#299. Let's Target Her First.
“What’s this?”
“A transfer proposal.”
Kang Moo-hyuk read the document Joo Se-ah handed him and signed it without a word.
She blinked in surprise instead.
“No complaints?”
“It’s properly formatted, the transfer fee’s industry standard, and there’s nothing major to flag. Pass it to legal for a clause review, get approval from the other guild, then finalize the personal agreement and you’re good to go.”
“No, I mean the target.”
“Baek Hyeong-gyu, you mean?”
“That’s not what you ordered, Director Kang. I braced for a lecture.”
“I’m sure the Guild Master has it handled. If she can’t even transfer one hunter without my say-so, I’d deserve the ‘pants guild master’ label.”
Kang Moo-hyuk’s response was dry and rote. Joo Se-ah caught the subtle edge in his tone, though—discomfort he wasn’t voicing.
“You’re sulking.”
“Hardly.”
“Then why the long face?”
When he didn’t reply, she prodded.
“Spill it. Keep stonewalling and I’ll assume you really are pissed.”
“Just... made me realize how far I still have to go.”
“Far from what?”
“I planned to warn Baek Hyeong-gyu and call it there. We shared a pot of rice, after all—he’s not the type to ignore a word to the wise. It wasn’t malicious; just careless talk. No need for heavy-handed measures, so I sent the Guild Master instead. Never dreamed she’d bring him back. Even if she pitched it, I figured he’d turn it down.”
Joo Se-ah tilted her head questioningly, so he elaborated.
“Saw it plenty at Titan. Hunters quitting after losing close comrades, unable to cope. Physiques that shrug off ogre charges crumble mentally, landing them a washout rating. Harsh, but guild strategy deems those thorns too deep-rooted to pull. Convincing someone like that... I didn’t think I could, but that doesn’t mean the Guild Master couldn’t. Lesson learned—I overlooked the possibility.”
“Kinda gets it, kinda sounds cold. Anyway, we’re good to proceed?”
“Yes.”
Joo Se-ah had prepped countermeasures all night for his backlash, only for it to fizzle out. She deflated, feeling foolish for the tension.
Whatever—good news is good. Better than a flat no.
She grabbed the papers to leave, forcing positivity.
Then Kang Moo-hyuk stopped her.
“Since we’re on personnel, two items to handle.”
“What? Scouting more?”
“One’s a merger with another guild. The other’s training instructors.”
“Merger I heard whispers of, but we’ve got instructors already.”
“Jang Deok-gu, No Song-rin, even you as Guild Master—it’s not enough. Freelancers flooding Hunter Village classes have Lee Jin-joo pulling expedition duty. Wasting top firepower on low-rank training is inefficient.”
Iron Will had turned North Pocheon into one massive training ground.
Freelancers got consultations matching hunts to skill levels, with Hunter Village as base. Tailored gear and combat styles boosted survival odds.
High-rank Iron Will hunters ran periodic lectures on hunting techniques and survival tips for users.
Kang Moo-hyuk’s desperate measure to elevate Korea’s hunter stock—quantity and quality. Survival first, growth follows.
Some would hit high ranks late-blooming; others, hidden gems nearly lost, might shine.
Plenty of cases: early flops turning elite later. He aimed to systematize and scale it.
“We can’t raid gates anyway. Unless one pops in our turf. Leaves us time, right?”
“Legally, territorial guilds stick to home zones—prevents neglecting base for distractions. But an S-rank guild bound by that? Soon, we’ll lobby reps with the Guild Cooperation Office for a special exemption.”
Solution offered, but Joo Se-ah worried more than anticipated raids.
“Bad idea. Stay out of politics, Director.”
“Not politics. Just clearing dumb red tape.”
“Moving politicians is politics. You’ll catch ‘puppet master’ flak. Rumors already twist weird.”
She recalled Dreamer Guild gossip.
Kang Moo-hyuk brushed it off, refocusing.
“Point is, our training’s patchwork. Low-ranks need growth. Solid waist for standing tall.”
“Fine, your call. But where do we snag quality instructors? Not poaching from Slayer or other tiers, right? If so, I’d talk you out—done tangling with them.”
“Better than tier guild instructors.”
“Seriously?”
Joo Se-ah’s eyes widened skeptically.
She’d endured Slayer’s regimen. Jang Deok-gu led, but she devoured every curriculum for growth.
She knew tier guilds’ instructor caliber and facilities firsthand.
“More like an instructor unit. None better in Korea—worldwide, top handful at most.”
“No way. Guild instructors are retired legends who ruled eras. Who’d outclass them?”
“Perfect timing—I was heading with the Association Chairman. Want to meet them?”
“That confidence... alright. I’ll judge for myself.”
Five hours later.
“Director’s right—total world-class.”
“...”
Kang Moo-hyuk couldn’t follow up.
Han Byung-gu with them avoided eye contact, coughing awkwardly.
“Ahem! Told you not to overhype.”
“These are... Great War legacies...”
Kang Moo-hyuk had reason to deflate.
Before him: two dozen elders playing board games, crooning trot, slapping go-stop cards.
“Average age unbeatable for instructors. Experience must dazzle?”
Joo Se-ah sweated eyeing the frail ancients.
Her take was unseen layers.
All A-ranks. How’d this high-rank bloc stay hidden?
Her ambivalence prompted Han Byung-gu’s subtle defense.
“Look frail, sure—but I vouch: once top fliers. Issue is...”
“Hey! What’d you say?”
A passing elder swung his cane.
Han Byung-gu recoiled.
“Nothing, Senior!”
“What?”
“Nothing!”
“Why hunt whispers here? Try the track.”
“...”
Han Byung-gu turned to Kang Moo-hyuk.
“Time conquers all. They were sharp teaching Eul-ji. Ears falter, minds wander—but skill endures. Rank doesn’t drop with age. Experience compensates reflexes.”
“Looks solid.”
Joo Se-ah and Han Byung-gu assumed disappointment. Wrong.
Exceeds expectations.
He saw dozens hoarding refined mana purer than any hunter he’d met—even beyond Joo Se-ah’s control.
“Chairman.”
“Yes?”
“Contracts now. Full onboarding for all.”
“Big trouble!”
Go Eul-ji burst in dramatically.
No Song-rin, exiting HQ, caught her.
“What? Guilty verdict? Don’t sweat—I’ll put in a word with my Ujungdo guy.”
“Settled out of court. No prison for me.”
“Good.”
“Huh? You’re agreeable today. Thought you’d be bummed.”
“You never disappoint.”
His sudden warmth made her leap back.
“Who’re you? Mr. Jo shapeshifted? Nah, not his style.”
“Literal. You’re no letdown.”
“Creepy. Goosebumps.”
“Just time till you do. Sooner or later. And you’ll crash spectacularly into Ujungdo.”
“Pissed but weirdly soothed. Feels like old No hyung.”
Conflicted, she hesitated.
No Song-rin clarified.
“So, what’s the fuss?”
“Huh? What fuss?”
“Big trouble, you said?”
“Oh crap! Big trouble!”
“What?”
“Gramps and grannies incoming.”
“What, senior center tour?”
“Heard from Grandpa. My old teachers joined Iron Will today. Instructors soon.”
“That’s it? Recruits happen. Quit the drama—handle your business. I’m busy.”
No Song-rin shooed. She persisted.
“No idea how dire. You’d freak if you knew their sadism. We strike—protest, anything. No way.”
“Worse than your Guild Master trainer?”
“Hers is brutal drills; theirs, petty torment. Pick one? Her. Wait, theirs worse? No—lived both, can’t choose. But Guild Master...”
No Song-rin shoved the agonizing girl aside.
“Dunno why the dilemma, but quit bugging. Tsk!”
“No escape either way. Think I’d whine if I could dodge both?”
“Quit then.”
“Re-signed in the US, remember? Penalty kills transfer talk.”
“Right... Director’s got your life. Sorry.”
“No biggie. You got blackmailed into slavery too.”
The high-rank duo’s gloom cleared the area.
Go Eul-ji shifted topics to shake melancholy.
“What’s your rush, anyway? No Director.”
“Personal.”
“Personal what?”
“Digging something.”
“What?”
Her persistence hit his odd vibe.
No Song-rin murmured low.
“Director Kang Moo-hyuk’s past. Smells like secrets.”
“Secrets? Dirt? Let’s squeeze. Can’t live getting played forever.”
“Don’t know yet. Starting now.”
“I’m in. Where first?”
“Inner circle, obviously.”
“You weren’t?”
“Titan days.”
“Then?”
“Yeah. Pyo Beom-hee Team Leader. Let’s target her first.”