The Guild Master's Call
My fingertips went numb first.
Just moments ago, a call from Cheonun Guild had left me breathless, but now an even bigger name was striding right into my room next in line.
It seemed that one terrified hang-up on my end had been interpreted out there as a signal to summon even larger prey.
Taeseong Guild.
Above Cheonun.
Practically the pinnacle of the domestic scene. A name I'd thought an F-class porter like me would never cross paths with, even if my face exploded across the news for life.
"I'm not that kind of person."
The voice I barely squeezed out cracked miserably.
"Really, I'm not. I don't even know how to fight.
I'm registered F-class with the Management Bureau, magic power level twelve. I just told Cheonun the same thing.
It's all a misunderstanding."
A brief silence.
Not the silence of someone who'd been rejected.
The silence of someone probing how far they could draw the line.
"You mention the numbers yourself."
Kim Tae-hwan said in a low voice.
"Intriguing. Most hunters at that level choose silence to hide themselves.
Yet Hunter Kang flaunts F-class and magic power 12 to keep distance. Clearly, Cheonun's vessel was too small to contain you."
No.
That's not it.
I opened my mouth, but words jammed in my throat right away.
I knew now: the more I explained, the worse it twisted. The more I trembled, the more convinced their faces grew.
Current Viewer Count: Surpassed 35,000
Why is my breathing scary?
I'm about to puke for real right now.
"Hunter Kang."
Kim Tae-hwan's voice never wavered to the end.
"The fact that Cheonun reached out first doesn't matter. Being first to extend a hand doesn't grant ownership. What matters is which side you choose."
Choose.
The word was so absurd, not even a hollow laugh escaped.
I hadn't chosen a single thing.
Getting dragged into the dungeon, the stream attaching itself, the news exploding, guild masters digging up my number—none of it was my doing.
I'd just been hiding in fear, but the world believed I was smack in the middle of a massive auction, jacking up bids.
"Nothing to choose."
I gripped the phone tighter with my sweaty palm.
"Not going to Taeseong. Not Cheonun either.
No guilds at all. Don't want dungeons.
Just a part-timer. All that news is a misunderstanding."
This time, a longer silence flowed.
In that quiet, I heard only my heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
And then, very slowly, Kim Tae-hwan spoke.
"Very well. That attitude makes me want to meet you in person even more."
A chill raced down my spine.
"No, don't come."
The words burst out. Faster than thought. A voice near a scream.
"Seriously, don't come. I'm not that person, nothing to show you. Just gotta go do my night shift at the convenience store."
"Choosing the convenience store, eh."
Kim Tae-hwan murmured.
That one phrase weighed strangely heavy.
"Prioritizing daily life right after Cheonun's offer. Fascinating.
Means it's not about the terms, right? You're not the type to move for money."
No. That's not it.
Just that I'm a huge coward. Hate meeting people.
Scared of stares more than monsters.
But those words never made it out.
"Won't push further today."
Kim Tae-hwan said coldly.
"But Taeseong won't give up on you, Hunter Kang. Changing numbers won't help, nor hiding for long. When you're ready, we'll call again."
A smooth tone.
But laced with clear warning.
A warning that running was futile.
Before his words even ended, I hit end call, voice nearly breaking into sobs.
Click.
My hand fumbled empty air as I dropped the phone.
I collapsed onto the floor mat, and ragged breaths exploded from my gut.
"Hah... hah..."
My chest hurt so bad I clutched my shirt.
Thought my heart was stopping for real.
Cheonun wasn't the end.
It was the start.
Thought rejection would end it, but the moment I rejected, bigger things lined up one by one.
My breath caught at "hospital bills."
I snatched the phone back up on reflex.
Checked Mom's number—no messages—and only then did the tension drain from my hands.
No.
I could handle hassle for myself.
But not if it reached Mom.
The urge to power it off vanished. Shutting it down might buy quiet for a bit.
But I'd miss calls from the hospital, the store, or worst, Mom. I clutched the tiny screen with both hands, unable to even turn it off.
Battery was draining fast.
Notifications piled up endlessly: dozens of unknown numbers, unread texts.
Every line felt like a hand plastered to my door.
I flipped the screen face-down and hurled it onto the bed.
A plastic bag on the wall caught my eye.
Saebyeok 25 convenience store logo, vest and name tag inside.
Real shift time was closing in.
Not even funny.
The world knew my face, top guilds waved blank checks, tens of thousands dissected my every breath in the air—but I was still fretting over night shift hours.
But that was the last thread holding me. Clocking in.
Barcodes. Triangle kimbap.
Discarded lunchboxes. Store manager's grumbles.
Those mundane words still clung to my side.
Words from the world I'd lived in, not guilds or news or chat.
I hesitated forever before pulling the vest bag and setting it on the bed. Hands shook too much to grip the zipper.
Once. Twice.
Third try, it finally unzipped.
That instant, footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Breath stopped.
Someone halted right at my door. I froze, eyes locked on it.
Door handle would turn. Doorbell would ring.
A stranger's voice knowing my name would seep through the crack.
But nothing happened.
Moments later, the steps faded down the stairs.
Only then did I gasp for air.
Inhaled deep till my lungs burned, then shallow again fast.
Couldn't sleep like this.
Lying down, no. Sitting, no. Phone off, no. On, no.
But skipping work? No way.
Manager would chew me out, and even that ordinary nagging felt now like proof I was still barely normal.
Stood at the sink, tried splashing water, but my hand trembled on the faucet. Cold stream ran over my knuckles.
No calmer. Mirror showed a face like I'd been beaten all night, ghostly pale.
Dark circles, lips cracked white and dry. Standing at the Saebyeok 25 counter like that, customers would spot something off right away.
I wiped wet hands roughly on my pants and crept to the front door. Peered through the peephole, holding my breath.
Hallway empty. Deserted.
But that void scared more. Like someone had stood there till I looked, then vanished.
Sky outside was turning bluish.
The terror gripping me since midnight hadn't faded a bit, but time marched stupidly onward.
News, guilds, chat—none waited for my mess.
Current Viewer Count: 41,203
The number climbed again.
Without doing a thing.
Just trembling in my room corner.
The harder I tried not to breathe, the weirder the chat hype spiked.
I pulled on a cap, grabbed the vest bag, stood at the door.
Hand on the knob alone slicked my inner wrist with sweat.
Stepping out felt like the end.
Still had to go.
Knob turned, palm slipped.
Door cracked half a foot.
Cold dawn air squeezed through the gap.
I gritted my teeth and stepped out.
Couldn't be late for the shift.