Don't Block the Path Ahead
“Once the guild relocation announcement goes out, we need to decide where to put the headquarters. Got any spots in mind?”
“A few candidates.”
Kang Moo-hyuk nodded at Joo Se-ah's question and tapped his tablet. A map appeared on the 150-inch monitor mounted on the guild master's office wall.
“The current special activity zone covers a wide area in northern Pocheon: Gwanin-myeon, Yeongbuk-myeon, Idong-myeon, Yeongjung-myeon, Changsu-myeon, and parts of Ildong-myeon. The northeast borders part of the Gwangju Mountains, so the terrain is mountainous, making it easy to defend the passes leading to flatlands. But the areas bordering Nampocheon are open plains with a bunch of old golf courses, leaving them exposed on all sides. We've got electric fences up, but they don't fully stop the occasional monster incursions from the south. Keeping that in mind, I've marked a few candidate sites.”
Joo Se-ah stared intently at the Nampocheon border highlighted on the monitor. Kang Moo-hyuk had prepared it meticulously—headquarters candidates and basic info were all laid out.
She picked one spot that seemed decent and pointed it out.
“Then we should put HQ right on the border. It's close to the city, easy access. Response times would be a breeze. How about here? The old Art Valley site. Says it shut down due to financial issues. Plenty of buildings for HQ, ample space for training grounds. It's a headache property nobody wants, so Pocheon City would probably hand it over no problem.”
“It won't be completely free. We'd have to talk to the city, but some payment is inevitable.”
“How much?”
“With relocation costs and severance for departures factored in, the budget's tight. We could propose installments, and they'd likely accept... but. It's not what I'm aiming for. It's near the city, sure, but still a ways from the actual border.”
Kang Moo-hyuk erased Art Valley from the map, and Joo Se-ah scratched her head, scanning other options.
“Alright, what about here? Pocheon Adonia CC. Golf course means wide-open training fields, clubhouse for HQ. Right on the front line into the city. Plus, it went bust from monster threats.”
“Not bad, but it doesn't fit for resource buyback rights or the planned operations.”
“What? Then all these marked spots are the same deal. If you wipe 'em out, what's left... Chief Kang, you don't mean...?”
“Exactly. Not on the border—inside North Pocheon. That's where we'll put HQ.”
“Th-there's even a place people can live?”
“There's a perfect spot. Right here. Sanjeong Lake.”
A resort popped up on the newly highlighted area.
It had been fully shuttered since turning into a monster den.
Status: Closed (Monster Infestation)
Location: Sanjeong Lake, North Pocheon
Features: Expansive grounds, large buildings, ideal for aggressive sweeps
“This resort has vast grounds, major buildings, and supports proactive extermination ops instead of passive border defense. Minus clearing out the entrenched goblin nest, it checks every box from my proposal. Plus, all the gate resources cluster in these northern mountains. Hunters coming in extract what they can, but hauling it while hunting is a hassle. We handle buybacks, storage, and charge for rest stops—turns it into a mid-point supply hub.”
“You're gonna run a business targeting hunters?”
“Plenty of freelancers hit North Pocheon yearly. Steady monster spawns draw guild hunters for combat drills too. But most can't push deep due to supply issues. We'll lure 'em in with lodging, item sales, resort upgrades. Quick revenue for the guild, and covers scouting the special zone where we can't spare steady manpower.”
Joo Se-ah had never seen a guild run like this. Hell, she'd never even heard of it.
Common for corporations, sure—but they lacked the means to handle special zones.
Guilds chased fat raid profits from gates and expeditions, ignoring special zones.
Even Slayer Guild, where she'd spent a decade, was the same.
Shaking off her disbelief, Joo Se-ah mulled it over.
Ditching old prejudices, it started sounding plausible.
'No gates spawn in special zones—the whole area's basically one big gate. They get resource rights, tax breaks, business freedoms as perks... but who builds businesses where monsters pop out? No foot traffic. But treat hunters as customers...?'A forgotten dump suddenly brimmed with golden potential.
Then Kang Moo-hyuk dropped the clincher.
“Decisively, this resort is free.”
They were deep in relocation talks when it happened.
Brap-brap-brap! Brap-brap! Brap-brap-brap-brap!
Joo Se-ah's smartphone blared obnoxiously.
Kang Moo-hyuk recognized the ringtone.
“Same as mine. That's an old one—you have to hunt it down these days.”
“Used it over ten years; it's comfy.”
She glanced at the caller ID and scowled.
“Who's that?”
She shoved the screen at him instead.
“That the one I think it is?”
“Yup. Association Chairman. Why's the old coot suddenly blowing up my phone?”
Brap-brap-brap! Brap-brap! Brap-brap-brap-brap!
Kang Moo-hyuk's phone joined the racket.
“Article must've dropped. Mine's ringing too.”
“Handle 'em solo for now.”
Joo Se-ah played it cool, but the guild was chaos.
PR team was ground zero—phones lit up like infernos.
Strategy team dodged next by "strategically" hanging up preemptively.
Hunters caught hell after.
Rivals hit personal lines via old ties.
But they had zilch on the chief anyway—no authority, apathetic to internals, ignored fringe guild. Sudden scrutiny from snobs? Overwhelming.
And not friendly calls—prodding the chief system or fishing intel. Many hunters just powered off.
With Taeseong hunters ghosting, managers got roasted.
Their job was hunter-wrangling, so rivals squeezed for scraps.
But.
“Guild decisions? Ask Jo Dong-jin all you want—useless. Even I know squat, and couldn't spill if I did.”
—Hey, you handle Dong-jin, right? Me and him go way back from training. Stiff like this won't end well for you?
“Hunter's your buddy Dong-jin pal, not mine.”
—Damn, this bitch got a mouth. What's your name? I'll tell Dong-jin to whip your ass! What kinda guild has no structure? Teach you to talk like that? Knew it when you dragged in that no-name 'chief'...
“Management Team, Oh Jeong-yeon, assistant manager. Even Jo Dong-jin can't chew me out over this. And.”
—Argh, seriously. And what? Spit it!
“Some random hunter punk calling another guild's chief 'that bastard'? You talk to your guild master like that, 'this fucker, that fucker'? Watch your damn mouth!”
Slam!
Oh Jeong-yeon smashed the receiver down.
“Ha?! The hell? Chief's their buddy now? Sick of these clowns acting high and mighty. Tsk!”
Not just her.
Post-Oh Jeong-yeon's mess, management backed Kang Moo-hyuk hard.
Team lead Kim Dong-yong, knowing the vibe, yanked cords on ringing lines.
“Cut 'em all. Wasting energy on chief drama? Do your jobs.”
Taeseong lines fading? Sparks flew to group HQ.
Protests and press swamped ops; even execs started hanging up.
Should've pissed off the chairman. But his office stayed quiet.
Instead, eldest son and vice-chair Tae Su-cheol raged.
“Get him here now.”
“Joo Se-ah refused last time too...”
“Not her—the chief.”
“Pardon?”
“That Kang Moo-hyuk punk. Let him slide with the second kid once; now it's too loud. Nip it early.”
Fires spread to other guilds.
Slayer—Joo Se-ah's old haunt—burned hottest.
A man lounged at his Italian leather desk, skimming articles, stroking his nameplate, lost in thought.
SA MUN-HYEOK
“Knew she wouldn't stay quiet. But this crosses the line hard. 'Chief,' huh... What’s our expedition leader think?”
Slayer's expedition leader So Sang-yeop stayed mum.
Irked by the silence, Sa Mun-hyeok scoffed lightly.
“Fair. He's your prized buddy; tough to bash.”
“Even without us, everyone's piling on. Old ties—why not let it slide here?”
“I'd love to. But others won't. Didn't she storm the lobby last time? What’s our face worth?”
“Wouldn't have blown up if we hadn't poked first.”
“Swallow Immortal Guild whole—let that slide?”
“We left bad blood on renewal first.”
“Whose side are you on? Joo Se-ah's or mine?”
“Slayer's, obviously. Just saying no need to make old comrades enemies.”
So Sang-yeop wielded more pull than the vice master—even the guild master couldn't ignore him.
Sa Mun-hyeok held off direct hits on Joo Se-ah precisely because of him.
'Loyal enough, but a pain in every way.'Sa Mun-hyeok swallowed a sigh, feigning retreat.
“It's entertaining for now; we'll watch. But if it hits us or sours the industry vibe, I can't just spectate forever.”
Vague.
The chief system was already rippling the hunter world.
But So Sang-yeop knew the guild master yielded face; he nodded.
“If it goes south, I'll warn her myself.”
“Welcome, old timer.”
“Association Chairman. Call me that, punk.”
“You always 'this punk, that punk.'”
“Can't utter one civil word, huh? Punk.”
Despite the cane, Han Byung-gu boomed like a steamed locomotive, mana surging.
He swung the staff at Joo Se-ah's head.
She dodged with afterimages, nimble as ever.
No hits landed; he exploded.
“Punk! Just one smack. One! Hurt that bad?”
“Your cane to my skull? Even I'd drop dead. Learn moderation, old man.”
Jang Deok-gu entered, huffing, tray of coffee and green tea in hand, slipping between them.
“Both ease off the mana. Secretary's too spooked to come in. Am I the errand boy at my age? Green tea for you, Chairman?”
Han Byung-gu lowered his staff, sat, sipped—then spat it back.
“Tch, teabag? Real green tea needs leaves steeped.”
“Poor guild—don't nitpick. Better than water.”
“Big corp subsidiary this stingy?”
“Can we cut to the chase?”
“Still hot-headed. Fine, no long talk. Where's that chief punk? Fire him now.”
Joo Se-ah's forehead vein throbbed.
“Old timer's finally senile? Telling me to axe my own guild guy?”
“Not senile—Chairman advice. Duty to rein in guilds before they run wild.”
“Duty's just you dodging hassle, right?”
“Brat who skipped the Great War yapping big? Curbing rowdy hunters hurts more than boss raids—you know that?”
“Don't know the war firsthand, but I get the horror. This was my hard call.”
“If your call stirs storms, you're green as guild master. Quit now, scout a spot somewhere. As my attendant, say. Slayer issues? I'll hook you up.”
Han Byung-gu pressed; Joo Se-ah cooled oddly.
Her cold gaze traced his wrinkles.
“Listen, Chairman. I respect your legacy. But don't block young hunters' paths just to save face.”