Chapter 4: The Unbearable Scent of Roses

“May I come in?”

A familiar female voice echoed from beyond the door. Ji-ho, a faint smile playing on his lips, promptly replied.

“Yes, please do.”

The person who entered was Heo So-ri, a hunter affiliated with NoName.

Heo So-ri was twenty-five this year, a year older than Ji-ho, and an ordinary C-rank combat hunter.

While C-rank hunters were relatively common in any guild, Heo So-ri’s value within NoName was truly exceptional. This was because she took it upon herself to handle numerous tasks beyond her original responsibilities.

Though Ji-ho always ensured she received bonuses for her additional work, he couldn’t help but feel a constant mix of gratitude and apology. She was perpetually exhausted, undertaking far more than anyone else.

She was a valued guild member, and Ji-ho was determined to offer her the best possible terms at their next contract renewal.

For these very reasons, Heo So-ri’s usually drawn face was remarkably bright today. A vitality typically reserved for lunch breaks or quitting time now radiated from her.

“Guild Master, Hunter Joo Yi-won was here, wasn’t he?”

“Ah, yes. He just left, so you must have run into him.”

“Yes, I ran right into him and said hello!”

Heo So-ri adored Joo Yi-won, or more precisely, his face. Though not entirely certain, Ji-ho suspected she was even a member of his fan club.

The fact that she had vehemently refused when he offered to arrange a private meeting suggested her admiration was purely aesthetic. Yet, liking his face was still a form of admiration, and So-ri was positively giddy, like a fan encountering their favorite celebrity.

“Wow, that’s incredible. His outfit today… it was seriously something else. He’s always handsome, but today he looked like he was attending a formal family meeting. Did he come from some kind of event?”

“He probably came from an Awakener-related event. You know, the ‘Excellent Hunter of the Republic of Korea Award’ or something similar?”

Awarded once a year for outstanding performance, the Hunter Award included a commemorative plaque and a modest cash prize. While the prize money itself was quite small, the award’s prestige was surprisingly high, especially considering its rather unremarkable name, making it a hot topic among hunters.

Unsurprisingly, Joo Yi-won was the very first recipient of this award. Since then, he had continued to receive it every year without contention.

At Ji-ho’s rather indifferent gaze, So-ri cast him a lukewarm, knowing look.

“Ah, I see. You two are still on such good terms.”

“……What on earth makes you say that? And that guy, he wasn’t even here for five minutes before he left!”

“Well, he’s busy, isn’t he? You should understand. Though it might be disappointing if your boyfriend is busy…”

“Hey.”

Heo So-ri burst into hearty laughter at Ji-ho’s jocular warning.

“Hahaha! No matter how much you deny it, did you see the interview?”

Heo So-ri grinned widely, while Shin Ji-ho frowned, looking as though his very smile had been snatched away.

“Why on earth is he like that…?”

“Well, they say there are many eccentrics among geniuses.”

“He was a bit strange even before he Awakened.”

“Then he must really be smitten, you know. Our Guild Master’s face is truly stunning too.”

“…It’s not *that* much.”

“Oh, it is! You could criticize every other hunter out there, but no one could fault our Guild Master’s face.”

“……”

“I was utterly shocked when I first saw you, I swear! And then I was even *more* shocked after leaving the Guild Master’s office. Everyone else just looked like squids! For about a month after I started, I was amazed every single time I saw your face, but I eventually got used to it from seeing it daily… Look now, though. Wow, so handsome!”

Ji-ho, feeling a little embarrassed by the sudden, effusive praise for his looks, received enthusiastic applause from So-ri.

‘This is one hundred percent teasing.’

Having thoroughly enjoyed teasing Shin Ji-ho, Heo So-ri belatedly adopted a more formal demeanor. Cowardly, she then steered the conversation to official business before Shin Ji-ho could even voice a complaint.

“Well, after the Guild Master collapsed, the Vice Guild Master managed the situation and submitted a report to the Hunter Association. There’s nothing particularly noteworthy in the media. I don’t think there’s anything major for you to worry about.”

“Hmm, thank you.”

“Will you go into the guild?”

“…Yes. It’s not quitting time yet.”

“I thought you would, so I already handled your discharge paperwork. You can go straight there.”

Her efficiency clearly indicated this wasn’t the first time she had taken care of such matters for him. Ji-ho smiled, a mix of gratitude and apology in his expression.

“Yes. You’ve worked hard.”

“Oh, it was nothing. But what are these roses? Surely the Cheongnam Guild Master didn’t give them to you?”

“Yes. Hunter Heo So-ri, please take them.”

“Oh, Guild Master, how could I possibly take flowers meant for you? Isn’t it perfectly fine to accept a floral gift?”

“It is, but I have nowhere to put them… and I’m not very good at caring for flowers.”

“Then I’ll arrange them in the guild lobby. It’s spring, so they’ll look fresh and simply delightful.”

“That…”

Shin Ji-ho was about to protest that it wasn’t necessary, but he closed his mouth and merely nodded instead. Even if it felt inauspicious, rudely discarding someone’s well-intentioned gesture was against his nature. Besides, the flowers themselves were innocent.

By having the troublesome gift placed in the guild lobby, Shin Ji-ho concluded his dilemma for the day.

****

The next day, on his way to work, Shin Ji-ho found himself regretting his decision to hand the flowers over to Heo So-ri.

Heo So-ri had meticulously dismantled the colossal rose bouquet and arranged its blossoms throughout various spots in the guild lobby.

Joo Yi-won’s bouquet had been so immense and lavish that the rose scent filling the entire lobby was overwhelmingly potent, almost to the point of being dizzying. It was as if an entire rose garden had been transplanted indoors, not merely a single floral arrangement.

“The scent is far too strong…”

“Isn’t it lovely?”

So-ri appeared quite satisfied with her decorative handiwork. It was certainly beautiful, but…

“It’s rather suspicious, isn’t it? Can cut roses truly emit such a powerful fragrance?”

“Well, ordinary roses wouldn’t be this fragrant, that’s true… Perhaps they’re dungeon-grown roses?”

“There are dungeons that grow roses?”

“Couldn’t there be at least one? Considering how many dungeons the Cheongnam Guild Master explores.”

“That’s true, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It could also be a randomly occurring plant.”

“Hmm.”

Even after putting their heads together with Heo So-ri, there was no way to know for sure, as the roses certainly didn’t come with a ‘Made in Dungeon’ label.

Ji-ho considered asking Yi-won where he had acquired these roses, but ultimately decided against it. Joo Yi-won was, after all, currently on a dungeon raid and wouldn’t be able to receive any calls today.

The profusely blooming roses, emanating their vibrant presence, were undeniably beautiful. Yet, every time he looked at them, he was inexplicably reminded of Joo Yi-won, leaving him feeling profoundly troubled.

Thinking of Joo Yi-won as a hunter always left him feeling a little troubled. The gap between them had widened to such an extent that they could no longer truly be called rivals, yet his instincts still clung to the days when they fiercely competed for the top spot.

This constant anxiety gnawed at him, the fear that he might never again be able to pursue Joo Yi-won, who had surged so far ahead.

Fortunately, today’s schedule didn’t require him to work in the office all day, offering a welcome reprieve from the unsettling roses. Still, he was forced to dedicate his entire morning to paperwork, all while inhaling the pervasive scent of the blooming roses.

Ji-ho spent the entire morning glaring at the numbers on the documents before him.

NoName was a guild whose reputation had plummeted to rock bottom from its very inception. Consequently, no one was willing to join, regardless of the conditions offered.

To recruit even a few moderately capable hunters, Ji-ho had poured an enormous amount of his own wealth into the guild. In this modern society, which persisted even after the Gates burst open, the power of money was absolute. Hunters in urgent financial need, despite their thinly veiled disdain for Ji-ho, reluctantly signed short-term contracts with NoName.

The one-year short-term contracts were nearing their end, and the time for renewal was fast approaching. As expected, a significant number of these hunters, who had signed for just a year, were now demanding substantial salary increases.

Ji-ho, of course, had fully intended to grant raises. That was, until he saw demands for increases that were nearly two to three times their current salary.

Did the hunters asking for such exorbitant sums truly possess the skills to justify them? Absolutely not. Ji-ho already paid the highest salaries for their respective ranks. If these same hunters sought employment with other guilds, they would undoubtedly receive even less than their current compensation.

They weren’t making these exorbitant salary demands out of ignorance. In short, they were brazenly challenging Ji-ho, knowing full well that he had no choice but to retain them.

However, abandoning all renewals and attempting to recruit an entirely new roster of guild members was no easy feat either. Affiliation with NoName was a constant source of ridicule among hunters. Despite continuous attempts to recruit over the past year, applications had been almost nonexistent.

Even if the conditions were somewhat excessive, retaining these existing hunters was the more practical option for the guild’s continued operation.

He could likely negotiate and adjust the terms to some extent. Yet, Ji-ho’s dilemma wasn’t solely due to the excessive nature of their demands.

Most of the hunters who had put forth such exorbitant conditions were precisely those who harbored a strong dislike for Shin Ji-ho. They were the type to subtly ignore him, avoid him, and badmouth him behind his back, despite his position as Guild Master. Since Ji-ho never retaliated, they didn’t even bother to conceal their contempt.

Conversely, guild members who were genuinely friendly to Shin Ji-ho, like Heo So-ri, had made demands that were entirely within a reasonable scope. Retaining individuals with such ill will would undoubtedly poison the guild’s overall atmosphere.

If this were someone else’s problem, he would have unhesitatingly advised against renewing their contracts. But as it was his own predicament, he found himself plagued by indecision.

He couldn’t help but feel the insidious thought ‘Do I really have to go this far?’ creeping into his mind. The guild he had diligently cultivated was nothing more than a tattered mess, burdened with the worst possible reputation. How much more effort would it demand simply to maintain it?

Even when he tried to muster his spirits, a profound sense of futility relentlessly overwhelmed him. Ji-ho, unable to reach any decision, ended up frittering away the entire morning in despair.

With a heavy heart, he ate a simple lunch, merely enough to fill his stomach. As he finished and began preparing for his afternoon fieldwork, Im Seung-ju noticed and made a pointed remark.

“Are you going out for fieldwork again today?”

The question was rather superfluous. Shin Ji-ho went out for fieldwork almost every day, without exception.

“Yes, I must.”

“Then I shall prepare a healer for you.”

Shin Ji-ho’s eyebrows subtly furrowed in displeasure at Im Seung-ju’s seemingly polite words.

Fieldwork for hunters carried a high risk of injury, making it standard procedure to have a healer on standby. Emphasizing something that went without saying was a sarcastic jab, implying that the ‘frail’ Shin Ji-ho would surely need a healer.

If Im Seung-ju had been on a one-year contract, Ji-ho felt certain he would have left without a second thought. However, he had signed a three-year contract. He was a valuable A-rank hunter whom Ji-ho would have to endure for two more years, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Many hunters within the guild followed Im Seung-ju. Since Im Seung-ju, the Vice Guild Master, so openly displayed his dislike for Shin Ji-ho, the others felt no need to be discreet either.

As a fighting force, he was top-tier, but in terms of guild management, he was a nightmare.

‘If he dislikes me that much, he should just quit.’

Ji-ho thought with annoyance.

Of course, Im Seung-ju was a promising A-rank combat-oriented attacker, whom Ji-ho had barely managed to recruit through Cheongnam’s influence. If he actually threatened to quit, it would be Ji-ho who would have to cling to his coattails.

Ultimately, from a position of authority, Shin Ji-ho found himself bowing like a subordinate, closing his mouth and mumbling nothing.

To calm his mind and body, Ji-ho took out his device. He then played a cute cat video on MyTube. Animal videos were the only thing Ji-ho, who rarely used the internet, ever watched.

The kitten, sweet and gentle, the polar opposite of Im Seung-ju, clumsily tumbled on the floor. It whined and rolled before abruptly falling asleep without warning. Watching its adorable antics, peace quickly settled over his heart.