No Result Without a Reason
There is no such thing as a result without cause.
That was what Lee Shin wanted to say right now.
Of course, he wasn’t about to whine with pathetic lines like *“It was so hard for me”* or *“Please look at me favorably.”* No, this was a time for serious contemplation on the principle that *“there is no result without reason.”*
As everyone knew, during his middle school years Lee Shin had experienced the spectacular triple combo of losing both parents, falling into poverty, and suffering collective bullying. It had been one hell of a puberty.
His grades at the time? Dead last. First place from the very back.
Naturally. If you drew pictures on your answer sheet, expecting good marks would be ridiculous.
No matter how good Lee Shin had been at self-objectification since childhood, he was still just a middle schooler. For a kid to go through enough traumatic events to drive even an adult insane and still perform well on exams? That in itself would have been terrifying.
Looking back on that experience, if the “reason” was every kind of misfortune, then the “result” was a report card full of failing grades.
So naturally, there had to be a reason why that same Lee Shin had transformed into the Lee Shin of today.
—“Shin, here’s a present.”
It was GM.
The gift his older brother gave him had become salvation for the broken Lee Shin.
To enjoy GM comfortably without worrying about others’ opinions, he raised his grades. Once he got the hang of it, he started studying like he was allocating stat points to a character in GM—stacking specs, picking up traits. That was how it began.
Of course, later it got so bad that he even approached human relationships like they were part of a game, which made his brother clutch the back of his neck in despair.
The important thing, however, was that GM had turned dead-last Lee Shin into the top student in the entire school. It had changed him into someone whose personality could be criticized all day, but whose grades were untouchable—the top computer science student at S University.
If you’ve understood up to this point, we can move on to the main topic.
[ 33Round. Haemu VS Silla. Haemu Guild Victory ]
[ 34Round. Haemu VS Solgae. Haemu Guild Victory ]
[ 36Round. Victory in the Competitive Siege as well. Haemu Guild. ]
As you can see, these were the results.
Haemu Guild’s three consecutive wins.
The common point in all three matches was that their opponents had ranked higher than them.
If you looked back at the first half of the season, Haemu Guild had been utterly crushed. Yet the moment the Breaking Season ended, they suddenly started pulling off upsets?
It was only three games, but when combined with their pathetic 16th place standing in the first half, the result was undeniably astonishing.
That was why Lee Shin became certain.
*Sniff sniff. I smell something fishy.*
There was a rotten, conspiratorial stench in the air.
However, Lee Shin’s cold “Professor Lee” persona and his nerdy “Employee Lee” persona immediately shot down the guild master’s opinion.
‘Hey, you idiot. You’re being way too paranoid. Sure, it’s hard to understand, but it’s right after the Breaking Season. Upsets during chaotic timing like this happen more often than you think.’
‘I-I-I think he’s right. It’s only three games… A-and ignoring Haemu Guild just because they’re 16th isn’t right.’
These kids… they’re sharp.
In terms of pure logic, the two (alter egos? concepts?) had the stronger argument.
The ball is round and mana exists everywhere—there was no rule saying Haemu Guild couldn’t win, right?
Besides, this Breaking Season had been far from ordinary.
Not only had equipment been completely overhauled, but overall strategies had been reworked. It was only natural that guilds were showing inconsistent performances across the board.
In fact, there was a clear counter to Lee Shin’s claim: Haemu wasn’t the only one pulling off upsets.
‘If we follow your logic, how do you explain the Challenger Guild that’s also on a three-win streak? Your argument already collapsed right there. Only two upsets?! Bullshit. Please don’t bring up such cheap evidence. I might actually get disappointed in you.’
‘M-Maybe you’re too obsessed with Haemu Guild because of Mr. Jeong-seok? I don’t think the guild master is dumb enough not to realize that. Really!’
…Whoever they took after, their backhanded compliments were top-tier.
But Lee Shin was a man who only knew victory. Even if the opponent was one of his own concepts, defeat was not an option.
Lee Shin knew Park Jeong-seok’s limits better than anyone. Yet that very guy was suddenly showing godlike performance.
His activity level rivaled Hwarang’s, his unique nimble footwork was on another level, and his aggression in the ultra-early game actually seemed to surpass even Hwarang.
This was where it stopped making sense. The mere fact that Hwarang and Park Jeong-seok were being compared on the same level was already absurd.
Give me a logical explanation for this result. Right now.
‘…It’s certainly not normal. But if you think about it, it’s not impossible either. After all, you sold him using three whole years of your ultimate packaging skills.’
‘Th-That item luck isn’t something only the guild master can pull off. O-Of course, no one can do it as well as you…’
See? The moment you question Park Jeong-seok’s performance, the argument loses all strength.
How much effort had Lee Shin poured in just to make Park Jeong-seok function like a proper human being?
He had corrected the boy’s growth direction every single time and even tailored part of the squad to suit him. And one must not forget the tactical corrections from the Mountain King either.
Could Haemu Guild possibly draw out the maximum potential that only appeared when Lee Shin and the Mountain King worked together to care for him?
‘……’
‘……’
See? Even you two think it doesn’t make sense, right?
There is no result without reason.
If a result appears that cannot be explained logically, then there must be a reason behind it.
An abnormal reason that cannot be explained through logic.
And then—
……
…
.
He had found it. The reason.
* * *
“……”
Silence descended upon the Haemu Guild master’s office.
What the hell was he talking about? No result without reason?
While Han Jin-chol was still trying to process Lee Shin’s unique way of speaking, the cigarette ash that had been burning down finally dropped onto his thigh.
The sudden sting brought him back to his senses. Looking at his soot-stained pants, Han Jin-chol finally opened his mouth and asked the question that bothered him most.
“…Let me ask you one thing. What the hell is this cold-hearted Professor Lee, and what is this nerd supposed to be?”
“That’s a good question. It’s the little kid sleeping right here, inside.”
Lee Shin pointed at his own chest.
This body belonged to such a big man, didn’t it? If someone like him lived with only one concept, it would be a national loss. For the sake of those who wanted more versions of Lee Shin, the concepts had to be preserved.
—Lee Shin answered proudly, but Han Jin-chol’s expression had already gone beyond disbelief and was starting to rot.
“Wait a minute. So you’re saying you split your personality, used that judgment to suspect me and our guild, and are now trying to tie us to the crimes happening in Busan?”
This was targeted investigation at its finest.
He was basically declaring outright: *You people are the culprits.*
“Hey, kid. When money gathers, flies naturally swarm. If the rising crime rate is the reason, then wouldn’t it make more sense to say it’s because of you—the one who brought even more money into this city than we did?”
Han Jin-chol’s face flushed red and then blue as he expressed his resentment, but Lee Shin simply chuckled as if he had expected it.
“Whew~ How clumsy. So clumsy. You’re supposed to be a guild master, so I thought you’d at least use your head a little, but you’re still far from it.”
“……?”
“Did you really think my tiny, adorable brain wouldn’t have already considered what your tiny, adorable brain came up with?”
He wasn’t wrong. It was only natural for flies to swarm where the scent of money lingered.
But if you looked at it differently, Lee Shin had always had a lot of money.
Honestly, Busan’s growth curve had only gotten steeper after Mir entered the major leagues. If you looked at growth alone, the city had been on a steady upward trajectory since League 3 and League 2.
However—
“There was no unusual crime rate back then, was there? I wonder why? Ah, shut up, it stinks. I’ll just say it myself. The answer is because this city, Busan, is *mine*.”
“……?!”
“You manage the shadows with gangsters. I also manage the shadows in my own way.”
When Lee Shin glanced outside, Han Jin-chol turned his head. His pupils dilated.
A massive figure he had never seen before was standing tall outside the office’s glass window. It was Jang Anton, Mir Guild’s shadow manager and president of Brothers Outsourcing.
“Mr. Han Jin-chol, I’ll be frank. I’ve known for a while that you’ve been getting cozy with Japan and running a hunter business using forbidden arts.”
“……”
Han Jin-chol still wore an expression that said *what the hell are you talking about*, but Lee Shin paid it no mind and continued.
“Honestly, I didn’t really care. Because that too is strength and ability. It’s about making a living, right? If you’re willing to cut your own flesh to become stronger, what can I say?”
In a world where buffs and doping weren’t considered problems, temporary amplification buffs naturally came with side effects like lethargy and slowed movement once they wore off.
Coldly speaking, forbidden arts were simply called that because their penalties were so severe, but they could be considered a type of buff.
As a side note, this was also why Japan’s hunters commonly used a “third-party” guarantor system.
With so many different forbidden arts having become widespread, the entire market was full of bubbles.
“But even that kind of work has a line you shouldn’t cross.”
In GM terms, forbidden arts that used stats and potential as sacrifices could be viewed as content, but those that used lifespan or the body itself were not tolerated by the Bureau.
“Think about it. If things like that ran rampant, would any hunters even survive? This league was created with the purpose of producing excellent hunters in the first place.”
In other words, Park Jeong-seok’s current performance had clearly crossed that line.
In Lee Shin’s estimation, it was at least SS-rank forbidden arts. At that level, it went beyond simply paying with lifespan—it was burning one’s life away to shine.
“Understand? This is the line you crossed. That’s the first reason I came here.”
At that moment, the office door opened and two cups of Americano were placed on the table.
The problem was that the person who brought them wasn’t a Haemu Guild member, but Lee Shin’s left arm—Yun Cho-a.
Just like that shadow earlier, when the hell did she…?
Even under Han Jin-chol’s heavily sunken gaze, Yun Cho-a did not leave. She simply stood behind Lee Shin as his guard.
While the two men engaged in a staring contest, Lee Shin rinsed his mouth with the syrup-added Americano and continued speaking.
“I’m not surprised that you did something like this. From the beginning, Han Jin-chol, your management style has always been too extreme. The more matches there are, the more clearly your weaknesses are exposed. It was bound to explode next season anyway.”
Haemu Guild, which had failed to adapt to the competitive siege format and suffered from stamina issues, recording the worst performance in history.
They barely managed to claw their way out of the relegation match, but with pressure from the owner and fans, Han Jin-chol eventually turned to his ugly “past.”
That was the original story.
But somehow… it had exploded now. At this point, with half a season still left.
“So I watched with interest to see how far you would go. But damn, you really are going all out, risking everything?”
“……”
“Who would’ve guessed you’d scrape together every useless thug and gang organization you gathered while playing masked boss and throw them all in? That’s the second reason I’m here.”
You released those pathetic gangsters and lowlifes into the streets of Busan.
Who gave you permission to stain *my* empire?
“If what I’ve said so far was the response Lee Shin, as the representative of Mir Guild, had to make, then the last part is purely out of personal curiosity.”
Noona.
As Lee Shin spoke and held out his hand, Yun Cho-a took out a transparent sample pack from her pocket and handed it over.
Inside the sealed pack dangling from Lee Shin’s fingers was a small bottle about the size of a yogurt container.
“I showed it to you earlier, didn’t I? This is the stuff that was being distributed from your business sites and those thugs. When I first saw it, I was genuinely shocked. You can be proud. I’m not easily surprised.”
Most people thought this was a drug. It created pleasant hallucinations and had addictive properties, so it was no different from the drugs on the market… but Lee Shin knew better.
Its true effect was something else entirely.
This was something far more lethal and dangerous than any drug.
Because this was—
“It’s an identification drug. It identifies whether ‘assimilation’ is possible or not.”
“!!”
That’s right. An identification drug.
It was a substance used to determine whether one could assimilate with monsters that were on an entirely different level of danger and malevolence than existing monsters—monsters whose very existence threatened humanity. The ‘Demon Race.’
And the most representative of them was the ‘Abyssal Worm.’
The bastards who had turned Baek Yeon-woo into a ‘Griff.’
The damn supremacists who believed the world should only be left to Awakeners and that non-Awakeners were trash that needed to be cleaned up.
And the ones who claimed ‘monsters’ had been chosen as the cleaners and forcibly triggered Monster Waves—these mass murderers.
Lee Shin’s expression changed in an instant.
For the first time, hostility appeared on the face that had never lost its composure no matter what crisis it faced.
“You, Xeno—”
The moment he tried to utter that name!
*Crack!*
Before the word could even finish forming, a mace flashed down and slammed into the top of Lee Shin’s head.