Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Choosing a Scrap Dealer
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But there were considerable drawbacks preventing the hunters from jumping in aggressively.
"Of all places, the south."
Korea's elite hunters were all tied up blocking erosion zones near the DMZ. Naturally, taking on a request way down at the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula was a tough sell.
But just recently, the Tsushima Erosion Core had been upgraded to Grade 2. Unless you were a hunter operating near the DMZ, dealing with the monsters spilling out of a Grade 2 Erosion Core meant gathering in hordes.
"And the pay sucks."
For a request tied to a Grade 2 Erosion Core, the reward was a paltry 55 million won—and that had to be split among all the participating hunters.
No surprise the DMZ hunters weren't biting.
"But it's a Grade 2 Erosion Core. If I claim it all myself, it's not just 55 million—it's a whopping 55 million."
Plus, pulling off this request successfully would net me a solid heroic anecdote and massive fame.
Not long after solo-wiping a Grade 3 Erosion Core, I'd nail a Grade 2 request too.
"So, what's the caliber of monsters coming out of a Grade 2 Erosion Zone?"
I pulled up my smartphone and scrolled through monsters from Grade 2 Erosion Cores that other hunters had documented, then clicked my tongue.
"Damn, at this level, solo's gonna be a real stretch."
If I could make it inside the Grade 2 Erosion Core alone, I'd handle it no problem.
Tsushima's Erosion Core had only just hit Grade 2, so yeah, it was stronger than a Grade 3—but compared to other Grade 2s, it was on the weaker side.
Inside the Erosion Core, I wouldn't need to rein in my Paradox Flame at all. I could just turn the whole interior into a superheated inferno.
The issue was getting there. Before entering, I'd have to throttle the Paradox Flame's output—or I'd croak on the road to Tsushima's Grade 2 Erosion Core.
"If only there was one solid guy... just one."
That'd be enough. With one more, we could reach the core. Once inside, even if it took days, we'd clear that Erosion Core eventually.
"Aw, hell—no one but that psycho?"
The one who popped into my head was Han Sang-ah, from the Gyodongdo request. Her skills blew past my bare-minimum needs.
In the end, after some agonizing, I pitched the Tsushima request to her as a joint gig and sent over the details.
—No problem.
The reply came back in minutes.
—Just the two of us, right? You get that?
—Already covered in the message. Fine by me.
This was time-sensitive, so I set the rendezvous schedule and spot, then accepted the Tsushima request on the spot.
About ten minutes later, Han Sang-ah messaged that she'd accepted it too. Partner secured, I scratched my head vigorously.
"Scrap dealers."
I needed them. They handled picking up and selling the valuable loot from the monsters I hunted.
"If I'm handing my wallet to someone anyway..."
I needed guys I could trust. Our relationship was purely transactional anyway—no deep loyalty required or wanted.
"Tons of offers..."
I was a rookie hunter who'd hit the broadcast waves. Not for being pretty, but because my results were unreal for a total newbie.
Scrap dealers lining up to team with me? No shortage.
So who to pick?
"The biggest one."
Like picking a car: you want the German Mercedes, or some North Korean Peace Motor?
A small outfit with skills and trustworthiness? Sure, if it was a restaurant—but in this world? Nah. Even if skilled, you couldn't trust 'em.
Small scale meant little to lose, which made scamming for a quick buck and bolting all too easy.
"Sure, they could be saints."
Problem was, I'd lived long enough and gotten screwed enough times that I didn't bet on sainthood rashly. Unless they were fronting big cash or doing me favors—but that was just business.
I scanned the messages on my phone and settled on one scrap dealer.
"Number one might be overkill."
Blue Wrench owned the top spot by a mile. Meanwhile, second and third were neck-and-neck. Hitting up third might score better terms.
"Daebak Scrap Dealers."
The company name sounded like it belonged in every neighborhood, but they held third in the industry.
—Yoo Chan-seok here. Saw your message—calling. Available to talk?
Reply came quick.
—One moment please. Will get back to you shortly.
Moments later, a message from a different number.
—Hello, Hunter sir. This is Choi Seung-gi, CEO of Daebak Scrap Dealers. Thank you so much for reaching out to us.
The message was a wall of polite fluff. Boiled down: Please, just meet once—we'll take good care of you!
—Available right now? Got something urgent.
—Absolutely. Where should I head?
I sent the address, and they promised to arrive in 40 minutes. They seemed desperate—which was perfect for me.
After wrapping the call, about 30 minutes later, a message pinged: they'd arrived nearby.
Waiting at Oduak, the hunter-exclusive cafe franchise.
"First time meeting."
"Oh man, what an honor. Hunter Yoo Chan-seok."
"Why wait out front?"
I pulled up to the cafe, and a guy in sunglasses with a chunky gold chain spotted me and approached with a greeting. His pomaded, slicked-back hair stood out.
Was this a gangster or a CEO?
"I'm no hunter."
"Ah."
Oduak let hunters bring up to three companions. And the guy in front of me, Choi Seung-gi, wasn't licensed—so no entry.
"Haven't grabbed a membership myself."
It cost money. No real need yet, so I'd put it off—but looks like that day came quicker than expected. Choi grinned at my words.
"Perfect. Then, to commemorate meeting you today, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok, I'll gift you a one-month premium membership."
"Nah, I'd feel too guilty."
Choi waved it off with an ehehit!
"Come on, no need for such harsh words. It's fine—I'm not the type to hold it over you."
He ducked inside the cafe, eyed the memberships, then spoke up.
"Hey, one month premium, please."
The clerk nodded.
"Memberships require hunter verification, sir."
"Not for me—this gentleman's using it."
I silently handed over my smartphone. The clerk checked it.
"Yes, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok identity confirmed..."
She paused mid-sentence and looked up at me.
"Hunter Yoo Chan-seok?"
Yeah, that's my name. I gave her a puzzled look, and she snapped back to it.
"Ah, an honor to serve you. One-month premium, processing payment now."
"Use this card, please."
Choi handed it over, and the clerk rang it up quick.
"One-month premium: 1.55 million won."
Cafe pass costing 1.55 million? Steep.
"Premium members enjoy free showers, laptop rentals, menu delivery—all Oduak services. Main branch excluded."
"Why the main branch?"
Choi chuckled from beside me.
"Their menu's off-limits."
"News to me."
"Main branch is run by the chain's owner, Sa Seung-hee herself. Hunters go nuts for the menu—especially the pumpkin pie."
Main branch had this pumpkin pie flavored with cinnamon and maple syrup. Story goes, hunters queued up for it once, one guy cut in line, and the 33 waiting hunters beat the tar out of him.
After that, the pumpkin pie got nicknamed "33 Pie."
"They spike it with something?"
Choi shook his head.
"Got a piece years back. Even hunters on Hope's List would queue without complaint—it's that good."
Top rankers lining up for pie? Impressive. Non-hunters couldn't even enter Oduak, so outsiders barely knew it existed.
"Gotcha. But we're not here for pie talk, right?"
Choi nodded sharply and took a seat. We ordered drinks quick, then I spoke.
"Out of all the scrap dealers who messaged me, you're the only one I hit up."
"Truly an honor."
His posture stiffened up formal, clashing with his flashy getup.
"Mind if I give you the rundown on our outfit?"
"Music to my ears."
Choi cleared his throat with a kem, sipped his drink, then dove in.
"I've got about 50,000 personnel under me."
Huge operation already, but Blue Wrench—the industry leader—ran seven times that.
"We scrap among ourselves plenty."
"Big hauls mean big money."
If a request's hunters all happened to contract the same scrap dealer, fine. But usually, multiple outfits scrapped over the same post-request site.
"That's why my crew gets regular military drills. And we kit 'em out proper for jobs."
One rifle with 120 rounds, one pistol with 30, two grenades, CIRAS vest, Level III plates, and so on. Midway through, I tossed in a question.
"Gotta cost a fortune in breakage."
"Loot profits cover it. Plus, we run our own processing division to plug any gaps."
"Processing division?"
He pulled something out to show me and grinned.
"Peel the shells off monster corpses and cobble together something useful."
Iron will—not wasting a single body.
"Gear we make..."
"Gets sold through the hunter app. Or we sell for providers with a workmanship fee plus extras."
Mid-convo, Choi kept glancing out the window.
"Something outside?"
He laughed.
"From Gyodongdo, word is Hunter Kim Min-je uses one scrap dealer exclusively."
"Oh, right."
Slipped my mind.
"We reached out to his contracted scrap dealer and snagged your cut separately."
"...Why?"
"Wanted to lend a hand."
"A hand."
"Ah, right on time—they're here."