#285. Not Cold Water—Straight into the Pacific
Even with crowds thronging Incheon Airport's arrivals hall, an eerie silence hung in the air.
A low murmur rippled through the people, echoing across the hall like stereo sound from afar.
Moments later, the automatic doors to arrivals slid open. And from them emerged a figure no Korean citizen could fail to recognize.
"It's Joo Se-ah!"
"Guild Master Joo!"
"Unni~ Kyaa!"
"Se-ah noona!"
The arrivals hall teemed with all sorts of people.
Reporters hungry for quotes and broadcast cameras blocked Joo Se-ah's path. Guild Cooperation Office staff and security personnel stepped forward first, clearing the area to prevent any incidents.
Along the flanks stretched lines of what fans called "Joo-daddies"—Joo Se-ah's devoted supporters—cheering and clapping wildly.
At the crowd's edge lingered a different group. Masked to symbolize their silence, they held placards in quiet protest.
We demand the truth about the U.S. naturalization controversy.
Guild Master Joo Se-ah, are you truly abandoning Korea?
Joo Se-ah, you're the second Bertrand.
"They say if there are fans, there are haters too. First time I've seen folks who actually hate the guild master."
Go Eul-ji, not yet inside the hall, peered out curiously from beyond the barriers.
"Hey, kiddo. Don't get snapped in photos for no reason—come over here. We're heading out separately."
"Can you drop the 'kiddo' crap already, No-ssi?"
"You calling a grown man 'No-ssi'? What am I, some construction grunt?"
"Hunters go by rank as hierarchy, right? I'm the top dog here."
"Fine, then when you hit A+, you gonna call Party Leader Jang Deok-gu just 'Jang-ssi'?"
"Well... yeah, kinda awkward?"
"Why hesitate with Jang party leader but call me No-ssi like it's nothing?"
"Duh, 'cause he's master's master. Hierarchy's clear— no mix-ups."
Kang Moo-hyuk left the bickering Go Eul-ji and No Song-rin behind, following the Guild Cooperation Office staffer's guidance to a side path.
"The director's waiting for you."
"Please guide our team members separately to the vehicles."
At Kang Moo-hyuk's request, another staffer was assigned to the group.
They walked the corridor until a small room appeared. The staffer opened the door. Kang Moo-hyuk stepped inside. The space, about 300 square feet, was cozy with a sofa, TV, and basic furnishings.
In the center waited Cha Gil-ju. He gestured to a seat and spoke.
"Director, glad to see you looking healthy. I caught the U.S. news. Didn't expect you'd be raiding there too."
"Monsters seem to follow me wherever I go. Caught me off guard as well."
"If I'd known it'd blow up like this, I'd have pulled every string to stop Guild Master Joo from going to the States. Park from our office said Iron Will urgently requested it, so I just looked into it—no idea the visa would come through that fast. Before we could even think, she was on a flight, leaving no time to react."
Park Chung-su's name slipped from Cha Gil-ju's lips, but Kang Moo-hyuk showed no reaction as he sat on the sofa.
"So what's really going on? I called in every major media outlet as you asked, but I'm worried it'll stir unnecessary chaos."
"Explaining the U.S. stuff will take time—I'll set up a proper meeting later. First, shall we watch the guild master's broadcast? It's live now, right?"
"Yes. All the networks have it slotted."
Kang Moo-hyuk turned on the TV. No need to flip channels—Joo Se-ah was mid-statement.
Acting all awkward about it earlier, but damn if she doesn't nail the script when pushed.
Kang Moo-hyuk recalled Joo Se-ah's grimace on the plane when he'd handed her the draft.
She'd begged him to do it instead, claiming it didn't suit her at all.
'Nothing beats the guild master stepping up herself. If she doesn't show face, they'll cry lack of sincerity. Besides...'
Anyone but Joo Se-ah would've undermined the interview's credibility.
For the deal with Bertrand, her leading the charge was essential.
As questions and answers flew, Joo Se-ah finally pointed to one reporter.
It was Kim Dal-pil from Korean Newspaper, whom she knew well. He'd gotten the question in advance via Cha Gil-ju.
The hall erupted in an instant.
This impromptu presser at arrivals—for dramatic effect—had her fans nearby too. Even passersby watched out of curiosity for Joo Se-ah, amplifying the chaos.
Rumors from U.S. hearsay had just turned fact.
But her follow-up unleashed an even bigger wave.
Another reporter raised a hand, but Joo Se-ah palm-upped to end questions.
Even that casual gesture oozed charisma; the others sheepishly lowered theirs.
Joo Se-ah continued.
Joo Se-ah declared the presser over and exited. Reporters swarmed with flashing cameras.
Fans cheered wildly; protesters quietly folded their signs.
Kang Moo-hyuk switched off the TV. Cha Gil-ju, staring blankly, snapped back.
"Using Bertrand Lefebvre's name like that—won't they push back? Could turn into a diplomatic mess. Not just U.S.-Korea, but U.S.-France too."
"That's the point."
"Pardon?"
Kang Moo-hyuk recalled his plane chat with Joo Se-ah.
"Why make such a huge fuss? Doesn't seem like you, Director."
"First, to quash Korea's toxic public opinion. Fabricating the Bertrand anecdote borrows his clout to make rebuttals impossible."
"Yeah, who'd argue with an S-rank from America's top guild? Especially on official record—no doubts there. So what's second?"
"Plant a debt on Bertrand."
"Huh? Wait—didn't you just tell him at the airport that we'd wipe his psychological debt to Rockets' master?"
"We did."
"And now we're saddling him? No—making him owe us instead of Rockets?"
"Exactly. Necessary. To partner with their Dragon Horse ranch down the line, we need that leverage. Plus, when we export Rider Wolves to LA someday—not immediate, but eventual—at least Rockets won't sabotage."
"What if this pushes Bertrand back to France without renewing? Total bust."
"Even better. Can a guild without an S-rank hold its old sway?"
"...Whoa, con artist. If I were Rockets' master, I'd quit on the spot."
"Rockets' master would rage less than President Aaron Arthur."
"Aaron? Aaron Arthur? Why drag in the U.S. president? I'd rather not poke that bear..."
"They tried to screw us. Figured a faceful of Pacific Ocean was fair play—not just cold water."
"So, what bomb did you drop on them?"
"Know the point of his European tour?"
"How should I? Barely follow Korean politics—too busy with monsters. Hate headaches."
"Mend fences with France over Bertrand. Discuss security cooperation with a Europe weakened by losing S-ranks."
"Wait, that means..."
"This interview will explode French opinion. Their Napoleon-esque hero 'betrayed' to U.S. schemes? Outrage. Government rides the wave—their polls are tanking. Might even hype a hero's return for credit. Naturally, the patched U.S.-France rift reopens."
"Whoa, insane... Not cold water—straight into the Pacific."
White House, West Wing, Oval Office.
BAM!
The Resolute Desk—survivor of the Monster Wars, still used by presidents—shuddered as if to shatter.
President Aaron Arthur ground his teeth at Joo Se-ah's interview on TV.
"This European tour's turned into a taxpayer boondoggle."
"That's not the issue. France demands our accounting on Bertrand Lefebvre's naturalization."
Aaron slammed the desk again at his aide's report.
"Accounting? This ain't a courtroom!"
"They'd drag it to the ICC to quell public fury if needed. Might even push his re-naturalization."
"I may hate guilds, but I won't wear 'president who lost an S-rank.' Damn it—shouldn't have listened to the Japs and messed with Joo Se-ah. Didn't expect her to go so bold."
"Couldn't come from her alone. She and Bertrand must've cut a deal."
"Joo Se-ah's out of our hands anyway—shelve it. What's the fire now?"
"Team with Rockets. Garen's ass is grass—might lose Bertrand for good."
"Connect me to Garen."
"Don't go direct. He knows you're behind this by now."
"Then what?"
"Call Director Hamilton. No one's better at sweet-talking guilds and hunters."
"That guy's still around?"
"Hasn't cleared out yet."
Aaron yanked his tie loose, perching on the Resolute Desk. His heavy breaths slowed.
"He'll come? Knowing it's a noose?"
"Hamilton's a patriot. Knows how dire this is. Can't lose Bertrand for monster security."
Aaron decided without prolonged thought.
"Fine. Patch Hamilton through. Might take me stepping up to calm him."
"What a fucking mess."
New York Rockets' master Garen couldn't process the overnight shift.
Bertrand ignored calls; media ran rampant.
Guild members were just as rattled.
That was an S-rank's weight: the guild's root and pillar simply by existing.
With root and pillar shaking, branches and leaves flailed cluelessly.
"Going dark on purpose? Jacking up his price?"
Garen had no choices left.
He felt the need to renegotiate their bond. Couldn't lean on father Tyga's old pact forever.
Knew this day'd come. Time to balance the scales?
But thought against fact: scales already tipped against him.
No way to control the S-rank anymore.
Tyga's name? Just moral arm-twisting to Bertrand.
No home before—but now France's people and government backed him. Return meant hero's welcome.
No cards against a debt-free Bertrand. Only unconditional concessions.
"Joo Se-ah... Hooking up with Bertrand like this. I'll repay this debt someday."