Chapter 67
Chapter 67
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: I'm Still Hungry (2)
What do Americans think of the image of Koreans?
Immigrants from the East?
I have no intention of reshaping the underlying American perception of Koreans, but at the very least, I see no reason to mess with their baseline view that we're 'not so bad.'
-When you're lining up for passports, always stand behind a Korean.
-That's racial discrimination.
-Nah. That's just wisdom for living.
Quickly, quickly.
Sure, individuals differ, but on a national cultural level, Koreans are generally fast-paced.
Not just in doing things swiftly, but also in proactively pushing for results.
There was a scene in some movie where a New York cop walks into a convenience store run by a Korean couple. The husband, who's the owner, hands over a free coffee and says, "My wife's got a cold and is resting right now."
What happens in the next scene?
1. A joke about how the Korean's basically a New Yorker now.
2. The second he climbs into his patrol car after leaving the store, an armed robber bursts into the convenience store.
'It's number 2.'
Koreans don't call out sick for something like a cold.
With that standard image of hardworking Koreans already in place, I've got no plans to ruin it on my account.
Why? Because right now, I've become the 'standard' Korean in America.
"I'm still hungry."
Any Korean's probably heard this line at least once.
It's not about literal hunger.
I'm still hungry—for victory.
That's the meaning.
Older Koreans get it instantly—they slap their foreheads and gape. But Americans or anyone unfamiliar with it just cock their heads in confusion.
Thanks to that, American broadcasters and UTube are flooded with remixed videos.
-Back during the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup, when Korea's national team coach...
Footage rolls of roaring red waves and victory after victory.
Armed with that context, Americans are piecing together my words—relayed through their president—in their own ways.
-Obviously, he's saying he'll charge straight into the next S-rank tower, right?
-Yeah. What else could "hungry" mean? Money? Women? Pizza?
-...Gacha? Haha, just kidding.
"That guy's dropping some real zingers on the sly."
Those in the know toss out subtle bait.
Even without full certainty on my abilities, you see plenty of "eh, it's gotta be something like this" reactions.
Hell, UTube's blowing up with stuff like "World Cup brackets for gacha summons you'd want as your characters."
For views-hungry streamers, it's prime trend-chasing content. But scroll the comments, and you spot gems like:
-Man, if I could just pull a SevenOver and raid towers like the Master!
-Pull an Edison and Tesla, head to America, citizenship on arrival?
The perceptive ones.
But the ones tiptoeing around official mentions, phrasing it all sideways.
Even they discuss my line without much venom.
Why?
-Thought quoting a famous American celeb meant he was American through and through... but nah, there's still a Red Devil burning in his heart.
My words have unleashed a red wave crashing across the net.
-Curse the bastards who shipped Master off to America. They're my mortal enemies.
And yeah, remarks like that are sparking some self-policing.
Tacit consensus.
I'm here in America first to wipe out global threats—not ditching my homeland.
I know it. Folks back home know it.
So if I grind hard, they'll push full throttle on reforms back there too.
Like whipping up public opinion to scrap laws dragooning vet hunters into reserves or civil defense on a whim.
It's still coalescing around key voices, but handled right, it'll spark real change.
Which means—as America's 'standard Korean'—I've gotta show peak hustle.
"Work too hard, and it might backfire?"
"No. They'd probably love that."
In my private quarters aboard the battleship Illinois, cruising at steady speed, I took the coffee Elaine offered and scanned reactions across American communities.
"We can straight-up claim that 'Koreans hustle' image."
"And if I slack later?"
"Unless disaster strikes, you'll be tower-hopping non-stop till those six S-rankers are done, right? A quick breather midway? Nobody gripes over that."
"Fair point."
Mostly positive vibes.
Sure, echoes of Korea's gripes—"What were the old hunters doing?"—but I'm not wading into that.
-It's 'cause Master's Korean. A capable Korean.
If anything, the Korean rep's shielding the legacy tower raiders.
Even if some mutter "even so."
-Besides, you can't even put an EX-rank hunter on the same tier as regular S-ranks, right?
Unofficial or not, with my rank quietly pegged as EX, they ain't lumping me in.
S-ranks mop A-rank towers easy? Same logic—I'm EX, so S-ranks are cakewalks.
Reality's all summons like Elaine carrying, but folks don't sweat details.
They're laser-focused on: next tower, how?
Where to hit?
One spot's got everyone buzzing—for good reason.
"Dry. Where's the crowd begging me to hit next?"
"Hm. Your own backyard?"
"Most bang-for-buck economically?"
"Gotta be... here?"
Dry tapped a coordinate at my prompt.
"Tower's squatting smack in the shipping lane. S-rank, no less."
Panama Canal—Gold Gate vibes, but twistier geopolitics.
"Look. Tower looming overhead, freighters threading the needle below."
American soil? Debatable. American sway? Undeniable.
"Next closest?"
"North from here. Crater Lake National Park."
Dry pulled up fresh pics.
Two shots.
One: stark black-and-white stunner of pristine waters.
Two: same vista, but now crowned by a ghostly, shimmering tower.
No reflection rippling the surface.
"Close by mileage, but inland lake—Illinois can't dock. Or sail south for a non-U.S. S-rank farther out. Your call?"
"......."
Well.
Obviously—
"Crash first. Binge some vids for that... y'know."
"Ritual?"
"Hey, Dry. Don't toss terms like that around."
Meant to dissect our raids for notes, but nope—sidetracked into weird territory.
"Just wholesome net-surfing for reactions... huh?"
"What?"
"...The hell with these folks?"
Some black rapper live-streaming, mobbed by street crowds, all euphoric-high.
Behind him? Real-deal zombies shambling, pupils blown.
"......."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ [Meanwhile, a quiet hamlet tucked in America's eastern hills.]
Caw, caw.
Crows wheeled over the sleepy village.
Edge of a ramshackle town straight out of a Western—here comes a rickshaw.
Puller: hulking brute in a suit. Passenger: matching high-thread-count threads.
Mafia flick extras dismount one by one, filing into a dingy bar.
"Goddamn. A meeting dragging me to some backlot movie set via rickshaw? Unbelievable."
"No choice. Electronics are a no-go."
Two suited geezers clasped hands, settling across the table.
"Phones?"
"Smartphones, sure—stripped every scrap of metal off me, left it in the car."
"Car nearby?"
"Hell, rickshaw'd in 10 klicks. Anti-hack enough?"
"Solid. I hoofed 20. Heh."
Grouchy old-timers plop down briefcases.
"Christ. 60s weren't this paranoid."
"Hell, frontier gunslingers met more civilized."
"Can't we just chat normal?"
"Phone? Hacked, Master eavesdrops instant. Nope. Even museum jalopy sans gadgets—radio intercept doable."
"Ugh, insane. Leak from here? I'm out."
"For real?"
"Nah."
One geezer fished a tiny plastic baggie from his case.
"Too much cash on the line."
"Master's take?"
"Who knows. Textbook Koreans steer clear... but foreign-tainted types—the darkies?—whole other breed."
Geezer sifted the white powder midair, salt-style.
"Steak needs seasoning. Fingers crossed he bites."
"Yeah... and keeps his nose outta funny business abroad."
"Funny business?"
"Tower raids? Fine, smash 'em and bounce. Towers gone... don't go reshaping America."
Geezer unfurled a sheet from his briefcase, face knotted.
"Been mainlining that Korean 'nat-pride channel' crap lately..."
"Korea-only thing? Spill—what's the list?"
"Overkill worry, maybe. But shit Master might pull to 'Korean-ify' America off his ethnicity alone."
"...Hmph."
Sheet in hand, the other twisted a smirk at the header.
"Drug-free nation? Pfft, get real."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Kiharu."
"What's up, nya?"
"Goddess sick of humanity's shadows—you gonna let this slide?"
"Interfere?"
"Why not?"
I've got the juice.
"Tower runs by day. Night? Prune humanity's poisons."
Rotten civilization.
"Dry spilled too many beans."
Grind it down.
"I'm here—might as well sweep the trash."
Ah.
Just to clarify.
Obviously, towers imperiling world peace first.