Starting the engine of the car they had parked in the garage, Han Jaeyeong clicked their tongue. “Seriously…”
This is unbelievable.
Having been thrown out of the house because of the protective magic, Han Jaeyeong rubbed their still-aching backside and clicked their tongue inwardly. No, if anything, the most absurd part was that despite being treated like that by Jeong Daon, they weren’t actually that angry. If anything, their curiosity had only grown stronger.
And that was understandable, considering just how extraordinary the technique Jeong Daon had shown, to deploy a protective spell of that scale using ordinary gemstones that weren’t even dungeon byproducts.
Jeong Daon had made it look effortless, but unless one had mastered magical theory itself—or no, even with mastery, without countless prior experiments—it was something that simply couldn’t be done. If it were presented at an academic conference, the entire world would be in an uproar.
And yet her mana capacity itself isn’t anything special.
Setting aside potential stats, the amount of mana Jeong Daon currently possessed was roughly on par with that of a passable lower-tier mage. And normally, someone with that level of mana could at best cast one or two 3-circle spells. Yet the precision and complex formulas of the magic circle Jeong Daon had casually spread across the entire house just moments ago were at least on the level of a 5-circle spell or higher. On top of that, the ingenuity of drawing out the power of gemstones to reduce mana consumption while allowing the spell to persist for long periods was astonishing.
At this point, it was so shocking that they could just overlook the familiar playing at Jeong Daon’s feet. Rather than believe that this was a mage who had awakened less than a month ago, Han Jaeyeong would sooner believe that a great mage of around the 9th circle was messing around.
Han Jaeyeong tapped the steering wheel. What is she, really? Regression? Possession? Reincarnation?
No matter how absurd the world had become with dungeons and systems, stories as outrageous as regression, possession, or reincarnation still felt like things that belonged only in novels, and yet, Jeong Daon’s appearance was so extraordinary that such thoughts arose unbidden.
Of course, ever since the system appeared, there had been people, especially in cult-like religions, claiming they had regressed or reincarnated…
Ah, come to think of it, that happened even before the system.
Claiming to be the reincarnation of a god was practically a hallmark of cults. In any case, even if Jeong Daon fell into one of those three categories, Han Jaeyeong didn’t think they’d be all that surprised.
“Hm, hmm.”
Either way, something entertaining had rolled into their life after a long stretch of boredom. Thinking of it that way, even their slightly bruised pride felt more like a spice that added excitement. Humming to themself, Han Jaeyeong continued driving.
Still, I should repay her somehow. Once her basic training ends, she’ll be assigned as a social service agent to our guild.
Of course, Jeong Daon didn’t know that yet.
Unlike ordinary soldiers, Hunters vary greatly as individuals, and their training methods differ drastically by class. When the state deems it impossible to provide proper training, Hunters are sometimes assigned to work as social service agents within guilds while undergoing training. Mages, in particular, are delicate creatures, and it’s simply impossible to produce high-quality mages through forcibly standardized group training. Officially, they’re dispatched under local government jurisdiction in the field of disaster relief support, but in practice, fieldwork never goes quite as planned.
In other words, the moment Jeong Daon is assigned as a social service agent to the HP Guild, if the guild leader gives an order, she’ll have no choice but to accompany the guild’s dungeon raids. At that point, the “three-year contract after thirty-nine months of mandatory service” becomes little more than wordplay. Jeong Daon would end up following HP Guild dungeon raids throughout her entire mandatory service and then continue working under HP Guild for the three years afterward as well.
Naturally, this method isn’t commonly used, since it invites backlash over favoritism toward private enterprises. However, in the case of Han Jaeyeong’s HP Guild, given how frequently they conduct dungeon raids and cooperate with the government, accepting social service agents wasn’t particularly unusual. It just wasn’t widely known, since it never made it to the press.
While it was true that Han Jaeyeong was curious about Jeong Daon, they weren’t the type to give things away unconditionally.
I wonder what kind of expression she’ll make when she finds out.
Han Jaeyeong wondered whether that calm composure would crack even a little. Enjoying the thought, they soon arrived at the guild. Just as they were parking the car, their phone rang.
Seeing the name on the screen, Han Jaeyeong immediately answered, “Yeah, Hunter Yu Hanul.”
“Hunter Han Jaeyeong. Are you available to talk right now?”
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have picked up. Looks like you’ve been discharged from the hospital?” In public, Han Jaeyeong used polite speech out of consideration for Yu Hanul’s standing, but in a one-on-one conversation, they held nothing back.
Despite the deliberately provocative tone, Yu Hanul showed no sign of agitation and calmly got straight to the point. “I’ve identified the source of the smoke that was used at the Gwanghwamun Central Management Office.”
At those words, Han Jaeyeong couldn’t hide their surprise. “Oh, you were faster than me. How did you manage that?”
It wasn’t that Han Jaeyeong was looking down on Yu Hanul. No matter how much Yu Hanul was a legendary figure, praised like a savior of the nation, he was still a solo Hunter unaffiliated with any guild, which made him inherently weak in information warfare. From Han Jaeyeong’s perspective, he was all reputation and no real backing.
“I received an anonymous tip.
“Isn’t that even more suspicious? An anonymous tip? Through what channel?”
“Would you believe me if I said an anonymous letter was left in my home mailbox?”
A tip-off letter? In this day and age?
“Just say you got a DM on social media instead.” It was absurd enough to draw a hollow laugh. Han Jaeyeong asked sarcastically, “Was it written in blood or something?”
“Close. We’ll know for sure after the National Forensic Service finishes analyzing it.”
Han Jaeyeong froze, realizing that their offhand sarcasm had hit disturbingly close to the truth. “…Wait. Seriously? An anonymous letter written in blood, in this era? And how did they even get your home address—though, come to think of it, that part isn’t very hard. Any surveillance footage?”
“I’m checking now, but nothing so far. It seems they avoided cameras by moving through blind spots. Or it could have been magic.”
“I told you ages ago to put up some security magic at home, didn’t I? This would’ve been solved already!”
“I don’t have the money for that. If you really think it’s necessary, why don’t you do it for free?”
Han Jaeyeong pressed a hand to their head. To outsiders, it might look like Han Jaeyeong was constantly picking on Yu Hanul, but this was the reality of it. They almost wanted to go around telling people, This is what Yu Hanul, the so-called greatest swordsman and Hunter in South Korea, is actually like.
What’s the point of clearing dungeons day in and day out like that?
Aside from purchasing absolutely necessary items, Yu Hanul donated nearly all his earnings. He drove a compact car and lived in an old apartment with lax security. As for expensive defensive magic, he brushed it off, saying he could protect himself just fine and didn’t need it. If he heard that Jeong Daon had poured fifteen billion won worth of precious metals into house protection, he might actually faint. Living like that, of course there was no way to track someone who came to his home and slipped in a letter.
“It’s ridiculous in every possible way, but… let’s hear it. What does that blood-written anonymous letter say?”
“It claims that the Truelight Guild was responsible.”
"Ah..."
Without realizing it, Han Jaeyeong clutched their head. Which made sense, because—
“That’s a guild founded by cultists!”
Was this the price of casually thinking about absurd things like regression, possession, and reincarnation earlier?
From the other end of the call, Yu Hanul continued, “It’s still just a tip, but it seems worth verifying.”
“Yeah. And it’s plausible, too. The Truelight Sect has a lot of followers, which means plenty of money. Smuggling newly developed items from the U.S.? Completely feasible.”
If it was at a cult leader’s command, they’d strap bombs to their bodies and run. Smuggling was nothing in comparison.
Han Jaeyeong fell silent in thought.
“A cult-based guild…”
Normally, the price a mage pays to cast magic is their own mana. More precisely, they draw in the mana that exists in the world through their mana circuits, circulate it, and then manipulate it according to their will. But if there isn’t enough mana to cast a spell, something else can be offered in exchange. That price varies. Most commonly, it’s reagents or substances that can compensate for the lack of mana, but—
“If it’s them… they might even use other people’s souls as the price for magic.”
“There have already been two instances where signs suggested lives were used as the cost of magic, so it’s not an unreasonable assumption.”
That was true. In both the Dungeon Break at the supermarket in Eunpyeong District and the one at the Central Management Office in Gwanghwamun, fragmented human remains had been found. There was a high likelihood that someone’s life had been used as the price for a grand spell. In fact, now that he thought about it, it was strange that they hadn’t considered it sooner.
“So it really might be a cult targeting Jeong Daon…?” Until now, Han Jaeyeong had assumed it was simply a foreign government aiming to secure someone who could become a new S-rank Hunter. Their expression hardened. “What if they’ve come up with some absurd theory, like offering a special sacrifice, someone with potential high enough to be recognized by the system, will cause a god to descend?”
“That’s possible. In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.”
The reason Yu Hanul, who wasn’t religious at all, knew a verse from Hebrews was because he’d frequently clashed with cult-founded guilds during his activities in Korea.
With things like the system and dungeons, cults had found perfect material to weave into the foundations of their beliefs, and over the past decade or so, they had gained significant influence in Korean society.
Han Jaeyeong was well aware of that fact and clicked their tongue. “But instead of a sacrificial lamb, they use other people’s lives as substitutionary atonement?”
“In any case, cultists’ logic is nothing more than nonsense to us. There’s no point in trying to reason it out.”
“That’s true, but still… hmm. We definitely need to verify this properly. Want me to come with you?”
“That’s why I called. More than half of the Truelight Guild’s members are mages. I’ll need a mage’s help.”
Han Jaeyeong snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Those people calling themselves mages?”
Magic is a perversion of the natural order that manifests miracles, while religion is built on the belief that the world has a fixed order, so the idea that many religious followers would be mages was laughable.
But unlike Han Jaeyeong’s sharp reaction, Yu Hanul replied calmly, “That’s your interpretation, Han Jaeyeong. In their view, magic is a miracle granted to those who follow God’s will.”
“You’re not even a mage. Stay out of magical debates. So when are we going to the Truelight Guild? You’re planning to meet them first, right?”
Even with a tip, there was still no concrete evidence that the Truelight Guild had caused the Dungeon Break. Verification had to come first.
“Yes. I’ve set up a meeting. I just need a bit more time to recover my condition. How about two days from now?”
“Sounds good. Oh, right.” Something occurred to Han Jaeyeong. “Hunter Jeong Daon signed a contract with my guild. You heard about that?”
“...No?”
Yu Hanul’s response carried both surprise and confusion. It seemed to be a mix of shock at hearing it for the first time and uncertainty over why Han Jaeyeong was telling him at all.
“Now you know. So… what do you think?”
“I have no thoughts at all. What am I supposed to think?”
“You cared enough to go with her just to register as a Hunter at the Management Office. Doesn’t a guild contract concern you?”
“…If it were an ordinary person, and a trainee Hunter, especially a minor, who’d been caught up in a Dungeon Break less than two days ago, that level of concern would be normal.”
“Right, right. It was thoughtful of you. But when you show consideration, don’t you usually expect something in return?”
“I don’t believe consideration given in expectation of compensation is consideration at all. What I did was simply consideration. Joining a guild is a separate matter. I don’t think there’s any need to discuss it with me. It’s Daon’s choice.”
“So you’re saying you don’t have a personal connection. Then we’ll bring Jeong Daon along when we meet the Truelight Guild.”
“How did it end up there?” A trace of irritation crept into Yu Hanul’s voice over the phone. “A minor might be the target of a cult right now, and you’re saying you’ll bring her along to a meeting like that?”
“You said we need a mage’s advice. At this point, where are you going to find a mage stronger than Hunter Jeong Daon?”
“What kind of nonsense is that…?”
“Listen carefully, Hunter Yu Hanul.” Han Jaeyeong spoke in a serious tone. “There’s no mage who can use incantation magic the moment they awaken. You know that.”
“...”
“Jeong Daon is a minor, a Korean national, and a potential S-rank Hunter. I agree she should be protected. But… shouldn’t we at least know her true nature for sure?”
There was no reply. But if Yu Hanul truly thought this was unacceptable, he would have objected immediately. That silence itself proved that he, too, was harboring doubts.
And that meant Han Jaeyeong had won.
Han Jaeyeong grinned and ended the call. “Then let’s meet in two days, the three of us.”