Chapter 72: Eat Well. Live Well.

“You said we were going to drink.”

“I didn’t say right now.”

Yoo Heero jutted out his lips in dissatisfaction. Sung Jiwoo stared at him instead, looking utterly dumbfounded.

The two of them were currently on their way to the hospital where Koo Minah’s father had been admitted. Since no one had brought a car, they’d had no choice but to split up in pairs and take taxis.

“And what kind of drinking happens in the morning? The blood on your head hasn’t even dried yet.”

To outsiders, it might have sounded like a funny exchange between two people only a year apart in age—but to Sung Jiwoo, it felt like nearly a ten-year gap.

“Sometimes, hyung, you really talk like an old man.”

“……I actually am.”

“Even though we’re only a year apart?”

“Hey, even one year is—!”

He stopped himself before pointing out how many more meals he’d eaten in his lifetime. That would’ve just been petty.

“It’s just…… you still feel like a kid to me.”

“I really hate that kind of talk—but I also kind of like it.”

“I seriously don’t understand you.”

Sung Jiwoo let out a hollow laugh and shook his head.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital, the two of them headed straight to the third floor. Patient rooms lined the hallway, and in the waiting area between them sat Koo Minah and the others.

“He still hasn’t woken up?”

Wondering why everyone was outside instead of inside the room, Sung Jiwoo hurried over the moment he stepped out of the elevator. But the others only glanced at Koo Minah, hesitating to answer.

“We got kicked out.”

“What?”

“……He said not to come in. Said he didn’t even want to see us.”

Only then did Sung Jiwoo grasp the situation. Fortunately, it seemed Koo Minah’s father had regained consciousness—but he didn’t have the emotional capacity to welcome a daughter who’d barely escaped death inside a gate.

Given how strongly he disliked hunters to begin with, it was understandable.

The one thing Sung Jiwoo was curious about was why he hated hunters so much.

It was undeniably a dangerous job. While hunters were widely regarded as heroes, in reality it was closer to blue-collar labor—frontline work where lives were constantly at stake.

Yet the reason people idolized hunters wasn’t just because of honor. Since the outbreak of gates, hunters had become indispensable, one-of-a-kind existences—sensational figures. Now, they stood as a new class of nobility, a kind of mutated subspecies.

In short, they were treated differently despite being human. That duality extended to all ability-users beyond hunters, and as a result, most of them failed to integrate into ordinary society.

It was an openly acknowledged oil-and-water relationship. The Hunter Association was supposed to act like soap between them—but even holding onto that tightly stretched rope seemed to be all it could manage.

Between Koo Minah and her father, not even that insignificant middle institution existed. There was no room for negotiation at all.

“Come to think of it, you used to say you wanted to become a researcher.”

Wondering if her past goal had been influenced by her father, Sung Jiwoo asked cautiously. Koo Minah nodded.

“Yeah. Because of my dad. Or more accurately…… because of my brother.”

Brother?

At the unfamiliar word, everyone’s attention turned to her. Koo Minah let out a deep sigh.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but at this point it feels weird not to. I had an older brother—there was quite an age gap.”

The past tense made the tragedy obvious. Everyone fell silent, as if they’d rehearsed it.

“He died after being sent into an X-gate for mandatory service.”

In the hunter world, it wasn’t a shocking story. Sung Jiwoo and the others offered brief condolences. Koo Minah accepted them calmly.

“I was young, so I don’t really remember him. My parents took it really hard. When I awakened as an ability-user, they said it felt like the world was collapsing.”

That was why she’d obediently stayed in the countryside until before entering high school. But eventually, she realized she wasn’t the same as ordinary people.

“I managed to get through middle school somehow, but high school was harder than I expected.”

Here, she would always be an outsider. And for someone born with the ability to handle divine beasts, it was even more suffocating.

The place was too small to make proper use of her abilities, and more than anything, people treated her as if she didn’t have them at all.

“So I said I’d just transfer schools.”

After a long transitional period, Koo Minah finally chose independence—stepping into a world that suited her.

She could breathe again. It finally felt like she’d found her place.

“That’s when becoming a researcher became the compromise……”

“Did interning with our guild change your mind?”

Park Sujin asked carefully. Koo Minah hesitated, then nodded.

“That’s part of it…… but just so you know, I was never that passionate about being a researcher in the first place.”

Park Sujin covered his mouth and nodded as if he understood. Judging by his touched expression, he clearly hadn’t—but Koo Minah decided to let it slide anyway.

“And the day I entered the X-gate, my dad disowned me.”

“But you still came home on your leave—”

It seemed strange that she’d rushed back to her hometown the moment she got time off, so Sung Jiwoo asked. Koo Minah replied evenly.

“Oh. I didn’t cut ties with my mom.”

“Ah……”

Koo Minah’s extreme individualism clearly had roots in her family. Hearing both sides made it impossible to take either one’s side.

If anything, Sung Jiwoo empathized more with her father. People liked to say hunters were well compensated for the danger they faced—but almost none of those at the top had ever been hunters themselves.

That was where it ended. What they gave hunters was nothing more than a fancy leash. That was why they could throw hunters into death traps without hesitation during critical moments. It was never a suggestion.

Sung Jiwoo, who had no family worrying about him and little attachment to life, had accepted it with indifference—but many hunters resisted until the government issued compulsory deployment orders.

After a long while—

“……So are you quitting being a hunter? Leaving our guild too?”

Park Sujin asked. Koo Minah frowned, clearly not understanding the question.

“Why would I? Do you want me to quit?”

“Huh? No, I mean—won’t your father object……?”

Caught off guard, Park Sujin started to stammer, but Koo Minah added calmly,

“I told you—we’re already estranged.”

Given that she’d come all the way to the hospital and was waiting like this, it seemed like an odd thing to say. Yet her face remained perfectly calm.

“You really think you can say that!”

A raw shout suddenly rang out from behind the closed hospital room door.

With a soft slide, the door opened. Koo Minah’s father stood there in a hospital gown, glaring at her with a sulky expression.

“What. Why?”

“How can you say something like that? That you cut ties with me?”

“You’re the one who suggested it first. Did I ever say it?”

The others could only stare blankly, completely unable to follow the conversation.

“Now that the X-gate’s been cleared, what are you even worried about?”

“That’s something someone who almost died just now should be saying?”

“Don’t exaggerate. Nothing happened.”

Stung by the words, Sung Jiwoo looked away. The reason they’d been stuck inside the gate for so long had been because of him.

Koo Minah’s father’s face turned bright red, like he might collapse from high blood pressure at any moment. In contrast, Koo Minah remained astonishingly calm. Her tone was sharper than usual, but otherwise unchanged.

“You see these people?”

“I see them. So what.”

“They’re all my friends.”

At that, Park Sujin cheerfully blurted, “Huh? Me too?” completely ruining the tension—but Koo Minah ignored him and continued.

The others couldn’t quite believe the word friends coming out of her mouth. Lee Hyerin looked so moved she seemed on the verge of tears again.

“…….”

Her father’s gaze wavered. He knew Koo Minah had struggled to get along with classmates back in middle school.

She’d drawn a line herself, saying she couldn’t communicate with them. Naturally, she drifted away from her peers—and eventually, that distance turned into bullying.

She hadn’t cared much at the time, so it passed without major incident—but as parents, it had been painful. That was also the biggest reason Koo Minah’s mother had supported her transfer.

“There are more people too. I’m part of a guild now.”

“…….”

“I’m not asking you to understand. I’m informing you.”

The two stared at each other in silence. After a moment, Koo Minah’s father spoke with a sigh.

“Eat well. Live well.”

Bang.

The hospital room door slammed shut. Koo Minah shrugged.

“We made up.”

“What?”

“That was making up?”

“Yeah. He wished me well, didn’t he?”

That… didn’t sound like what he meant.

As everyone wore expressions saying what on earth just happened, Park Sujin clapped his hands loudly.

“That’s great!”

The others hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“So—can we drink now?”

In the middle of all this, Yoo Heero asked without reading the room. Sung Jiwoo scowled and pinched his side. There wasn’t even a hint of flab—just muscle—which only made him more irritated.