Didn't You Come to Catch Me?
The congressmen took Kang Moo-hyuk at his word and headed straight to the Chongjin City perimeter without a second thought.
They had no reason to suspect anything. After all, downtown Chongjin looked relatively unscathed—just a few cracked asphalt roads and shattered storefront windows along the curbs. Sure, facilities here and there were smashed up, but overall, the scars of war weren't that severe.
The only real difference from other cities? The streets were eerily empty.
Even that made sense, given how most of the citizens had evacuated south.
But up north in Chongjin City? That was a different story. Collapsed buildings lined the roads like dominoes. Dozens, hundreds of abandoned cars smoldered black along the curbs, and power poles and streetlights had been uprooted and slammed into buses.
At least there were no corpses in sight—a small mercy, thanks to local volunteers who'd collected the dead.
As the movie-like devastation stretched on, dry swallows echoed from the group here and there.
A few congressmen voiced safety concerns once, twice, but Kang Moo-hyuk reassured them not to worry.
"Named monsters have held the Maecheollyeong and Hamgyong Mountains for ages now. They rarely come down from there. With hunters holding the line, the city hasn't faced real threats beyond the initial damage. Once an assault team forms, that named will be taken down soon enough—no need to fret."
After Kang Moo-hyuk's repeated briefings on the city's safety, the group finally relaxed.
But they missed the chill that had settled over his previously warm, accommodating expression.
The congressional entourage and broadcast crew set up against the backdrop of the utterly collapsed northern Chongjin tollgate.
The network had coordinated with the Guild Cooperation Office for a live broadcast. It was a rare chance to air raw frontline footage, so they even cleared a special slot—expectations were sky-high.
With congressmen touring the site in the background, the anchor raised her mic. The PD gave the cue sign, and the camera light linked to the studio flicked on.
BOOM!
An explosion rumbled from somewhere distant, echoing like a church bell. Far enough away that the group just flinched briefly—no big reaction. The broadcast team even welcomed it as perfect ambient tension.
The PD twirled his finger, and the anchor launched into her script. Intermittent blasts punctuated her words like a drumbeat.
"We're here at the northern Chongjin tollgate. Until recently, monsters descending from the Tumen River defense line..."
Suddenly, a bigger blast roared—then another, and another, rolling closer.
The anchor cut off mid-sentence, turning toward the noise. The PD didn't call cut, just followed suit. The cameraman instinctively swung the lens that way.
Smoke billowed from the horizon, shooting skyward before spreading like fog across the area.
"Huh?"
The smoke was drifting right at them. No wind in sight.
"W-what the hell is that?"
"Shouldn't we get out of here?"
Before anyone could decide, the fog was in their faces.
Then the ground trembled. Like a heartbeat—thudding through their soles, building to a violent quake.
People stammered in confusion. "Wha-what?" "What's going on?"
Someone spotted a massive shadow rippling in the smoke and pointed frantically.
They tried to shout a warning—but the sight bursting through the haze silenced them.
A colossal snake, dozens of meters long, flicked its forked tongue as it emerged.
"Kyaaah!"
"Ugh—ru-run...!"
Screams erupted everywhere. As people stumbled back, the snake's piercing eyes swept the crowd.
Movements froze like a paused video. They tried pleading toward the Hunter Association hunters standing like screens behind them, but no sound came out.
Oddly, the hunters just stood there. The chairman pretended not to notice. The Guild Cooperation director had his back turned.
It felt like a nightmare. Drool and tears streamed down faces. Some pissed themselves; others fainted standing. They writhed in silent panic, but the monster's skill pinned their bodies.
Not everyone was immobilized, though.
Step. Step.
Just one person.
Kang Moo-hyuk strolled leisurely through the statuesque crowd.
"Smoke Snake. Known here as the 'Smoke Serpent' monster."
He backed up, facing the group, then pointed behind him and approached the serpent, launching into a briefing.
"A large reptile like the Watusi Snake, another snake-type. Sizes range fifteen to twenty-five meters. It emits smoke from gill-like slits under its jaw, using it for cover. It also paralyzes prey with its gaze. Counter with mana resistance or..."
He turned back to the crowd, pointing at his own face.
"...sunglasses or similar eye protection."
He pivoted again, nearing the serpent.
"Unlike typical snakes, they hunt in packs. Like this."
As his words ended, the smoke parted.
Shadows within revealed themselves one by one as the fog retreated.
Eight smoke serpents total.
And hunters locked in combat around them.
The noise had been there all along, buried under shock—but now it hit their ears full force.
Eerie serpent hisses, hunter shouts, skill blasts—a fierce battlefield.
Hunts raged everywhere, yet the serpent right in front of Kang Moo-hyuk hadn't budged, still eyeing the crowd.
"Iron Will Guild's expedition team is handling this fight. As promised, your safety is guaranteed."
Then a small shadow dropped from above Kang Moo-hyuk's head.
Thud!
The ground cracked on impact—a petite girl.
She extended a hand toward the serpent. It recoiled like a marionette on strings.
Kang Moo-hyuk removed his sunglasses and gave her the order.
"Hunter Go Eul-ji. Take this one out too."
"Hunting wasn't enough? Now we're doing shows? Ease up on the slave-driving, Boss."
Go Eul-ji muttered just loud enough for him to hear, then thrust her hand forward. The serpent's bulk floated up and soared toward the ongoing battles.
Released from the gaze, the crowd collapsed like cut puppets, gasping for air.
Kang Moo-hyuk approached the broadcast team amid the heaving. He seized the dazed anchor's mic. The camera still rolled. Despite the fiasco, the studio didn't cut feed.
By protocol, they'd switch to a holding screen or studio commentary—but no network could pass up monsters up close. Plus, Cha Gil-ju had tipped off the higher-ups.
He propped up the wobbly cameraman and stepped before the lens.
"This is our daily life here."
He grabbed the camera himself, panning to the fights.
"Hoiryeong City: 22,421 dead. Musan County: 31,111. Da Hong Dan: 10,017. Plus 141,763 missing. And uncounted others."
He bit his lip with each figure.
"All suppressed under the 'Monster Security Act.' The press won't even look."
He swung the camera back to himself—too close, his breath fogged the lens.
"Everyone. South Korea is crumbling right now. Thousands have died up north. If it falls, nowhere's safe."
The cameraman snapped to, zooming out professionally. Battles filled the frame again, with the ruined tollgate and cracked road in view.
Kang Moo-hyuk pointed.
"This will be everyday life soon."
He started to say more, but the live indicator blinked off.
Someone had killed the feed.
Longer than expected.
Enough aired already. Viewers saw it live; the government couldn't bury it now.
The press couldn't stay silent. Ignoring this would brand them incompetent—or worse, indifferent. Public doubt would kill them.
From here, they'd fight it out.
Whether they wanted to or not.
The shocking broadcast lit up every community site.
The press, stung by their own silence, unleashed provocative headlines.
Netizens fixated most on why congress went to a warzone.
News of officials faking frontline reports to congress.
Congress's baffling stunt, campaigning in a warzone off those lies.
The piss-your-pants lawmaker became an instant meme.
Days later, even more absurd headlines piled up.
Articles slamming truth-revealer Kang Moo-hyuk proliferated online.
Congress piled on, from "coup against legislature" to profanity-laced rants.
Some spun Joo Se-ah appointing him as a scandalous favor—nepo hire vibes.
On-site wasn't controlled as he claimed; civilians risked lives, witnesses said. Reckless stunt ignoring safety.
Anonymous sources called him a hero-deluded psycho. "Eyes gone mad," "sunglasses for show"—baseless vitriol nonstop.
As the mudslinging ripened, congress moved.
Non-public hearing under Monster Security Act. Refuse? They'd drag him.
But.
Public opinion didn't bend to gov/congress will.
Police mobilization to drag him? Iron Will hunters glaring from active battles made it dicey.
Finally, Hunter Investigation Agency agents dispatched—but chief refused, citing villain hunts only.
Justice Ministry twisted Guild Coop Law clauses for "emergency" summons against anti-gov guilds.
Chongjin City.
"You've grown bold. What's this now?"
"Senior Jang, pushing won't—"
"So what? Let 'em take our boss?"
Jang Deok-gu blocked the door to Kang Moo-hyuk's room, fiddling with his sword hilt. Investigators flinched at the casual gesture.
The legendary Hunter Investigation vet cowed them.
"Gonna cut us down, Jang Deok-gu?"
An investigator stepped forward from the hesitant pack.
"Na Sang-myeon...? First-grade now?"
Jang Deok-gu eyed the three-sword insignia on the white armored coat collar.
Investigator Na Sang-myeon drew his sheathed sword forward—long hilt prominent.
"Touch an investigator, it's Ujungdo straight. Been out a bit, but you haven't forgotten?"
"Ujungdo or not, won't be you locking me up. I'll fix you first, then turn myself in."
"Heh, still feisty. Bring it."
Jang Deok-gu drew without hesitation. Na matched him.
Others backed into the hall, not intervening.
"Told you once: you're more villain than cop."
"Just me?"
No quarter given.
Tension peaked.
The door swung open.
"What're you doing? I'm dressed."
"Already?"
Jang Deok-gu shrugged, sheathing his blade as killing intent faded.
Na, caught off-guard by the shift, scowled.
"What game?"
Kang Moo-hyuk spoke for him.
"No game. Didn't you come to catch me?"
"......"
"Let's go. To the hearing."