The episode began out of nowhere. And visually, it reeked of being hastily slapped together.
Trembling, he read from the top. It wasn’t even Episode 5, but Episode 4.5.
Like it was some kind of side story in a novel or comic…
As he squinted through the throbbing pain in his eyes to examine the contents, Cha Eui-sung’s face gradually turned pale.
King: Nice to see you again, Hero—so soon!
King: You must be surprised. Truth is, there’s been quite a bit going on lately regarding the Outer Gods.
King: Thanks to that, I was able to collect a fair amount of ░░░ point compensation…
King: It was worrying, of course, but as you know, the kingdom’s been a bit strapped for cash lately.
King: Believing in you, I figured I’d try gathering some funds… so I kept watching to see just how far those ░░ would go.
BZZZZT—
King: Almost had a biiit of a disaster there!
A bit…? That was definitely not “a bit.”
Cha Eui-sung forgot to breathe and stood slack-jawed. Sure, System glitches were a daily occurrence at this point, but the absurdity of the King’s tone stopped his trembling cold.
It was so utterly ridiculous… that it was somehow calming. The terror that had been constricting his chest began to slip away.
Was it because I spent my Second Life working myself half to death?
Irritatingly, his overworked mind automatically summarized the episode for him—no effort required.
At some point, an Outer God reached out to the Hero. The System, gleefully milking the enormous compensation payouts from the breach of restrictions, turned a blind eye. But when things went too far, it panicked and finally stepped in.
It was a story that defied belief on multiple levels.
No way this shitty explanation was actually true. It had to be a joke.
But did this bastard even make jokes?
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”
The curse burst out before he could stop it, pushing back against the fear. Blood returned to his previously bloodless face.
No wonder the System had suddenly tossed him a useful skill. He’d thought it was some kind of lucky surprise gift, but now?
Turns out, the System had been using him as bait—dangling him right in front of the Outer God while it raked in the money.
Didn’t even bother to ask for his opinion, or mention it in passing.
Cha Eui-sung immediately scowled and his eyes darted wildly with rage.
King: Ahem. Your luck was… rather unfortunate.
King: Outer God power is already dangerous enough, but to make matters worse, there’s the whole %#@ link involved…
King: Still, this really shouldn’t have been possible in the first place.
King: Upon checking, thankfully ░░░
King: Upon checking, thankfully ░░ ░
King: Upon checking, thankfully ░░░░░
Administrator01: @$&&&!!!
King: Upon checking, thankfully, your soul is unharmed.
King: Though there’s a slim chance other parts of you might’ve taken some damage.
“Damage?”
King: Hero, are you… feeling okay?
King: Left brain, right brain, you know… general brain stuff…
[IF YOU’RE OKAY, PRESS YES] [YEEES!]
At the alarming question, Cha Eui-sung rolled his eyes so far back he nearly passed out.
This is insane. After all that, the only choices available are still YES or YES?
This fucking system. This dogshit system. This out-of-its-mind system…!
“DOES THIS LOOK OKAY TO YOU?!”
He shouted in outrage, but despite the rage surging inside him, the crushing pressure he’d been under was clearly gone.
Even his burning head and aching eyes were slowly returning to normal.
Still pissed though.
Unable to hold back his temper, Cha Eui-sung swung his fist at the System window.
But it passed right through uselessly, cutting only air.
Ping!
His punch just barely brushed against the [YEEES!] button—prompting an annoyingly cheerful ping! sound.
King: You look perfectly fine to me, Hero.
King: Well, if there had been any damage, you wouldn’t even be able to see my royal message, would you?
King: Anyway, I’ve managed to drive out the Outer God and stabilize the situation—for the most part…
King: Unfortunately, there are still a few traces left behind. Nothing that can be helped, really.
King: As always, I’m counting on you. Good luck, and farewell!
♪ BAM BAM BAM ♪
Before he could ask a single question or protest, the window vanished to the sound of ♪BAM BAM BAM♪
Like a damn hurricane, the System had swept through, caused a ruckus, and disappeared just as suddenly.
Cha Eui-sung swung his clenched fist a few more times through empty air before realizing that even his trembling had completely stopped.
He was furious—furious enough to want to scream again—but he knew this wasn’t the place for that.
That mention of “lingering traces” still bugged him, left a nasty feeling behind…
But more than anything, even if it felt like the System had just popped in to mess with him, there was no denying—it had pulled him out of danger.
The sensory spell that had enthralled him… the gaze that had felt like it would crush every single one of his blood vessels… all of it had vanished the moment the System appeared.
What the hell was that… What the fuck is going on…?
Cha Eui-sung rolled up a blood-stained sleeve and staggered to his feet.
The clearing, now free of any strange phenomena, was eerily quiet. Like nothing had happened at all. Leaves rustled faintly in the breeze.
Only a faint, lingering sense of something seriously fucked up kept scratching at the edges of his nerves.
***
Tap, tap… tap, tap…
His leather shoes made a pleasant clicking sound against the special stone floor—an exclusive finish reserved only for the upper levels, crafted with extra care.
“Oh! Hunter Go! You’re here today?”
A bulky Hunter greeted him from a distance, prompting the man to pause for a moment in thought.
Was it Jang Seong-chae? Or Jang Seung-chae?
They’d known each other for over three years, but the name just wouldn’t stick. One thing he did remember clearly was the guy’s rank—C-rank.
Go Yeong-won simply narrowed his eyes with a long, crescent smile instead of answering.
“I thought you’d already filled your Activity Score for the month.”
“I did… but our dear Executive Director Oh asked for me personally.”
The subtle edge of irritation in his voice drew a knowing expression from the C-rank Hunter.
Shaking his head with a sigh, the man replied, “Well, he has been a little on edge lately.”
“A little?”
“Still, he tries not to let it show around the designated Hunters.”
“Is that so?”
Not that it made the irritation any less annoying. Go Yeong-won swallowed back the rest of his comment and offered another smiling glance, reading the situation just enough to signal the end of the conversation.
The second smile, given without a word, meant: Scram.
And anyone at the Hunter Association who talked to Go Yeong-won even once knew exactly what that meant.
Tap, tap… tap, tap…
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and resumed walking down the lavish hallway.
This space, reserved for foreign dignitaries and S-ranks, was decked out with luxury at every turn, each decoration radiating the prestige of the Hunter Association.
It was nothing like the place he’d visited long ago.
Before the arrival of two new S-ranks, the Hunter Association had been a wasteland when it came to high-rankers.
Hunters above B-rank were already rare, and when corporations began hoarding them with massive piles of cash and fierce recruitment wars, the Association didn’t stand a chance.
There were only four S-ranks in the entire country at the time, practically mythical beings. Except for the heir of a certain conglomerate, all of them were bound to the Bureau of Regulation.
Which meant that, back then, the handful of A-rank staff were the best the Association had to offer.
But a few years ago, everything changed. Some outdated clauses in the old Hunter Law expired, giving S-ranks the freedom to switch affiliations.
“…According to reports, the number of major figures entering Korea on private jets has already reached eight. From the U.S. to China, Japan, the UK, Saudi Arabia—countries across the globe are competing to recruit…”
Anyone who paid attention knew the S-ranks were fed up with the Bureau.
Nations from all over were flying in day and night, desperate to snatch up talent someone else had nurtured.
Of course, the Korean government would never be reckless enough to let S-ranks leak overseas—but the whole ordeal must’ve been a massive headache.
Amid rising international human rights standards and Hunter-specific regulations, the S-ranks were flipping the middle finger and waving their suitcases around.
That’s when the Hunter Association stepped in.
They proposed a tempting offer: give S-ranks freedom in exchange for results. No more forced assignments—just meet your required Activity Score and they’d stay out of your way.
Thus began the “Designated Hunter Point System,” the first real choice presented to S-ranks.
At the same time, political and business elites with ties to the Association began exploiting public sentiment and legal loopholes. With Ji Ha-yul—who was practically a marionette of her twin sister—at the forefront, Go Yeong-won also threw in a foot to support their plan.
There were endless lawsuits and political clashes afterward…
But the more foreign powers drooled over Korea’s top talent, the more the public rallied around keeping them at home—by any means necessary.
In the end, only Kang San-woo, who was so stubborn it bordered on masochistic, remained with the Bureau. Everyone else defected to the Hunter Association.
None of the S-ranks had wanted to emigrate anyway, so it was the optimal solution.
For the Hunter Association, it was a once-in-a-lifetime jackpot.
But for the A-ranks who had previously ruled the place, it wasn’t exactly a joyous occasion.
Neither Ji Ha-yul nor Go Yeong-won were the type to play nice and cooperate, so while they didn’t shake up the organizational structure, they did instantly become VIPs—outside the hierarchy.
“That one? The future of the Association?”
Go Yeong-won still remembered the smile Oh Se-dan wore when he said that while shaking hands. He remembered the faint irritation, too—being treated like a nuisance.
To be clear, he had nothing against A-rank Hunters. But if one of them already resented him and also happened to be too clever, wouldn’t that be… uncomfortable?
—“Hunter Go, why are you asking me about Ji Ha-yul’s schedule?”
Seated in the reception room, Go Yeong-won was already on his second call.
“You’re the one who manages Ha-yul’s schedule, aren’t you, Ha-yeon?”
—“Hunter Ji has a personal secretary.”
“And that secretary’s employer… is you, no?”
—“I don’t know how you see us non-Awakened, but I’m a very busy person. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contact me personally anymore.”
Click.
The line went dead—again, with nothing gained.
Go Yeong-won’s eyes narrowed slightly.
As if it wasn’t enough that S-ranks weren’t allowed on joint missions for fear of wasting combat strength, now even private contact had been restricted due to some PR manager’s recommendation on Ji Ha-yul’s side.
This definitely wasn’t Ji Ha-yul’s idea. She didn’t have ideas.
She was the only S-rank at the Association, and a friendly one at that, but utterly devoid of self-will. She always handed off decisions and behavior to her genius twin sibling—like they’d sucked up every drop of IQ she was born with.
Of course, Ji Ha-yeon was brilliant—her skills in political maneuvering would make even Oh Se-dan flinch.
It was probably the right call. Still…
If only Ji Ha-yeon were the S-rank instead—maybe life would’ve been a little more interesting.
Despite being born 47 minutes earlier, Ji Ha-yul insisted on being the younger sibling, claiming that implantation likely happened later for her. Utter nonsense, probably, but she went along with it.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Go Yeong-won felt silly for holding out hope for someone who wasn’t even Awakened. He quickly shook it off.
Oh Se-dan finally showed up once Go Yeong-won had settled his annoyance.
“Ah, Hunter Go. Sorry, something urgent came up. I’m a bit late.”
Intentional or not, the timing was suspiciously convenient—like he’d been waiting for the mood to settle.
Go Yeong-won, legs still crossed, raised only his head to meet the man’s gaze.
