What Cannot Be Bought
The very next day, Commissioner Yoo Jeongtae came knocking on the door of Jeon Jaewoo’s studio apartment once again.
“Hunter Jeon, have you been well? You aren’t injured anywhere, are you?”
Fearing that Jaewoo might have sustained wounds during the subjugation of an Ancient-grade ruin, he had even brought along a team of high-ranking healers.
“No, I’m completely fine,” Jaewoo replied, studying the man’s face. “Though looking at you, Commissioner, it seems you’re the one who hasn’t been doing so well.”
In the few short weeks since they had last met, Yoo Jeongtae had grown noticeably gaunt. If anyone needed the healers’ restorative magic, it was clearly the commissioner himself.
Jaewoo, on the other hand, stood whole and hale, without a single scratch to his name. While Yoo Jeongtae certainly had not wished harm upon him, he could not help but stare in sheer disbelief.
He just conquered an Ancient-grade ruin solo, yet he looks completely untouched?
Just how powerful was this man?
Of course, it was only natural that Jaewoo was unharmed. The one who had engaged in a bloody, bone-crushing brawl with the World Tree was Myeolgeop. Jaewoo had merely watched from the sidelines, never lifting a single finger.
“It’s modest, but please, come inside.”
“Pardon the intrusion.”
At the mention of an incoming guest, both Myeolgeop and the Elder Lich had concealed their physical forms. Naturally, they were still lurking right beside their master, keeping close watch over the interaction. Even so, Jaewoo could not help feeling a twinge of worry regarding the Elder Lich. Unlike Myeolgeop, who followed every command with mechanical precision, the skeletal sorcerer had an eccentric streak that made his next move unpredictable.
In modern Earth, the head of a nation’s hunter administration was among the highest authorities in the land. Yet lately, the most vital duty on Yoo Jeongtae’s desk was tending to Hunter Jeon Jaewoo and currying his favor.
The moment word spread of an Ancient-grade ruin being conquered, the Korean Hunter Administration and the government had been thrown into utter chaos. Jaewoo posed no threat to the state; in fact, he had brought tremendous national prestige. The problem lay in the sheer magnitude of the aftermath. In today’s world, the strategic value of an Ancient-grade ruin defied imagination—and now, one belonged entirely to a single private citizen.
Before arriving here, Yoo Jeongtae had endured an unrelenting barrage of inquiries from the President and the Minister of Disaster Administration. The administration was thrilled that a South Korean citizen possessed such an asset, but equally cornered by the geopolitical fallout. The moment the subjugation was announced, protests flooded in from the international community. They argued that even if ruins operated on a first-come, first-served basis, there ought to be basic commercial courtesy. For South Korea, which had been backstabbed and undercut in international ruin disputes countless times before, such hypocrisy was laughable.
Reporters from every major broadcasting station were currently camped outside the Hunter Administration’s headquarters. Pushing aside that raging migraine of administrative duties, Yoo Jeongtae had rushed straight to Jaewoo.
“First of all,” Yoo Jeongtae said, “allow me to offer my heartfelt congratulations on your successful clearance of the Ancient-grade ruin.”
“Thank you.”
“Though truly, it is I who should be thanking you on behalf of the nation, Hunter Jeon…”
Yoo Jeongtae took a measured sip of the instant mix coffee Jaewoo had offered before leaning forward, his gaze dead serious.
“Tell me, Hunter Jeon. What is it that you desire?”
“Excuse me?” Jaewoo asked, caught off guard by the abrupt question.
“As the head of the Korean Hunter Administration, I want a firm assurance that you will stand with us. And in exchange, I am prepared to pay whatever price you ask.”
When news of the Legendary-grade ruin had first broken, Jeongtae had thought an extraordinary powerhouse had emerged within their borders. But looking back now, even the word extraordinary fell painfully short. Jeon Jaewoo had proven himself an irreplaceable, supreme national asset.
Yet Jaewoo’s answer remained unchanged.
“…Like I said last time, I really don't want anything in particular.”
“……”
Yoo Jeongtae suppressed a heavy sigh.
Men like this were always the hardest to sway. If someone had ambition, greed, or a distinct desire, you could simply grant it and bring them into the fold. If material incentives were useless, then the only card left to play was the safety of his loved ones.
“Hunter Jeon,” Jeongtae began with earnest gravity. “The reality is that you can no longer remain a mere private individual on this Earth. If neighboring superpowers harbor malicious intent toward your strength, worst-case scenarios could arise where your family is placed in mortal danger. If you align with us, we can guarantee the absolute protection of everyone precious to you.”
For virtually any other hunter, this would have been an irresistible, completely rational proposal.
“Ah. I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary either.”
“…What?”
The flat refusal left Yoo Jeongtae momentarily stunned.
“Uh… pardon me for asking, but are your relations with your parents strained…?”
“No, not at all. I have a great relationship with my parents. It’s just that I can easily handle their security with my own abilities.”
To be precise, it was handled through the abilities of Myeolgeop and the Elder Lich.
Jaewoo was no fool; he had considered his family’s safety from the start. Once his presence became known to the world, dangerous factions would inevitably attempt to target his parents. He had even consulted Myeolgeop and the Elder Lich on whether it might be wise to borrow the state’s resources to guard them.
Both summons, however, had strongly opposed the idea.
‘If it is the elders’ well-being you fret over, put your mind at ease,’ the Elder Lich had cackled, jawbones clattering. ‘Protecting a mere two mortals is well within my power.’
‘I concur, Creator,’ Myeolgeop had reported in its measured tone. ‘Entrusting the safety of your kin to a government agency risks providing the state with leverage to control you.’
‘…Is that so?’ Jaewoo had mused.
True to their word, the two constructs had put foolproof countermeasures in place. The Elder Lich had woven an intricate hex barrier that would deploy automatically the moment any threat drew near his parents, while quietly stationing stealth undead sentinels conjured through necromancy at their sides. Myeolgeop, meanwhile, had launched autonomous defense interceptor drones to loiter discreetly above them. The Lich had even proudly declared that his parents’ perimeter was now far more secure than that of most heads of state.
For Jaewoo, having such hyper-competent summons was a blessing beyond measure.
“……”
With his final bargaining chip rendered meaningless, Yoo Jeongtae found himself at a loss for words.
In truth, simply maintaining the status quo was acceptable from the commissioner’s perspective. So long as Jaewoo did not emigrate and continued residing in South Korea, the country was virtually guaranteed first priority in trading resources extracted from his conquered ruins.
The problem was the lack of certainty. No one could guarantee that Jaewoo wouldn’t suddenly pack up and leave for another nation on a whim. While the emigration of awakened hunters was strictly prohibited under domestic law, could the state realistically, physically prevent a hunter of Jaewoo’s caliber from leaving if he chose to?
Yet pushing him any further right now would only breed resentment. There was only one sensible stance left to take.
After a moment of silence, Yoo Jeongtae spoke softly.
“Hunter Jeon.”
“Yes?”
“If there is ever anything you need, no matter how trivial, please do not hesitate to tell me.”
“Ah, thank you.”
“I am not saying this in passing. This incident has made it abundantly clear to me: if I wish to earn your goodwill, I must be ready to do whatever it takes.”
“……”
Considering the terms of the contract Jeongtae had offered last time, Jaewoo was well aware that the commissioner had practically placed him above the law.
“Whenever an issue arises, do not feel burdened. Reach out to me directly. I will support you with the full weight of my office, both materially and administratively.”
“Understood…”
“Then, I shall take my leave for today. I will see you next time.”
Yoo Jeongtae rose from his seat, preparing to depart. Despite carving out precious hours from a frantic schedule, he had walked away with virtually nothing. Yet he never once attempted to pressure or corner Jaewoo.
He must be under incredible stress as head of the Hunter Administration. Yet he doesn't push at all.
Part of Jaewoo had almost expected the heavy-handed intimidation seen in films and dramas—the kind where government agents demand compliance for the greater good. But Yoo Jeongtae was far too seasoned for that. He knew precisely what catastrophic backlash ensued when high-ranking hunters were pushed into a corner. South Korea had already paid bitter prices for such blunders in the past.
Jaewoo’s impression of Yoo Jeongtae was quite favorable. Seeing the man go out of his way to accommodate his convenience, Jaewoo figured throwing a deal his way was the least he could do.
Standing up, Jaewoo dragged out a sturdy crate he had stashed in the corner of the room.
“Commissioner, since you’re already here, would you be willing to broker the rewards from the Ancient-grade ruin as well? They don't look like things I can use all by myself.”
Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Yoo Jeongtae spun around with supernatural speed, his eyes blazing with renewed vigor.
“Entrust them to me, Hunter Jeon, and I swear on my name I will secure you the highest price on the market!”
In recent days, China and Japan were seething with rage at South Korea.
The reason was simple.
Ruins that both nations had earmarked for themselves had been snatched right from under their noses by a single South Korean hunter. Japan had lost the Legendary-grade ruin, the Grave of Swords. China, meanwhile, had lost the newly manifested Ancient-grade ruin.
China’s fury was particularly incandescent. While Japan had merely missed out on an exceptional ruin, China had staked its pride on claiming this Ancient-grade manifestation no matter what. In recent years, virtually every Ancient-grade ruin had slipped through their fingers, claimed instead by the European Union or India. For a nation that proclaimed itself the supreme hunter superpower, this was an intolerable loss of face.
They had sharpened their blades, determined to conquer this Ancient ruin at all costs. And then, out of nowhere, an unheard-of hunter from South Korea had swept in and cleared it the instant it appeared.
By international precedent, a ruin belonged to no one until conquered. Even so, the sheer humiliation of having an Ancient ruin snatched away left the upper echelons of the Chinese government trembling with indignation.
“These upstarts… We have looked past their insolence for far too long. They must be put in their place.”
At the mutterings of the autocratic President of China, a fawning official rubbed his palms together, chiming in with obsequious fervor.
“Your words are entirely just, Mr. President. How dare they defy us?”
“Indeed. A great empire must never bow to a minor state.”
“Then… how do you wish to proceed?”
Yet for all their bluster, the Chinese leadership lacked the nerve to confront the conqueror himself. When the news of the Ancient ruin's clearance first broke, China’s high-ranking hunters had been genuinely terrified. Not a single hunter in China—despite its claim of being the world's apex awakened power—possessed the ability to conquer an Ancient-grade ruin entirely alone, let alone in a matter of hours.
Retaliation only worked when your target was someone you could safely crush. Having risen to supreme power through his own formidable hunter prowess, the President understood that harsh reality better than anyone.
Thus, the Chinese leadership chose to redirect their crosshairs toward an easier mark: the South Korean government.
While unconfirmed, intelligence suggested that the mysterious conqueror was not actively cooperating with his state. Had they been close allies, the Blue House would have paraded the man across global media long ago, boasting to the four corners of the Earth about their peerless champion.
Tapping his fingers against the polished desk, the President spoke in a cool, detached tone.
“We share joint custody over several Legendary-grade ruins with Korea, don't we?”
“Yes, sir. There are three or four mine ruins that yield high-purity mana ore.”
Because the two nations had mounted joint subjugation campaigns in the past, those resource sites were currently maintained under shared ownership.
“Our contribution during the initial raids was greater anyway,” the President declared, issuing an executive mandate with tyrannical ease. “Seize them entirely. Expel every last Korean from the premises.”