Pigeons (3)
Apparently satisfied that the chicken-pigeons had all dropped unconscious as a group, the official in charge came walking over from the far side. He held a gleaming sword in one hand, but the sight of it clashed so completely with the middle-aged man attached to it—potbelly, thinning hair—that I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.
"Why're you laughing?"
"That look you've got going. Do you honestly think it suits you?"
"What? Don't I look like an immortal sage?"
"You look like Zhu Bajie."
"Pretty face, and then you go and run your mouth like that..."
He grumbled, giving the sprawled-out pigeons a few idle kicks with his foot.
"So. You gonna take their heads off now?"
"If I start chopping them right here, who's going to clean up the bloodbath?"
"The janitors'll handle it. They're just simple variants—no need to slather on disinfectant."
"Come on, you're the professional here. Why don't you just do it yourself? Why do I have to?"
"This woman, I swear... You know people like us aren't even allowed to pick up a box cutter properly."
"Yeah, yeah. I was just saying."
I clicked my tongue.
"Just don't splatter the blood. Pigeon blood's especially filthy."
When I took the sword the Director handed me, a heavier weight than I'd expected settled into my palm. I couldn't begin to imagine this guy's glory days—swinging this heavy hunk of metal around like it was a ballpoint pen.
Well. Enough small talk. Time to put an end to these chicken-pigeons' sorry lives.
I set the blade against the neck of an unconscious chicken-pigeon and started cutting them down one by one. It sliced through far more easily than I'd expected. The sensation of it shearing through like frozen tofu—that clean, effortless shhk—surprised me more than anything. The edge was so keen and the cuts so clean that the ones I'd expected to flap around like headless chickens simply dropped dead on the spot, quiet as could be. Without even a moment to admire the Director's sword, I quickly and cleanly took the remaining three lives as well.
A moment later I roughly wiped the pigeon blood off the blade with some scattered feathers nearby and handed it back. The Director gave the sword a practiced whirl and slid it straight into the scabbard on his back.
"Oh—that pose just now. You looked like a real Hunter."
"Right? Sometimes I even surprise myself."
"So what happens to these chicken-pigeons now?"
"What else? They've got no research value. We'll just incinerate them."
"Then I can head back now, right?"
"Yeah, go home and rest. Ah, right—you still haven't filled out the hunting application for this job, have you?"
"Ah... I'm screwed."
"Write it up before you go home and fax it over. The deadline's next week anyway."
"Thank you, Director!"
"You only call me Director at times like this... Miss that deadline and you won't get so much as a drop of broth, you hear me!"
Leaving the Director behind as he stared at the chicken-pigeons with their necks severed like butchered hens, I left the scene.
I almost blew a whole crate's worth of traditional liquor money...
Still, we did each other favors. It was a relief he'd let a little slip-up like this slide out of goodwill. Mm-hmm. This was what living in the world was all about. Eunseo would be happy, too—the money for that pocket she'd wanted had piled up faster than I'd expected.
Humming a little tune, I headed back to the truck, looking nothing like someone who'd just taken the heads off four giant chicken-pigeons.
...But wasn't it that life was more interesting precisely because it never went the way you wanted? Or maybe this whole chicken-pigeon incident was because I hadn't scratched a lottery ticket to ward off bad luck?
Trouble erupted in a very strange place and started giving me a headache.
If it had just been a botched fax to the police substation that made me miss the hunting request window and do someone else a favor, I could've cadged a drink and called it a day. But if my face got sold off in a weird way like this, who exactly was I supposed to complain to?
It was that night.
"Unnie! Unnie! Look at this! The video of you is number one in real-time rankings right now!"
Hana wagged her tail brightly and shoved her phone in my face. On the screen, there I was, neatly taking the chicken-pigeons' heads off and trading jokes with the Director, captured in crystal-clear footage. Someone watching from outside the cordon must have filmed it in secret.
"Heh-heh~ Our Unnie's a celebrity now~"
"Hayeon..."
"Even we mermaids all know Unnie's name now!"
"Eunseo..."
Having your face get out there is such a pain. I sighed and plopped down on the sofa. Hayeon immediately tossed a cushion at my waist.
"Sit properly! What kind of posture is that!"
"Can't I even sit however I want in my own house?"
"No!"
I had no choice. Uncomfortable as it was, I demurely pressed my knees together and hugged the cushion. Only then did Hayeon twitch her ears in satisfaction.
"Anyway... when your name and face get out there, it just gets exhausting."
"Why? Isn't it good to be famous?"
"That's for actors and big-shot Hunters..."
"But Unnie, you're a Hunter too, aren't you?"
Eunseo had apparently picked up only the best habits from Hana and Hayeon in the meantime. She was getting remarkably good at needling me. I'd gone around telling everyone that huntsmen and Hunters were all the same kind of hunter, after all... that was on me.
"But it's so weird~. Unnie isn't even a Hunter with some flashy technique—you're just someone who grabbed a sword and killed pigeons, and now you're this famous."
"People have always gone wild for that kind of everyman hero. Even in superhero movies, the friendly neighborhood type is more popular than the one flying through the sky."
"Heeh~ so Unnie's a hero, then?"
Hayeon asked, smiling with her eyes.
"Keep being a smart aleck and I'll pull those ears."
When I made a grab toward her, she startled and clapped both hands over her rabbit ears.
"I hate that! It hurts!"
Then Hana, who'd been quiet, looked at me with clear eyes and asked,
"...Can I become a hero too?"
"You'd make a really good one."
Yeah. Hana would definitely make a good Hunter. Once she'd learned a little more about how the world worked.
"What about me! What about me, Unnie!"
This time Eunseo popped her head up out of the water and called out.
"You? Your very first step was a crime."
"That's so mean!"
Eunseo spun around in a huff and dove back underwater. But what could I do? A juvenile offender label didn't come off that easily.
And so we snickered among ourselves, playing at being heroes like it was no big deal. Well... as long as it didn't cause me any direct harm, I didn't care if my face got out there or my name got known, no matter what people said. Everything gets forgotten with time, after all.
But that, as it turned out, was just my own delusion.
The internet riffraff had somehow dug up even my old blog, and they'd gone and spread every last photo of the monsters I'd hunted in the past. Overnight, I'd become known online as something like the nameless beauty Hunter.
The old post where I'd uploaded a photo of myself covered in mud after catching a mudskipper used to attract nothing but creepy comments from guys my age—my mental peers, that is. Middle-aged men. But now all sorts of people had piled in, starting with rating my face and going all the way to guessing where I lived, holding a vicious debate.
They must think I'm some country bumpkin who doesn't know the internet. I'm the kind of person who used to fight all night on keyboards in PC bangs back when the world was peaceful, before you lot were even born.
Without hesitation, I moved the mouse and set the entire blog to private. After rotting in every kind of community for over ten years, I knew the best move at times like this was silence. Silence from the bad side breeds suspicion, but silence from the good side just looks like humility if you stay quiet.
I could tolerate them snickering over my face and figure, but if information about the kids ever got out, it'd be trouble in all kinds of ways. That was why anyone with even a bit of fame bolted for those fancy city apartments. The riffraff wouldn't dare follow them there.
"Unnie, why are you closing the blog?"
Hana, who'd been looking at the laptop with me, asked.
"It's a hassle."
"Ah... okay."
Hana didn't ask anything more, quietly turning her eyes back to the laptop screen. She really was a good kid.
Partly to vent, and partly to give someone an earful about this sudden mess, I immediately called the Ministry of Environment official. A moment later, a burst of laughter came through the receiver, followed by that guy's voice.
The moment I hung up, a deep sigh burst out of me. Far from venting, I'd just gotten thoroughly teased. I had no idea where I was even supposed to go to complain about this frustration.
If I went to the village hall, the elders would just be delighted. The police substation? Inspector Park might lock me in a holding cell and tell me to cool my head.
In the end, it looked like I'd just have to stamp my feet by myself.