Chapter 60: The Weight of Being Someone’s World

As Sung Ji-woo read through dozens of letters, he came to realize one thing.

Yu Hiro was living as if Sung Ji-woo were the only person in his world.

There were no eternal relationships in this world. In the end, people were alone, and the one who got hurt was always the one who dared to hope. Cruel as it was, Yu Hiro needed to be told that truth.

Someone might insist that they were different, that they would never change, swearing an eternal promise—but those words were empty at their core. Sung Ji-woo had never seen or heard of anyone who had actually kept such a promise throughout their life.

And unfortunately, he himself was too weak even to offer those hollow words.

He was not the kind of person Yu Hiro believed him to be.

With sunken eyes, Sung Ji-woo slowly traced Yu Hiro’s handwriting.

[Sometimes I can’t tell whether this is reality or not. I guess I’ve spent too long alone. Lately, it feels like I’m trapped inside a never-ending nightmare. I need your light, hyung. I miss you.]

He had lost count of how many times he’d seen the words I miss you.

Have I ever missed someone like this?

There were times he’d been curious about someone’s whereabouts—but that was nothing more than one-sided interest. It wasn’t a longing to meet them. It certainly wasn’t something that called for such an earnest confession.

Just what kind of existence had he become to Yu Hiro…?

The thought frightened him a little.

[Today again, I can’t tell whether this is a dream or reality. I’m not even sleeping that much, so why am I so confused? Maybe I’m writing this letter in a dream, too. So maybe you won’t even be able to read it.]

Sung Ji-woo stopped breathing for a moment.

The grueling days he’d spent in the X-Gate came rushing back like a tide.

They were memories he had tried hard to forget, to ignore—and perhaps they were the very things Yu Hiro had endured for the past three years.

His heart felt as though it were being scraped raw.

[But on the days your supplies and letters arrive, I realize it’s real. Because I’ve never had a good dream even once. So if it were a dream, it wouldn’t feel like this.]

The image of Yu Hiro sleeping soundly beside him came to mind—so innocent, so unaware of the world.

That day, when he’d seemed to be sleeping more peacefully than ever… perhaps that moment had been what Yu Hiro longed for most.

That morning, Yu Hiro had said this.

“I’ve never slept that deeply before.”

Back then, Sung Ji-woo had thought he was just saying it to keep him from feeling awkward.

But what if, to him, Sung Ji-woo himself was a good dream?

The feeling was strange—something he couldn’t put into words.

All he wanted was to run away from this unfamiliar emotion.

The long reading finally came to an end with a letter filled with excitement about meeting again soon. Sung Ji-woo carefully gathered the letters and placed them back into the box.

Although an attendant was waiting outside, CCTV cameras inside made it impossible to take anything with him.

The irony was bitter.

Yu Hiro had written them, and they were addressed to him—yet neither of them could possess them.

The stack of letters, layered one atop another, looked far more orderly than when he’d first seen it. With that order came the weight of Yu Hiro’s days, felt layer by layer.

When he got back, the first thing he wanted to say was, You worked hard.

And then maybe treat him to some meat, have a drink together, and talk honestly, without holding back…

Perhaps then, these tangled, nameless feelings would finally settle.

And if—just if—Yu Hiro still continued to place his hopes in him after that, Sung Ji-woo was prepared to explain in detail just how inadequate of a person he really was.

Click.

He opened the door.

The bright white lights of the corridor dazzled his eyes.

“Did you finish reading everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then, this way please…”

The staff member led him somewhere. At first, Sung Ji-woo thought they were heading back to the lobby—but instead, they got into an elevator, and the man pressed a button for a higher floor.

“…Where are we going?”

“There’s something we need to give you, Mr. Sung.”

If you’re giving something, just make it another letter, Sung Ji-woo complained inwardly as he followed behind.

When the elevator doors opened, an open-plan office came into view.

He hadn’t expected people to be inside, and he hesitated in surprise—but most of them were buried in their desks, not sparing him a glance.

“Please wait here for a moment.”

The staff member guided him to a table against the wall. Judging by the coffee machine and snacks, it seemed to double as a pantry.

At the adjacent table, a woman sat chewing on a biscuit with a weary expression. Her eyes were lifeless, her mouth moving mechanically, like a cow chewing cud.

“Hello. I’m Kim Ji-won, Deputy Manager of the Hunter Registry.”

“Yes, hello—wait, what? Who?”

Sung Ji-woo froze mid-greeting as he looked at the woman sitting across from him.

Like an insurance agent, Deputy Manager Kim smoothly brushed past his confusion and launched into her explanation.

“As of today, Mr. Sung Ji-woo, you have been officially registered as a hunter. Your registration card is currently being issued and should be ready within ten minutes. During that time, I’ll explain the prohibited actions and obligations. It’s not very complicated, so there’s no need to worry. Even if you’re confused now, the Hunter Life Handbook you’ll receive will be very helpful. If you still have questions after that, you can contact the 담당자 listed on the last page of the handbook for prompt consultation. 담당자 are assigned by district, so please check your registered address and contact the appropriate one.”

Was she even breathing as she spoke?

The rapid-fire explanation left Sung Ji-woo dizzy.

“No—wait, just a second! I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I never applied for hunter registration, and I never served in the X-Gate.”

Kim Ji-won stopped and looked at him—then responded just as mechanically.

“Ah, I see, sir. Since this hasn’t been officially announced yet, it’s understandable that you’d be confused. Recently, Hunter HERO successfully cleared the X-Gate, eliminating the need for mandatory service. Accordingly, the Korean Hunter Association has followed overseas precedents and abolished the mandatory service requirement, transitioning to a point-based hunter registration system.”

“……”

“Currently, it has been confirmed that Hunter Sung Ji-woo previously worked as an intern guild member at the Knocker Guild during high school. That experience has been converted into performance points, which fulfills the requirements for hunter registration.”

“…What?”

This was completely unexpected.

Had focusing solely on preventing the end of the world—and only on eliminating the X-Gate—been the problem?

In the future he remembered, nothing like this existed. He’d never considered what would happen after.

To think such an absurd variable would appear.

He had clearly said he wouldn’t become a hunter in this life—that he was sick to death of it.

“Even so, I still never requested registration.”

“To explain that briefly—you were registered automatically.”

“Could you explain that in detail instead of briefly?”

“You graduated from a special ability high school, correct?”

“Yes. And?”

His reply came out stiff.

“Special ability schools are fundamentally training institutions for hunters. Simply by graduating, you are deemed to have intent to become a hunter, and a registration card is automatically issued. As mentioned earlier, since the system has shifted to points, students who completed a guild internship automatically meet the criteria. Any further questions?”

“Then… does that mean everyone who graduates from those schools becomes a hunter?”

Sung Ji-woo asked cautiously, searching for any loophole.

Kim Ji-won answered with genuine regret in her tone.

“Unfortunately, no. Only those who graduated within the last five years are eligible. And you fall within that range, Hunter Sung Ji-woo.”

Of all things.

“…Even if I’m registered, I don’t have to actually work as a hunter, right?”

“Yes. That is entirely up to you.”

Sung Ji-woo let out a sigh of relief.

If it was forced registration, he could just ignore it and pretend it didn’t exist.

“Your registration card is ready.”

Another man approached and handed it over. Sung Ji-woo quickly stuffed it into his pocket before anyone could see.

“As for prohibited actions and obligations—”

“I already know most of that. You said you’d give me a handbook.”

“Yes, here it is.”

“Then I can leave now, right?”

“…Yes.”

With no reason to stop him, Kim Ji-won nodded. Sung Ji-woo stood up immediately and hurried to the elevator, pressing the button. The moment the doors opened, he slipped inside like he was fleeing.

“Ah, wait a moment!”

The staff member who had guided him earlier came running.

Thinking he wanted to get on as well, Sung Ji-woo pressed the Open button.

“There are people downstairs who want to meet you, Mr. Sung.”

“…Who?”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain. You’ll understand once you meet them.”

The vague answer made Sung Ji-woo tilt his head.

Meanwhile, the elevator descended rapidly toward the first floor.

Just as the doors were about to open, Sung Ji-woo asked,

“They’re here? The people who want to meet me?”

Before an answer could come, dozens of people crowded into his field of vision.

“Are you Sung Ji-woo?”

One of them stepped forward.

“…Who are you?”

At his wary question, the man smiled warmly.

“We’re not suspicious people. Could we talk for a moment?”

“Talk to us too!”

“We were here first—please start with us!”

“No, no, talk to us first!”

“We’ll treat you really well!”

That last comment made Sung Ji-woo frown.

“…Treat me well? How?”

At that, people began shouting all at once, hands raised.

“We can do better!”

“We guarantee rank! No dangerous work!”

“You just need to lend us your name—we’ll pay you monthly!”

“We’ll match Yu Hiro’s annual salary!”

“A house! We’ll get you a house!”

“A house and a car!”

“Our guild can even manage your general store!”

“Just tell us your conditions—!”

Licking his parched lips, Sung Ji-woo felt like his soul was leaving his body.

Yu Hiro.
Guilds.
Conditions.

The flood of words left his mind reeling.

Clutching his throbbing head, Sung Ji-woo finally spoke.

“So… what exactly are you all talking about?”

“Didn’t you know? Hunter HERO announced that he’ll join whichever guild you join.”

“…What? No—what? Who said what?”

Sung Ji-woo stammered, like his brain had lagged.

But the guild members were far too busy talking about him to notice.

Buzz.

A text message arrived on his phone.

Sender: Yu Hiro.

[-Sorry for being petty. But this time, hyung, you were at fault—so please let me get away with this much.]

No—no matter how upset I made you, this is way too much!

Sung Ji-woo grabbed his aching head.