The world’s dungeon countermeasures were written in blood. That’s how much sacrifice and pain it took—so much so that several massive incidents remained burned into everyone’s memories.
Even in this era where coexistence with dungeons had become the norm, the public still harbored a certain level of fear toward them. Each rift was viewed as both a goose laying golden eggs and a giant bomb barely held together with makeshift safety locks.
Because of this, the Bureau of Regulation never acted rashly in the face of any incident. Unless lives were at stake, most situations were quietly handled and disclosed only after the fact. Unless a Dungeon Overflow was anticipated, they didn’t casually send out evacuation warnings either.
The Association, corporations, and media all adopted this same stance. As long as it didn’t backfire on them or cause them to miss an opportunity, they went along with it. Spreading anxiety wasn’t helpful except when playing political games, and with communication technology having advanced so dramatically, even essential procedures could be obstructed by too much public panic.
“You can’t go through.”
“Sorry?”
“This road’s closed for now.”
The road that passed through Seojeong-eup and across. Two Hunters, speaking in standard Korean, were setting up barricades and stopping cars one by one.
Caught off guard by the unexpected situation, Cha Eui-sung frowned in confusion.
“Is there a problem? What kind of…?”
As he asked, he subtly scanned them—spotted the Bureau of Regulation badge on one Hunter’s jacket.
Shit. Cha Eui-sung made an effort to smooth out his brow before the crease deepened.
Had something happened? Sure, the presence of Bureau employees wasn’t too strange near a dungeon, but these guys were giving off a strong “central headquarters” vibe.
If a Bureau Hunter had dashed all the way here from Seoul, it could only mean one of two things—Awakened-related crime, or a dungeon incident.
And wouldn’t you know it, he was headed straight for the zone that housed the Jeongchoduk Dungeon.
Cha Eui-sung exaggeratedly turned to peer beyond the mountain, then widened his eyes in feigned shock.
“No way… a dungeon? Something exploded, didn’t it?”
“No, nothing like that. The dungeon’s fine, so no need to worry. We’ve just temporarily blocked access for some checks. If you take the other road around, you’ll still be able to enter the district.”
As he nervously blurted out his question, the Hunter immediately waved his hand to calm him. His tone was firm, but when Cha Eui-sung slightly lifted his cap to reveal a frightened face, the Hunter’s professional attitude softened with a hint of kindness.
“Ah, thanks for the heads-up. My cousin’s place just happens to be over there.”
“It’s really nothing serious. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah. I should go check on them right away…!”
He sold out Kim Jeong-baek—who was probably enjoying dinner at that very moment—and gave a polite bow. The Hunter nodded in reassurance.
Ziiiing. As the car turned around and the window rolled up again, the fear in his eyes vanished, replaced with a chilling calm.
‘Nothing serious,’ my ass. I know exactly how you people operate.
With a frosty expression, Cha Eui-sung glanced toward the dungeon. One mountain after another—why were they making a fuss all the way out at Jeongchoduk?
It didn’t feel like a coincidence. A creeping anxiety stirred in his chest.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
As he drove the long way around, Cha Eui-sung tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. With each beat, plausible theories began to surface.
His ten years of experience at the Association made it easy to connect the dots.
If the Bureau had deployed personnel, something was definitely wrong with the dungeon. The fact that they were controlling a several-kilometer radius meant it wasn’t a minor issue.
And yet the nearby downtown areas were still freely accessible?
Unanticipated instability… maybe someone got lost due to terrain shifts, or the monster types or grades changed.
There could be other possibilities, sure, but for now, those seemed the most likely. After spending years monitoring the Bureau’s every move, he could read their patterns almost as easily as the Association’s.
That’s weird. Has Jeongchoduk ever been flagged for instability before?
Cha Eui-sung’s clear eyes drifted as he recalled the dungeon’s records. It wasn’t the first time things had deviated from the usual, but ever since the System’s warning popped up, he’d been on edge.
What if the recent twist in reality—the world momentarily flipping inside out—had affected the surrounding dungeons?
“Hm…”
He didn’t really care what happened to other villages’ dungeons.
But if high-grade monsters started appearing nearby or the dungeon level spiked beyond projections, he had a problem.
If an S-rank monster appeared in Jeongchoduk, the Bureau wouldn’t hesitate to send an S-rank Hunter.
And the ones they had? Those bastards were obedient, overpowered cheat keys who could handle anything solo.
Ugh, what if I run into Kang San-woo? That’d be the worst.
He’d be annoyed, sure, but Moon Tae-young—who had hidden a dungeon—would be even more vulnerable.
Especially since Kang San-woo was ridiculously by-the-book. If he so much as glanced in the direction of Cheongseri, the two unregistered S-ranks there would have to hold their breath just to survive.
Not that Cha Eui-sung really believed an S-rank would appear right in front of him. Still, it never hurt to be cautious.
“Cha Eui-sung-ssi. Did you go anywhere this morning?”
Maybe it was because he’d just thought of Moon Tae-young, but an unfamiliar voice echoed faintly in his ears.
And that suddenly disappointed, stiffened face flashed through his mind.
“Haah, come on…”
Just as he was about to feel irritated again, the barely-contained frustration began to stir once more.
Whether he deceived someone or not, it wasn’t like he was a Hero—and certainly not a Demon King—so what right did he have to resent anyone?
And yet, ironically enough, Cha Eui-sung found himself wishing, just for a moment, that the Jeongchoduk Dungeon would explode.
If that turned out to be all that was left of the traces those two divine beings had left behind, then Moon Tae-young wouldn’t have been affected at all.
In that case, he’d go back to decorating his house like before—being wise but dumb, waiting for a younger lover who acted older than him.
Geez. Was it really okay to feel this at ease while imagining a dungeon gate overflowing with monsters?
[It’s fencing.]
[Okay.]
[That was my best punchline, you know. I think I’m a little hurt.]
[Got it.]
[Not joking. I’m not coming today.]
The brief messages had stopped more than thirty minutes ago.
Maybe he’d dismissed them as just more nonsense. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to talk anymore.
This kind of back-and-forth agonizing didn’t suit Cha Eui-sung’s nature.
He couldn’t even tell what the hell he was doing anymore.
He kept regretting leaving Moon Tae-young behind in Cheongseri.
Tch…
This was all the Savior Gauge’s fault.
Because boosting the gauge was his mission, every time he came to his senses, he found himself wanting to see him.
Even as his face twisted into a harsh scowl, at some point his fingers had started tapping at his phone screen instead of the steering wheel.
The reply never came.
And the screen hadn’t turned off once—it stayed lit the whole time.
***
The downtown area of Taeju-gun had the kind of laid-back, pleasant vibe you’d expect on a weekday evening.
The main road that ran through it was fairly wide, but it didn’t have the bustling foot traffic you’d see in the Seoul metro area.
Still, if there was one spot that drew a crowd, it was the bar alley tucked away inside a side street.
[Clean Taeju, Leaping Forward for Residents ☀]
Cha Eui-sung glanced sideways at the slogan—knowing full well that after the next election it’d probably be changed to something like “Innovative Future Jeongchoduk, Progressive Taeju.”
He casually scanned the people sitting at outdoor tables.
There wasn’t a trace of dungeon-related fear on anyone’s face.
Civilians. Civilians. Even all the way over there—just more civilians.
Hands in his pockets, Cha Eui-sung strolled aimlessly through the streets.
There was no obvious way to distinguish a civilian from a Hunter based on appearance alone, but if you watched carefully, subtle habits gave it away.
For example, no Awakened—no matter how low their rank—would ever stick a spoon inside a glass like that. Even F-rank Hunters knew better. Unless, of course, they wanted a handful of shattered glass with their bomb shots.
“Order more! I’ve got a half-day off tomorrow anyway!”
Thanks to that little detail, it didn’t take long for Cha Eui-sung to spot a suspicious group.
Far off near the edge of a quiet roadside stood five people, spaced out in an unnatural formation.
His eyesight, sharp enough to pierce through fog, instantly laid bare who they were.
One had a concealed security earpiece. Another wore a cardigan under his coat that, to the trained eye, was unmistakably issued by the Hunter Association.
Not all five looked like Hunters, but the fact that they were Association personnel left a bad taste in his mouth.
One of them was tapping his left ear continuously, likely receiving a steady stream of updates.
Three were quietly exchanging words among themselves.
The last one stood still, clearly waiting for something—or someone—in a specific direction.
What were they doing here? What were they talking about that kept them so intensely focused, barely even glancing at their surroundings?
Cha Eui-sung paused for a moment, then subtly slipped behind a building to measure the distance.
Maybe 500 meters at most? If he got within 10 meters, he could easily pick up even low-decibel whispers.
He surveyed the gaps between the buildings—several narrow alleys with unfriendly dividing walls between restaurants and bars.
After glancing around a few times, he darted silently toward the back like a gust of wind.
Fwip! He vaulted over a wall in a smooth, effortless motion.
For someone so tall, his movements were stealthy and fluid beyond belief.
He continued this agile, quiet sprint, and in the blink of an eye, he reached the fourth wall, tapping it lightly with his hand before landing soundlessly like a stray cat.
He ducked behind a large trash bin—and that’s when bits and pieces of the Association staff’s conversation finally reached his ears.
