“What exactly is love, anyway?”
Pi Minhyung’s hand, which had been mid-wave at a crow perched comfortably on a cushion, slowly sank down. It wasn’t just that Kim Sibaek was talking to himself, but doing so while staring at a crow on a cushion made it even stranger. Minhyung suddenly remembered Yang Eunho’s disgusted recounting of something Tae Woon had said during their Giantvine hunt.
Hastily shaking off that memory, Minhyung turned around. Even if it meant taking a longer route to the sleeping quarters, there was no way he’d risk bumping into Sibaek now. Kim Sibaek hadn’t done anything wrong, but every instinct he had screamed that meeting him at this moment would be disastrous.
Tae Woon, you absolute nutcase. You’ve lived like a goddamned monk, avoiding relationships all your life, and now that you’re past thirty you pull this shit? Seriously, fuck you.
Minhyung had zero interest in knowing what had happened afterward to reduce Sibaek to that mumbling wreck.
Thankfully, the Eid Portal discussion was still ongoing through his earphones, and he successfully managed to redirect his thoughts toward that topic.
South Korea’s government and the Hunter community had established a delicate balance. Regarding the Eid Portal, the government secured cooperation from Hunters with almost authoritarian efficiency, yet it never fully controlled the Hunter community.
The heads of the Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency had always been competent and fair, just like Director Noh today. This wasn’t limited to just the agency—the entire government, from the president downward, had consistently been led by principled and capable people. Under this steady and disciplined leadership, South Korea was praised worldwide as an exemplary case of recovery from the unprecedented disaster known as the Cataclysm.
Is this what they mean by national fortune?
Of course, Korea wasn’t perfect. Issues caused by monster incursions remained prevalent, but overall governance was exemplary. One commentator had joked that it felt like an invisible hand was playing chess with national policies, always staying several moves ahead.
The event that sparked this dramatic turnaround was Tae Woon’s conquest of the Eid Portal.
Well, it’s not like Tae had some grand foresight when he tackled the portal. Portal management back then was just a complete mess. Who could’ve predicted Busan would end up worse off than Seoul? Still, the guy’s smart, and he’s definitely got insane luck.
Thinking of Tae Woon’s uncanny luck reminded Minhyung of the incident involving Tae’s threat to blow up the State Council chambers. Everyone had panicked when Tae brazenly announced his intentions without hesitation—but luck had sided with him in the aftermath.
Initially, the government didn’t simply cave in to his demands. Fierce arguments erupted between those wanting Tae arrested for treason and those who argued that heavy-handed regulation wasn’t the answer.
But two days into their debate, news arrived of an uprising by ethnic minorities in China. An S-rank Hunter had sacrificed himself to blow up the Great Hall of the People, killing China’s General Secretary and several key Communist Party officials.
That very night, Korea’s government scrapped the oppressive legislation aimed at controlling high-ranked Hunters and urgently reached a compromise with the Hunter community.
If it hadn’t been for China’s crisis, Tae really might have blown up the State Council room. Then what would he have done afterward?
Had things turned out differently, Minhyung himself might now be an internationally wanted criminal alongside Tae Woon.
Thinking about such complicated matters while already exhausted only intensified Minhyung’s headache. He’d already video-called his worried family, so he resolved to relax in the sauna attached to the sleeping quarters first. But as he walked, he felt something tug at his feet—or, more precisely, at his shadow. The feeling sounded bizarre unless you’d personally experienced it.
“Goddamn it, you annoying bastard.”
Instead of panicking like someone who’d just had a ghost tugging at his shadow, Minhyung glanced calmly down at the floor. Sure enough, a strange dark patch had formed within his shadow—not from overlapping sunlight, but from a distinct darkness extending from the wall and blending clearly into his own shadow. It was Tae Woon’s call.
Minhyung had complained multiple times, irritated that Tae kept using shadows mixed with darkness to summon people. Tae Woon, of course, ignored these complaints, insisting this method was just more convenient. Reasoning was pointless. A gentle and kind person had no choice but to endure.
Muttering complaints under his breath, Minhyung reluctantly turned and headed for the Guildmaster’s office. Honestly, he felt like ignoring the summons entirely, but considering the chaos of yesterday, something urgent must have happened to require the immediate attention of the First Strike Team Captain. A good and responsible Hunter had to bear such burdens.
“What is it now, you bastard?”
“I want to have sex with Sibaek-hyung.”
Less than a second after opening the Guildmaster’s office door, the virtuous Pi Minhyung profoundly regretted not ignoring this lunatic and heading straight to the sauna instead.
“Goddamn psycho.”
Minhyung instantly spun around to escape, but Tae Woon’s shadows moved faster. Darkness stretched across the doorway like a curtain, forcing Minhyung to slump irritably onto the sofa in defeat.
What made Minhyung give up on fleeing so quickly was partly because the subject of Tae Woon’s ridiculous outburst was Kim Sibaek.
Tae’s definitely different around Sibaek-hyung.
As a child, Tae Woon had always been prickly, but he was hardworking, calm, and diligent if no one provoked him—at least, that was how Minhyung saw him.
After the Cataclysm, however, Tae Woon had completely changed. Although always mature for his age, he had still resembled a typical teenager. But afterward, he killed monsters without hesitation and led survivors with cold efficiency.
Tae Woon hadn’t always been in charge. Initially, the children from the orphanage formed the core of the survivors, but as more joined—mostly adults—conflicts naturally arose. No adult, Awakened or otherwise, would readily submit to the orders of a fourteen-year-old child.
Things changed when an incident occurred involving a priest who’d stepped forward to protect the children.
“I will only save those who deserve it. The rest can die for all I care—or I can kill them myself. My hands won’t hesitate to get dirty.”
Tae Woon had ruthlessly slaughtered every one of the kidnappers who’d intended to torture the priest. By the time the awakened children from the orphanage, who had never fought humans despite having killed monsters, recovered from their shock, it was already over.
Dripping blood, Tae Woon spoke in a calm, emotionless voice.
“What’ll it be? If you can’t handle it, speak up now.”
The children couldn’t answer immediately, but neither did they oppose or criticize Tae Woon. Abandoned into a terrifying new reality, the orphaned kids adapted by learning how to protect themselves.
After that day, Tae Woon took command openly, crushing any complaints from the adults with overwhelming force. That was how the Jaewoo University shelter was established, and it soon became a haven that actively began rescuing people.
Pi Minhyung couldn’t begin to guess at the anguish and determination Tae Woon must have experienced, transforming from an ordinary boy—whose only real misfortune had been growing up as an orphan—into someone willing to stain himself with blood to save others.
Tae Woon had become numb, slaughtering monsters with eyes so indifferent they sometimes looked bored.
Though Minhyung had been startled by Tae’s transformation, he didn’t find it strange. Change was inevitable. Who could possibly remain the same when just a moment’s carelessness meant watching people being eaten alive? It wasn’t just Tae Woon—Minhyung himself, along with the other kids from Somang Orphanage, had all inevitably changed.
Tae Woon was a man who’d relentlessly saved others without regard for his own safety, yet remained entirely detached from them emotionally. Now, for the first time, Tae was entirely fixated on someone, even awkwardly feigning shyness. Minhyung couldn’t resist probing deeper. After silently reciting a charm Seo Gaeun had taught him five times for courage, he finally asked:
“So, what, does he not like you because he’s straight?”
“No, hyung got hard too when we kissed.”
Instantly regretting the question, Minhyung wanted to kick himself. Why was this lunatic blabbering about private details he desperately didn’t want to know?
“Damn it, what sin did I commit to deserve hearing about your sex life?”
“Should I go talk to Seo Gaeun instead?”
“……”
Come to think of it, Tae Woon really had no one else to confide in besides Minhyung. He wasn’t exactly overflowing with friends—Yang Eunho and Lee Hangyeol were younger siblings to him, and although Tae had never consciously treated Seo Gaeun differently because she was female, she still had XX chromosomes.
Minhyung inwardly cursed his fate, unable to enjoy this hilariously surreal situation: Tae Woon, of all people, awkwardly seeking relationship advice from him. Resigned, he sighed and asked again:
“Fine. What exactly is your problem, asshole?”
“I just want to have sex with Sibaek-hyung.”
“Is sex seriously the only thing on your twisted mind? You obviously want a relationship with him!”
Wanting sex with someone you obviously adored usually implied a relationship, didn’t it? But Tae Woon bluntly shattered that logical assumption.
“I have absolutely no intention of dating Sibaek-hyung.”
“Huh? Wait—aren’t you, like… in—in l-lo…love with him?”
Minhyung barely managed to utter the word “love,” nearly cringing himself into oblivion. Hearing that, Tae Woon uncharacteristically hesitated. He stared blankly, as if Minhyung had said something entirely incomprehensible.
“…Me? In love with hyung?”
