227. This Bastard!
O.C.'s operations chief Billy hurriedly sought out branch manager Ulvert.
"What? They found the guys chasing Kang Moo-hyuk?"
"We already found those idiots passed out on the rooftop ages ago. This is about something else."
"Is it about Burton or Margarine or whatever?"
"Yes."
Billy thrust the crumpled A4 sheet onto the desk from his clenched fist.
"What's this?"
"While we had some manpower freed up, I took a look at the LA freelancer lines. And I spotted something off."
Ulvert picked up the paper and scanned the contents. It listed names, alphabet ranks, dates, and locations around LA.
"Looks like a hunter roster by the ranks. Locations are hunting grounds. What's with the dates?"
"Dates of disappearance."
"Give me more details."
"I pulled rumors and incidents circulating in the hunting grounds from O.C. members. Lately, a ton of hunters have gone missing."
"Not monster attacks?"
"That's the issue. Check the locations and ranks. Doesn't something feel wrong?"
"Let's see. Ranks from C to B. Locations..."
Ulvert quickly spotted the anomaly in the list.
"Excluding gates, none of these are particularly tough hunting grounds."
"Exactly. Some on this list could solo these low-grade spots. Freelancers who’ve been out of action for a while use them to shake off rust."
"No way they'd die to monsters there?"
"Monsters are unpredictable, so I can't say never. But no monster in those areas wipes a B-rank without a trace."
Ulvert raised another possibility.
"Variants or evolutions?"
"If it was one spot, maybe. But the disappearances are spread wide. A monster covering that much ground would've been spotted by now."
"So, your conclusion?"
"Butter's deadliest side effect on hunters is paralysis mid-hunt. Some pass out, others hallucinate."
"Meaning addicts hit side effects during hunts and get eaten by monsters?"
"Yes. We'd need a full probe to confirm, but it's the most plausible theory right now. What do we do?"
Ulvert caught the subtext in Billy's question—permission to launch an investigation based on the hunch.
Normally, he'd greenlight it on the spot and report later, but the scale felt bigger, so Billy sought formal approval.
Ulvert pondered. This could stir up the whole city. Without knowing butter's source or spread, unintended clashes were a risk.
After deep thought, Ulvert finally spoke.
"Can you compile cases and trace the missing hunters' movements?"
"Yes. Pinpoint residences and haunts, interview contacts, shops they hit—ready to sweep it all. Get lucky, we might snag a butter dealer."
"Proceed. Text members for cooperation. Report anything suspicious. Put branch elites on standby."
"Got it."
Ithaca Guild's vice master Powel descended into the sewers behind Skid Row's illegal brewery, tracking mysterious traces.
"What a stench."
"Stay up top. I'll scout and report back."
His right-hand man Grant urged him multiple times, but Powel shook his head again.
"Guild master's orders. He sent me to handle variables quietly, no noise. He's meticulous—better if I check personally to dodge surprise questions."
"True, master micromanages even small stuff."
"Heh, wrap this quick, and drinks are on me tonight."
The trailing hunters' faces lit up at Powel's words. They were already griping inwardly about trawling filthy sewers but held back before the vice master. Knowing this, he'd dangled the carrot.
But as time dragged, keeping that promise grew tough. The search was taking too long.
"What the hell is this?"
Deep in the sewers following the trail, they found a collapsed concrete wall. A tunnel bored into it, sloping steeply downward at a diagonal.
"Not construction. Narrow passage."
"Wide enough for one person."
"Monster that digs tunnels... ants?"
"No known ant monsters use poison."
"Could be a new breed."
"If ant colony, impossible no one noticed them burrowing city-side. They devour massive amounts—would've hit people already."
"Fair point. Swarm tactics, food-obsessed bastards."
Powel agreed with Grant. Time to tweak the plan. Reading him, Grant spoke first.
"What's the call? Pull back, gear up heavy, then return? Or bury it now?"
"Hate backtracking. Burying feels sloppy."
"Push through then?"
"Any guild members lacking confidence? Oh, except Thomas."
Laughter rippled through the hunters at Powel's joke.
"I'll scout ahead and report. Even if risky, escaping's no issue. No swarm monster's that tough. Who are we?!"
"Ithaca!"
"And Ithaca is?"
"The West's strongest guild!"
Powel barked the familiar cadence, hunters roaring the motto back.
Juvenile on the surface, but it forged guild bonds—crucial for Ithaca, straddling legal and illegal lines, to steel loyalty against conscience or betrayal.
"Alright, let's go."
Powel plunged into the tunnel first. Grant followed, then the rest, diving into the deep earth-bound hole one by one.
"I called earlier? Hunter Crime Force Agent Martin McGitch."
"Kang Moo-hyuk."
"This way."
Kang Moo-hyuk arrived alone at the HCF LA branch. With Thomas still unconscious, Jang Deok-gu stayed at the hotel to watch him.
Jang had insisted on tagging along, but Kang couldn't leave Thomas unattended. Only Jang could rein him in if issues arose.
'Inside HCF turf, plus Federation backing—no funny business. Nail the talk, and No Song-rin escorts back, so security's covered.'
He'd persuaded Jang with such logic.
Kang kept simulating scenarios in his head as he followed Martin.
The destination was a glass-walled conference room. And waiting inside was the expected figure.
Just bigger than anticipated.
"Hunter Policy Division Chief Alexander Hamilton."
"Iron Will Guild Leader Kang Moo-hyuk."
Gripping the offered hand, Kang inwardly groaned.
A heavy hitter.
White House Hunter Policy Chief was a killer position, dictating North America's massive hunter market. Even Kang had to stay sharp.
"Have a seat."
Kang sat at the casual gesture, face impassive, waiting.
Hamilton sat opposite but said nothing.
Even Martin, who'd set it up, slipped out—leaving silence, broken only by the clock's ticking.
After an eternity of staring, Hamilton shook his head in surrender.
"You're remarkably taciturn."
"Not me. You set this up, Hamilton. The one with business speaks first, or how can I respond?"
"Cautious too. Most ask why they're summoned. My work's anything but ordinary. Yet you act detached, like it's someone else's problem."
"Maybe I've nothing to fear."
Kang replied evenly, but Hamilton bristled at the nonchalance.
"You seem to guess what I'll say."
"A White House bigshot flies to LA this fast? Must be heavy influence. And I've only one thing going in the US."
Kang skirted directness, but signaled clear grasp: Rider wolves. Only two guilds tied to eastern Dragon Horse ranches have that pull to move the White House.
"Sharp, so this'll be easy. White House position: US Customs will block unverified monster imports."
"Unverified? Legal basis?"
"Before laws, it's a new mount unproven tame. No export record, never shipped from Korea, goblins handled it—bringing that here screams issues."
"So, domestic shipments and exports elsewhere open the market anytime?"
"If procedures are proper, no reason to block."
One thought dominated Kang's mind.
They caved.
He knew "proper procedures" were a nightmare—rubber-stamped timelines stretching weeks to years, even indefinitely, per politics.
Not exporting immediately anyway, but this blatant pushback rubs wrong.
Hamilton's "friendly" victor smile irked Kang.
"Mr. Hamilton, sorry, but we needn't follow US import-export rules."
"Haha, smuggling?"
"Hardly. I live by 'even bad laws are laws.' Korea calls me the guy who thrives lawless."
Joo Se-ah's offhand quip once.
Law-flouting yet untouchable—her joke.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Iron Will's partnering with the World Hunter Federation on rider wolves."
"!!"
"Federation's a US special entity, right? Overseas guilds collaborating with domestic firms bypass standard imports. Oh! Building a wolf ranch in LA? Foreign guild investment looks good. Mounts'll stir fresh winds west."
Those winds might turn tornadic.
This bastard!