Nonsan Outpost (3)
The shelter's massive glass doors slid open without a sound and welcomed us in.
The lavish exterior we'd seen from outside—something out of a high-end hotel—gave itself away the moment we stepped through. All of that had been a facade.
A smell both familiar and strange brushed the tip of my nose and told me exactly what this place really was. Gun oil from well-kept firearms, the musty scent of leather gear, and a faint trace of disinfectant, all tangled together in the air. This was a genuine lodging for Hunters who lived hard, fierce lives.
The scene unfolding in front of me made it feel as though I'd walked straight into a screenshot from a fantasy game. Across the wide lobby, Hunters of every description were killing time in their own way, each armed to their own taste. A hulking man leaned against the wall, polishing an enormous sword. A small team had a map spread across a table and were arguing through a plan with grim faces. At the bar, a sharp-featured woman sat alone, nursing a drink. The aura that faintly radiated from their bodies carried an otherness that set them apart from ordinary people.
In the middle of all that, we—country bumpkins who'd rolled in on a beat-up old truck—were complete outsiders.
"Whoa..."
Nureongi and Poppi, standing beside me, looked around and let out small gasps. There was no fear in their eyes—only pure awe and curiosity. I wrapped an arm around both their shoulders and headed for the reception desk at one side of the lobby. First priority was securing a place that would be our nest in this unfamiliar location.
"Hello. Would we be able to get a room assigned with this voucher?"
When I held out the ticket I'd received from the Environmental Division official, a neatly uniformed staff member took it with practiced ease and ran it through the scanner. After a brief check, he looked the three of us over, then smiled and handed over a key card.
"Confirmed, Ms. Jang Sajeong. We've prepared accommodations for Hunters traveling as a family. Room 703 on the seventh floor. Please enjoy your stay."
We took the elevator to the seventh floor, and the hallway was so quiet it made the lobby's bustle feel like a lie. I tapped the key card, and with a cheerful beep the door to 703 swung open.
The moment we stepped inside, we couldn't help gasping all over again. The interior was furnished with extreme practicality, without a single luxurious decoration—and yet everything was clean and tidy. Along one wall stood a glass display case for trophies or gear worth keeping as a memento, and beside it a compact workbench stocked with tools. There was even a small kitchenette for Hunters staying long-term. Everything about the space declared that it had been made for Hunters.
But to us, who'd spent our whole lives in a cramped country house, this modest, functional room felt more magnificent than any luxury hotel in the world.
"Whoa! Unnie, look at the bed! It's sooo fluffy!"
Poppi was the first to react, of course. She flung the bag she'd been carrying down in the entryway without a care, then ran at the bed in the corner of the room and launched herself onto it. The way she rolled around and kicked her legs was the spitting image of a little rabbit.
"The bathroom's huge too! The tub's as big as our whole house!"
Nureongi's excited voice followed from the bathroom she'd gone to inspect. Watching the two of them so happy, the fatigue from the long drive and the tension of an unfamiliar place melted away in an instant. A warm smile spread across my face of its own accord.
That was when I noticed a thoughtful touch from the Hunter Association that the girls hadn't spotted yet. The lower backs of the chairs and the sofa were cut away. At first I'd taken it for an unusual design, but then I realized—it was a consideration for demi-humans with tails. Furniture made so they could sit comfortably without their tails getting pinned.
That's something you'd never even imagine back in Dohwang-ri.
The village elders doted on the girls, sure, but they never paid attention to details this fine. No—it wouldn't have even occurred to them.
I did my best to settle the feeling welling up in my chest and walked over to the two of them, who were still bouncing around in excitement.
"You two'll be tired from the long trip, so don't go anywhere today. Just rest up here. We'll go look around together starting tomorrow."
Nureongi and Poppi looked a little disappointed, but they nodded. I gave each of them a pat on the head, then quietly walked back out of the room.
My destination was Nonsan Police Station, not far from the shelter.
The other Hunters I'd seen in the lobby strode around freely with all manner of weapons slung across their backs, like medals proving their power—but I, registered as a huntsman, couldn't do the same. By regulation, my gun had to be stored in the local police station's armory whenever I wasn't using it. As if it were some precious object nobody was supposed to see, I had to go through this tedious procedure.
Nonsan Police Station, which I entered carrying the heavy gun case and my permit, was incomparably larger and busier than the little substation I knew back in Dohwang-ri. And among the civilians at the counters, I spotted people here and there who looked like Hunters.
I went straight to the public service desk and carefully set down the gun case. The young officer sitting in front of me looked up from his paperwork, then his eyes went round as he glanced back and forth between the case and my face, clearly startled.
"I'm a huntsman from Dohwang-ri. Here's my transport permit. I'll be back to pick it up Monday morning."
At my calm explanation—and the moment he heard the words Dohwang-ri—the tension drained from the officer's face. Looking relieved, he typed something into the computer, then carefully lifted the gun case with both hands.
"Ah... I see. Please sign the firearms log here, and just come back when you're ready to pick it up."
"By any chance, have any other huntsmen come in besides me?"
At my question he looked briefly uncomfortable, then dipped his head slightly in apology.
"That's... other people's personal information, so I'm not at liberty to say. I'm sorry."
Watching him draw a polite but firm line, I was suddenly reminded of Officer Lee. The way he stuck to principle—individual rights, privacy, all of it—was just like him.
Of course, the huntsman world was small enough that if I really wanted to know who was where, it wouldn't have been hard to find out. Everyone knew everyone through one degree of separation. But... I didn't particularly want to. Every time I imagined my fellow huntsmen seeing me as I was now—turned into a woman—either at a complete loss or getting all handsy, exhaustion hit me first. Better not to know.
I didn't ask anything more. I gave the officer at the desk a short bow, then left the police station without a backward glance and headed back toward the shelter.
With my business at the station done and nothing in particular to occupy me, boredom crept in as I returned to the shelter. To kill some time, I walked over to the bulletin board covering one wall of the lobby. I'd hoped there might be exciting request postings or guild recruitment notices looking for teammates, like in a game—but my expectations were thoroughly dashed.
Filling the board were nothing but thoroughly realistic, thoroughly boring official notices.
Right. This is still a place where people live, after all.
I clicked my tongue. No matter how much those Hunters looked like they operated outside the law, they were still citizens of the Republic of Korea, and they still had to follow its laws. A hollow laugh escaped me at the thought that I'd gotten my hopes up for nothing.
I was just turning to head back to the room where the girls were waiting when—
"Um... excuse me, are you a solo?"
At the cautious voice, I turned my head. Standing in front of me was a kid who, by anyone's measure, hadn't yet shed the look of a freshly awakened newbie. A face so young it was practically babyish, and clumsily gleaming equipment that hung loose on his frame, as if it didn't belong there. A dagger and pouches dangled from his belt for reasons I couldn't fathom, announcing with his entire body that he had zero combat experience.
Of course, the Hunter world might be different from ours as huntsmen—but the essence of hunting is the same. And the immutable law that the more cumbersome decorations you wear, the greener you are, applies everywhere.
I decided to refuse as politely as I could, packing in every ounce of my desire not to get tangled up in anything annoying.
"No. I don't have a guild or a team."
Whether he failed to grasp my intent or not, the kid's face actually lit up.
"Oh, in that case, would you like to join our team? We've got a spot open, actually."
I shifted my gaze past his shoulder. A bunch of guys who looked about the same age were glancing this way, whispering among themselves with expectant looks. Ah. These were the type who, back in the days when the world was still at peace, used to prowl the night streets doing a very different kind of "hunting."
"There are three of us. I have kids I'm looking after."
At my words, the newbies' faces brightened even further. They were probably congratulating themselves that our numbers matched up perfectly. I could see right through that paper-thin scheme of theirs—figuring it'd be easier to make their move since we had similar numbers.
I didn't want to continue this pathetic conversation any longer, so I tossed out a single line.
"I have two daughters."
At those words, the faces of the guys who'd been wearing confident smiles just a moment ago froze solid. They just stared at me, dumbfounded, like statues.
Yeah. In those heads of yours, you never even imagined that a rabbit and a puppy could've come out of this young body.
Naturally... they're not actually my daughters.
I felt a little sorry toward Nureongi and Poppi, who'd suddenly become my daughters—but whenever I ran into annoying situations like this, pulling out the "married woman" or "mom with kids" shield was the most convenient solution. Occasionally there were lunatics who found that even more attractive and came on even harder, but fortunately the newbies in front of me didn't seem to be that type.
Getting used to life as a woman was a problem time would solve. But these street punks who latched on at every opportunity? That was a category of problem I just couldn't adapt to.
Normally, Nureongi at my side would have growled and driven them off on her own. But this place was different. The ones in front of me were Hunters who lived by strength and guts. To guys like that, Nureongi's warning wouldn't be a threat—it'd just look like a puppy's cute little act.
I let out a small sigh, left the dazed kids behind, and stepped into the elevator. Even as the doors closed, they were still staring at the spot where I'd been standing, looking completely lost.