CHAPTER 341: LEE YERIN (1)

Though it was two days of training, it felt as if he had trained for over two weeks.

Even though his fatigue hadn’t fully recovered yet, Kang-hoo immediately began tackling the next items on his schedule.

Anyway, outwardly the situation was that the Celestial Assassin was hiding his illness from Kang-hoo.

And since Kang-hoo likewise “didn’t know” his master’s condition, this turn of events came about.

If the premise had been that Kang-hoo knew his master’s health status, he couldn’t have left the villa so easily.

But since the picture he had was that his master was “healthy,” Kang-hoo notified them he would step out for a bit.

The Celestial Assassin, too, let his disciple go without holding him back. Another hospital appointment had been made as well.

Meanwhile.

Kang-hoo headed straight for Daejeon.

He was planning to use his spare time to attack the dungeons at the Cheongmyeong Detention Center.

After that, he meant to contact Emilia and fly to France—but before that, he definitely planned to pick up the suit from Kim Shin-ryeong.

In other words, organizing the plan ahead: clear dungeons at the Cheongmyeong Detention Center, receive the suit, then move to France.

He met Lee Ye-rin in front of Daejeon Station.

In the past, even if she came outside, she was the sort who rarely went as far as the station.

“The vibe’s a bit different, isn’t it?”

“The gloomy mood has cleared away all at once. Feels like the stench of Eclipse is gone.”

“Right. Only now does it feel like life is returning to Daejeon Station.”

Turning once in place, Lee Ye-rin let her fingertips “sweep” broadly over the whole station.

Since Yuji’s death—

Kang Dong-hyun’s activity in public had been completely cut off. And Eclipse withdrew all its forces from Daejeon Station and nearby.

They had been drawing down forces ever since they lost the Cheongmyeong Detention Center, but this time it was a full pullout.

“Seeing Heuksaja’s forces gone from here too, it looks like Blue Eye yielded Seo-Daejeon Station?”

“Right. We decided each side would take one station and manage the adjacent commercial areas. The talks went well.”

“That’s good.”

Rather than have two powers sloppily “split-manage” two areas 50–50, it was deemed better to take one each.

As Lee Ye-rin said, Daejeon Station, with all traces of Eclipse gone, felt as peaceful as Seoul Station.

“I keep hearing about you, Kang-hoo. Yuji… well, everyone’s talking about it, right?”

“It wasn’t exactly a quiet event.”

“Anyway, it’s amazing. Thinking back to the old days makes it feel even more surreal. Remember? The day we first met.”

“Of course. The day Seoyeon introduced me to you, Captain. It’s still vivid.”

Kang-hoo smiled.

When he had first met Lee Ye-rin, he was only a level-10 hunter—with just two basic skills.

Even so, he had boldly asked her for a job and even underwent a skills test—he remembered it well.

It was also when he truly began to seep into this world. Before that, he had been nothing but a slave of the Detention Center.

“By the way, no word from the Public Safety Bureau? You caught the guy jointly wanted by the Korea-China-Japan bureaus.”

At her question, Kang-hoo tilted his head slightly. Of course, he hadn’t killed Yuji for a reward.

But thinking it over, as she said, there had been no follow-up from the Bureau.

For example, a certificate of merit, or the public payment of the posted bounty… there should have been something, but there wasn’t.

Just then—

Vrrrrr.

Kang-hoo’s smartphone buzzed.

An unknown number.

Lee Ye-rin, standing beside him, glanced at the number on his screen and spoke as if something came to mind.

“The last four digits are 1012. That should be Jang Si-hwan’s personal number. Why is he calling out of the blue? You didn’t save it?”

“We hadn’t gone so far as to exchange contacts.”

“Pick up. I’ll give you a moment.”

Lee Ye-rin stepped away.

Even as someone close to him, she showed her intent not to intrude lightly into his private matters.

At first he couldn’t guess why Jang Si-hwan was calling so suddenly—but thinking again, an answer suggested itself.

“As a stand-in for the Bureau?”

It fits.

The ties between the Jeonghwa Guild and the Public Safety Bureau were so close it was tiresome to repeat.

From the Bureau Chief down, every key executive fell within Jang Si-hwan’s sphere of influence.

In such a situation, it wasn’t strange for Jang to step up and say a few words on their behalf.

If anything, it subtly showcased his position and influence—as someone who could speak in the Bureau’s stead.

“Ahem.”

He set his voice.

With Jang Si-hwan, even a small slip of the tongue or an off-pitch tone was something he didn’t want to let slip—a matter of quiet pride.

Then Kang-hoo answered.

“Hello, this is Shin Kang-hoo.”

— Pleased to speak with you; this is Jang Si-hwan. You must be surprised to get a call from an unknown number.

“Ah… Mr. Jang Si-hwan?”

— Yes, Jang Si-hwan speaking!

Though Lee Ye-rin had tipped him off, officially he didn’t know the number.

So Kang-hoo gave a plausibly surprised reaction. He had gotten better at acting; it came naturally now.

But your nature didn’t change—so the original Kang-hoo surfaced at once. He went straight to the point.

“What can I do for you?”

— I wanted to inform you directly about the Ishihara Yuji matter. There will be a public presentation of the Bureau Chief’s plaque of appreciation and a certificate of commendation. ꭆ𝐀ＮỌβΕᶊ

“A plaque of appreciation…”

— Of course, that’s not all. The bounties posted by the three nations’ bureaus will be paid out in full, consolidated.

“Oh?”

— Not a small sum.

If his memory served, it totaled around 120 billion won.

It wasn’t purely the Bureau’s money; part of it came from donors.

People could make separate donations to the Bureau for criminals they especially wished caught.

After minimal operating costs, such donations were folded entirely into the bounty pool.

So much for the bounty—but a plaque now? Did they just want to take a bit more spotlight?

And why was Jang Si-hwan delivering the news himself? He wasn’t just playing the mouthpiece—surely there was more.

As expected—

Just as Kang-hoo was about to press the question, Jang anticipated it and answered first.

— The reason I’m contacting you personally is that we at the Jeonghwa Guild also wish to extend our thanks.

“Could you be more specific?”

Kang-hoo pressed further.

If they both meant to “use” him, this was a gentle pressure to state their aim clearly.

— We want to give Seoul’s citizens a chance to celebrate your heroic feat, Mr. Shin, and to shake off their anxiety about suppressing criminals.

“A heroic feat, huh…”

— It’s undeniable. We want to give strength to citizens of Seoul suffering under the criminals of the Abyss.

If he agreed here, he could certainly win Jang’s favor.

And he could leave a good impression with Seoul citizens too—Jang would painstakingly prepare the event.

But Kang-hoo didn’t want to stage a performance that would needle the Abyss right now.

A good “counter-proposal” came to him.

“If your aim, Mr. Jang, is to inspire peace of mind, calm, and resolve among Seoul’s citizens—”

— Yes, Mr. Shin.

“—then how about having the commendation ceremony the Bureau plans to hold… hosted at the Jeonghwa Guild?”

— Hm?

“Just as I said. If the Jeonghwa Guild separately holds a thank-you event for me, the optics won’t look great. Since it’s an official commendation, if we make it more officially public and bigger, the optics will be much better for citizens.”

Kang-hoo smiled inwardly.

It struck him as uncharacteristically spontaneous for Jang.

Probably his goal had been to arrange an additional “thank-you” at the guild level— then reproduce the event through all kinds of footage and, in his own way, get a slice of the credit.

Beyond that— he likely meant to convert some of the growing public goodwill and interest in the now-hotter-by-the-day Kang-hoo into goodwill toward the Jeonghwa Guild, and hint that Kang-hoo had some degree of connection with the guild as a hunter.

Naturally, Kang-hoo had no intention of playing along to that tune.

While it felt unlike Jang, it also made Kang-hoo sense Jang’s personal goodwill toward him.

It was also a weakness of Jang’s mentioned in the original— if he had a “counterpart” he felt goodwill toward, he tended to optimistically assume the same goodwill for himself.

As I trust you, you’ll trust me, right?—a pure thought, or a complacent one.

— Would that… work?

A brief silence seemed to carry a lot of thought. It wouldn’t look good to refuse Kang-hoo’s proposal.

From Kang-hoo’s perspective, if things went as he wished, he wouldn’t need to prod the Abyss at all.

It would be an event to thank him for killing Ishihara Yuji—not a warning aimed at those who threatened the Jeonghwa Guild.

“Yes, please do it that way. Thank you. Thanks to you, I think we can give a lot of strength to Seoul’s citizens.”

— Mr. Shin, might you…

“Contact me once the follow-up schedule is set. I’ll be grateful to wait. Thank you again.”

Without letting Jang continue, Kang-hoo wrapped up neatly and ended the call.

Responding like this wouldn’t make Jang resent him or feel slighted.

In fact, knowing Jang’s personality— he would probably feel goodwill seeing how Kang-hoo slipped out smartly and focused on what mattered.

Who knew Jang Si-hwan better than Jang himself? Kang-hoo was confident.

----------------------------------------

On the way to the Cheong-an Building in the car Lee Ye-rin had prepared— the conversation, paused by the call with Jang Si-hwan, resumed. Kang-hoo offered an apology first.

“Sorry. The call ran longer than I expected.”

“It’s fine. I can guess the gist, but I won’t ask.”

“Ah, it was about the commendation. Since I killed the top-priority wanted guy…”

“Tried to slap the Jeonghwa Guild’s name on it, did he? Knowing the Jang Si-hwan I know, that tracks.”

Kang-hoo answered with a faint snort.

It seemed Lee Ye-rin was far more steeped in antipathy toward Jang than he had expected.

For someone who used honorifics by habit, she had said “Jang Si-hwan” rather than “Mr. Jang Si-hwan,” hadn’t she?

That meant her personal resentment far exceeded what showed. Feeling was leading the way.

“Given the flow of the original, it’s true Lee Ye-rin’s growth curve has already entered a steep rise.”

Scanning her constellation info, he saw two more main constellations had been added.

When they first met, she had one; later, another. Now two more—four in total.

She had already built her own dungeon-clearing routine called the “Lee Ye-rin Set.”

It was a dungeon route designed for explosive leveling—its experience gains were downright broken.

It was a dungeon where “Observer of Chaos,” the constellation that had been with Lee Ye-rin from the start, played the key role.

So he had recognized its existence from when he first met her, but he couldn’t steal the chance.

If he had killed Lee Ye-rin and robbed her of her constellation, the butterfly effect would have flowed in a bad direction.

At an intersection not far from the Cheong-an Building, Lee Ye-rin paused for a moment.

Going straight would take them to the building, but she stopped the car as if debating a right turn.

When Kang-hoo cocked his head, she brought up something he hadn’t expected.

“Kang-hoo. How about we have a bout for old times’ sake? Like the day we first met.”

He wondered what she meant—her hands must have been itching.

Did she want to measure her combat power against his?

For his part, Kang-hoo had long wanted to test himself once against Lee Ye-rin too.

Compared to when they first met, she had surely grown twofold—no, threefold—in ability.

And as he had been wanting to work more against magic users, this was perfect. Lee Ye-rin had set the stage naturally.