Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: A Dangerous Gift
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Returning to the Bureau, Wang-sik completed a few procedures and got into a taxi.
Min Ha-na stood next to the Bureau Director, who had come to see him off.
When Min Ha-na announced she was joining the Hunter Management Bureau, the Director was naturally grinning from ear to ear.
“I was convinced by Mr. Wang-sik.”
At those words, the Director personally opened the taxi door for Wang-sik.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
As Wang-sik got into the seat and said his goodbyes, Min Ha-na caught the closing door and asked.
“Do you still not like my style?”
It was a question demanding an answer, her gaze fiery.
“I just have very specific tastes.”
Wang-sik closed the door, and the taxi drove off.
Min Ha-na scowled, her eyes fixed on the departing taxi.
“Agent Min Ha-na. Could you put out that fireball?”
A massive fireball was hovering above Min Ha-na’s head. Fortunately, she extinguished it, and the Director cleared his throat to change the mood.
“Let’s go inside.”
Min Ha-na followed the Director and asked.
“Is Bae Wang-sik an S-rank hunter?”
She asked with certainty. But the Director’s response was unexpected.
“He’s C-rank.”
Following behind, Min Ha-na stopped in her tracks.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“He was D-rank until last year. He’s growing fast, so he might become B-rank, and maybe even S-rank someday.”
If someone else had said it, she would have lectured them about how difficult it is for a hunter to raise their rank. But this was the Director of the Hunter Management Bureau.
More importantly, his potential for growth wasn’t the issue at hand.
“How can a C-rank hunter be that strong?”
“You’ll have to hear that from him directly. It’s a personal story, so it’s not my place to tell. Anyway, you seem quite interested in young Wang-sik.”
“Aren’t you, Director?”
The Director gazed at the hallway ceiling for a moment, lost in thought, before coming to a conclusion.
“I adore him. In fact, ‘adore’ isn’t a strong enough word. If I had my way, I’d make him mine and keep him forever….”
The Director trailed off, noticing Min Ha-na’s grimace.
“Let’s go in.”
They entered the Director’s office. Just before the door closed, Min Ha-na, for the first time, reconsidered whether she had made the right decision.
Early morning.
The radio news was playing in the taxi on the way to the Hunter Management Bureau.
“Hunter Min Ha-na has chosen the Hunter Management Bureau. This unexpected outcome has left the guilds that vied for her recruitment feeling disheartened. We now bring you a clip from her interview.”
The reporters all had the same question.
Why?
To that question, Min Ha-na had answered.
“Because I want to live a cool life.”
Wang-sik couldn’t help but laugh at that.
Arriving at the Bureau, Wang-sik sat down across from the Director.
In front of them was statistical data on recently appeared gates.
After reviewing data not only from Korea but also from other countries that shared information, they found something distinctly odd.
“The number of variant gates has increased.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“You expected this?”
“Their gate research has advanced.”
Kang Il-seop nodded, his expression grave.
“So you’re saying we’ll see even more variant gates from now on.”
“And that won’t be the end of it. The necromancer we dealt with in the U.S. last time likely came through a two-way gate. A guy with that level of skill and a fully intact ego wouldn’t have come without an escape route.”
A two-way gate, like the one in Wang-sik’s house, was one that could be used to travel back and forth at will.
Kang Il-seop’s expression hardened at Wang-sik’s words.
“If you hadn’t taken care of him, it could have been a disaster.”
“That’s not the real problem.”
Wang-sik stated the biggest problem.
“Are we sure there aren’t any other two-way gates we haven’t found?”
Kang Il-seop couldn’t be certain.
“You’re saying there could be people traveling between the two dimensions.”
“It’s highly likely.”
The two were silent for a moment. Then, Kang Il-seop asked Wang-sik.
“Shouldn’t we share this information with other countries? This is hardly a problem exclusive to Korea.”
“What’s your judgment, Director?”
Kang Il-seop closed his eyes, deep in thought.
“Not yet. It would just give the powerful nations an excuse to meddle in our affairs. We’d lose more than we’d gain.”
Even now, international agreements on gate information were a complex web.
There was the U.S.-led World Gate Information Pact, the China-led Pacific Gate Defense Treaty, and the Europe-led Eurasian Gate Cooperation Association, among others. The major powers used these associations to keep each other in check.
Dropping a bombshell like this information into such a situation would result in Korea facing pressure from all sides.
If political pressure mounted to share the information, Kang Il-seop might be able to hold out, but the South Korean government wouldn’t.
Not only would Wang-sik be exposed as the source, but all his future activities would be monitored.
“There’s also no guarantee that we’re the only ones who know.”
“That’s true.”
“The important thing is that we’re running out of time.”
“What do you want to do?”
“We have to do everything we can.”
Wang-sik continued in a firm voice.
“Because this is war.”
The war began the moment the gates appeared. From Azelan’s perspective, it was merely a preliminary skirmish, but for Earth, it was enough to bring it to the brink of destruction.
Although Earth had overcome the crisis and recently established a stable defense, the variant gates would bring another crisis.
An increase in two-way gates would be a catastrophe.
The bigger problem was that two-way gates wouldn’t be the end of it.
Just as Earth developed highways and railways, they would develop even more advanced gates.
“What can I do to help?”
“First, please look after Min Ha-na. Help her grow.”
“Do you trust her?”
“I hope I can.”
“Understood.”
Having said his piece, Wang-sik stood up. Kang Il-seop was about to stand as well to see him off when Wang-sik spoke again.
“Ah, I forgot the most important issue.”
“Issue?”
“You, Director.”
“Me? You’re saying I’m the issue?”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to hold onto your position.”
Kang Il-seop looked as if he knew this was coming.
“Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Nag all you want. No, five minutes is too long. Make it three.”
“I’m not here to nag. Just know this. When the next Director comes, I’ll get along just fine with them, too. And I’ll completely forget about you.”
“H-how could you?”
“It’s what I have to do to protect the people. Isn’t that your belief, Director?”
“W-well, yes, but.”
“If you don’t like it, then play the political game better. Don’t just talk about it.”
With that, Wang-sik left the Director’s office. Stunned, Kang Il-seop stood there blankly for a moment before collapsing onto the sofa.
“Damn it. Do I need to get a tutor? Who even teaches this stuff?”
Only then did Kang Il-seop admit his own shortcomings.
***
“The sale of the mana stones is complete. Payment has been prepared in the form of seven 10-kilogram gold bars. The remaining 34 million won has been deposited into your account.”
He received the text while riding in the taxi.
‘In just one day?’
Going through a broker usually took a week.
‘I got a much better price, too. At this rate, I can keep doing business with them.’
As he was thinking this, a warning sounded in his mind.
“Impact detected.”
The ring on his right index finger flashed.
“Take me to the National Library of Korea, please.”
After changing his destination, Wang-sik immediately made a call.
Fortunately, the other person answered.
“What’s the situation?”
A teenage boy’s voice responded to Wang-sik’s question.
“I don’t think it’s a big problem.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’m sorry. It’s because of me.”
“I was planning to see you anyway. Don’t push yourself, just wait.”
“Okay.”
Wang-sik’s expression grew serious after he hung up.
The National Library of Korea.
There was a commotion in the men’s restroom on the third floor.
“Why won’t this open?”
The security guards were trying to force the door open, but the tightly shut door wouldn’t budge.
Thump! Thump!
Impact sounds echoed from inside, followed by the sound of something shattering.
“They must be Awakened! I’ll call the Hunter Management Bureau!”
As a woman in her late thirties among the crowd gathered at the restroom door raised her phone, the others hesitantly backed away.
It was a natural reaction.
If the perpetrators were Awakened committing a crime—in other words, Evildoers—there was nothing an ordinary person could do. The national manual even instructed citizens to report them and then run or hide.
“The Bureau says someone else already reported it. Phew. How many times has this happened?”
the woman who made the call said, exasperated. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened today.
“Everyone, please step back. It’s dangerous.”
“Will it be okay?”
“Nothing serious happened last time, right? There’s nothing we can do anyway. The Hunter Management Bureau is telling us to leave the scene. Let’s sound the fire alarm and evacuate everyone.”
With varied expressions, they left the area.
A short while later,
as the fire alarm blared, the door that seemed like it would never open finally did. And two exhausted-looking men stepped out.
“Shit. What kind of guy was that?”
“Let’s bounce. The Bureau guys will be here soon.”
The two men left, looking utterly fed up.
In the now-empty restroom,
a boy who had been huddled in a corner stood up. At the same time, the silver veil that had enveloped his body vanished.
Brushing off the water and dust from his clothes, the boy stood at about 160 centimeters with a slight build.
He was wearing a silver helmet that covered his entire face, but once the danger passed, the helmet transformed into a cloth hat.
“Phew. I’ve troubled so many people again.”
He was turning on the faucet to wash his flushed face when,
“Min-jae. Are you okay?”
Wang-sik entered the restroom.
“You’re here!”
The boy, called Min-jae, hugged Wang-sik, his face still damp.
“Can you even breathe, hugging me like that?”
Wang-sik said with a laugh to Min-jae, who had buried his face in his chest.
“Hehe. I like this. It reminds me of three years ago. You said it back then, while I was hugging you just like this. That we were home.”
“Only to find ourselves surrounded by the Bureau.”
“Yeah. I was so scared back then.”
But the joy was fleeting, quickly replaced by guilt.
“You sent me away, saying you’d handle the questioning alone.”
The gate return incident from three years ago.
Min-jae was one of the people who had returned from the gate with Wang-sik.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Wang-sik changed the subject before Min-jae could feel any guiltier.
“Nope. I have this.”
The boy tapped the cloth hat on his head.
Despite its cloth-like appearance, it felt hard, blocking the impact.
Crown of the Doppelganger King.
An S-rank helmet, no less—Legendary-grade by Azelan standards.
Its special feature was its ability to change into any form; just moments ago, it had protected him by forming a cocoon around his entire body.
“Looks like it’s bringing you more danger than protection.”
The helmet was a gift from Wang-sik.
“Don’t say that. I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for this.”
Min-jae took off the cloth hat as if to prove his point.
He was completely bald, like a sick person. Moreover, his entire scalp pulsed as if it were breathing, like a newborn baby’s.
“Put it back on. Even a small impact could be dangerous.”
“Just letting it cool down for a second. It gets a little hot when it turns into a helmet.”
After fanning his head to cool it down, Min-jae put the helmet back on.
“By the way, I think I have to quit my job here. Word has gotten out, so Evildoers keep showing up. I’m fine, but I feel bad for everyone else.”
They were after Min-jae’s helmet.
“Alright. Quit the library job.”
“Okay. I’ll look for something else.”
“No. It’ll be the same wherever you go.”
At those words, Min-jae’s expression darkened.
“But I can’t quit working at a library. It hurts too much if I don’t read…”
If he didn’t keep his brain active for a certain amount of time, Min-jae would feel pain. If the pain continued, he would lose consciousness, and his life would be in danger.
It was a symptom akin to a curse.
But this was not a congenital disease.
“I shouldn’t have killed that bastard so easily. I should have made him suffer more.”
Wang-sik thought of the one who had done this to Min-jae’s head.
A mage who forcibly modified bodies to create useful slaves.
“Still, it wasn’t as hard as what you went through.”
Wang-sik had been a victim, too.