#284. How Shall I Cook These Bastards?
'Threatening me and then perfectly concealing his presence right away? What a clown. Doesn't seem like he's even trying to hide it. What kind of trick is this?'
Bertrand didn't need to test the two Easterners separately to figure out which one was the S-rank hunter.
One of them was already a familiar face.
'Kang Moo-hyuk, was it?'
The man from the file folder he'd received from the Rockets Guild.
Kang Moo-hyuk. Iron Will Leader. Trusted by Joo Se-ah.
There were notes about him leading the formation of the unified strike force during the Northeast Asia Makyung incident and serving as operations officer, but Bertrand dismissed it as nothing noteworthy.
'Just a figurehead anyway. Taking orders from Joo Se-ah. A non-hunter stepping up has obvious limits.'
In summary, aside from Joo Se-ah, he was an ordinary man with nothing special to note.
From the common sense of the hunter world, Bertrand's dismissal was natural.
'So that guy's the S-rank.'
Bertrand's gaze naturally shifted to the frail-looking man standing behind Kang Moo-hyuk.
He wasn't in the guild's data.
Which made sense—Thomas's transfer had happened amid the LA incident, when all agencies and organizations' intel networks were crippled by monsters.
Even the Rockets Guild, with the best information network, couldn't maintain it during a monster outbreak.
Overlooking this, Bertrand misread their intentions.
'Two S-ranks? In Korea... no, what the hell is Iron Will? Some secret government-backed outfit? Otherwise, how could they have two S-ranks like the Miami Heroes?'
Bertrand's doubts didn't linger. Kang Moo-hyuk stepped forward, cutting them short.
"Of course, we're not really here to fight. Who would pick a fight with Bertrand Lefebvre, one of the top S-ranks in the world?"
"And yet you set this trap... Wait, did you leak this whole thing?"
Only then did Bertrand fully notice Kang Moo-hyuk smirking faintly at the corner of his mouth.
His mind cleared suddenly, like cold water had been dumped over it.
'This guy's acting all relaxed? Like he knew I'd come.'
Kang Moo-hyuk didn't answer and stepped even closer to Bertrand.
"You seem to have come just to save face. You've still got time before your flight—how about a cup of coffee in the meantime?"
"Do I look like someone with time to sip coffee at some pointless meeting?"
"Weren't you free? That's why you showed up at the last possible second, like catching the final ride out."
"……."
"I hear the Rockets Guild Master is sharp enough to team up with Washington Dynamite and move White House policy director Hamilton the moment we made contact with West Coast guilds. He'd have heard about our guild master first, not last. If he knew, he'd have nipped it in the bud. But his errand boy shows up late, so he must've been up to something else. Or maybe he didn't want to do someone else a favor. I'll pretend not to know who 'that guy' is—your guild master."
Kang Moo-hyuk whispered the end like an afterthought. Bertrand snorted expressionlessly.
"Speculation and narrative don't make facts. That's fiction."
"Maybe. I don't read much fiction. But I do follow the news. You might remember—five years ago around this time, that France Télévisions public broadcast interview. Impressive stuff. Felt like I was seeing the ideal hunter. Not like now."
Bertrand's expression twisted slightly.
Kang Moo-hyuk pressed on, ignoring it.
"You were overflowing with love for your homeland. And now you've become American. Can't really argue if people call you a traitor—gasp!"
Bertrand shot out his hand and grabbed Kang Moo-hyuk by the collar. Choked, Kang Moo-hyuk flailed his arms left and right—a gesture stopping his companions.
Bertrand rolled his eyes, scanning both sides.
Closest, Joo Se-ah's hand chop aimed at his neck. Then the mysterious S-rank from earlier had erected a barrier in front of Kang Moo-hyuk.
Simultaneously, a small dagger flew from somewhere, circling his wrist gripping Kang Moo-hyuk. The hunter using it was far below his rank, but the power packed into that dagger wasn't something to ignore.
'Joo Se-ah aside. A mage and a telekinesist... Not a bad party setup.'
Beyond that, every Easterner except one foreigner had weapons trained on him—likely Iron Will members.
"I'm fine, Guild Master. Go Eul-ji, recover the Dragon Scale Hairpin. Everyone, stand down. The mood's too tense for a talk. He's a very important guest."
Kang Moo-hyuk dispersed the group without ever naming Thomas.
Here, Bertrand read the man's caution. He'd been listening closely to identify the undocumented S-rank.
A veteran like him could tell this was intentional—no leaks even in the sudden chaos.
'So that's why Joo Se-ah drags around a non-hunter. Sharp mind. Quick on his feet.'
Snapping his neck would be easy, but Bertrand found himself intrigued by Kang Moo-hyuk. Curious what he'd say next.
He released the collar and said,
"You want to talk?"
"Well, more like some advice?"
"Do I look like I need advice?"
"If you'd had proper counsel, you wouldn't be living in America now."
They'd barely spoken, but Bertrand quickly realized words wouldn't win against this man.
"There's a café over there. Let's talk."
They settled into a café with a green logo shaped like a siren from myth.
Joo Se-ah deliberately stayed out of the conversation, positioning herself nearby but not too close—an implicit sign leaving it all to Kang Moo-hyuk.
Thomas watched Bertrand from the café's edge, signaling readiness to strike if needed.
Sandwiched between S-rank threats front and back, Bertrand didn't blink, focusing solely on Kang Moo-hyuk.
Kang Moo-hyuk felt a mix of admiration and pity for his nerve.
"Rough way to start a conversation. You only get one life."
"Because I know it'll work with you."
"Not just because you've got S-ranks backing you?"
"That too. Isn't that why you even listened, Bertrand Hunter?"
Bertrand conceded the point. The two S-ranks had made him pay attention.
"So what do you want? Poking at me like this, seems like your business is with me, not Rockets."
"It is with you, and it's far from pointless."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Kang Moo-hyuk sipped his coffee and got to the point.
"First, to clarify: Did you come here to recruit Guild Master Joo Se-ah?"
"Yeah. Our guild master's ambitious."
"Answering before I even ask. So it's the guild master's idea. Last question: Do you really think she'll accept, Bertrand Hunter?"
Bertrand couldn't answer. Naturally—he knew it was impossible.
'Joo Se-ah's different from me. I was cornered from all sides. Held back by old ties.'
Without the latter, he'd have crushed most American schemes.
He owed a huge debt to Rockets' former master, Tyga, complicating his personal life when he chose America.
Like a high-stakes chess game, moves weren't easily undone.
'Joo Se-ah owes nothing here. Slander and plots are useless against firm S-rank will. That's why the White House is panicking.'
That obvious thought turned to suspicion under Kang Moo-hyuk's question.
"Your face says you think it's tough. Would Rockets' guild master miss that?"
"What're you getting at?"
Kang Moo-hyuk steadied his breath and said carefully,
"I don't know what was discussed in your negotiations with Rockets. But judging from your actions post-naturalization and North American hunter rumors, I suspect you've got some weakness they have on you."
"You think I'd have a weakness?"
"Or maybe a debt. Not money—S-ranks aren't bought cheap. Call it a debt of honor."
"……."
Silence was affirmation, but Kang Moo-hyuk didn't dig deeper.
'Bertrand was heroic before naturalizing. A model for European hunters. Beloved by France. His arrogant image started after joining Rockets. Someone deliberately shaped it.'
To counter Bertrand, whom Maria—serving the freeloader—had warned about, Kang Moo-hyuk had gathered intel, aided by Hamilton. Top-secret limits, but plenty of stories.
'Hamilton said he's conscientious, values hunter duty. Proud S-rank, uncontrollable except by the guild master, but the Super S S-rank with the most missions.'
Super S kept at least one North American S-rank stateside for gate threats.
Bertrand topped annual residency and missions—diligent for an S-rank.
"Don't poke into my business. Cut the bullshit and get to the point. Without those two, your head would've been smashed already."
Bertrand growled, glancing at Joo Se-ah and Thomas.
"Unpopular in America, hypocrite in France. That's your situation."
"You like beating around the bush."
"Short version: You're stuck relying on Rockets. No choice but to dance to your guild master's tune."
"!!"
"Rockets' guild master—Garen, right? He's scheming to keep you chained. Building psychological debt so you can never leave."
"Ridiculous! S-ranks are welcome anywhere. Think I can't find a spot? If not, I'll make one. My name alone draws investors and hunters in droves."
"Run a guild? Don't. Headache city. Better just hunt monsters. You know at S-rank—Korea too, but especially America—guild masters are businessmen, not hunters. More people than monsters. Doesn't suit you anyway."
Kang Moo-hyuk waved him off.
Bertrand thought the man knew him too well.
'How much intel does he have? Feels like he's reading my mind. If he were a hunter, I'd suspect mind reading. But he's not...'
Half right, half wrong. Kang Moo-hyuk read expressions, not thoughts.
Micro-movements, twitches, color, breath—his mana addiction-honed observation and insight at peak.
Plus Hamilton's intel made it near-perfect.
"Think it over. Contract ending soon? Not lifetime, right? Nearly five years since joining—industry standard, about two left? Busy lately? Things getting tangled, and you can't face the guild master comfortably."
Affirming silence again. Kang Moo-hyuk continued.
"Classic pre-renewal sabotage. Rare, but last resort when nothing else works. Cuts off exits, pressures mentally for the signature. Industry poison pill. Means you're too conscientious. Just flip the table and walk—can't, so they exploit it thoroughly. Whatever form, it'll come again. That's why you're not keen on recruiting our guild master."
Some know it's wrong but can't ignore it.
Bertrand was that type.
He owed his life to Tyga, Garen's father—pre-S-rank. Vowed repayment, now his ankle weight.
He'd kept the vow, leading here.
"Making me out like some spineless idiot."
Bertrand leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Not confession, but relieving and exposing—like stripped bare.
One thing clear: not bad.
No excuses worked against traitor label back home, yet this unexpected man saw his truth.
Indescribable feeling brought rare fatigue from an S-rank.
"So the conclusion? Not just digging my past to trash Rockets. What do you want?"
"What if there's a way to flip this whole mess at once?"
"What?"
"That debt of honor. Make them feel it. Have Garen squirming in front of you, helpless. One-shot reversal."
Bertrand leaned forward unconsciously.
Kang Moo-hyuk grinned.
"Korea has a saying: eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Poison pill for poison pill. Interested?"
Bertrand nodded.
Just before boarding the flight to Korea, Kang Moo-hyuk called the Guild Cooperation Department.
"Director, it's me. Kang Moo-hyuk. Heading into Korea now. Yes, I know. The news. Chaos there, right? America? No way. Guild Master can't eat without kimchi and gochujang. Hard to find even in Koreatown these days. Cabbage here's no good. Yes. Don't worry—do me one favor."
"What is it?"
"Reporters at the airport. Gather as many as possible. Make it big."
"Come on, slipping in quietly would be best right now. Don't call reporters. Enter quietly first, we'll plan countermeasures. Public opinion's boiling over."
Despite Cha Gil-ju's concern, Kang Moo-hyuk pressed on.
"I'll write the script. Star is Guild Master Joo Se-ah. Don't say that. I can't live with being screwed over. Gotta get revenge when it's due."
"Who messed with you to blow it up like this?"
"Hard to say directly..."
"Tell me who. I'll make them regret it."
"Nah. You'd get in trouble. Just say some uncle in Washington. Oh, boarding now. Hanging up."
"Wait—"
Kang Moo-hyuk powered off his smartphone completely.
Boarding the plane, he stared at the runway outside, lost in thought.
'Tied up America, smoothed over Korea. That leaves Japan? How shall I cook these bastards?'