Business Begins

Hunters are beings who hunt monsters. They slay beasts for money, honor, and ultimately to defend their homeland—a noble profession. But lurking beneath is the constant terror of death, never knowing when your head might roll. Yet none of that solemnity or fear was evident among the gathered crowd here.

RANKED 15TH among Korea's guilds. The headquarters of the prestigious Hyeonhak Guild, elite among elites. Perhaps thanks to its reputation, the faces of the new recruits shone more with pride than tension. And why not? They were the chosen few, selected from hundreds-to-one competition rates. With proper support and training, they were prime material to become at least B-rank mid-tier hunters.

"Phew..."

Ju Se-yoon, standing at the podium, swallowed a secret sigh. He was a B-rank hunter in the guild's main strike team, Team 3.

Why the hell am I stuck with this grunt work?

His stomach churned. While others were racking up raid achievements in dungeons, he was babysitting chicks. It was the so-called "training officer" role dumped on him. But he didn't show it. This was the guild master's order, and more importantly, these fledglings could become his faction allies in future power struggles.

"Team leader, is this really okay?"

One of the recruits asked cautiously. Even elites get jitters on their first real deployment.

"We haven't even synced up as a team yet... What if something goes wrong?"

"Yeah. I heard there might be irregular monsters..."

Anxiety is contagious, as they say. Worried questions erupted here and there.

Ju Se-yoon opened his mouth with a smooth, firm voice to quell their fears.

"Don't worry. You were chosen by Hyeonhak."

He deliberately squared his shoulders and gestured leisurely.

"The dungeon we're entering is D-rank. With your average specs, it's more than conquerable. And even if variables pop up..."

Ju Se-yoon thumped his chest and winked.

"I've got your backs. If it gets dicey, I'll step in immediately. Just focus on showing what you've got."

A B-rank hunter's assurance. Their expressions melted like snow in the sun.

"Ah, right. With the team leader here..."

Relief swiftly turned to confidence, then ambition. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Their eyes changed, imprinting on Ju Se-yoon, burning with intent to ride his coattails in the guild.

Cute kids. Ju Se-yoon snorted inwardly. He knew their desires all too well—he'd once eyed his seniors the same way. Easier to handle, really. Dangle the right carrot, and they'd pledge loyalty on their own.

He glanced at the dungeon info on the screen.

Goblin Dungeon, right?

The briefing report was etched perfectly in his mind. Standard monsters: goblins. Occasionally mixed with enhanced goblin warriors. Boss: Hob Goblin.

Reports say the numbers are a bit high for a D-rank, but still...

Goblins, nonetheless. Child-sized weaklings swinging crude weapons—low-tier trash mobs. As a B-rank, he could sweep dozens with one sword aura slash. Risk factor: near zero.

"Alright, shall we get moving?"

Ju Se-yoon said, grabbing the gear bag from the table. The chicks' eyes sparkled.

"Vehicle's on standby. Let's roll."

I stared at my smartphone screen. The hunter-exclusive app's dungeon status board. One piece of info caught my eye.

"D-rank goblin dungeon..."

Perfect difficulty. Ideal for my first trade partner. The problem was the notice below.

I checked the time. 2:20 PM. Less than three hours until conquest starts.

Location's ten minutes away. To trade, I need to slip in before they do and meet the boss...

I sighed deeply. Easier said than done—near impossible. Dungeon gates are under 24/7 military lockdown. Not even an ant gets in without clearance.

How the hell am I supposed to make contact?

I ruffled my hair, grumbling.

No invisibility or phasing powers. How do I breach a heavily guarded military zone? Isn't the power design flawed?

This was like crossing the DMZ naked.

Then the silent Voice responded.

"Shop window?"

[You can buy items by paying with lifespan.]

I furrowed my brow. My life was on a timer. Every minute counted, and it wanted me to shave off my lifeline for gear?

...Damn, what a predatory corp.

No alternatives, though. Twiddling thumbs meant death in six days anyway. Investments yield returns.

"Got it. Open it."

Ding.

A new ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠window appeared before my eyes.

My face paled as I scrolled. Hundreds of items, none normal. Dripping blood jars, bags of fingernails, wriggling black blobs... All grotesque and repulsive.

"Ugh... What is this? All cursed junk."

I shuddered. Just looking soured my mood.

[Coward.]

The Voice mocked.

"I hate scary stuff! No normal-looking items?"

[Take it or leave it.]

"......"

I clamped my mouth and peered again. If buying, pick cheap. Insane prices! Lifespan guzzlers!

400 years? A dynasty's span in Joseon terms. Names screamed apocalypse.

Pass, pass, pass...

With six days left, only rock-bottom bargains were feasible. Deep scroll later, one affordable item at the bottom corner.

Found it.

Cheapest at 80 hours. I bit my lip.

Post-truck accident, running around and sleeping had burned nearly 48 hours already. Burn 80 more?

"80 hours leaves 40 hours 22 minutes..."

My calculator hand froze.

"Not even two days!"

I clutched my head. Pure gamble— all-in with my life as stake. What if hunters cancel or delay? Or I wander lost, wasting time?

Then I'm a sitting duck. Timeout in a dungeon corner, lonely death.

Chilling thought.

No other stealth way?

Realistically, no. Military guards the entrance. F-rank body can't squeeze through a mouse hole. And random dungeons won't do.

I recalled hunter community info.

[Q: Anyone talked to monsters?]

[A: F/E-rank trash mobs are beast-level, no talk. But D-rank+ have goblins/orks with intelligence. Can't communicate, but they chatter among themselves.]

Need intellect for trades or scams. Can't sell ghost stories to slimes or rats.

Thus, D-rank+ mandatory—heavily guarded.

No choice...

Irksome, but ironic: risk life to save it.

...Do it.

Eyes squeezed shut, I hit purchase.

Watching the number chunk away, my heart dropped. All-in now.

Pop. Faint smoke wisped from thin air, something thud-ing onto my palm. A limp brown rag.

I picked it up.

"Ugh..."

Musty stench assaulted my nose—like moldy basement or fresh grave. Texture: total rag.

"This actually cloaks? Or just hobo disguise?"

[Doubter. Performance guaranteed.]

[But don't equip now.]

"Why?"

[Durability drains in real-time on wear. Remove when idle to conserve.]

Rental gear. I grimaced. 80-hour lease, trash value. But my only lifeline.

I shook and pocketed the cloak deep in my bag.

Let's go.

I stepped out. Afternoon sun dazzled, but my eyes saw only ticking seconds. 40 hours. Reclaim my lifespan within.

A construction site in Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul. The dungeon gate area was fenced with chain-link and barriers. Armed soldiers guarded the entrance.

Hiding in an alley corner, I deep-breathed.

"Phew... I can do this."

Pulled the crumpled brown rag from my bag. Stealth Cloak. 80 hours of my life in this stinker.

I draped it head to toe.

Shhh. Vision dimmed slightly; my body blended into surroundings. No mirror, but invisible hands confirmed it worked.

Please... don't get caught.

I crept toward the gate, silent steps. Heart hammered ribs. What if thermal sensors? Foot sand too loud?

Passing between two soldiers, time stretched eternal.

"Huh?"

Left sentry turned. My heart sank.

"Sergeant Kim, something just passed, right?"

"Nothing there?"

"No, felt a gust..."

He stared right at me. I froze, breath held.

"Must've imagined. Too tired, seeing ghosts..."

"Told ya. Guard duty fried your brain. Shape up."

"Yes, sir."

He puzzled, then faced front. I exhaled feather-light.

Alive.

Legs jelly, but I forced into the gate's blue mist.

Dungeon interior: damp cave. Dripping ceiling, moldy stink.

"Phew..."

I hastily stowed the cloak. Conserve it.

Then—

"Kieeeek!"

Rending screech from dark. Green-skinned small monsters swarmed. Goblins.

"Kiek! Human! Kill!"

"Intruder! Kek, kek!"

They charged with rusty daggers and clubs.

"Gah!"

I screamed instinctively, arms shielding head. Bracing for agony.

Clang! Tick! Thud!

"...Huh?"

Dull impacts, but no pain. No sensation.

I peeked.

"Kie? Kiek?"

Goblins flailed confusedly. Weapons bounced off an invisible barrier pre-contact.

Indestructibility... it's real!

Relief sighed out. No monster damage. Cheat power kept me safe.

"Kieeeek! Why no die! Kek!"

"Tough! Human like rock!"

They huffed, attacking futilely. Untouched.

Time to talk. I cleared throat.

"Enough already. It stings."

My Korean came out their tongue to them. Eyes bulged. Attacks halted.

"Kiek? Human... speaks goblin?"

"How know goblin tongue? Kek?"

Shocked. First human fluent in theirs.

I seized the gap.

"I'm a Ghost Story Merchant. Here to trade with you."

"Merchant? Kek, merchant?"

They buzzed. Leader-looking one eyed eagerly.

"From The Demon Realm Merchantry? Kek!"

"The Demon Realm Merchantry?"

New term. But attitudes flipped. Hostility gone, fawning polite.

"Sorry for not recognizing! Kek! Attacking VIP guest!"

"We'll guide! To boss! Kek kek!"

They bowed, parting way. I followed, dazed.

The Demon Realm Merchantry? Why so reverent?

Guessing: monster trade org. Misunderstanding smoothed it. No need correct.

Deep cave, wide cavern emerged. Center: crude bone-leather throne. Seated: twice normal goblin size. Sallow skin, jutting fangs, muscled. Boss: Hob Goblin.

"Kirrruk. Human? Smells human."

Hob Goblin sniffed, glaring. Guards speared menacingly.

"Halt! How human reach here!"

Tension chilled legs again. Guide goblin rushed, whispering in boss ear.

"Kirik... Kek! Kek kek!"

Boss eyes saucered. He bolted up, scanning me.

"...From The Demon Realm Merchantry?"

Doubt and hope mixed in voice.

I pondered. Lie easy, but real reps or proof? Disaster. No overreach lies.

Shook head calmly.

"Not affiliated with The Demon Realm Merchantry. But I am a merchant. Here to sell you something very special."

"Grrrng? Not affiliated?"

Confused. Fluent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠goblin-speaking human merchant. Tempted to decapitate, but hesitated. Probably heard attacks failed, sensed my calm oddity.

"Fine. Hear you out. Follow."

Hob Goblin waved guards back, led ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to his tent.

Flap.

Entering—

"Urk..."

Gag reflex hit. Rotten meat, sweat, shit stench assaulted. Worse than chem-bio drill.

God... insane.

But held breath, composed. No sales rep wrinkles nose at client filth.

"Sit."

Pointed to beast hide on floor. Grimy stains galore. I swallowed woe, plopped.

Laundry first thing home.

Creeped out, but business first. Set bag, business smile.

Time to sell.