The Old Man and the Sea (2)

The contents of the letter were as follows.

The letter ended there.

There was 300,000 won enclosed in the envelope.

Hmm.

I stood there for a while, lost in thought. The calm, matter-of-fact tone of the letter pulled at me. From such a short piece of writing, I could infer several things.

Lee Chun-bae had lost his wife to a monster. He was raising a grandson named Gun-woo on his own.

And the purpose of this letter was clear.

It was a monster extermination request.

It wasn’t unusual.

Whenever someone suffered damage to their personal property, lost a family member, or experienced some other petty disaster, they turned to hunters.

Hunters took on private requests for only one reason.

Money.

Unless the payment was enormous, no transaction between an ordinary civilian and a hunter would ever go through.

Sometimes high-ranking officials would make formal requests through guilds, but even then, a massive reward was mandatory.

There was already a shortage of manpower just handling the jobs assigned by the guild.

There was no reason for a hunter to bother with some outsider’s plea.

A poor old man living on the outskirts, with no special connection to anyone, sending out a single letter like this—

no hunter would even flinch.

Three hundred thousand won might not be a small sum to Lee Chun-bae, but to a large guild it was pocket change.

I read the letter again, carefully.

For a man in his seventies, the spelling and grammar were flawless. Someone must have helped him write it, or maybe he’d always enjoyed writing.

Had he only sent this letter to Dio Guild?

The odds were low.

Dio had the worst reputation of the three major guilds in South Korea.

He probably sent it to Jincheon and Superior, too.

But just like Na Sang-min had done, those guilds likely dismissed Lee Chun-bae’s letter without a second thought.

One word in particular stuck with me.

Octopus?

Lee Chun-bae said he’d been attacked by a monster that looked like an octopus out at sea, and that it had spoken human language.

Just as I thought.

Good thing I opened the letter.

The monster that had turned Busan into a wasteland in my previous life was called the Dirty Kraken.

A kraken is a Norse monster, a blanket term for a sea beast. So why did this one have “dirty” attached to its name?

If the kraken of legend merely resembled an octopus, the monster that actually existed in the sea had something far more distinctive.

It had eight grotesque tentacles and used mana to launch a wide variety of attacks.

Most of all, it had intelligence—enough to toy with human beings.

Why had the monster been recorded as unprecedented at the time?

Because, in truth, the kraken did not qualify as an apocalypse-grade threat.

It was called that only because it inflicted apocalypse-grade damage.

What made it truly unprecedented was the fact that it had communicated with humans for the first time in history.

Just as the letter said, the kraken could talk.

Until then, monsters had attacked facilities, smashed them to pieces, and massacred humans. But this new sea monster mocked people, toyed with them, and treated them like prey.

It was highly intelligent, using ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the terrain to its advantage in battle, and it had a cruel, underhanded streak to boot.

The hunters dispatched back then had been thoroughly humiliated and sacrificed by the Dirty Kraken.

I folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.

From the beginning, I’d planned to go down to Busan and kill the Dirty Kraken.

I wanted to build an official record and make a name for myself with the public, too.

And since I already knew what would happen in the future, maybe this was a chance.

Two months from now.

I’m going to meet Lee Chun-bae.

Just then, someone came into the training room.

"How’s the training going?"

A beautiful woman with short hair.

It was Lee Yu-seol.

"You’re already plenty strong. Just how much stronger are you planning to get?"

Lee Yu-seol picked up the Chinese-style sword and swung it awkwardly.

She wasn’t a swordswoman, so her form looked clumsy.

"Why do you care? Want to spar?"

Lee Yu-seol shrugged and set the sword back in place.

"No thanks."

Then she continued.

"I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"The good news."

They say it’s better to get the beating over with first, but my last life had been nothing but beatings from start to finish.

This time, I intended to take the best of everything first, no matter what it was.

"The assignment went through. You’ll just need to head down to Dio Guild’s Busan branch for about a month."

"Good."

Lee Yu-seol had faithfully carried out what I’d instructed her to do.

Having an insider I could use like an extra pair of hands was incredibly convenient.

I’d have to keep making use of her from now on.

"And the bad news?"

Lee Yu-seol let out a short breath.

"I couldn’t come up with a convincing reason for the dispatch. There isn’t a vacancy, and Busan didn’t request support in the first place."

"Then just say I’m going to help with the workload."

Gates opened constantly, and monsters showed up all the time.

Strong hunters were welcome everywhere.

"That’s the problem. Officially, Choi Yongki, you’re a D-class hunter. You wouldn’t be welcomed as help; you’d be treated like baggage wherever you went."

Oh. So that was how it was.

Only “strong” hunters were welcomed.

Low-ranked hunters were just troublesome children who needed training.

They weren’t the kind of people you deployed in the field and expected results from.

Lee Yu-seol went on.

"So I forced a reason."

"What kind of reason?"

"A fan signing event."

"…"

Me? Doing a fan signing event?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"That sounds about as sensible as Na Sang-min going on a blind date."

"Pardon?"

"I mean it came out of nowhere. That’s what I’m saying."

If you became an S-class hunter, you got celebrity-level popularity.

Sometimes hunters even used that recognition to work as influencers on the side.

"Like you said, I’m a D-class. Who the hell’s going to show up at a fan signing? Scrap it."

"Ugh."

Lee Yu-seol let out a groan and pressed hard at her temples.

"This is the best I could do. Even arranging a fan signing was a stretch."

"No. I’m not doing clown work."

I had no intention of whining, but to me, it looked like there were plenty of other ways to handle this.

"Clown work? You’re a hero."

Lee Yu-seol stepped closer to me.

When I lifted my head and glared at her, she flinched and took a step back, putting some distance between us again.

She must have been afraid I’d grab her by the neck again if she crossed the line.

"Do you know what policy Go Pil-hun is pushing the hardest right now? Rebuilding Dio Guild’s image."

Lee Yu-seol spoke faster now.

"After the multi-gate incident at Gangnam Station, you became a hero. There are people all over the place who want to meet you. You have to strike while the iron’s hot."

But quite a bit of time had passed since then.

Wasn’t it a little too late to be swinging the hammer now?

"This will definitely help raise your standing, Choi Yongki. Just trust me on this, even if you think I’m fooling you."

She was trying hard to persuade me, but I let most of it wash over me while sorting out my thoughts in silence.

Well, she’s not entirely wrong.

Unlike the Cheonyang-ji job, which I’d handled as quietly as possible, this one needed to be made as noisy as possible.

Part of that was to secure the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠practical benefit of military exemption.

But it was also to give me more freedom to operate within Dio Guild later on.

"Choi Yongki."

Lee Yu-seol quietly reached out with both hands and took mine.

"This isn’t me trying to boss you around because I think I’m better than you. We’re on the same team, aren’t we?"

She and I had formed a strategic alliance to achieve our respective goals.

Lee Yu-seol wanted to push Go Pil-hun aside and become Dio Guild’s representative.

I wanted to make her my puppet and stand behind the curtain as the one pulling the strings.

"Just once. Help me just this once, okay? This really is the easiest way."

Lee Yu-seol pleaded as though she were about to cry.

Her first impression had been haughty and rude, but now she looked like a meek little sheep.

Of course, that only applied in front of me.

Come to think of it, the bad news Lee Yu-seol brought me wasn’t entirely bad at all.

Life was full of reversals, after all.

The guild probably wanted to use Choi Yongki as a backdrop for some childish fan signing event and turn it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into a publicity stunt.

But if I handled it well...

My gaze fell on the white envelope I was holding.

I might hook a big fish.

I lightly tapped the back of Lee Yu-seol’s hand with my left.

"Fine. Dramatic negotiation, settled."

Lee Yu-seol’s face brightened.

"Really? Thank you! Whew."

I left her there, breathing a sigh of relief, and started walking.

I was going to be busy from here on out.

"I’ll let you know the timing separately, so set the dispatch date to match that."

"Understood. Oh, and one more thing."

Lee Yu-seol called after me from behind.

"This really will be enough to push Go Pil-hun out, right?"

Her eyes were unusually sharp.

There was no such thing as a free lunch.

A negotiation didn’t mean one side won and the other lost.

The best outcome was for both sides to win.

I slung Heoksikdo over my shoulder and opened the door.

"Just trust me."

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Sweat dripped steadily onto the wooden floor.

This was the kendo hall inside Paradise Garden, a place I often used when training with Simon.

"Grrrngh!"

Clenching my teeth, I gripped White Revenge in reverse.

From the pitching machine opposite me, steel pellets were flying toward me at high speed.

Clang! Kaang!

I batted them away furiously.

Because Ganro-ryu aimed for absolute defense, I couldn’t afford to let even one slip past.

I was parrying the incoming steel pellets with my sword.

It might have looked like simple training at a glance.

But Simon was sitting on my shoulders.

She wore a weighted vest and lazily flipped through a book.

Inside the vest was a blue magic stone.

It was called a Weight Stone.

The monster known as the Steel Hornbeetle was so absurdly heavy for its size that each one weighed more than 300 kilograms. The magic stone extracted from its body was the Weight Stone.

The interesting part was that the more mana you poured into it, the heavier it became.

The Weight Stone embedded in Simon’s vest weighed about one ton.

That was the load I was currently supporting.

Five steel pellets came flying at me in a row.

I knocked away four of them, but missed the last one.

"Guh!"

I barely dodged, but it must have grazed the skin beside my eye, because it burned hot.

Damn it. I almost went blind.

My legs trembled.

One careless mistake, and it felt like I’d be crushed under the Weight Stone.

"Haa... how much longer do I have to keep doing this?"

Simon answered while casually turning a page.

"Don’t whine. You’re still a long way off. Until I finish reading this book."

Then a thought suddenly struck me.

Could it be that all top-class swordsmen were psychopaths?

Na Sang-min or Simon, it didn’t matter.

Why were they all so determined to work me to death?

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠endured the gravity pressing down on my shoulders, kept parrying the steel pellets, and repeated it.

Again and again.

Endlessly.

My mind had started to go blank when an alarm suddenly rang out.

I had been grinding myself to the bone in training lately with both Na Sang-min and Simon.

Being with strong people naturally meant experience piled up.

A gift? So that’s the reward for it?

What would it be this time? A new skill?

It’d be great if it just increased my balance, though.

My eyes flew open.

My body tilted, and my balance broke.

"Ahh!"

Simon, who had been on my shoulders, fell to the floor.

"What the hell? You’re already tired?"

Simon sprang back to her feet and dusted off her butt.

The pitching machine launched another steel pellet at maximum speed.

The pellet flew straight for Simon’s head.

I reached out and caught it barehanded.

My palm stung, but the motion was flawless—clean enough to leave no room for criticism.

Simon’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"...You’ve improved a little."

My gaze was still fixed on empty air.

Hero Selection Ticket

1 use.

If I understood this correctly, then unlike before—when I had only learned hero skills as they were handed to me—

I can choose my own hero now!

As I tightened my grip, the steel pellet in my hand crumpled into the shape of my fingers.