Public Opinion

At the very top of YouTube's Trending list sat a thumbnail of a gargoyle.

The news that two high-difficulty gates had opened back to back in Seoul, South Korea, had already rolled across the planet as earthquake-scale headlines. Paired with reports that the crisis had been resolved with civilian casualties held to a minimum, the video titled Gargoyle Subjugation: On Site had claimed the number-one spot without breaking a sweat.

Views climbed in real time. So did the likes. But the number that mattered was the comment count, already surging past twenty thousand.

Other hunter videos tended to look a lot like celebrity ones — praise for a performance, cheers from a fandom, combat analysis, speculation about what came next. This video was different.

The shocked comments were racking up recommendations, and the reason was obvious: the footage itself.

BOOOOM!

SPLAT-BOOOOM!

Whoever ran Swordsman Hunter TV seemed to have gone into the fight with a compact camera mounted on their helmet. The lens followed their gaze and captured, in full, the sight of gargoyles bursting apart — and just as no hunter on the scene had grasped how the attacks were landing, the camera hadn't either.

Gargoyles detonated in midair. Why they detonated, no one could tell. Bewilderment and fear made up the bulk of public opinion, and it was only natural that people began naming the unseen star of the footage as South Korea's sudden supernova — the hunter called Unregistered.

That not a single fact about him had come to light was already settling in as accepted truth. Except —

Nobody seemed willing to believe that the Bureau truly knew nothing about him at all.

Am I supposed to call this lucky, or unfair?

Kim Chungyu, the bald Team 1 Leader of the Korea Certified Hunter Bureau, rolled his stiff neck from side to side. So this circus was always going to break out.

He had hoped Unregistered would not become famous. The man was still a talent they had failed to bring into the Bureau.

This is going to be a worldwide shitshow.

He wouldn't skip the Korean Bureau and jump to another country... would he? That would make Kim even angrier. He'd rather have him as an enemy.

...An enemy might be going too far.

BOOOOM!

Right. Making an enemy of him would definitely be the worst-case scenario.

The analysis was already finished, so Kim Chungyu understood better than anyone what kind of absurd damage Unregistered had put on display. Watching it on video, though, the immediacy hit differently.

The destructive power isn't even the problem. He just erases them out of thin air. No way to even respond.

The Minotaur incident had been so sudden that the on-site analysis had been a little thin. Now Kim Chungyu knew. The man sat outside common sense.

"Damn it..."

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

If that man were inside South Korea as a Certified Hunter right now, how reassuring would it have been? Kim Chungyu would probably have been watching this video drunk on triumph. He even had the line prepared.

Behold. This is South Korea. THIS is South Korea. The South Korea that leaves America stunned, Japan in a cold sweat, and China trembling...!

Reality, however, was a cesspit. Their patronage offers had been met with total silence. They had even sent emails, and the little unread mark was suffocating to look ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at.

Beside him, Bureau Director Baek Munseong did nothing but smoke cigar after cigar. Successfully closing two consecutive high-difficulty gates that had been disasters in all but name should have been cause for a party — and yet the protagonist of every one of those triumphs, Unregistered, remained as uncatchable as a mirage, in no one's hands, shimmering just out of reach. The two of them could only tap their fingers against the innocent table, checking the video's live reactions.

"I'll have the opinion analysis sent to your residence, Director. You should rest for today."

Kim Chungyu said it with Baek Munseong's stamina in mind.

"No. This is a delicate matter, is it not? The press is under control, I trust?"

"Of course. It's not as if this is our first rodeo. I'll be assembling the reporters shortly."

The reason the two of them were sitting there like this could be summed up in a single phrase, born of hard experience: the birth of a Villain.

They had watched hunters turn into enemies of humanity more times than they could count. How many talents had become Villains for reasons that made no sense at all? Personal temperament. Ideology. People who had already been living like Villains before they ever awakened. People warped by some entanglement or other. The causes were all over the map — but a surprisingly large share of defections traced back to public condemnation.

Hunter work sometimes inflicts civilian damage you never intended. Sometimes you fail to put down a monster you could have handled, and the damage multiplies.

And when that happened, humans had the gall to condemn the hunter instead of the monster.

Kim still remembered a line one High Ranker had spat in the early days of the gates, under a mountain of public scorn.

Not long after, the man became the leader of a newly formed Villain guild. Of course that had not been his only reason for turning — but as a fuse, it had been more than enough.

Unregistered must not become a Villain. An Independent Operator we could live with. A Villain, we cannot.

Right now, though, things were looking dangerous.

The method of destruction was so overwhelming, so grotesque, that the public reaction was turning ugly. And then, on top of that —

Even the lunatic monster-sympathizer bastards were crawling out of the woodwork.

Overseas, especially. The current out of Japan and China was starting to look dangerous.

It's the perfect video to sink your teeth into and tear apart.

They burst without putting up any resistance at all...

"Haaah. Fuck."

He lit a cigarette for the first time in a long while. His nerves were shot. As if I weren't already dying of anxiety just leaving him be.

They had tried to get the video taken down, but Swordsman Hunter TV wouldn't even take their calls. Of all things, the man was an Independent Operator.

This isn't going to work.

He decided to deploy the comment team.

"Pull people. Now. Immediately."

He put in a call to his staffer. The answer came back:

In thirty minutes, their side would move too. Except —

"?"

Something had started rolling in a very strange direction.

"What is this?"

The comment team hadn't even received the order yet, and it was already deployed. He checked with his staffer just in case, and was told they were still assembling personnel. Insertion was thirty minutes out.

So this isn't us. Then what is it?

Was it actually... organic? Genuine acquaintances?

If that's the case, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I need to watch this closely.

Even the comments that had been pouring in live were starting to take notice.

What the hell. These people are actually trying to lock down public opinion.

And this aggressively?

They even sounded a little desperate.

He could even feel fear in it. A restless, pacing dread that Unregistered might actually become a Villain. A few of them had even switched into other languages, fighting to keep bad sentiment from taking root.

"What the hell are these people doing."

It was as if a righteous militia had risen on its own — moving, unasked, exactly the way the Bureau wanted them to. Their identities became guessable soon enough.

"Ah. Don't tell me."

The hunters who had seen Unregistered's power in the gargoyle battle. For reasons Kim couldn't quite name, he was apparently not the only one terrified of Unregistered turning Villain. Nobody had ordered them to, and they had all started walking on eggshells around the man anyway.

If they're going to move on their own, I'll take it.

Kim Chungyu called his staffer.

"Hold off for now."

Dumping a clumsy comment team on top of this might only cheapen what was already happening. Better to watch a little longer.

And so the volunteer comment militia began, bit by bit, to turn people's opinions toward something like goodwill. Not all of them — but one by one, favorable takes started appearing.

Public opinion had originally been fear itself, so if this was the result, they had at least administered CPR.

We cannot let public opinion attack him. No excuses, no conditions — we push him as a hero. We make it so even someone who was about to turn Villain would be too embarrassed to go through with it.

Thanks to the comment faction that was almost certainly the hunters from the field, a vigorous defense of public opinion was underway on YouTube, ground zero of the whole controversy.

"Keep monitoring it. I've got to go — the reporters are about to assemble."

Kim Chungyu handed YouTube off to his staffer, paid his respects to the Director, and was turning to leave when —

BANG!

"Open it gently, for crying out loud! The Director is in here!"

"Unregistered. Put me in contact with him."

Cheon Seunghyeok walked in.

This was the one Kim worried about most.

The world hailed Cheon Seunghyeok as a hero, and in temperament he was every inch one. His class was Hero, after all, and his fighting style was even more so. The day he awakened as S-Rank, he had walked into the Bureau of his own accord, thrown himself through hell without a thought for the damage to his body, and racked up achievement after achievement. That was how he had seized Korea's rank one in what felt like an instant.

The fact that they could keep the title of "the Certified Hunter Bureau holds the number-one hunter" — not a Villain guild, not a private corporation — was, in truth, largely thanks to Cheon Seunghyeok's character.

But.

Simple. Thick-headed. No telling which way he'll bounce.

He did as he pleased, stubborn as a mule, with a warmonger's temperament that knew nothing but combat and accomplishment. From the standpoint of managing and supporting him, he was a rather difficult man.

And, speaking objectively, outside of combat his brain didn't exactly... turn over well.

And yet he always carried convictions that would not bend. And right now —

That's the face of a man you cannot reason with.

Cheon Seunghyeok's eyes had gone sharp and wild.

"Unregistered. An interesting one. He's caught my interest."

"Which is why we still don't know— we are classifying the not-knowing as confidential— anyway, we don't know..."

Kim Chungyu had already given up. He couldn't tell what had hooked the man, but something had hooked him hard.

"I almost want to go a round with him. I'd like to meet him by tomorrow. That should be possible, I assume."

Kim Chungyu's heart folded over on itself one more time.

"It is not possible."

"I'll be waiting for word by tomorrow."

Kim Chungyu's heart folded twice more. It was getting crumpled.

"Fine. I'll contact you tomorrow."

Buy time, and talk him down tomorrow.

"Is that what you came to discuss?"

Director Baek Munseong, the white-haired old man, asked Cheon Seunghyeok in a weary voice.

"No."

Unexpectedly, Cheon Seunghyeok had a reason for coming to the Bureau.

"The reason gates opened twice in Seoul, and why difficulty has risen nationwide. I've got a lead."

What he set down on Baek Munseong's desk was a pitch-black object.

Baek Munseong and Kim Chungyu shot up from their seats. It was an object that should never have been in the Republic of Korea.

"It's the seal of the Undead Dragon, Cartibes."

"Where did you obtain this? Quickly now. Answer."

"It was the MVP reward when I slew the Imugi."

Kim Chungyu clutched his throbbing head. Baek Munseong let out a low groan.

"This is... most troublesome."

Watching their faces, Cheon Seunghyeok spoke in a level voice.

After that, Cheon Seunghyeok's briefing began.

"Niiiiice. Niiiiice."

People were sending me gold. A lot of gold.

A shabby little studio. But with this much gold landing in my account, how shabby could it really be?

Having named the Shelter Eunma Shelter, I repeated breaths of pure joy. Any vigorous movement could shave down my HP, so...

And then —

Ding!

Another donation. I liked that sound so much I hadn't even turned the notifications off.

"How much this time—"

Except.

"???"

This time, the amount that came in was genuinely enormous.

"Uh...?"

A strange name. And then —

"What is this?"

Something about it did not feel right.