X
Chapter 38
[Orias, the demon of Lemegeton, seeing the bruise on your face, prostrates themself and wails, asking what had happened.]
‘Why is this scoundrel so utterly shameless?’
Han Dokyeom gazed at Orias’s wailing message with a complex mix of emotions, watching as the demon wept profusely.
He had wondered when Orias had disappeared, but only now, upon seeing the message, did he realize the demon had vanished the moment he started getting beaten.
Indeed, Orias had disappeared quite early, long before Han Dokyeom had been dragged away amidst the chaos.
“Now, my dear child,” the man purred, “you should read this contract very carefully, shouldn’t you?”
He found himself in the exact same spot as yesterday, surrounded by the same people and their familiar faces, as he was handed a contract.
This contract, however, was significantly thicker than the one from the previous day.
Wondering what new twists of language might be hidden within, Han Dokyeom took the contract and meticulously scrutinized it, page by page.
The very first thing that caught his eye was the clause concerning ‘Contract Termination’.
‘If Party A and Party B deem that they have achieved mutually satisfactory results regarding the
‘Just look at this,’ he thought. ‘They’ve pulled another trick.’
His gaze lingered on the phrase ‘if they deem that they have achieved mutually satisfactory results,’ and then on the word ‘negotiate,’ rather than a definitive ‘agree’ or ‘shall terminate.’
It was clear they had no intention of terminating the contract in the first place.
Han Dokyeom nodded, feigning understanding, and continued to read through the document.
Despite its considerable length, it only took him ten minutes to read through the entire contract.
Furthermore, the only clearly and explicitly stated clause was that Han Yuseong must be brought here by three o’clock, and if he failed to sign the contract, all responsibility would fall squarely upon Han Dokyeom.
Beyond that, everything else was as vague and diluted as if it had been watered down.
“But, sir,” Han Dokyeom began, “why is that particular clause missing? I mean, I could terminate this and just go around telling everyone, couldn’t I? There’s no mention of that.”
“What do you mean, ‘missing’?” the middle-aged man retorted. “It’s clearly stated at the bottom of page four. Under confidentiality, if you utter a ‘specific word,’ the enforceability of the agreement will last for life, even if the contract is terminated.”
“But there isn’t any ‘specific word’ mentioned,” Han Dokyeom pointed out.
Han Dokyeom frowned slightly, his voice rising in irritation.
The middle-aged man reached a hand behind his back.
Immediately, someone offered him a stiff, laminated sheet of paper.
“Go on, look your fill,” he sneered. “After all, this is the last day you’ll ever see it, you little rascal.”
Han Dokyeom swiftly snatched the laminated sheet, his eyes scanning the ‘specific word’ with an air of feigned nonchalance.
“Your associates are waiting beside you,” a voice pressed, “Let’s not draw this out, Dokyeom.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I’m stamping it, I’m stamping it.”
Setting aside the paper he’d been examining, Han Dokyeom firmly pressed his thumb into the ink pad beside him.
Then, he left a large, clear thumbprint in the designated signature box.
“Now that I’ve left my thumbprint, please return my phone,” he demanded. “How am I supposed to bring Mr. Han Yuseong here without any means of contact? You’ve been confiscating my phone and causing a fuss since yesterday.”
From among the men in black suits, someone stepped forward and abruptly extended a hand, offering a phone.
Han Dokyeom took the phone, immediately powered it on, then leisurely scrolled through his contacts before pressing the call button and raising the device to his ear.
The oppressive silence in the room was chilling.
In that place, permeated by an indescribable, foul odor, Han Dokyeom calmly listened, the steady dial tone imprinting itself upon his mind.
The moment that persistent signal finally ceased, the entire atmosphere of the room dramatically shifted.
More precisely, it was the instant the name of the person on the other end left Han Dokyeom’s lips.
“Mr. Taeseongyeon.”
The middle-aged man’s eyes darted swiftly towards Han Dokyeom.
In that fleeting moment their gazes collided in the air, the middle-aged man’s attention was suddenly seized by something else.
His eyes were pulled towards the lower-ranked hunters, who were now rising, weapons in hand, their gazes burning with a profound, bitter resentment.
“Wh-What in the—”
“Mr. Taeseongyeon, are you perhaps in the middle of a briefing right now?” Han Dokyeom asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Ah, I do hope you liked the ringtone. I set it as a custom one yesterday, just in case you missed my call when I saved my number.”
Despite their haggard appearance, as if they hadn’t eaten in days, the lower-ranked hunters bared their teeth like rabid dogs.
At the sight, the middle-aged man’s eyes hardened.
“Those bastards…!”
Paying no mind, Han Dokyeom casually wiggled the tip of his foot.
He spoke in a soft, almost lilting tone.
“Oh, really? In that case, would you mind accidentally pressing the speakerphone button for a moment? Yes, yes.”
In an instant, a cacophony of widespread noise flooded his ear.
There was the distinct sound of something clicking and snapping, along with the muffled, echoing hum of numerous tangled voices.
Han Dokyeom deliberately met the middle-aged man’s gaze and gave a slight nod.
He then subtly gestured with his chin towards the lower-ranked hunters, who were now baring their teeth, poised to charge.
[Orias, the demon of Lemegeton, wipes away their tears and stares at you with bloodshot eyes.]
Taking Orias’s message as his cue, Han Dokyeom quickly rose and vaulted behind the sofa.
With Agon now growling menacingly before him, Han Dokyeom offered a sweet smile to the middle-aged man, whose face was twisted into a terrifying grimace.
Immediately afterward, a voice, imbued with the most heart-wrenching sorrow, whispered.
As if that whisper had been the catalyst, the lower-ranked hunters let out guttural roars and charged at the gangsters.
Their wild, menacing eyes now yearned to snap their leashes.
****
No Daesik, a seasoned reporter from ‘Haeil Ilbo,’ a media powerhouse specializing in hunter news, received urgent news this morning.
The Sahyeon Guild had abruptly changed its briefing schedule.
Immediately, he canceled all his prior engagements and rushed to the Sahyeon Guild’s briefing room.
Despite his haste, the briefing room was already teeming with reporters and staff, leaving barely any room to stand.
Perhaps to prevent overly aggressive reporting, the Sahyeon Guild had regrettably restricted video camera filming in certain areas.
Consequently, the briefing room was filled with the incessant, almost infinite, clicking of camera shutters.
As reporters pressed their faces to their cameras, snapping photos, the working journalists preparing for the briefing swiftly scanned their question sheets and gripped their microphones.
The seat reserved for Taeseongyeon was already a tangled mess of cameras and audio jacks.
Given that it concerned the monumental ‘Red Gate’ incident, it was hardly surprising that everyone was rushing in, eyes blazing with anticipation.
Furthermore, this press conference marked the Sahyeon Guild’s inaugural official briefing on the matter.
With rampant speculation having dominated the discourse, the Sahyeon Guild’s sudden release of substantial information was bound to ignite a fervent atmosphere.
“Wait, wasn’t the briefing scheduled for next week?!” someone shouted amidst the din of shutters.
No Daesik hastily nodded in agreement.
‘Why had they suddenly moved the briefing forward?’ he wondered. ‘And with camera restrictions, no less?’
The original plan had been a live broadcast, gathering all media outlets.
However, the Sahyeon Guild had altered this, opting for an interview-style briefing.
Instead of a live broadcast, they would now release press materials, distributing videos and articles based on provided reference documents.
While working journalists would undoubtedly publish articles almost immediately, akin to a live broadcast, selecting the cleanest, most impactful photos would spark a fierce, cutthroat competition within the room.
‘Ugh,’ he sighed inwardly.
As someone let out a sigh, the tightly sealed doors finally swung open, revealing Taeseongyeon, the esteemed Guild Master of the Sahyeon Guild.
In an instant, the briefing room erupted in a furious volley of camera shutters, sounding like rapid-fire explosions.
The relentless clicking did not cease until Taeseongyeon had settled into his designated seat.
The moment Taeseongyeon was seated and his aide gave the signal, the briefing commenced amidst an eager, almost palpable, fervor.
“I am Taeseongyeon, representative of the Sahyeon Guild,” he announced. “We will now begin the Sahyeon Guild’s official statement briefing regarding the ‘Red Gate’ incident.”
The briefing began with Taeseongyeon’s formal greeting, followed by the Sahyeon Guild’s official statement.
Afterward, reporters raised their hands like eager sticks, each vying for the opportunity to pose a question.
Only selected journalists were handed microphones, their questions pouring forth, and Taeseongyeon responded precisely to the crux of each inquiry.
Ten minutes passed in this manner.
Then, during a brief lull in the shutter clicks, a jarring, floating ringtone blared loudly through the room.
Reporters inwardly cursed under their breath.
‘Which rookie idiot forgot to turn off their phone?! What kind of incompetent fool is this?!’
‘Seriously, which lunatic has a dog barking as their ringtone and is making such a ruckus?’
‘Can’t they train their subordinates properly?!’
As everyone turned to find the culprit, shutter sounds suddenly erupted again, drawing all eyes back to the front.
For a moment, several reporters wore utterly bewildered expressions.
The cacophonous dog barking was emanating from the phone Taeseongyeon held in his hand.
‘No, what kind of ringtone…?’
Taeseongyeon, gazing indifferently at his phone, received permission from his secretary and answered the call right there.
The reporters’ expressions slackened once more in stunned confusion.
‘Is this… not a briefing right now? No, but what is he doing? Answering the phone?’
No Daesik, his face equally dumbfounded, silently agreed with someone’s muttered thought.
Even as his handsome face was captured through their lenses, Taeseongyeon held the phone to his ear, conversing as if he were in his own home.
Everyone let out hollow, incredulous laughs, but that too was short-lived.
In an action that could have been either intentional or accidental, Taeseongyeon’s call switched to speakerphone, and at that instant, reporters, now with the hawk-like eyes of those sniffing out a scoop, fixated on the phone.
Someone’s muffled sobbing had caused it.
“Mr. Taeseongyeon… please save me.”
An astonishing number of reporters focused intently on that voice.
Only the faint clicking of laptop keyboards filled the room.
No Daesik was no exception.
Something significant was unfolding.
The thrill of a colossal fish about to be hooked was rising from the calm waters.
The voice came again.
“Mr. Taeseongyeon… I’m currently, *hic*… I’ve been caught by my old guild… and they keep, keep…!”
“What’s that bastard playing at?! Take his phone away, now!”
“Aargh! The Guild Master and guild members are threatening me! Why are you doing this…!”
Your next favorite story awaits! Don't miss out on The Circumstances of an Otherworld Summoner – click to dive in!
Read : The Circumstances of an Otherworld Summoner
