Chapter 56: The Weight of a Hunter’s Burden

The hand gripping his shoulder tightened. He wanted to shake him roughly, to press him for answers. Who exactly had he met? Who had he seen to wear such an expression?

Dongjun gritted his teeth, feigning nonchalance.

“Today, take the day off. No, let’s close the cafe early.”

“I… I can’t.”

“Then let’s say I’m closing it because I want a break.”

Dongjun stepped outside. Customers who had witnessed the earlier scene readily left the shop when he asked for their understanding. Among them were regulars who expressed concern for Jin. Dongjun simply brushed them off, claiming Jin was a little surprised.

‘In truth, he wanted to shout, ‘What does it matter to you? Get lost!”

Perhaps it was his anxiety, but his heart felt sharp, on edge. Words like, ‘Don’t pay him any mind,’ rose to his throat. He was aware he looked like a protective animal with its young. It was simply ludicrous.

He scrawled ‘Temporary Closure’ in large letters on a white A4 sheet, affixed it to the door, and then extinguished the lights.

Returning to the room, he saw Yeowon, still utterly unchanged. He seemed almost taxidermied. More so than his outward appearance, it was his mind, untouched by the passage of time, that truly gave this impression.

Their relationship had been forged on the unspoken agreement to ask no questions. Thus, while Dongjun knew Yeowon enjoyed desserts like cake and faithfully visited the cinema, even heavily disguised with a hat and mask, he knew nothing at all about the kind of person Yeowon truly was.

Even Dongjun could discern it. He could see that Yeowon’s heart was the same as it had been two years prior, whatever that heart might hold.

“Jin.”

Yeowon did not react. It wasn’t that he was pretending not to hear; Dongjun’s voice simply hadn’t reached him.

Dongjun clenched his fist. Everything he had meticulously built over two years had vanished. He desperately wanted to ask.

‘Was there truly someone so significant to you that they could instantly transport you back two winters?’

…

Fearful of the answer, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. The tension drained from his tightly clenched fist. He felt defeated by an opponent he had never even met. There was no hiding his utter wretchedness.

“Jin.”

When Dongjun called out a little louder, Yeowon stirred faintly, then lifted his head. It was a movement that clearly indicated he had only just recognized Dongjun’s presence. Suppressing the surge of emotions, Dongjun spoke gently.

“Are you truly alright? Would you like me to stay with you?”

Yeowon’s eyes clouded over, lost in thought. The mere few seconds stretched into an eternity. Ultimately, his answer, after much deliberation, was ‘No’.

“I can… be alone.”

“Alright.”

Dongjun asked no further questions, turned, and left the cafe.

After the world transformed in such a drastic manner, the Middle Realm endured a prolonged transitional period marked by numerous trials and errors.

Initially, Hunters were revered, almost worshipped, as if they were destined to rule the world. During the mid-period, however, a backlash swept through, plummeting public perception of Hunters. Clashes erupted between factions seeking to preserve the power of early Hunters and those advocating for reform.

The animosity among those wielding power was not confined to mere words. More Hunters perished at each other’s hands than from the monsters within the Gates. It was a dark age.

The ‘Conservatives,’ who harbored ideologies of dominating ordinary citizens, were ultimately defeated. They either accepted the new system or departed the cities, becoming ‘Outsiders’—Hunters who lived like renegades beyond urban boundaries.

The rift that had formed between Hunters did not easily vanish. For a time, the victorious ‘Reformists’ branded and scorned those who had been the relatively moderate ‘Conservatives.’ There were even instances where high-ranking Conservatives, unable to bear their resentment, systematically ambushed and murdered Reformist Hunters.

After several tumultuous years, a fragile calm settled, and time continued its relentless march. They all aged in kind, and one by one, regardless of their former factions, they retired.

When those who remembered the Dark Age outnumbered those who had lived through it, and then those who had forgotten outnumbered those who remembered, the present state of affairs naturally emerged.

Perhaps it was the most natural form in a capitalist society. Hunters became objects of envy, the prime representatives of high-income professions.

Unlike other cities where freedom was paramount, even in Grisha, where almost all Hunters belonged to guilds and received salaries and incentives, this particular aspect remained unchanged.

Dongjun, formerly a delivery driver, awakened as a Hunter. Immediately, countless guilds offered him recruitment. Without much hesitation, he chose Credit.

Dongjun was a Hunter without grand ambitions. He had no one to protect, no family needing an antidote. All he desired was to earn a substantial income and receive excellent treatment.

He had no inkling of the burdens a Hunter was truly meant to bear.

Those who ventured out on subjugation missions all braced themselves for injury and death. Support Hunters, who typically remained at base camps near the front lines, were relatively safer. However, they bore the heavy burden of guilt for the injuries and deaths of the Hunters they assisted.

This was especially true for Dongjun, with his Purification attribute. A debt of conscience quickly accumulated within him.

“Kuh-aah!”

“Damn it, it’s mana poisoning again!”

For ordinary people, mana poisoning was merely an incurable disease requiring a swift antidote during seizures. For Hunters, however, it manifested in two distinct forms.

If a Hunter’s internal mana could overpower the invading mana, it resulted in acute mana poisoning, which was curable.

“Ugh-aah! Aaaah!”

“Sewon!”

When mana poisoning escalated, the demonic energy, having overwhelmed the mana, would run wild. The Hunter’s body would boil like superheated water, its insides violently churned. At this stage, even an antidote was useless; the end was inevitable.

The Hunter, writhing and spewing blood, soon met their demise. Silence descended upon the surroundings. Dongjun, pale with shock, averted his gaze.

From where the deceased Hunter lay to the depths of the forest, a trail like red paint brushed by a massive stroke remained. It was the desperate path his comrades had dragged him from the battlefield. Yet, even then, they could not save him.

The Hunter, who had been wailing while clutching the hand of the dead, turned around. Their tear-filled eyes, blazing with vivid fury, fixated on Dongjun. Not a single word was uttered. That silence, more than any accusation, pierced him like a deep spear.

Other Hunters formed a protective wall around them. Only then could Dongjun finally breathe again, his stopped breath resuming.

Thump.

The team leader gripped his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

The grip was firm.

“The fault lies with that damned disaster.”

‘He wanted to ask in return, ‘Do you truly believe that?”

But the words wouldn’t come, and the leader walked away. Dongjun stood there, utterly distraught.

It wasn’t just that man. Everyone had offered Dongjun the same reassurances: ‘You did your best. You did nothing wrong. You don’t need to feel guilty.’

Yet, these hollow words of comfort did little to help. The light in Dongjun’s eyes steadily faded. His spirit, unable to endure repeated losses, crumbled.

And then, despair set in.

A team that had set out on a reconnaissance mission, having received Dongjun’s purification, vanished during their assignment. In the context of the disaster, ‘missing’ was synonymous with ‘dead’. It was the very team led by the Hunter who had gripped his shoulder so firmly.

Dongjun fled.

Not knowing where to go, with no destination in mind, he simply stumbled onto the streets. He wandered through the bustling city center in broad daylight, his eyes devoid of color. Dazed, he crossed the road against a red light.

Honk!

A car screeched to a halt, its horn blaring frantically.

“Are you crazy?! Trying to get yourself killed?! Don’t you dare ruin someone else’s life!”

‘Someone else’s life.’

Stung by those words, he sprinted away.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bastard!”

‘He had ruined it all. He, who had come only for money, with such a frivolous heart, had caused the deaths of those with conviction and cherished loved ones.’

The moment he consciously acknowledged the truths he had subtly denied through comfort, Dongjun found himself unable to take another step.

As he stood rooted to the spot on the street, his face deathly pale, passersby cast fleeting glances his way. ‘Every single one of those eyes seemed to accuse him.’ Dongjun, utterly distraught, stumbled blindly into a nearby shop.

Chime.

A bell chimed above his head. The rich aroma of coffee filled his nostrils, bringing a slight clarity to his mind. Still in a daze, he ordered a coffee and settled into a sunlit window seat. Perhaps due to the awkward hour, the cafe was largely empty.

Lifting his weary eyes, he gazed through the large glass window. Beyond, nestled incongruously among towering buildings, lay a serene lake park.

He watched a person jogging, their breath misting in the air, and another bundled in thick clothes, walking a dog. A small child, scampering by, laughed upon seeing the dog.

Tiny hands, like fern fronds, waved. The animal, sensing it was admired, strained its leash forward, wagging its tail furiously. The dog’s owner and the child’s mother exchanged greetings with radiant smiles.

Overlaid upon this peaceful scene was the grim image of the disaster zone, saturated with the blood and corpses of Hunters.

Tears welled up before he could even suppress them. Dongjun, bowing his head, made a call.

“I… I’m quitting.”

[…Yes. You’ve worked hard. We’ll handle the resignation procedures from here. Thank you for all your efforts.]

Choking back sobs, Dongjun cried until he felt breathless, then provisionally retired. Afterward, he began preparing to open a cafe.