Pure Physical, But Blue House Underground Bunker
Heavy silence hung over the round table in the Blue House underground bunker, where a single hefty report lay prominently displayed.
[Kang Tae-ho Hunter: Overseas Trends and Imugi Hair Growth Serum Ripple Effects Report]
"Official diplomatic channels from the US, UK, and Middle Eastern royals are lighting up like fireworks."
The Foreign Minister swallowed dryly before speaking.
"The Swiss even sent a secret letter offering Kang Tae-ho Hunter an Alpine estate and blanket legal immunity if he defects. The terms are astronomical."
The president's brow furrowed deeply. Kang Tae-ho leaking overseas. The Republic of Korea, the world's sole safe haven. The moment that shield vanished, foreign capital and elites would flee like the tide, turning real estate and stocks into confetti.
"We have to block this on national security grounds."
The Defense Minister slammed the table firmly.
"S-rank or not, he's a Korean citizen. We need emergency legislation akin to a national crisis decree—total ban on the nation's top asset leaving the country..."
"Minister. Spare us the pipe dream."
The National Intelligence Service director across the table removed his glasses with a weary face.
"Total blockade? How? You gonna confiscate Kang Tae-ho's passport at immigration?"
"If he breaks the law, deploy the military..."
"With that army of yours? Last year, when you unloaded missiles on that 3km imugi, did you even scratch its scales?"
A brutal fact bomb. The Defense Minister's mouth clamped shut.
"Lock him up with special laws? If Kang Tae-ho snaps and thinks, 'Korea’s a hassle. Time for Switzerland,' and flies off, what’ll shoot him down? One pissed-off swing of his fist wipes out the entire capital's air defense net. We're not controlling Kang Tae-ho—he's just graciously sticking around Korea."
"Th-then we need some justification! A hero's duty to protect the nation..."
"You’ve got the justification. Who bled for two years saving the country while we hid in bunkers shaking?"
This time, the ruling party leader shook his head with a groan.
"Politically, it's suicide. Kang Tae-ho Hunter's public approval is basically a religion. One whisper of us oppressing him, and tomorrow Gwanghwamun Square erupts in impeachment protests."
Physical might. Moral high ground. Political fallout.
A being where all three meshed perfectly. The word "control" evaporated from the minds of the nation's top leaders. An oppressive helplessness crushed the room—no method could best that one man.
The president rubbed his face dryly and let out a heavy sigh.
"Haa... So what the hell do we do? With a freak natural disaster that could blow anytime."
The NIS director flipped to the last page of the report folder and replied dryly.
"Fortunately, our intel on Kang Tae-ho's patterns is dead simple. He has zero interest in building factions or political power—not even 1%."
"Then what does he want? Money?"
"No. Total non-interference and family normalcy."
The director's eyes sharpened coldly.
"He ground through hellish battlefields for two years. His mindset matches a 30-something reservist fresh out, cashing his pension and craving quiet. Drag him into politics as a 'hero' or shove him on some annoying podium, and he'll see it as enemy action."
"......"
"Don't poke the bear with patriotism or duty talk. Shield his privacy airtight—no media or politicians near that house."
That was the ruthlessly smart, pragmatic conclusion from these power brokers.
"Let Kang Tae-ho Hunter lounge in peace on Korean soil, zero hassles. That's the cheapest, surest national defense to keep the Republic standing."
He flicked his mouse wrist lightly. The instant an enemy's head crossed screen center, his index finger conditioned-reflexed the click.
Bang!
A crisp impact sound. Solo-queuing enemy turf in hyper FPS ranked, devouring points sweetly. With mana maxed dynamic vision and reflexes, normal players moved like slow-mo.
"Nice. Win this, hit top tier..."
The screen froze. A popup filled the monitor center.
Abnormal program usage detected. Account permanently banned.
"......"
Absurd. He dropped the mouse. Anger yielded to a hollow chuckle first. Fair enough—0.01-sec aim snaps looked like bots. His body was illegal hack specs anyway.
"Ah. All my skins gone."
Shrugging off regrets, he rose, opened his door, and flung open Hae-eun's across the hall. She jolted up from bed, phone in hand.
"Hey, knock!"
"Gimme your game ID and password."
"Why? Use yours."
"Mine's banned. Lemme borrow yours for one game."
She scowled at the fiat.
"Ugh, such a pain. Post-it on the desk. Figure it out."
Permission granted. He nodded, booted her PC.
Login screen. Her account brimmed with pricey, flashy limited skins.
"Ooh. You dropped some cash."
Rank queue instant. New ID, same fingers.
Game start—mana to eyes and wrists. Keyboard and mouse flew.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Enemy team shredded helpless. All-chat exploded.
Screen text scraps. Ignored chat, popped more heads.
Grrrowl.
Endgame nearing, stomach rumbled lightly. Clock: lunchtime. Quit, headed living room.
Table set with bubbling kimchi jjigae. Hopped onto chair. Mom opposite scooped rice heavy.
"Dad?"
"Out early morn. Had to brag his new hair to early soccer uncles. Ugh, childish."
Mom tsked, topped his rice with stew meat. Chewing absently: Hair that big a deal?
Gate Shock half-destroyed Earth, but uncles' bald domes were the real apocalypse, apparently.
Meal done, sofa shift. Plopped beside mom, zoned into weekend drama.
"Oppa!!!"
Door near-burst. Red-faced Hae-eun charged, grabbed shoulders, shook.
"What the hell!! You hacked my account?!"
"Quit it. Dizzy. Didn't hack."
Dry denial ignored.
"Permanent ban!! Screen screams illegal program! What?!"
"Nah, just mana-boosted vision and reflexes. No program."
"That's hacking!! My limited skins!! My tier!!"
She flopped floor, fake-sobbing whine.
"Whatever! Your fault! Fix it now!"
Pain. Exhausting. Deep sigh, sofa up.
"Fine. Unban and done. Move."
Back to her room. Dialed customer service on monitor. Bored ARS, connected.
-"Yes, how may I assist, customer?"
"Game perma-banned. No hacks. Unban account."
Lazy gist. Typing clacks, rote reply.
-"Sir, logs show hundreds of impossible 0.01-sec aim shifts for human reflexes. Clear illegal program pattern. Cannot unban."
"My fingers are just faster. Why program label?"
-"Our system..."
No use. Manual parrot. Yelling wastes stamina.
"Okay. Prove no hack with my body, unban?"
-"Pardon? Ah... If pure physical proven under security oversight, regs allow..."
"How?"
-"Come to HQ, play supervised by security, or official tourney offline PC..."
Click. Hung up. Hae-eun gawked behind.
"Yo. Get dressed."
"Huh? Where?"
"Game HQ. Unban yours and mine."
Pangyo IT Valley. Korea's mega hyper FPS dev HQ front.
Mana barrier down, air-landed. Instant stares from passing office workers.
"Whoa, just dropped from sky..."
"Silver hair! Kang Tae-ho Hunter?!"
"Insane, real deal. Why here?!"
Murmurs, phones out. Ignored gazes, dragged Hae-eun to lobby stride.
Grand lobby center info desk. Too tall—his crown barely peeked.
"Sigh."
Mana cushion underfoot, floated up. Eye-level with desk clerk. She paled ghost-white, frozen.
"K-K-Kang Tae-ho Hunter...?"
"Here for offline hack dispute. Get security chief or director down."
"Yes?! Y-yes! One sec!"
Her shaky hand punched internal line frantic. Nation-saver storming their game HQ? Crisis mode.
Under 3 mins, elevator dinged—suited middle-aged man and security sweated bullets out.
"H-Hero sir! Greetings! Executive director here! Wh-what brings you..."
90-degree bow, ashen face. Waved vague, shoved Hae-eun forward.
"Her and my accounts perma-banned for hacks."
"Pardon...? H-hacks?"
"My fingers quick, mouse spins fast—they called it program. Said prove hands-on, so here. Gimme mouse. Shoot here."
Flat rundown—director and security jaws dropped.
3km disaster hand-shredder, brass-befuddler top munchkin. Gaming ranked, mana-boosted civilian slaughter, banned—flew in to unban.
"Ah... aaah...!"
Director dazed noise, barked security chief.
"Restore accounts NOW! No—whitelist Hero's forever no-ban! Go!"
"Y-yes!"
"Hero sir! Deep apologies for the error! Our puny system couldn't track your sacred, humanity-saving fingers' speed!"
Director sweated rivers, clutched tiny hand, bowed nonstop. Overwhelming. Suffocating hassle.
"Enough. Restore mine and sis's—skins too."
"Absolutely! Full legendary skin set this season, incoming!"
Hae-eun behind: "Yes!" quiet fist-pump. Confirmed sorted, turned.
"Let's go."
"Oppa best! Dinner chicken on me!"
Left lobby grovelers flat, soared back penthouse.
That evening. Chicken munch, re-logged his account. Ban lifted, limited skins stocked.
Lobby, rank queue.
Game starting.
Hero pick screen. Chat frantic post.
"......"
Teammates no-game—circled character, cheering, escort formation. Enemies all-chat: "Bro, shoot me once!" ditched guns, rushed.
Total chaos. Match turned idol fanmeet. Stared blank, remote-killed monitor.
"Fuck, such a hassle. What even."
Exhaustingly tiring day. Just wanted quiet games.