Chapter 14: The Price of a Favor

#14

Swallowing a sigh, Dokyeom steadied his breath. Han Yuseong, the man who had slain ‘Udia’, slid his sword into its sheath and strode purposefully towards Dokyeom. His combat boots, melted and warped by the poison, were barely recognizable as footwear.

Yet, without a hint of self-consciousness, Han Yuseong approached with a grave expression, meticulously checking Dokyeom’s body.

“…My apologies, Hunter Han Dokyeom. Henceforth, I will exercise greater caution to prevent such incidents.”

“Indeed. Who could have guessed they were such a rare ‘couple,’ a one-in-a-million spectacle? That hunter over there seemed to be quite enjoying the show, haha! If you managed to capture anything on camera, please do share. I’d love to see myself dodging. Oh, how utterly ridiculous I must have looked, flailing and flipping my body around.”

“It wasn’t *that* amusing… ahem… We’ve certainly learned a great deal observing Hunter Han Dokyeom this time. It proved to be an excellent lesson.”

The hunter standing beside Han Yuseong cleared their throat, offering a flimsy excuse. Dokyeom wished they would at least try to make their lies convincing. Had they not so assiduously avoided his gaze, he might have been inclined to believe them, but the hunter was practically looking anywhere but at him.

[‘Orias,’ the demon of ‘Lemegeton,’ sobs that everything is pointless and overturns a desk!]

Dokyeom waved a hand, dispelling the message, and then cast his gaze upon the people frozen in a silent tableau. All of them, huddled and wide-eyed, stared back at him. Their expressions were akin to puppies who had thoroughly messed up a room and were now nervously gauging the reaction.

A-rank and B-rank hunters, deferring to an E-rank—this, truly, was a comical spectacle.

“Let’s just get a move on first. Didn’t you say we have no time to delay if we’re to clear this today?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dokyeom turned, exhaling a sigh. In the distance, he could see the trainees flinch, their gazes fixed on him as if he were someone pursuing them with a switch.

It seemed there was never a smooth day for him. Dokyeom scratched at his insignia, letting out another deep sigh.

****

“No, well… Mr. Han Dokyeom is indeed E-rank, right…?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“…Haha, it’s just that you evaded so remarkably well earlier.”

“That’s precisely because I’m an E-rank with not a single offensive skill.”

Sympathy bloomed on the face of the B-rank trainee hunter who had been subtly prying at his side. Indeed, in this ecosystem where a hunter’s rank hinged solely on the presence or absence of offensive skills, how utterly pathetic must an E-ranker with none appear?

The trainees, who had been constantly gauging Dokyeom’s reactions throughout the dungeon clear, only truly relaxed after the gate had been successfully breached. They strutted confidently, shoulders back, conspicuously lingering in front of Dokyeom, with some even approaching to subtly probe him with questions.

Dokyeom understood. From their perspective, having been helplessly struck by an attack that even an E-ranker had managed to evade, their wounded pride must have been immeasurable.

Even the two A-rank instructors, apart from Han Yuseong, would intermittently approach and linger by his side, subtly posing questions of unclear intent, almost as if preparing a detailed investigative report.

That arduous period finally concluded when they reached the gate’s exit.

“Trainees, exit and await further instructions.”

“Understood.”

At Han Yuseong’s command, everyone briskly darted towards the gate exit. Dokyeom, too, rotated his stiff neck and followed in Han Yuseong’s wake.

As they stepped through the gate, the chill of a drastically different temperature brushed against his nose. The sky, which had begun with the warmth of morning, had, in the interim, transformed into a gloomy night.

As if awaiting the completion of the clear, the post-processing team immediately entered the gate, hauling carts and equipment. Despite it being merely an A-rank dungeon, dozens of workers were deployed.

Dodging the influx of workers, Dokyeom made his way towards the waiting trainees. Noticing the unusually rigid posture of the hunters, he tilted his head in confusion.

Each of them stood at attention, heads held stiffly high, brimming with an almost forced spirit, yet their gazes were anything but natural. Dokyeom turned his head in the direction the trainees were all staring. At the end of that collective gaze, his eyes met a pair of transparent eyes that seemed to pull him in.

“Ah.”

Moreover, those eyes were framed by a cunningly curved smile.

“Hmm, you’re late.”

The low voice that followed what sounded like a moment of consideration was, by now, tiresomely familiar. Dokyeom watched the curving eyes, then approached the man clad in a long coat.

“Mr. Taeseongyeon, if you have nothing better to do, perhaps you should just go home instead of lingering here. I’m hardly in the mood to see you today.”

“I made the effort to come specifically because I heard Mr. Han Dokyeom was here, so to hear you speak like that… it truly wounds my feelings.”

“What incredibly important thing did you deem worthy of a personal visit? You had better not be messing with me.”

Instead of a reply, a low laugh resonated, like smoke dissipating into the air. It was an ambiguous answer, neither confirming nor denying. The trainees, meanwhile, were already fixated on the two of them, eyes wide as pinecones and necks craned out like turtles. The instructors, too, were equally rigid.

While the trainees might not have much more to witness, Han Yuseong, as an instructor, was a different matter entirely. He was typically less than pleased with Dokyeom’s antics, so there was no way he would approve of this scene.

“If you have no urgent business, I’m leaving.”

“Dokyeom.”

As he turned his back, a soft, low word reached his ears. Fire instantly flared in Dokyeom’s eyes. He spun around, his expression predatory, only for a refreshing scent—one that had, by now, grown tiresomely familiar—to waft towards him, as if offering a greeting. Soon after, a low, almost coaxing voice followed.

“What to do… I brought what you wanted.”

“What is it? Just try messing with me, and I’ll…”

Dokyeom trailed off, his mouth subtly closing. Only then did he belatedly recall the request he had made to him a week prior. As their eyes met, the man tilted his head in a lazy nod, as if confirming Dokyeom’s suspicions.

“I wonder if you’re inclined to talk now, Dokyeom.”

‘He finally found it. That ‘gate.’ This was what Taeseongyeon was conveying. Dokyeom swiftly stepped closer to Taeseongyeon.

“What about the conditions I stipulated? Are they all agreeable?”

“Even so, yes.”

“Mr. Taeseongyeon, where is your car? Let’s discuss this inside, shall we?”

Lest he be refused, Dokyeom seized Taeseongyeon’s coat lapel and began to walk briskly towards the roadside, where cars were neatly lined. Taeseongyeon, for his part, compliantly matched his steps to the unfamiliar pull.

The trainees nearby, who had been standing at attention with eyes wide and fixed, only returned their craned necks to their natural position after the two figures had vanished from sight. Then, as if on cue, hollow laughter erupted from various points. It was, for many, the first time in their lives they had witnessed the undeniable truth: connections held sway even over rank.

‘If Yisaein saw that and threw a fit, I’d have no more wishes left to make.’

‘At least that connection isn’t a literal umbilical cord…’

‘Damn it. If it were an umbilical cord, an E-rank would be above an S-rank. Don’t utter such horrific notions.’

In that hollow atmosphere, where the harsh realities of life were becoming painfully clear, only Han Yuseong remained utterly unfazed.

****

“So, Mr. Taeseongyeon, when do you intend to assemble the clear team?”

No sooner had they settled into the car than Dokyeom seized Taeseongyeon’s sleeve, posing the question. Their gazes clashed vividly within the confined space.

Taeseongyeon’s silver eyes flickered towards the driver in the front seat for a fleeting moment. The driver, perceiving the unspoken cue, swiftly exited the vehicle. With the brief click of the door closing, Taeseongyeon leaned closer to Dokyeom and spoke.

“The rank assessment was released today, so the team will naturally be assembled within three days. The real question, however, is whether Mr. Han Dokyeom is a viable candidate.”

“Why? Is there some issue? Perhaps the gate’s rank is too high, or something of that nature?”

Dokyeom, as if questioning Taeseongyeon’s proximity, scanned him from head to toe, yet continued the conversation with an accustomed ease. A long arm stretched past Dokyeom’s head, coming to rest against the window behind him.

“The gate’s measured rank is B. Though it’s a maritime gate, its proximity to an island means it’s not an inaccessible location. Therefore, it’s entirely feasible for Mr. Han Dokyeom to participate.”

“So, are you sending me, or are you not?”

“Since I’ve decided to send you, that’s what will happen… However, let’s modify the conditions slightly.”

Change? A question surfaced in Dokyeom’s eyes as he met Taeseongyeon’s suspiciously downcast gaze. Dokyeom subtly furrowed his brow, sifting through his memories of the original narrative.

The gate had emerged in the sea near Eulwangri, leading to the entire surrounding area being designated a control zone. In the original story, the Hunter Association had then sent a cooperation request to Taeseongyeon, who held a share of the gate in that region, effectively bringing the ‘Sahyun Guild’ into its management.

The gate’s measured rank was B, requiring at least one B-rank hunter to accompany the team for entry permission. Consequently, Taeseongyeon had dispatched one A-rank instructor and fourteen B-rank trainee hunters to conduct gate clear training there.

“What conditions are you referring to?”

Taeseongyeon’s knee brushed against Dokyeom’s. Through the narrowed field of vision, the headlights of passing cars illuminated the nearby street. Taeseongyeon’s refined eyes were so close they seemed poised to collide with his own. In that minuscule gap, he spoke in a low tone.

“I’m going to assign some individuals to accompany you.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re telling me not to do anything foolish. And… why do you keep inching closer? It’s unsettling.”

A low laugh followed, resonating through the space. It was neither frivolous nor light, but rather heavy and refined, much like the man himself.

Streetlights filtering through the car windows cast a faint glow within the darkened interior. Dokyeom gazed at Taeseongyeon, who was smiling, seeing an incomplete afterimage.

The shadowed face conveyed a sense of reality so vivid it was almost unbelievable. Everything felt incredibly real. In such moments, he would occasionally remember where he was, and how the characters from the pages he’d once written smiled and acted before him.