The Basics of Negotiation

When the golden light subsided, a box the size of a palm came into view.

Its appearance was clearly distinct from the「Random Box」.

A wooden box trimmed in gold, with a design that belonged to the Middle Ages.

"A box came out of a box."

What was this, a matryoshka doll?

I set the box down and watched it for a moment.

That phenomenon just now was...

No matter how I thought about it, it hadn't been normal.

The system message had shattered. Broken apart.

A phenomenon I had never once seen, in my previous life or this one.

From the fragments I managed to glimpse—

Someone had manipulated the「Random Box」's odds.

Because of that, I'd walked away with a top-tier reward that far exceeded what my luck deserved.

...There was only one kind of being I could imagine pulling off something like that.

"A Monarch... or someone of equal standing."

Someone capable of interfering with the System itself.

Whoever they were, they had to be a transcendent being far beyond anything the current me could hope to face.

"No idea why someone like that would bother helping me, but..."

I wasn't the overly scrupulous type.

A self-serving egoist who would gladly take even the devil's hand, if it helped with my revenge.

"If you're giving, I'll take."

Anything I could use, I might as well use.

Next, I examined the windows that had popped up.

"Oh."

So an achievement like that even existed?

Thanks to it, I'd picked up EXP I never saw coming.

Wearing a warm, satisfied smile, I pulled up the information on the box that had emerged from the Random Box.

"Judging by the outside, it's just a fancy chest, but..."

It had made that whole ridiculous spectacle when it appeared—no way they'd stuffed something disappointing inside, right?

"...Huh?"

The grade was strange.

Same EX-grade as the Limit Break Program. The only other difference was that this was an item, not a skill.

Ah, there was one more thing they had in common.

"Wait... are you kidding me?!"

Performance so staggering it made my eyes fly open.

The moment I confirmed the information on the box—no, the Mimic—my heart began pounding like a lunatic.

This was a jackpot. No, possibly a miracle so super-grade it didn't even stop at being a jackpot.

"This means I can guarantee a higher-grade skill...!"

Feed it three E-rank skills, and it would give me one D-rank skill.

Feed it three D-rank skills, and it would definitively hand over a C-rank skill.

Granted, the word "random" was attached to the first condition.

But the higher the rank, the less that matters.

Skill-to-grade performance ratios were really only argued about in the E to C range anyway.

From A-rank skills onward, anything you got pulled its weight.

This was a high-end item that broke free of the so-called "grade lottery" entirely.

If there was a catch, it was the sheer peculiarity of skills themselves.

"Hmm... I can't exactly enroll in an academy or join a sect at this point..."

Skills could be learned.

More precisely, they were attained through self-realization born of instruction—through internalization and mastery.

For instance, even if an instructor taught you Fireball, the student's own interpretation could transform it into Inferno or Devouring Flame.

'I distinctly remember teaching a D-rank skill, Mud Wall. And apparently one of my students got a B-rank skill, Mud Golem, out of it. Son of a— those talent-freaks make me want to quit this whole profession out of sheer envy.'

That was one of the laments a Hunter Academy professor had grumbled out before retirement.

It wasn't for nothing that people said learning skills was its own domain of talent.

After all, I—who had possessed zero talent—had never bloomed a single skill despite my master's countless lessons.

Circumstances were different now, of course.

"But learning them one by one would be inefficient."

The lowest grade of skill I wanted out of this Mimic was A-rank.

Far too distant a number to reach by grinding through lessons and feeding it skills one at a time.

"So the method that best suits my current situation is..."

A smirk crept across my face.

The sweetness lingering on my tongue coaxed the smile out all on its own.

"Skill books."

It didn't matter how bizarre a skill was.

I'd buy up even the worthless trash-tier skill books nobody would take for free.

Every last one of them would become precious feed for this Mimic.

After carefully tucking Lord Mimic into my subspace,

the last thing I took out was the「Fragment of the World」.

It was, in effect, the main reward of this hidden route...

...but I can't use it right now.

A white shard the size of a palm, floating in midair.

Apparently, this thing was some kind of "entrance"—a gateway to somewhere.

The place accessible through this "fragment" came with the conditions above.

All stats at 30 or higher, and a Status Window Level of 3 or above.

There was no telling what basis they'd used to attach such requirements.

Are these the minimum conditions for even discussing survival in that place?

If so, then there was no pressing need to use the fragment just yet.

Even on this hidden route, I might have died if not for the combat instincts from before my regression.

And yet.

The Monarchs.

Grempel's dying warning kept circling in my head.

The Monarchs. And Grempel's fall.

Somehow, the image of that destruction inside the gate had begun to overlap with the Earth of before my regression.

"......"

If, through this fragment, I could uncover the truth behind what Grempel had left behind—

And beyond that, dig up a clue about the "Monarchs" themselves—

"I have to go. No question."

It wasn't simply about scraping past another catastrophe.

If there were more monsters like the Iron Blood Monarch out there, every last one of them needed to be killed and uprooted at the source.

Because I had no intention of ever living in that shitty kind of world again.

Vvvvvt!

The buzz of my phone shattered my brooding.

As I tucked the fragment away, I checked the name floating on the screen.

A familiar number and name.

I worked the stiffness out of my neck with a grunt and pressed the answer button.

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

- .......

"Sir?"

- ...Oh? Y-young Master? You... picked up?

"Uh... you called, so of course I answered?"

- It's a first... you've never once picked up when I called.

"Ah."

Come to think of it, back in my scoundrel days, the contact I dodged most after my father had been the Head of Security's calls.

Anyone with a grievance against me came knocking at the security office first, so the man's phone calls had been like the trumpet blast announcing the start of my karmic reckoning.

"Er... my apologies, sir."

- ...No need. More importantly, I have a message for you, Young Master.

I drew in a quiet breath, refraining from asking.

- Someone from the Hunter Bureau has come looking for you.

Figures.

Having gone as big as I did, I'd fully expected them to come knocking.

The Hunter Bureau was the organization that oversaw a nation's hunters.

Beyond that, it handled most everything involving gates, artifacts, and any other business tangled up with hunters.

From the Bureau's perspective, this incident came with plenty that needed verifying.

An F-rank hunter clearing a C-rank gate was an anomaly by any measure, anywhere in the world.

And the one holding all that information is me.

I wasn't about to make the mistake of just handing it over under the banner of "cooperation."

If something goes, something has to come back.

- I take it you'll refuse, then?

When I didn't answer, the Head of Security read the refusal into my silence and asked.

"No. I'll meet them."

And with those words, I began turning the gears in my head.

Several hours later.

A café nearby.

"Ugh, I'm sh-shaking..."

Kim Su-hyeok trembled violently, his legs rattling beneath a face drained white.

He shook so hard that Seong Ju-ah, sitting beside him, swayed along with him.

She frowned and smacked his shoulder.

"You're hopeless. Absolutely hopeless."

"Aren't you nervous at all, Senior?"

"Nope. Someone's already covering my share of the nerves."

"...This is really not the time for jokes."

Seong Ju-ah let out a short pfft.

The interior of the empty café.

Apparently, when Lee Tae-hyun had chosen the meeting spot, Cheonseong had rented out the entire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place.

On the wide table sat nothing but three cups of coffee the staff had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prepared well in advance.

"Senior, you do remember, right? Today we're just here to check on Lee Tae-hyun's condition. Don't ask anything weird. I mean it."

"And what exactly do you take me for?"

The investigation into Lee Tae-hyun had been underway for a while now.

There just hadn't been much to show for it.

The deeper they dug, the only thing they learned was what a train wreck of a human being he was.

There was no visible reason why he'd suddenly acquired the power to clear a C-rank gate.

When an investigation stalls, nothing beats direct reporting.

Nothing was more straightforward than simply asking the man himself.

"Please. This is that Lee Tae-hyun we're talking about!"

Kim Su-hyeok's voice wavered, nearly pleading.

"He's famous for ramming into anything that sets him off, no thought for what's in front of him! People are seeing him differently after this incident, sure, but at his core he's a twisted, garbage-hearted piece of work. You remember the Yoo Sung-wook case, right? He cracked a bottle over Yoo Sung-wook's head when he got angry—and what's he going to do to us? We could genuinely end up dead here, and you're sitting there all breezy...!"

"Ahem."

Kim Su-hyeok was in the middle of his impassioned oration of Lee Tae-hyun's sins when a cough sounded from across the table.

"Hh—huk...!"

Kim Su-hyeok choked on his own breath.

A sharp-featured man was smiling at them, teeth bared.

"What? Please, go on. You were saying?"

Lee Tae-hyun, who had slipped in unnoticed, settled into his seat and leisurely raised his cup.

He took the barest sip of the aroma, then set it back down without drinking.

Kim Su-hyeok, whose face had gone past blue into a murky gray, shot to his feet and bowed at the waist over and over.

"I—I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't realize you'd arrived, I—"

"Huh? Wait, was that really about me?"

Had he mistaken the slander just now—assumed it was about someone other than himself?

Had Kim Su-hyeok just apologized for talking trash about Lee Tae-hyun to Lee Tae-hyun's face, without even realizing it?

Cold sweat poured down as Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Su-hyeok searched Lee Tae-hyun's expression.

"......"

Lee Tae-hyun's face was carved from ice.

The shape of death flickered across it.

"...Urgh!"

By that point, Kim Su-hyeok's body and soul were attempting to separate.

Just as it seemed he might genuinely ascend to the afterlife on the spot—

"Pfft. Kidding."

Lee Tae-hyun shrugged and let the tension drain from the air.

But Kim Su-hyeok, having aged fifty years in the last minute, was automatically filtered out of the conversation.

One person remained.

"A pleasure. I'm Seong Ju-ah, with the Hunter Bureau."

"Lee Tae-hyun."

A woman with chestnut hair pulled up in a neat knot.

Lee Tae-hyun knew exactly who she was.

A heavyweight destined—through those extraordinary eyes and overwhelming charisma—to one day claim the seat of the Hunter Bureau's youngest Director ever.

And she came in person, of all people.

Which meant this incident had drawn that much attention.

And for someone as starved for answers as Seong Ju-ah, it was bait she couldn't possibly leave dangling.

Good. This works out.

Dealing with someone you already knew was far easier.

When Lee Tae-hyun showed no particular reaction, Seong Ju-ah spoke first.

"You're not what I expected."

"In what way?"

"You're a little... different from the rumors."

"Rumors are always like that. They inflate and exaggerate, every last one."

"No, but—"

There's a limit, even for rumors.

The Lee Tae-hyun Seong Ju-aa was looking at now seemed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like an entirely different person from before.

What on earth happened to him?! She thought to herself.

Had a Buddha descended from the heavens to rebuild him from the ground up?

Though knowing Lee Tae-hyun, she suspected he'd have slapped even a Buddha across the face.

"So. You had questions for me?"

At those words, Seong Ju-ah collected herself and brought out her prepared questions.

"We'd like to talk about the gate."

"...The gate?"

"Yes. You see—"

Seong Ju-ah laid it all out.

How the mana wavelength had spiked sharply after Lee Tae-hyun entered the gate, raising its difficulty. The various pieces of information her team had extracted from external data. And so on.

"...Which brings us to what we know so far. That's about the extent of it."

"I see."

"But the most accurate account would come from the hunter who actually cleared that gate. Wouldn't you say?"

Seong Ju-ah put on her mask.

One spoonful of the noble work ethic of a public servant stepping forward for the common good.

One spoonful of pure innocence, as if she hadn't a shred of personal agenda.

"Would you... tell us what happened inside? The hunters of this nation need your story. The country as a whole needs it."

Her eyes sparkled and shone.

Even the most garbage-hearted hunter would spill everything they had in the face of this gambit.

Lee Tae-hyun's eyebrow twitched, just slightly.

Heh heh.

Right. You're going to stonewall me, are you?

The nation wants your cooperation.

Keeping your mouth shut here gets you absolutely nothing.

Pressure someone like this, and anyone would talk easily enough...

"No thanks."

"...I'm sorry?"

Seong Ju-ah blinked.

Had she heard him right?

"Is there some clause requiring hunters to disclose everything that happened inside a gate to the Hunter Bureau?"

"There is...n't. But—!"

"Then I won't talk."

Lee Tae-hyun crossed his legs.

"What exactly do I get out of telling you?"

The fundamental law of negotiation.

Guard your cards to the very end.