Reunion with the Youngest Brother
Even if she somehow reached Level 3, it might be different.
From what she’d heard, the Point Mall supposedly sold a potion at that level capable of resetting aggro values.
It was insanely expensive, so not the kind of thing you could casually buy, but every now and then someone still purchased one. On the flip side, there were also potions that raised aggro values.
The logic was simple: higher numbers meant monsters would come to you, making hunts easier. A few people bought them for that reason. The complete lack of reviews, however, suggested they’d probably died.
Kim Myeong-hui knew these details about hunters thanks to Hunter Net.
The system that awakened individuals possessed included something strangely similar to the old internet—a bulletin board category where they could exchange information and post messages among themselves.
Since everyone kept their real secrets hidden, there wasn’t much truly valuable intel. Still, it was incredibly useful for learning about distant regions or cities through text alone.
It was exactly how she had looked up the cash-to-points exchange rate in Seoul and passed the information on to Kang Tae-sung.
“Internet, huh…”
Somehow, they were saying the internet was coming back online.
When she dug a little deeper out of curiosity, the explanation was absurd. No communication lines or antennas had been installed, yet devices were picking up WiFi on wireless networks.
That was why rumors claimed it had been done with magic.
“The world really has gone crazy.”
The only visible change in daily life was people carrying around terminals that had been useless junk until now. That number would probably keep growing as the days passed.
Even among hunters, those with laptops or tablets were already losing themselves in communities and forums they hadn’t been able to access before, staying glued to the screen for days at a time.
Some searched for acquaintances they had lost during the chaos, like families looking for separated relatives. New hunter-related information sites and communities were popping up in real time.
The Hunter Net inside the system didn’t need devices or electricity, but its limitation was that it could only handle text.
That still allowed a certain amount of information exchange, yet it fell far short of the real internet.
Being able to see the landscapes of other regions and cities through photos and videos—things that had only existed in words before—was an advantage that couldn’t be ignored.
“They probably aren’t charging for it.”
She had no idea how they had reactivated the internet, but if they started demanding fees, what then? How would they even identify users and collect payment?
It probably wasn’t possible.
Deciding it was a pointless train of thought, Kim Myeong-hui shook her head, blinked her stiff, dry eyes a couple of times, then rolled over toward the dimmer corner of the wall and lay down.
“We’re stuck on night duty for a while, so you should get some sleep too.”
“Yes.”
Jo Yun-jeong climbed onto the opposite cot, pulled the threadbare blanket over herself, and tried to sleep.
The building that had once been a gymnasium for students had been heavily renovated inside and now looked extremely crowded.
One section was filled with makeshift cots and bedding, resembling a temporary shelter for disaster victims. Another area held refrigerators of various sizes that seemed out of place, along with simple cooking facilities.
A considerable number of people were still gathered there. It might have been the largest crowd Yeon-seong had seen in one place since returning to his hometown.
Most of those who stood out, however, were either very young or quite elderly—people who seemed to need protection rather than provide it.
In the far corner beyond them, a young man sitting on what might have been a private cot—an old camping bed—was fiddling with something when he suddenly shot to his feet after hearing a message someone had relayed.
Even after spotting an unfamiliar figure among the people at the entrance, he didn’t seem entirely sure it was the man he remembered.
The young man slowly crossed the room. Only when they were close enough to clearly see each other’s faces and features did he finally speak, as if confirming what he was seeing.
“Big brother… is that really you?”
Kang Tae-sung quietly asked the question as he looked at his youngest brother, who was approaching from across the room wearing what appeared to be salvaged combat fatigues.
The boy who had always followed him around calling “big brother, big brother” had grown into a full-fledged young man in just five years… and now wore a brown leather eyepatch over one eye.
“Ah…”
Maybe having only one eye was why he had recognized his brother so late.
Kang Yeon-seong slowly raised a hand and touched the eyepatch covering his left eye, running his fingers over it.
“I lost one eye but kept my life… so it was a profitable trade.”
“I see.”
It was half a joke. The old version of his big brother might have scolded him for it.
But when Kang Tae-sung simply nodded without any particular reaction, Kang Yeon-seong felt his chest tighten for no clear reason.
“There are a lot of stories I want to hear.”
“Same here, big brother.”
“Do you have time? I heard you were working with the combat support unit.”
“Ah, that was before all this. Right now… I’m just helping out with odd jobs around here.”
The combat support unit was a place even healthy young men competed to join.
There was a real risk of death, but it was almost the only realistic chance to awaken by pairing up with a gunner and sticking close. Hunters with decent earnings would often pass annoying tasks to their assistants and pay them in errands—mostly food, which was more valuable than anything else in the current situation.
“Before that…”
Kang Tae-sung trailed off and stepped closer. He looked slightly awkward.
When Kang Yeon-seong saw the way his big brother held his arms open, he understood without needing to ask.
“Let’s have a hug.”
“……”
He remembered the big brother who had always been quiet, handling his own share of work without stepping forward much for his siblings or family.
This version of his big brother felt incredibly awkward and strange, but he didn’t dislike it.
Kang Yeon-seong took one step forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Kang Tae-sung, who stood there with his arms slightly open.
His big brother now seemed a little shorter than him. Yet the sensation of holding him was like embracing a massive boulder—solid and unyielding.
It wasn’t just because he was his big brother. Something felt different.
That feeling grew even clearer when he patted his brother’s back with a closed fist, and when his big brother patted his in return.
A body that felt nothing like the old version of his big brother. Wait… was this really him?
They released the hug. When Kang Yeon-seong stepped back and studied his brother’s face carefully, the only real difference from the past was a slightly tired expression.
“Talking here might be a little awkward. There’s a quiet spot out back.”
Kang In-hye, who had been watching from the side, spoke up and pointed in a certain direction. Kang Yeon-seong nodded as if he already knew the place.
“There’s a spot outside with some benches grouped together, big brother.”
“Anywhere is fine with me.”
If that place was comfortable, they would go there. Kang Tae-sung nodded.
Kang In-hye left to handle other tasks while the two brothers stepped out of the gymnasium and sat down on the wisteria-covered bench they had mentioned.
“Where have you been all this time?”
At his youngest brother’s question, Kang Tae-sung felt countless similar words echo inside his head like a hazy reverberation.
He had once imagined what his family might say when they saw him again if he ever made it home.
One of those imagined lines seemed to overlap with the present, blurring the line between memory and reality.
But none of that mattered now. Although Kang Tae-sung had prepared many stories back then, he simply opened his mouth and gave a short answer.
“I was sent somewhere against my will. It was an incredibly distant place.”
“We filed a missing person report. They found the tracksuit and shoes you were wearing on the mountain… Someone picked up your phone but hung up immediately, so we couldn’t trace it.”
“That makes sense.”
The tracksuit had been old and worn—no one would have wanted it. The sneakers were the same. As for the phone, someone had probably grabbed it thinking they could sell it secondhand.
“It was right when the world suddenly turned strange and everyone was in chaos. There were so many missing people, and quite a few suicides…”
Kang Yeon-seong glanced at his big brother, then shook his head.
“I knew you weren’t the type to do something like that… We filed the report, but it was our family who actually found your belongings.”
The police had been far too busy at the time to handle ordinary cases.
So the family had gone around to places where Tae-sung might have been and eventually discovered what appeared to be his clothes and sneakers deep in the mountains.
It was strange that they had found not only the tracksuit but also the underwear he had been wearing underneath, but the police said there was nothing they could do right away.
It wasn’t hard to understand. Riots broke out in the city every other day, and looting of daily necessities was rampant. They could see with their own eyes that law enforcement had no resources to spare.
“……”
Kang Tae-sung listened quietly to his youngest brother’s story, mentally arranging the events that had occurred at the time in chronological order.
The chaos had begun right after his disappearance. The discovery of the clothes came nearly two months later—the same period when strange creatures started being sighted in deep mountains and remote areas.
Monsters.
At first no one knew what to call them, but from some point onward everyone began referring to them that way as if by unspoken agreement.
So his family had no choice but to assume Kang Tae-sung had been attacked by one of those creatures in the mountains.