168. Yes, That's Overstepping Authority.
Tang!
The gavel slammed against the desk and shot into the air. The shattered head clattered across the floor, rolling to a stop, followed by dead silence.
The assemblymen who had entered the hearing room reacted in their own ways—some looked troubled, others conflicted, and a few simply crossed their arms in mute frustration.
The chairman who had hurled the gavel smoothed his twisted expression and reined in his anger. Once his ragged breathing steadied, he left one final remark for the room before exiting.
"We'll take a short recess. Reconvene in one hour. That's when we switch to the open hearing, so steel yourselves. And get a new gavel ready."
As the chairman handed the broken handle to his aide and vanished, the members of the National Assembly's Hunter Special Committee gathered in small groups, regardless of party lines, venting their shared dismay.
"Things weren't supposed to be great between Taeseong and Iron Will, right?"
"That's what I thought. There were rumors that Joo Se-ah, the guild master, was Chairman Tae Jin-seong's illegitimate daughter, but they weren't on good terms."
"So why's Chairman Tae pushing for an open hearing?"
"Tsk tsk. You guys. If they weren't really on bad terms, would it be like this? Blood is thicker than water, after all. And there's no such thing as a daughter who truly hates her rich dad. Joo Se-ah becoming Iron Will's guild master? That's all because Chairman Tae pulled strings."
"Yeah, even at my house, my daughter and I bicker, but it's never real hate."
As the brief respite allowed tempers to cool, the chaotic situation began to sort itself out, piece by piece.
But even as they grasped the unfolding events, one question lingered inescapably: why had the chairman, despite his fury, accepted Chairman Tae Jin-seong's demand for an open hearing?
"Nothing strange about it. What goes around comes around."
"Chairman Jeong Woo-su? That guy's got a spotless reputation as an incorruptible official. That's why nothing we throw at him ever sticks."
"He didn't take money."
"Then what?"
"He took a life instead."
"A life?"
"Not his own. His wife's."
"His wife? What're you talking about?"
"Years back, Chairman Jeong's wife had a serious illness. He was a fresh first-term assemblyman, straight out of human rights lawyering, with no pull or cash to his name. Chairman Tae swooped in, got her admitted to his own hospital, and cured her. Now he's calling in that favor."
"Damn, Chairman Tae even invested in a rookie assemblyman."
"Has he skipped any of us? We just didn't expect it to play out like this."
The assemblymen grimaced bitterly once more.
It didn't matter that both parties had been humiliated by monsters in Cheongjin City. The real issue was that the Hamgyeongbuk-do defense line fiasco had been laid bare to the public.
That moment marked the first crack in the two-party system's support base. Public opinion soured, and actual polls began to shift.
A third party, barely scraping by with 21 seats to qualify as a negotiating bloc, suddenly surged.
Votes from moderates in Chungcheong, Hwanghae, and Hamgyeong—the old North Korean regions—swung sharply their way. At this rate, it wouldn't be a two-party system anymore, but three.
To distract the public, both major parties had seized on the Cheongjin incident to assign blame. Of course, the process would be closed-door, with only the curated results released.
They planned to edit the outcome to their liking and feed the nation only the palatable bits.
But Chairman Tae Jin-seong's intervention had torpedoed that. They wanted to refuse, but the favors they'd accepted were too deep to ignore.
It felt ridiculous—untouched by media frenzy or public outrage, yet bending to a single word from a conglomerate chairman. And with no clue how the opposition would play an open hearing, anxiety was inevitable.
As the mood grew heavier, one assemblyman sighed and suggested, "Instead of standing around, let's grab some tea. We should align on a few questions, right?"
"Yeah. If we stick together, squashing one non-hunter guild leader is child's play."
The car had just crossed Mapo Bridge into Yeouido.
Kang Moo-hyuk passed through what used to be called Yeouido Park, now the guild district. The National Assembly building would come into view soon.
Gazing up at the skyscraper-like guild towers, he held his smartphone to his ear.
"Thank you, Chairman."
-How'd you know I have tentacles in politics?
"My last job was a solid A-rank guild. Oh, passing it now, actually. Nostalgic."
-Cut the chit-chat.
"Even A-rank guilds grease politicians' pockets plenty. You think conglomerates play by the rules? Everyone knows assemblymen are public property for chaebols."
-When has it ever been different?
"It's changed since the old days. Back then, it was symbiosis."
Politicians and chaebols—a relationship that could clash or thrive together. Monsters had ruined it.
"Post-Great War, guilds became power blocs. After the mini-wars, gate-related corps dominated society. Politicians scrambling to rep their interests? Old news. The Hunter Special Committee exists because of politico-corporate-guild collusion. Industry folks know it—though it's more master-servant than equal partners."
-You wasted a big card on a trivial favor.
"High cards mean big bets. Thanks again for playing it well."
-Not because I like you.
"I'm no beauty, sure. But this much should make a fine dish."
-Ease up on the jokes. Makes you seem frivolous.
"Just prepping for the cameras. People say looks don't matter, but first impressions do…"
-No need to explain. Got it.
Tae Jin-seong cleared his throat awkwardly. Kang Moo-hyuk pressed on.
"Point is, we have mutual interests, so maximum cooperation benefits us both."
-That's the open hearing? What's in it for me?
"One step in the process. Toward what you want."
-Fine. Show me your skills.
"Yes, sir. I'll serve up a real delicacy."
Kang Moo-hyuk ended the call as they pulled up to the main assembly building.
Media and press swarmed the car. Less than an hour since the open hearing announcement, yet they'd sniffed it out—an unusual speed, courtesy of Tae Jin-seong's groundwork.
Hunter Investigation Agency plainclothes agents piled out of the tinted SUV trailing Kang Moo-hyuk's vehicle. Hunter investigators stayed hidden to protect their identities.
The agents flanked the car, clearing a path, and opened the door.
Shutter clicks exploded as Kang Moo-hyuk stepped out. Flashes popped amid market-like chaos. Overlapping shouts blurred into gibberish.
"First thoughts on the hearing?"
"Your take on the Hunter Investigation Agency's compulsory summons?"
"Where's Guild Master Joo Se-ah? Any words from her about you attending?"
"Director. Critics say Cheongjin was overkill. On that…"
Kang Moo-hyuk ignored them. He turned back, leaning into the car.
Reporters paused, curious, watching.
He pulled out a garment, shook it out vigorously, dust flying. Nearby coughs erupted; some covered mouths and backed away.
Space cleared, revealing the full shape: a black armored coat with gold-embroidered edges, caked in grime that made patches look gray.
Kang Moo-hyuk donned the filthy armored coat. The Iron Will guild logo on his chest drew eyes. One outfit transformed civilian to hunter.
For a split second, silence fell, broken only by a torrent of shutters.
"As Iron Will's director, I'll answer the hearing in full sincerity."
His words shattered the hush like a spell. He pushed through the renewed barrage into the building.
In his office, watching the live feed, Chairman Jeong Woo-su scowled. He jabbed at the screen, sneering to his aide.
"That's a guild director? Hmph. He'd do better in politics."
Donning the coat on-site was solid showmanship, imprinting his non-hunter leadership role. And it wasn't clean—dust puffed like fresh from battle. The crisp suit inside? Transparent theater.
"Still, visuals matter. That coat's all folks will remember. Ah, Chairman—time's up. Let's go."
His aide tapped his watch. Jeong Woo-su rose, checking his reflection and attire. If the opponent donned full armor, he'd match with propriety.
Mirroring himself, he murmured.
"Had to yield the open hearing, but not the content. Chairman Tae, my debt's paid."
As with most hearings, it didn't dive straight in.
Preliminaries padded with face-saving rhetoric, preemptive waivers to dodge blame. Assemblymen had to preserve dignity, skirt scandals, lay groundwork against slip-ups.
Only then came the real questions.
"Director Kang Moo-hyuk. Falsifying the Cheongjin battle report—that was your doing, right?"
"That was to reveal the truth of the battlefield to the public…"
"No long-winded answers! Yes or no. Pick one."
"…"
"Director Kang. Isn't the Guild Cooperation Office a government department?"
"Yes."
"So why's a single guild abusing a government office for private gain? Isn't that interference in state affairs?"
"The Guild Cooperation Office's role is to facilitate smooth monster hunts…"
"Lecturing now? Who doesn't know that? Answer the damn question."
"…"
Kang Moo-hyuk mostly listened, offering scant replies as time dragged. Even TV viewers grew weary.
Boring, off-topic, inaudible answers—ratings plummeted live. As interest waned, Chairman Jeong Woo-su signaled an opposition assemblyman.
"Director Kang Moo-hyuk. Many allegations against you. Cheorwon Gate—before the orc raid, your North Pocheon fence patrol failed, letting orcs slip south. Casualties were high, right?"
"Unrelated to Cheongjin, but yes."
"Relevance isn't for you to decide. So it's true?"
"Yes."
"And Sinuiju. Not widely known yet… You handled that too? Our probe says hundreds dead, families of old North Korean coup hunters mass-naturalized. Your doing?"
"Yes. Mine."
The questioner's eyes gleamed.
"Odd, isn't it? A civilian—no, a C-rank guild director from a tierless guild—leads high-security ops like Cheorwon and Sinuiju? Ignoring the government? We'd understand coordination. But no—you wage war with hundreds of hunters, seize a city, import coup ringleaders as citizens. Who the hell are you to usurp the state?!"
Kang Moo-hyuk shot to his feet, no answer. He glared down at the shouting assemblyman, who flinched back against his chair.
"Yes, that's overstepping authority."
"Admitting it now?"
"Yes. What I did was overreach—because those meant to act turned away."