What Can Change (1)
Lee Jun decided to calm Seo Yoon down first.
And then he would ask her.
Why she was thinking this way, why she was acting so unlike her usual self.
After all, as her boss, he was responsible for managing the mental well-being of the hunters under his agency, too.
Lee Jun guided the visibly confused Seo Yoon to the sofa in the living room.
Seated across from him, she kept her head bowed low, as if ashamed to show her face.
Lee Jun studied her for a moment, then spoke first.
“So, Seo Yoon. Just now….”
“…I apologize. Please don't concern yourself with it….”
“No, you should tell me things like this. The better I understand what my nurtured hunters want and think, the better I can accommodate them.”
The human heart is far more delicate than one might imagine.
Which is why approaching it requires care.
The biggest lesson he'd learned from team life wasn't combat or anything of the sort — it was exactly this.
“So, could you tell me why you thought that way?”
“…….”
Seo Yoon fell silent for a while.
How much time passed like that?
Before long, she opened her mouth.
“I… told you before, didn't I. That I'm an opportunist….”
“You did.”
“And you answered that it was only natural, Boss.”
Yes, that's right.
Lee Jun still thought so.
Any human being, given an opportunity, would naturally try to seize it.
And they should.
Simply calling such a person an opportunist… felt like an inadequate word for it.
“The truth is… I'm clumsy in every way.”
“I know that much.”
“…Even the words I'm using right now — you could say I'm squeezing them all out.”
Even as she said it, Seo Yoon looked strained.
Clumsy with expression, was it.
Everything he'd seen of her until now hadn't been someone hiding her feelings — it was closer to someone unable to express them.
For some reason… it reminded him of someone.
“It's okay if you can't express yourself.”
“…….”
“What matters isn't what shows on the outside. It's what's inside that counts.”
Lee Jun, too, had never been able to express his own heart.
He never had.
Hiding things had been more advantageous, more useful.
But if you kept that up forever… wouldn't life become unbearable?
That didn't mean one had to force expression, though.
Naturally.
Your feelings, exactly as you felt them.
Express them if you could; if you couldn't, then simply leave them as they were.
Do what you can, as much as you can.
That was enough.
“But… if I don't speak, if I don't show it. In the end, I can't convey anything at all, can I….”
“That's enough.”
“…Pardon?”
“I said that's enough.”
If the will was there, someone would notice.
Someone would recognize the effort you made to express yourself.
“Even if I only caught on just now, I'll pay closer attention from here on.”
“Boss….”
“I'm better at noticing things than you'd think. I missed it this time, but I won't miss it twice.”
He'd faced every kind of person there was, and observation had always been his specialty.
Once he said it out loud like this, he'd keep reminding himself of it, too.
Whatever happened after this, he would figure her out.
“So — will you tell me? What exactly made you say those things, Seo Yoon?”
“…….”
She seemed to be deliberating.
Someone clumsy at baring their heart can't help but hesitate even at the first step.
Lee Jun knew this well, so he gave her time.
After fidgeting with her fingers for a moment, Seo Yoon seemed to steady herself and lifted her head.
She took off the glasses she always wore in the residence and set them on the table.
Then, with nothing left to hide behind, she held his gaze for a long while.
Deep, clear eyes.
In the clichéd phrasing, they might be compared to obsidian.
“I have… never experienced anything like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Being together with people like this… in such a lively, joyful way.”
Seo Yoon was a former Information Bureau Chief of Seolwon.
He didn't know exactly what the Information Bureau did, but he had a feel for it.
Intelligence and covert operations, presumably.
In which case it was something that should never surface — and in fact, Lee Jun had never managed to learn anything about Seolwon's Information Bureau.
“Seolwon's Information Bureau was, in truth, a department with almost no personnel. It was closer to a private organization run personally by the Vice Guildmaster. And it kept getting scaled down further and further… until in the end, only I remained as its chief.”
So she had been in a position much like Lee Hyeon-ah's personal servants.
And in the end, alone.
So that's why someone of chief rank came to the Seoul Dungeon in person.
Even in the previous timeline… it must have been disbanded not long after, if things went on as they did.
No wonder Lee Jun had never known about it — the department simply hadn't been important enough to matter.
For someone like her, working as part of a team might itself be a rare experience.
She'd been in intelligence work ever since she started as a hunter, so this kind of atmosphere would be unfamiliar.
A hunter who never entered gates would never take part in party raids, either.
“That's why… I think I like this life.”
She gathered her courage and laid her heart bare.
The catalyst was probably… the comrades steadily gathering around her.
Or perhaps some other reason Lee Jun didn't know.
Either way, with the residence bustling these days, all sorts of emotions seemed to have welled up in her.
“I like this life too.”
“…….”
“And thank you for telling me, Seo Yoon.”
“…Thank you as well. For listening….”
Having said that, she hesitated a moment before adding something.
In a very small voice.
“I would be grateful… if you could forget, as much as possible, how I was today.”
“I'm sorry?”
No, he was going to remember it, every bit of it.
That Seo Yoon had this side to her.
He would carve it firmly into a corner of his mind.
“That looks like a difficult expression….”
“No, no, I'll try to forget. I'll forget it all.”
“…I'm sorry for saying such strange things.”
She seemed embarrassed by the entire situation itself.
She'd shown a side she never showed anyone — and a weak one at that — so she might well think of it as exposing a flaw.
But from Lee Jun's standpoint, he could only be grateful.
Communication was essential to a team moving forward.
Her speaking up first was, in effect, a declaration of her willingness to communicate.
“Then I'll need to put some thought into your training, so you feel even more a part of this team.”
“Pardon?”
“Look forward to it. Tomorrow's training will be harder than Taesan's.”
Lee Jun said it with a smile.
Seo Yoon, as if putting her mask back on, nodded with a blank expression.
But now he could read it, more or less.
That face… was a happy one.
With that, the two of them rose from their seats.
It was already one in the morning.
If only for tomorrow's training, it was time to sleep.
“Then we'll eat breakfast and head straight to the training grounds.”
“Yes, I will approach it diligently.”
“Haha, good.”
Lee Jun nodded with a smile.
He was already looking forward to what he'd teach Seo Yoon tomorrow.
“Let's sleep now. It's far too late.”
“Understood. I hope you have a good night as well, Boss.”
“Couldn't you save that for when I'm up on the second floor?”
“Um….”
She was trying hard to look composed, but traces of fluster still remained.
Lee Jun headed for the stairs to the second floor with her.
And there, Seo Yoon abruptly stopped walking.
She stood still and spoke, as if something was troubling her.
“Um….”
“Yes? Did you have something left to say? I'll listen whenever you need, so go ahead and finish it all tonight….”
“No, it's not that.”
“Then…?”
“It's….”
Lee Jun turned to check on Seo Yoon's condition.
She stood motionless, her gaze lowered slightly.
Something was clearly bothering her.
Is it the training?
They'd just finished the joint training with Taesan.
She'd surely overexerted herself, and if so, her body could be acting up.
Wondering if that might be it, Lee Jun approached her with concern.
And then—
“……?”
Thud—
Seo Yoon's body tipped over and fell into Lee Jun's arms.
He was caught off guard, but… he did his best to stay calm and ask why.
“Um… Seo Yoon?”
“…I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm doing this either….”
“If it's… that talk, I'm more than willing to listen, so for now just a little….”
“It's not that… it's not that….”
Not that?
“My body… won't move….”
“Your body won't move?”
“Yes….”
Ah.
Gangsaengcho.
“Mm, gangsaengcho has a strong muscle-relaxant effect. If someone reacts strongly to it, they can temporarily lose the ability to move.”
“Then….”
“It means you'll have trouble using your limbs until the effect wears off.”
“…….”
Lee Jun took hold of Seo Yoon's shoulders and gently set her back upright.
Through his hands on her shoulders, he could feel a faint trembling.
Utterly unlike her usual self — she was extremely flustered.
The blank mask she'd only just put back on had been stripped away completely.
“B-Boss….”
“Nothing to be done about it. No telling how long this will last.”
Lee Jun quietly knelt in front of Seo Yoon.
His back turned toward her.
This was….
“You can still lean your body, can't you? Hop on.”
“Y-yes…? That's….”
“It's fine. I've owed one of these before myself.”
At those words, Seo Yoon seemed to search her memory.
Before — that would have been….
Right after a gate raid.
“You… noticed that?”
“You weren't the type to drag me along by the collar, Seo Yoon. So it had to be that, right?”
“Ah… uh….”
Seo Yoon let out a few disjointed sounds and stopped moving altogether.
Lee Jun felt an urge to tease her welling up from somewhere deep in his chest.
{I told you he's got a nasty personality….}
No, this part was unavoidable.
Anyone would feel this way.
And so, Lee Jun tossed out a single line with a grin.
“If this is too embarrassing, shall I do a princess carry instead?”
“……!”
He didn't turn around to look.
But he could predict it.
She was probably giving him a spectacular case of pupil earthquake.
{…….}
Heh, fun.
He couldn't stall forever, though.
It was one in the morning, after all.
Tomorrow had its own schedule, so she needed proper sleep.
With that thought, Lee Jun activated Styx's Shard and gave Seo Yoon's back a gentle push.
Unable to tense her muscles, she offered no resistance to the nudge and tipped forward.
“Ugh… ugh….”
Carried on his back, Seo Yoon kept making pained sounds.
He wondered if it was muscle soreness, but it seemed she was simply embarrassed.
Well, if that was all, thank goodness.
In the end, Lee Jun carried Seo Yoon to her room and laid her down on the bed himself.
He tucked the blanket in carefully and stepped out of the room.
Even then, she said nothing.
Only her face burned furiously red.
“See you in the morning.”
“Yes… Boss… you too….”
Swept up in a wave of embarrassment, she barely managed the greeting.
Mm, that was quite the good show today.
Lee Jun turned off the light and left Seo Yoon's room.
Creeeak—
Click—
“Whew….”
It had been a chance to understand Seo Yoon's heart, at least in part.
Of course, what she'd shown today wasn't the whole of her.
She'd said herself that she couldn't express things well, so there were surely many sides she hadn't shown — no, couldn't show — yet.
He would simply come to know them, one by one.
As her boss, as her teacher, as her comrade now.
And until then.
Still.
…He would have to keep his doubts as well.
Because I still think… she's hiding something.
The sides of her she'd shown lately had grown more varied than at the beginning.
And with that, the emotions within her had begun to seep out, little by little.
At levels too faint to catch — but even that, he could now confirm through today's conversations.
…It's strange.
The trust she showed him.
Reverence.
And even… understanding.
These seemed to be deeper feelings than even Lee Jun had assumed.
The problem was, he couldn't fathom the reason.
What he meant to her.
Since he couldn't judge that precisely yet… there was nothing to be done.
And that thing she said at the start — that she wished I'd been a former comrade — in the end, she never explained it.
Of course, laying one's feelings bare is difficult, so she may have simply chosen not to say it.
It could be that simple a reason.
But….
Always.
In all things.
Doubt could never be set aside.
Because that was the life he had lived.
{…….}
And so this, too, was something close to instinct.
How truly… regrettable, that it was so.