I saw Baek Seung-hyun’s wife.

    “Oh, hello?”

    My first impression was that she looked young.

    Not just her face, but her voice and actions, too—everything about her exuded the inexperience of someone unaccustomed to life’s challenges.

    How did Baek Seung-hyun, who was well into his thirties, end up with a woman who looked barely past her early twenties, and even have a child with her?

    Before the war, such a story might require an elaborate script filled with chance encounters and drama. But now, two and a half years into the apocalypse, no one needs such convoluted narratives.

    The burn scars etched on her arms, the jagged scar across her face, and the missing teeth revealed when she smiled—all these details provided a 100% convincing backstory without needing further explanation.

    “She was captured by gangsters, and I rescued her. That’s how we ended up together,” Baek Seung-hyun said with a casual shrug.

    At first, Baek Seung-hyun had spoken to me informally, as if it were only natural. But at some point, he had shifted to using polite speech.

    It was probably after I removed a capsule on my own.

    I hadn’t thought much of it then since our interactions were minimal, but now things were different. If I decided to settle here, Baek Seung-hyun would become my neighbor.

    “Feel free to speak casually,” I offered.

    “Well, if you’re okay with it, sure. You can speak comfortably too,” he replied.

    “No, I’m more comfortable using polite speech,” I responded.

    Baek Seung-hyun’s house, now home to a father, was essentially a shack.

    Literally made of planks.

    Judging by its construction, the foundation was likely made of bricks, topped with plywood, and then planks haphazardly nailed together to form walls, finished with a slate roof.

    It resembled the kinds of barns or equipment sheds you’d see in rural areas. I’d even built similar structures under Kim Elder’s guidance in the past.

    Naturally, there were no plumbing facilities.

    For basic needs, they had to use a shared toilet in the back and fetch water from a pipe next to it.

    “...”

    Was this a house or a pigsty?

    “You have no idea how rare it is to have a home of your own in these times,” Baek Seung-hyun said, laughing at my astonishment.

    “Besides, this Hunter House has electricity. You can read and write at night! You can even charge devices indoors without waiting in line at public charging stations.”

    This man seemed to genuinely like his home.

    Soon, he led me to what he called my potential new home, located diagonally across from his shack.

    “...”

    Was this supposed to be a house?

    That was my immediate thought.

    It looked like a slightly larger version of the cardboard shelters homeless people construct.

    What about the inside?

    Even in his modest circumstances, Baek Seung-hyun had at least decorated his walls with some wallpaper. Maybe the interior of this place would be somewhat cozy.

    I opened the door, trying to comfort myself with the thought.

    Squeak, squeak!

    Several city rats scurried to the corners to greet me.

    In the darker recesses, loathsome urban pests swarmed.

    “...”

    I couldn’t utter a word.

    Only one thought crossed my mind:

    Am I really supposed to live here?

    “We’ll need to disinfect the place,” Baek Seung-hyun remarked nonchalantly as he stepped inside to inspect the corners, unfazed by the pests.

    “Since there’s no electrical wiring here, a good cleaning and a bit of waterproofing should make it livable.”

    I wanted to echo Kim Daram’s words back to him: How could anyone live here?

    “When did you start staying in this place?” I asked as I hurriedly stepped back outside.

    Baek Seung-hyun pulled out a cigarette and offered me one. I waved it away.

    “You don’t smoke?” he asked.

    “No, I don’t.”

    His cigarettes had a distinct aftertaste, one reminiscent of death.

    “About half a year ago, I think,” he said, lighting his cigarette and looking up at the sky.

    “Didn’t this place get built recently?” I asked.

    “No, it’s been around since Kim Daram’s time.”

    “Kim Daram?” I repeated, surprised.

    He nodded, watching my reaction carefully.

    “Do you know what she did before she disappeared?” I asked.

    “She managed us freelance hunters. Didn’t she tell you that?”

    “No, she never mentioned it.”

    Even though I’d met her a few times after retiring, we never discussed her work. I only knew she was affiliated with the National Crisis Management Committee, but I’d never heard her specific title.

    “To stay in a high-ranking position like that...” Baek Seung-hyun exhaled a puff of smoke and sighed.

    “You can’t get by on ability alone. Most people burn through their past connections and resources just to hold onto their seats.”

    He spat on the ground and continued, “It’s the same in companies, isn’t it? Retirees from big corporations either survive on the knowledge they gained there or start parasitic little companies, draining the life out of their former employers under the guise of maintenance contracts.”

    His words made me feel a bit ashamed.

    I had never bothered to learn what exactly Kim Daram’s role was in the National Crisis Management Committee.

    While Lee Sang-hoon had a solid political foundation and untouchable connections, Kim Daram had no family, came from a team background, and had never been particularly notable in her own name.

    She was known to be sharp and meticulous, but how many competent people like her exist in this world?

    It was surprising to hear what Baek Seung-hyun said next.

    “Did you know the freelance hunter system was her creation?”

    “Kim Daram created the freelance hunter system?”

    This was news to me, though it somehow made sense.

    “She made it to avoid directly employing or taking responsibility for retired hunters like me. It’s a nice-sounding term, isn’t it—freelancer?” he said with a bitter laugh.

    “She turned her seniors, peers, and juniors into day laborers. She sucked the blood out of her past connections.”

    Baek Seung-hyun sighed again and pulled out a military radio.

    A K-Walkie Talkie, identical to the one I owned.

    “When she defected to the Legion faction, she left this behind. She was probably scared of being tracked. Military radios can be used to pinpoint locations for artillery or airstrikes.”

    “...”

    I didn’t respond.

    Those hollow-eyed people gave me the impression that they wouldn’t mesh well with me. They felt like strangers.

    “Well then, shall we start fixing up the house?” Baek Seung-hyun rolled up his sleeves.

    “Huh? Are you going to help, senior?”

    “Of course. My precious junior’s here—I have to lend a hand, don’t I?”

    He pushed me aside and began repairing the shack himself.

    He removed the rotting planks, sprayed disinfectant, set up a makeshift bed, and even pulled over an electrical wire to install a lightbulb in the room.

    “...”

    It was excessive kindness.

    Uncomfortably so.

    And as expected, such over-the-top generosity always came with a price.

    “Can you fight?” Baek Seung-hyun finally revealed his true intentions.

    Oddly, his directness felt familiar and even reassuring. I answered calmly.

    “To some extent.”

    He nodded.

    “There’s a mutation. I’d like your help dealing with it.”

    So this was what he wanted.

    If it were a monster, I would’ve declined. But if it was just a mutation, that was a different story.

    Still, it didn’t quite make sense for a hunter of Baek Seung-hyun’s caliber to struggle with a mere mutation.

    “How many?” I asked.

    Perhaps it was dozens.

    If so, I’d have to refuse.

    “One.”

    I couldn’t believe my ears.

    One?

    Not a monster, but a single mutation?

    I looked into his eyes, curiosity sparking.

    “What kind?”

    “A chimpanzee.”

    “Ah.”

    Hearing the original species, I realized it might indeed be a nuisance.

    Still, it was just a chimpanzee. Even if it grew larger, stronger, and gained human-level intelligence, it wouldn’t have the ability to deflect bullets.

    “Take a look at this,” he said, showing me a photo on his phone.

    It was of a ruined domed stadium.

    At the entrance, about ten people hung like fruit, strung up by their necks.

    “This is its handiwork.”

    “Looks human.”

    It wasn’t surprising. There was a human-like one living near my area too.

    Gold, they called him.

    “A hunter I know said something,” Baek Seung-hyun muttered, glaring at the photo. He bit his lip.

    “They think this mutation might be an Awakened.”

    “...”

    Now that was new.

    Unconsciously, I thought of my former mentor, Jang Ki-young.

    “Woo Min-hee said if I brought the creature’s corpse, they’d send me to Jeju Island.”

    “Jeju Island?” I asked.

    “Yes. Jeju Island.”

    “There’s a rumor the refugee fleet to Jeju sank in the sea.”

    “There are those rumors, yes. But...”

    He turned to look back.

    There stood his crumbling shack, his wife, and his child.

    “I have to go to Jeju.”

    “There’s no guarantee it’ll be better there.”

    He gestured for his young wife, who approached, handing him their baby.

    “Kim Daram wanted to go there, didn’t she?”

    The baby, cradled in his arms, laughed joyfully at his father’s face.

    Even at that tender age, the child seemed to adore him.

    As he gently rocked the baby, Baek Seung-hyun looked at me with desperate eyes.

    “We want to live better than Kim Daram’s family.”

    His words carried no literal weight.

    But they pressed down on my shoulders with a weight far heavier than that of a single family.

    “Can’t you help us, just this once?”

    I lowered my head, gathered my thoughts, then looked back up at him.

    “Where is it?”

    There were many reasons.

    Curiosity about seeing a mutation-Awakened hybrid. The chance to gauge Baek Seung-hyun’s true capabilities.

    And perhaps, as a newly minted freelancer, it was only proper to prove my skills.

    But there was one reason above all.

    If I stayed here, I’d eventually have to face that creature myself.

    If Baek Seung-hyun died, the task might fall to me next.

    Better to take care of it together with him now.

    Not that his desperate plea had entirely moved me.