Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Lee Ji-ah (10)
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"...So, the target?"
"Name... Ah, right. Kim Hyun-woo. I'll send the info the usual way."
"Got it."
Click.
The Association President rubbed his dry face after ending the call with Han Yoo-jung.
"That do it?"
A man lounging on the sofa asked indifferently. He was the Hwasin Guild Master, who Lee Ji-ah had once been part of.
"You know Ji-ah well."
"Yeah."
Lee Ji-ah.
S-rank Hunter. Korea's top ranker. Prodigy talent machine.
And pufferfish.
She had many nicknames, but the Guild Master thought none fit her better than pufferfish.
The Guild Master flicked a peanut into his mouth and said,
"Glass cannon, maybe? Her skills are top-rank worthy, but if her mentality cracks even a little... Man, taking care of her was a nightmare."
Her skills were guaranteed.
After all, she hadn't gotten to ranker status by playing house—she'd earned it through real accomplishments.
But...
'Huh? Ji-ah, what's up?' 'Guild Master, I wanna skip the next raid schedule.' 'What?! Why?' 'The hate comments online are killing me lately. I've filled my quota this quarter. Let me sit this month out.' 'W-Wait, Ji-ah. I'll call the press and get those articles pulled. Just do this one raid. Yeah?'
Stuff like that was routine.
'Guild Master, we got a call!' 'From where?' 'The hospital. They say Lee Ji-ah tried to hurt herself again!' 'What are you doing!? Call the press right now and tell them no stories!'
Every industry values solid skills in its field.
Personality and reputation come second—raw ability commands respect from anyone.
But there were limits, and Lee Ji-ah failed at everything except her skills.
The Guild Master shuddered and said to the Association President,
"We suffered keeping that powder keg contained."
Even professional counselors threw in the towel in frustration.
"Kim Hyun-woo, right? That guy's got balls. Managing Lee Ji-ah? Twenty-four-seven? Shit, I'd have bolted."
A pufferfish you never knew when it'd blow.
An S-rank you couldn't ignore.
"That's why she shocked us."
"Exactly. Never imagined she'd come out swinging like that."
"Least of all get tripped up by some cafe part-timer."
Lee Ji-ah had been MIA for a month, so they'd only recently learned about this Kim Hyun-woo guy.
Kim Hyun-woo.
Peace of Mind.
A worthless awakener who stabilized body and mind.
That he was handling the pufferfish.
"Well... Get rid of that guy, and she'll snap back to normal."
The Association President muttered, stroking his chin.
"A pufferfish is still a pufferfish, after all."
"Whoa."
The lawyer said admiringly.
"Did they think you were a total pushover?"
I thought so too.
The lawyer crossed his arms, incredulous after watching all the videos.
"What was the Association President thinking...?"
He rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought, then sighed heavily.
"I'm not confident."
"Pardon?"
My heart sank hearing a top-tier lawyer—who handled corporate disputes routinely—complain like that.
He said shamelessly,
"No confidence in winning."
"Ah."
"It's so blatant they're trying to frame you—it almost makes it believable."
"Believable how?"
"Haha. Hypothetically, if Lee Ji-ah really screwed up and they have evidence, we're sunk."
Clients often lie about cases, he lamented.
"I just don't think that'll happen. No reason for this otherwise. Don't worry—I'll handle the rest."
The lawyer stood, offering his hand.
"You and Lee Ji-ah Hunter stay out of trouble till the hearing."
With that, he dashed off hurriedly.
Only two weeks left—he had tons to do.
Watching him, expert in his field, I suddenly envied his professionalism.
Some adult in society.
Manager or not, I hadn't done real work yet—just stuck to Lee Ji-ah.
With the hearing coming, maybe get a suit tailored.
"Hyun-woo?"
"Ah, Ji-ah. Lawyer's gone."
Creeeak.
The door opened, and Lee Ji-ah crawled out in restraints. I scooped her wriggling form off the floor into my arms.
"Mm..."
She squirmed uncomfortably, groaning.
"Ji-ah, you okay?"
"No."
"Then let's prep for training."
"..."
We'd been mid-ability training when the lawyer showed—ruining the flow.
Carrying her, I headed to the basement training room.
On hearing day, I couldn't stand by the witness stand. Every second counted. We needed to expand the ability's range as much as possible.
Experiments with her showed the current active range at 10 meters.
It started under 9.
It had grown with training, but something felt off.
"Hyun-woo, what's wrong?"
Lost in thought, Lee Ji-ah asked worriedly.
"...Measuring it, the range is narrower than I thought."
"The ability?"
"Yeah. Normally, focusing covered the cafe counter..."
Why only 10 meters?
I regretted not practicing more. Floundering now, when it mattered.
"Hyun-woo."
"Yes?"
"It's fine."
Looking down, she smiled softly.
"It's growing with practice. Two weeks left. Who cares the exact meters? We're improving."
Her unexpected comfort left me stunned.
She can say stuff like that?
"...True. Shall we start?"
"Here I was comforting you."
I set her whining self down and turned off Peace of Mind. Her smiling face hardened instantly.
Grit!
She clenched her teeth, enduring. I waited without reactivating. This training built more than just my ability.
"H-Hyun-woo..."
She craved Peace of Mind. Despair and hope in her eyes.
From toggling it repeatedly, I'd realized: Turning it off hit her psychologically hard from the rebound.
Yet her endurance time kept growing.
I thought deeply and reached a conclusion.
Pets long-attached to owners often have separation anxiety.
When the always-present owner vanishes, uncertainty breeds panic.
Treating it is simple.
Pop in and out repeatedly.
One minute, then five, then ten.
The initially anxious pup learns from repetition: Owner always returns.
That experience builds security.
Repeated training taught her: This frustration ends soon.
Just endure a bit, comfort returns.
That sank deep, letting her last longer without relying on my ability.
Hearing day arrived.
With the lawyer's help, I stuck to manager duties.
Ding-dong!
Opening the door to the bell, women bustled in with gear.
I asked the older one,
"Mobile makeup team?"
"Yep! Choi Mi-na, CEO of Beauty & Sante—you spoke yesterday."
Chatting as we entered the living room,
"Make her look as frail as possible. But not rundown—be careful."
"Ah."
Industry vet—she got it, nodding emphatically. Final warning:
"Key is sympathy on camera. Rest is on you."
"Got it—leave it to us."
Choi clapped, briefing her staff.
Ring.
Call from the pre-exchanged reporter number.
"Hello?"
—Manager, right?
"Yes, Kim Hyun-woo."
—When do you head out?
Glanced at the living room.
Lee Ji-ah sat dazed during makeup. Catching her eye, I tapped my watch.
She yelled,
"Hyun-woo! Two hours, they say!"
Just makeup: two hours.
"Five total."
—Roger.
Hung up; phone rang again.
Lawyer.
"Hello?"
—Yes, Hyun-woo! Prep going well?
"Of course."
He sounded confident.
—As long as Lee Ji-ah doesn't flip the table, we win. Stick to the script.
"Haha. I'll tell Ji-ah."
—See you at the hearing.
Hung up, checked the net.
Hundreds of articles flooding out.
Tons of comments on her hearing—mostly hate, as expected.
"Tch."
Ghosts overlook the real creeps.
Tsking briefly, the chatting staff sidled up.
"Um, Manager..."
"Yes?"
"We talked to Lee Ji-ah Hunter just now..."
Staff trailed off.
Peeking at Ji-ah, she covered her mouth, giggling mischievously.
Staff said,
"She suggested makeup for you too, since you'll be on camera."
"Me? Who cares for the manager?"
"You're basically an aide. We usually do them together."
She shoved my shoulder firmly. Before I knew, I sat beside Ji-ah.
Our eyes met in the mirror; she burst laughing at my sulk.
"Hyun-woo, relax. It's just makeup—not dying."
"Two hours. So much to check now."
"Pfft, we reviewed yesterday a ton..."
Staff cut in sternly,
"No moving."
"Got it."
Ji-ah replied sharply, sneaking peeks at me, then smiling faintly.
"...What?"
"Hahaha. Your face is hilarious. CEO, photo?"
"Sure."
Click.
CEO showed her the phone. Ji-ah yanked my shoulder.
"Look, Hyun-woo."
"Delete after makeup."
"No."
"Delete it."
"No way."
Clear laughter from the staff behind.
Whispering among themselves—too quiet to catch.
But Ji-ah suddenly went quiet.
What was it?
Curious, I prodded,
"What'd they say?"
"..."
"Tell me."
"..."
Silent Ji-ah muttered softly,
"...Shut up. Close your mouth."
Grabbing the car door handle, I asked,
"Ji-ah, ready?"
Hand on chest, she steadied her breath. Trembling voice:
"Yes. Let's go, Hyun-woo."
I twisted the door open.
Click-click-click!
Reporters mashed shutters, flashes popping.
"What's the reason for ghosting after failing the Abyss raid?!"
"True you left the guild over beef with the Hwasin Guild Master?!"
"Public calls your vanishing post-failure unprecedented irresponsibility! Any words for the nation?!"
Blah blah blah.
Pushing past mic-thrusting reporters.
Ji-ah stayed calmer than expected.
"I'll answer your questions at the hearing."
We walked unblocked to the venue.
"Ji-ah, script memorized?"
"Read it all night."
"No panicking—just follow practice."
"You seem more nervous than me."
Nervous? Me?
Obviously. Heart pounding like mad.
This wasn't a stage for a jobless 26-year-old a month ago.
Even as support.
But I hid it because...
"Nervous? Do I look like the type?"
"Hmm, no."
She was 26 too—same age, stepping to a bigger stage.
Couldn't whine before the star.
"Ji-ah."
"Yes?"
Swallowed the words stuck in my throat.
Too embarrassing to imagine.
"...Never mind. Hurry to the witness seat."
"Huh?"
She stared wide-eyed.
"Finish what you start. What?"
"No, nothing. Starting soon—get seated."
"What is it?"
Prodding curiously, she finally gave up, heading off.
Damn it.
Just say it and die of shame.
Scratching my head, I yelled at her back,
"Ji-ah!"
"...?"
"Don't chicken out—kick ass! No need to shrink!"
Stunned Ji-ah smiled late.
"Yeah, thanks! Hyun-woo."
She walked to her nameplate spot.
Committee, witnesses, all stood.
"Hearing begins."
The hearing finally started.