'd join you, wouldn't she?"
No.
There's another path, too.
"Another path?"
Retiring outright, just like this.
As he'd mentioned before, most hunters who suffer an injury of this magnitude consider retirement regardless of whether they receive treatment.
It isn't a question of combat power dropping or anything so simple.
Entering a gate itself—facing a monster itself—becomes a source of fear.
If Choi Jeong-hyeon decided to retire the same way, then everything he was doing now—the recruitment, the plans for afterward—would all be for nothing.
Well… it wasn't impossible to imagine her thinking that way, granted.
There was no telling when she would wake up… and if she did decide she wanted to sign, it made sense to have everything prepared in advance so they could move immediately.
"But what if she says she's quitting? Are you going to stop her?"
No.
Not at all.
"Why not? Wouldn't that be a waste?"
Talking a hunter out of a decision to retire, in the end—
isn't that just asking them to stay and keep sacrificing themselves?
"Hmm… I suppose you could look at it that way."
And a hunter who's decided to retire for psychological reasons inevitably becomes passive about things like gate raids.
Putting such a hunter on a raid team benefits no one—not the team, and not the hunter herself.
So if Choi Jeong-hyeon chose to retire… it would be a shame, but so be it.
Lee Jun wasn't cruel enough to force the hunter's life on someone like that.
Besides… he had no argument with which to persuade her.
How could he convince anyone else of something he didn't believe himself?
"Haah…."
Lee Jun let out a sigh and looked over at Choi Jeong-hyeon.
Three days since she'd been admitted.
She still hadn't opened her eyes.
Ordinarily, a physical-type hunter's injuries would heal within two days of a healer's treatment, so this was likely due to psychological shock as well.
In cases like this… unfortunately, there was no telling when she'd wake.
It wouldn't drag on for months, of course, but with bad luck she could spend a month in that hospital bed.
And if the shock was deep enough to leave her unconscious this long… honestly, nine out of ten such hunters quit.
The remaining one would likely struggle to continue hunter work anyway, hampered by PTSD and the like.
In other words, a one hundred percent retirement rate.
So… all Lee Jun could do was hope Choi Jeong-hyeon wouldn't end up among them.
"……."
Waiting for someone who might wake at any moment… or never.
That was… not something he wanted to experience again.
Lee Jun stepped out of the hospital room for a while and wandered around the hospital grounds.
A walk, of sorts—to clear his head.
"…Hmm."
When he'd looked into notifying next of kin about the accident, it turned out Choi Jeong-hyeon had no family.
She was a victim of the Gate Incident—and the sole survivor of her household.
Which was how Lee Jun had come to appoint himself her guardian.
"Life really is a cruel thing."
By Lee Jun's reckoning, the most pitiable among the victims of the Gate Incident were…
those who were neither Initial Awakeners, yet had lived through the whole ordeal, then awakened late as stragglers and gone on to work as hunters anyway.
People like Choi Jeong-hyeon.
And the second most pitiable were, of course, the Initial Awakeners.
'Then what does that make me—a Gate Incident victim who's an Initial Awakener and didn't even get an ability?'
…….
"Sigh…."
Only sighs came out.
Fweee—
Lee Jun used Styx's Shard to pull a pebble from the roadside toward himself.
Grab the pebble, throw it, pull it back, throw it again.
Even on a walk, he trained in whatever scraps of time he could find.
Given his current role as a guardian, this much was the best he could manage.
Thwip—
He flicked away the last pebble he'd reeled in with a light kick.
The kicked stone went tumbling along and vanished into a flowerbed, for no particular reason.
Watching it go, Lee Jun found himself thinking of someone who would be training alone right about now.
"…I wonder how Seo Yoon is doing."
Since he couldn't supervise her in person, he'd drawn up a training manual and handed it over.
Sending her to the Seoul Dungeon alone felt too risky, so he'd arranged for her to train in the basement training hall of the lodging instead.
The training facility in Lee Jun's home could give most major guilds a run for their money without breaking a sweat, so it would serve her conditioning well enough.
He'd written the manual with painstaking detail, too.
He'd spelled out Seo Yoon's weak points alongside illustrations, so even with him away for a stretch, she should be able to produce meaningful results.
"So Seo Yoon will be fine for a week, at least…."
Now, what came after that again?
"Oh."
Right.
Back in the hospital room after his walk, Lee Jun pulled a sphere out of his Pocket.
Whiiirr—
Propellers extended from the round body, it lifted into the air, and two arms popped out.
Then a cute little expression appeared on its display, and it was fully operational.
"Hoo-ah, three days, huh!"
A voice tinged with electronic distortion rang out brightly.
The Director of the Technology Bureau.
"You talk like someone who's been locked up somewhere."
"Robots get antsy too, you know! You keep stuffing me in your Pocket, so—surveillance drone Mark One… no wait, caretaker robot… no, not that either. Ugh, whatever! Point is, I get antsy too, alright!"
"……."
Well… honestly, the surveillance part didn't bother him.
If he were the sort of person to care about that, he'd never have allowed CCTV in his own home in the first place.
But.
"The 'caretaker' part is a little insulting. Am I a child?"
"You basically are. You're younger than me."
"Why would I be younger than you? We're the same age."
"I count in international age."
"Korea switched to international age last year too."
"Then you're a year younger! You haven't even had your birthday yet."
"You've got to be kidding me…."
"Honestly, the problem is you. You use casual speech with everyone. Even with Uncle Evrah."
"Oh, come on. Why would a Westerner care so much about honorifics? Just talk casually too. Evrah says he doesn't mind."
"The West has honorifics too, you know?"
The little thing had picked a fight over nothing.
Really, what is this—a Dutchman preloaded with Confucian values?
Who does she think she is, Hamel or Park Yeon?
"Sigh…."
Well… in any case, none of that mattered.
Lee Jun steered the conversation back on course.
He told the Director of the Technology Bureau of his intent to bring Choi Jeong-hyeon into the management company.
"What do you think?"
"…Th-that…."
"That?"
"Th-then I should've joined your management company too…!"
A cry of protest.
And within it, an old regret.
"You said you were staying with the Association?"
"I never told you to hire me! That's why I said I'd stay at the Association, at least!"
Then you should have said something.
Besides—honestly, a management company is focused on developing hunters, isn't it?
What would someone who's already S-Class even do by joining?
"And…! If we joined… you'd… be uncomfortable…."
"……."
The we she was talking about… he understood it all too well.
So he had no comeback.
Even now, facing his old comrades was painful.
Yes—it wasn't discomfort. It was pain.
"I'm not uncomfortable."
"…Liar."
"I'm not lying. If I were uncomfortable, I wouldn't have sought you out in the first place."
"……."
And had the little thing truly wanted it, Lee Jun would have brought her into the company back then too.
What he'd said at the time had been sincere.
He'd already left the Association, after all, and she no longer had any reason to stay chained to the Director's seat either.
It would have been nice if she'd stayed with the Association, granted… but expecting that much was asking too much.
"Well… it's fine. I like this work. There are things… only I can do here, after all."
"…If it makes you happy, that's what matters."
He wasn't entirely sure what she meant.
But if she had such a firm purpose, then Lee Jun had no grounds to object.
Worry for her, yes. Interference, no.
That was exactly the right distance.
And right about when that thought settled—
Riiing—
Whirrr— creak-creak—
A fax machine sitting in the hospital room abruptly sputtered to life.
"……?"
A fax?
No, what is that thing?
That wasn't there before?
"I put it there."
"That?"
"Couldn't be helped. This robot doesn't come with document-printing capability."
That's not what I'm asking…
If she could haul a fax machine all the way here, couldn't she just send a second robot that prints?
But Lee Jun quickly gave up on the thought.
Common sense didn't apply in this era; it was easier to just let it go.
If he was going to nitpick, the very existence of this hyper-technological robot defied explanation to begin with.
So he set aside the question of the fax and focused on the paper emerging from it instead.
"What are you printing out?"
Five pages in total.
And they were… documents in a format deeply, painfully familiar to Lee Jun.
"…A Hunter Detailed Report?"
A registered hunter's personal information, class and occupation, stats, and major career history.
A document cataloguing everything a hunter possessed as a hunter, in other words.
And what the Director of the Technology Bureau had printed was Choi Jeong-hyeon's Hunter Detailed Report.
"Uh…."
This wasn't exactly classified, but it was supposed to be obtainable only by filing a formal request with the Association through the proper channels.
In other words, receiving it like this was not above board.
"Isn't this illegal?"
"I-illegal?! I'm just picking up a document that was lying on the floor!"
"Why would it be lying on the floor?"
"Well, you see. There was a promotion review recently. All the paperwork goes to director-level executives, so a copy made its way to me."
Ah-ha.
So she's not D-rank anymore—she's C-rank now?
But the moment he checked the documents with that assumption, the prediction shattered completely.
The personal information section at the very top.
Choi Jeong-hyeon's hunter rank, marked directly beneath it, was…
"D-rank?"
Still D-rank.
Which meant she'd failed her promotion review?
"This…."
Failed promotions from the lowest rank, D, had been exceedingly rare up to now.
Since the founding of the Hunter Association, they could be counted on two hands.
That Choi Jeong-hyeon had become one of those rare cases was something he'd never imagined.
"That's what they call getting bitten, right? In professional terms?"
…….
No way.
"……."
…Surely not.
It couldn't… be.