CHAPTER 344: SEOUL (1)

【Selfish Bargain】

【If, within 0.2 seconds after activating Selfish Bargain, you block a skill that is not yours,

the cooldown of one pre-designated skill via Selfish Bargain is reset. Consumes 100 Dark Energy.】

“0.2 seconds… That demanded truly knife-edge timing. Which is why it was a broken skill, too.”

Kang-hoo grumbled.

He had already set the designated skill.

For now, Blood Flower was the most efficient choice.

The reason: within a single day you could not use Blood Flower twice on the same target.

Strictly speaking, when you tried to trigger it again on a target who had already been hit, a remaining-time display appeared.

In other words, it had its own separate cooldown.

But if he succeeded in resetting through Selfish Bargain, he could use it once more even on the target he had just hit.

“I picked up two Dark-energy skills anyway. With Vow of the Dark King pushing Dark Energy to 54, that was pretty fruitful.”

Kang-hoo nodded in satisfaction.

The more skills that handled Dark Energy and holy power, the better.

In the world of high- and top-tier hunters, hidden stats weren’t optional but essential—and the related skills went without saying.

When he stepped out of the dungeon, the empty detention center came into view at a glance.

Until recently, it had been the residence of many detainees under the yoke of the criminal group Eclipse.

Now all detainees had been liberated, and no one remained. Naturally, none chose to stay of their own accord, either.

Only, quite a number of those who had been detainees remained at the mana-stone mine.

Naturally, they had become formally hired laborers and were paid for their work.

Having lived for years inside the detention center, they had lost not only money but all sense for the real world.

With the thought of gathering and regaining what they had lost, they stayed on and worked at the mine.

Quick-witted Lee Ye-rin was running an adaptation program for those detainees.

It wasn’t out of pure good will; in any case, the plan was to bring those hunters into the Cheong-an mercenary corps.

Even one more hunter meant that much more fighting power. It was worth the investment.

The news Kang-hoo had seen on the way here also carried plenty of good tidings.

Treatment and pay were good, and many hunters were reportedly applying as workers.

Production was said to be four times higher than in the old Cheongmyeong “Detention Center” days—a win-win for everyone.

Waaahhh—

Just then, an alarm sounded.

It usually rang when there was an outside intruder, but after two bursts it cut off at once.

That meant the threat had been neutralized. In short, Eclipse’s little ploy had failed.

“……”

With his eyes closed, Kang-hoo took in with his whole body the traces and smells of the now-empty detention center again.

The old scenery of the center, which had vanished as everyone was freed… the same tragedy would not repeat.

Now he felt he could even lay to rest the fragments of memory that had lingered here.

“I hoped they would all be happy.”

He also buried the memories of the countless fellow detainees who had died here.

What remained was not to mourn them, but to avenge them.

Eclipse.

It was time to aim for Kang Dong-hyun, who had now become an opponent he could take on.

With Yuji sent to the afterlife by his own hand, could Kang Dong-hyun possibly feel at ease?

No chance.

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Meanwhile, around that time— the Celestial Assassin and Ju Haemi, having finished a detailed exam and come to the consultation room for results, faced a doctor whose expression was half blank with shock. ŗΑNȮΒÈȘ

From the faint X-ray images alone, they could sense there was a change from before— but neither had medical knowledge, so neither he nor Ju Haemi knew what was what.

But as soon as he saw them, the doctor shook his head over and over, his face filled with emotion.

The Celestial Assassin asked:

“Why are you like that?”

“Sir, I truly think this is a miracle. An impossible situation has occurred—”

“Has my day of death drawn closer?”

His inner thoughts and his question went in completely different directions.

Of course he wanted good news. But knowing that would be a “miracle,” he could not dare hope for it.

“No. Not only the metastasized cancer cells, but the carcinomas that had been observed in various places have vanished.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, sir. Moreover, all counts are normal. Even the liver, which had lost function, has recovered entirely, as if it had been transplanted!”

“……”

“At this level, it’s no exaggeration to say you’ve been reborn! I’d heard even hunters couldn’t cure incurable diseases, and yet…”

“Why is this fellow crying before I do, when I’m the one sitting still here?”

“I’m a human before I’m a doctor. How could this not be overwhelming? Ahhh…”

The doctor even removed his glasses and bawled.

So the Celestial Assassin and Ju Haemi, who should have been the ones to cry, ended up consoling the doctor instead.

They felt indescribably good.

When a time-limited fate that could have ended tomorrow had been reversed—how could they not rejoice?

And yet there was one reason the Celestial Assassin and Ju Haemi still couldn’t let out even a single shout.

It simply didn’t feel real.

Impossible. Miracle. Unreal.

So far as words could explain it—incurable disease remained a riddle unsolved even in the hunter era.

And yet it had been cleaned away.

Not only had the carcinomas disappeared—his organs, all five viscera and six bowels, had changed as if newly born.

In that case—

“Who on earth brought about such a miracle in me? If neither I nor Haemi… there’s only one person who could. It’s absurd to imagine—but no one else fits.”

Only one person kept circling through the Celestial Assassin’s mind: his disciple, Kang-hoo.

Between the last hospital visit and this one, there were four people he had truly had contact with.

The Celestial Assassin himself, Ju Haemi, his attending physician—and the only one left was Kang-hoo.

Even Master K, whom he often saw, he hadn’t met this time due to schedules.

And yet the illness had vanished.

Then, as a reasonable inference, there was only one person to consider.

“How on earth did that boy… heal me?”

Here lay the hard problem.

The how.

By what method had he brought about a change in him that deserved to be called a miracle?

Could it be that this brilliant disciple somehow had the touch of a noble constellation’s power that could erase human illness?

“Is this boy now planning to make me owe him for my entire life?”

He sent a voiceless question toward the disciple who wasn’t there.

How much more gratitude would he have to feel toward the disciple who made his heart swell just by being nearby?

Though his plain-spoken disciple hadn’t said a word with his own mouth, the Celestial Assassin knew— the one who had made the impossible possible was his disciple, Kang-hoo. Beyond doubt.

In that moment— though he had furrowed his brow through the hard fight against illness, he had not shed a single tear.

Ssslide—

He spilled hot, unstoppable tears.

It was gratitude for being able to spend precious time longer at the side of those he loved.

The Celestial Assassin offered sincere thanks, again and again—not to a god, but to his treasured disciple.

And he resolved:

that the rest of his life he would live for his disciple—and if needed, he would toss away his life in place of his disciple like a blade of grass.

It was his firm resolve and vow, never to change. So it would be.

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Around that time, Kang-hoo was on his way to Kim Shin-ryeong.

The suit was reportedly finished. All that remained was for Kang-hoo to come and put it on.

Riding in a secure limousine, he contacted Emilia ahead of time.

As soon as he had received the plaque of appreciation and reward from the Public Safety Bureau, he planned to fly straight to France.

Emilia promised Kang-hoo a private chartered jet—an ultra-luxury plane she rarely let anyone board.

Pleased by her kindness, Kang-hoo said he looked forward to their time together soon.

Emilia’s response was good as well.

She had been practicing Korean cuisine a lot.

If he just came to Paris, she boasted she would serve a full 12-cheop bansang [T/N: a lavish set menu of 12 side-dish courses in Korean royal/banquet style].

They suddenly sounded like a lovey-dovey couple, but Emilia was someone who could turn dark at any time.

So he didn’t take the side he saw now as her whole. When she turned dark, she turned endlessly dark.

— The phone is switched off…

Meanwhile, on a chance he dialed Ayane’s smartphone again, but it was still off.

He looked over hunter-related news from Japan, but there were no articles tied to the Fukuoka Liberation Area.

“At any rate, it looks like I’ve got a chance to greet quite a lot of Seoul citizens this time.”

Narrowing his eyes as he checked the finalized time for the plaque ceremony, Kang-hoo pondered.

Would leaving a vivid memory of himself with Seoul citizens help later—or harm?

To be frank— whether it helped or harmed was not up to Kang-hoo but to Jang Si-hwan.

Depending on how he did the image-making, he could become a heinous criminal, trash, a psychopath— or a hero who scorned his own body and sacrificed freely for citizens’ safety.

There were precedents for each case— Lee Hyeon-seok and Chae Gwanhyeong.

Regardless of their true images, what citizens perceived was the product of Jang Si-hwan’s propaganda.

“What sort of being will I be in the days to come?”

If the flow went as in the original, there was nothing to see.

He would become a trash villain who eyed the lifeline of Seoul citizens and schemed unrest.

The original Shin Kang-hoo had been shaped that way; until the moment he died, he was portrayed as trash, and then he died.

There had been reasons he had no choice but to be a villain—but that didn’t justify evil deeds.

“I have to break that mold.”

He could not let things drift.

But even so, he had no intention of staking an overt confrontation line with Jang Si-hwan from now.

That would be meaningless madness.

“Seoul, Seoul, Seoul… this beautiful street…”

Mouthing a song that rolled pleasantly on his tongue today, Kang-hoo turned his gaze out the window.

His first official greeting before Seoul citizens—the chance created by Ishihara Yuji’s death.

Kang-hoo was looking forward to that scene very much—not in a good way, but in a bad one.

Would the citizens’ calmly well-ordered convictions make them look upon him in what kind of light?

He had never had any desire to curry their favor.

Only— he was filled solely with regret for citizens who could not see the truth clearly.

For those who had loyally watched only what Jang Si-hwan had wanted to show for years— there would never exist another world where Jang Si-hwan wasn’t a “good man.”