Chapter 76: The Morning After, and What Was Decided

“……”

Sung Ji-woo didn’t say a word.

It was as if his train of thought had been cleanly severed—nothing came to mind at all. He didn’t even realize that he might have misspoken.

He simply stared straight at Yoo Hui-ro’s face. When Hui-ro urged him for an answer with his eyes, Ji-woo finally muttered something vague.

“Just….”

It wasn’t the answer Hui-ro had expected. His brows bent slightly, and the gentle smile he always wore whenever he looked at Ji-woo disappeared. Dark night. A drunk Sung Ji-woo.

There was nothing left to hide.

“You told me to love this world,” Hui-ro said quietly. “But I’ve always wondered. Hyung, do you….”

“……”

“Do you love this world?”

“…No.”

I hate it.
The words scraped around his mouth like grains of sand, but Ji-woo couldn’t bring himself to say them. They were negative feelings he’d long tried not to acknowledge.

“Then why do I have to love it?”

“…Because otherwise, you die.”

It was a careless answer that skipped all the steps in between. Still, it was enough to stop Hui-ro. He looked at Ji-woo with a confused expression.

For a moment, Ji-woo felt like Hui-ro might vanish like a ghost, and reached out instinctively. The warmth he felt was unmistakably that of a living person—especially his cheek, which was oddly warm.

Hui-ro let out a long breath of relief.

“Don’t say such scary things.”

Ji-woo straightened up, sitting upright. Hui-ro followed, slowly lifting himself as well.

“Ah… this feels kind of bad.”

Park Soo-jin’s voice cut in between them. He seemed to have gone off to make some calls with the guild members, and now he returned with a sigh, his expression grave.

“A gate exploded here yesterday, and another one opened somewhere else today. That place was a safe zone too, so the initial response wasn’t great.”

“…That’s a bad omen,”

Koo Min-ah muttered.

“Something strange is definitely happening. What’s eerie is that it seems to have accelerated after the X-Gate was cleared. A few years ago… back when you guys were still in high school, minor anomalies had already started popping up.”

“……”

“We don’t know what’s causing it, which is the problem….”

Ji-woo subtly avoided his gaze.

It was only speculation, but if he thought about the timing and tried to pinpoint a cause, the only answer was himself.

The first dungeon he’d entered after returning had called him “one who defied fate.” And the place where he’d defied fate was none other than inside a gate.

So if the gate anomalies were happening because of him, it wouldn’t be strange at all. No—if anything, it was the most reasonable conclusion.

If that’s the case… maybe I really should be the one dealing with the gates.

Hearing things like this over and over made his chest feel heavier by the minute. Technically, Hui-ro was the one who had cleared the X-Gate, so it wasn’t like Ji-woo had done anything that great.

With a complicated expression, Ji-woo downed two bowls of makgeolli in quick succession.

It’s not like I came back because I wanted to… right?

He felt wronged, but there was no one who could understand that feeling. No one had ever told him to take responsibility—yet somehow, it felt as though he had to shoulder all of this himself.

After all, everyone else was trembling in fear without even knowing why….

The expressions of the villagers during the initial outbreak of the Dohwari Gate were still vivid in his mind. He couldn’t let innocent people get hurt. He knew better than anyone how unfair and infuriating that was.

Still, living as a hunter terrified him.

Ji-woo looked at Koo Min-ah. Suddenly, he wondered when she’d become so certain about choosing the path of a hunter.

In his previous life, he’d become a hunter simply because he had no other choice. But Min-ah had chosen it willingly, even when she didn’t have to—despite her family’s opposition.

Given her personality, it couldn’t have been for lofty ideals, sacrifice, or a sense of duty.

So what reason did she have?

“…Why did you decide to become a hunter?”

Ji-woo asked, his words slurred. His mind seemed to be functioning well enough, but his body—drained by fatigue and alcohol—kept nodding forward.

Min-ah looked at him and seemed to say something, but Ji-woo didn’t hear it.

Thud.

Ji-woo finally toppled backward. Hui-ro caught him gently and laid his head across his own thigh.

“What is he, asking questions and then falling asleep?”

Min-ah muttered in disbelief.

Ugh… my stomach hurts.

How many hours had passed since then? Ji-woo woke up with a deep frown and pushed himself upright. His mind was still foggy, but one thing was clear—he felt awful.

“Here. Honey water.”

As if on cue, a drink was held out in front of him.

“Oh, thanks.”

He opened it immediately and gulped it down. The sweetness of honey mixed with the citrusy yuzu flavor, soothing his burning stomach. Ji-woo let out a deep breath.

And when he finally came to his senses, he realized—

He was in a car.

“…What?”

A dream? For a split second, Ji-woo thought he was dreaming. Otherwise, there was no way to explain this situation.

“We’re heading to my place. We’ll be entering Seoul soon.”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking. Why am I in the car? And whose car is this?”

“Mine. It was a gift.”

Ji-woo’s eyes went unfocused as he hurriedly patted his chest. Thankfully, his seatbelt was fastened.

“Do you even have a license?”

“I got it before entering gates.”

Ji-woo released the seatbelt and let out a sigh of relief. Seeing that, Hui-ro looked slightly offended.

“Did you think I’d put you in a car without a license?”

“…No, no. Of course I trusted you.”

“I know that’s a lie, but I’ll let it slide.”

Ji-woo clutched his throbbing head.

“We were drinking.”

“We were. All of us.”

“Where did everyone else go?”

“No idea. Probably went their own ways.”

Hui-ro was still clearly sulking. Ji-woo changed the subject.

“I don’t remember falling asleep….”

“How much do you remember?”

“…Feeling dizzy and lying down on the platform?”

What he remembered most vividly was Hui-ro’s face at that moment—so striking that the moonlight behind him hadn’t even registered.

“Well… a lot happened after that.”

“…Did I mess up?”

He’d never heard that he had a drinking habit. Maybe people had just been too polite to tell him—but he’d never woken up unable to go home or found chaos waiting the next morning.

“Yeah. You kissed me.”

“What?”

Ji-woo stared at Hui-ro, his face going pale. He’d never kissed anyone before—not once. He’d never had the time, the space, or even a reason.

And to do something like that while drunk—especially to someone younger than him!
Well… not that young anymore, physically.

Still, there’s a mental gap! A psychological gap!

As Ji-woo spiraled into self-loathing, Hui-ro casually added,

“I’m kidding.”

“Hey—!”

Hui-ro’s calm expression was infuriating. Ji-woo steadied his racing heart and glared at him.

“You gave me a hard time last night.”

“So this is payback?”

“One more prank like that and my heart won’t survive.”

“Yes.”

“…What did I do to make things hard for you?”

Unable to suppress his curiosity, Ji-woo asked. Hui-ro looked at him expressionlessly.

“Do you want to know?”

“…No. I think I’m fine not knowing.”

Hui-ro smiled meaningfully and turned the wheel. The car exited the highway, slipped into a side street, and stopped in front of a restaurant.

The parking was smooth and perfect—so much so that Ji-woo was impressed. It hadn’t even seemed like Hui-ro had much driving experience.

“But why are we here…?”

Hui-ro didn’t answer. He got out first, then opened the passenger door for Ji-woo.

Stepping out, Ji-woo saw a large signboard. Faded with age, it read: Sooni’s Gukbap.

“…Why gukbap all of a sudden?”

“You kept saying you wanted it last night.”

Ji-woo narrowed his eyes at him.

“…I did?”

He found it impossible to believe. But Hui-ro, looking genuinely tired, replied,

“Yes. You kept whispering it into my ear.”

“….”

With no memory, he couldn’t deny it. But admitting it was mortifying. Ji-woo pretended nothing happened and walked into the restaurant first.

“You coming?”

Hui-ro chuckled under his breath but followed him anyway. The tips of Ji-woo’s ears were bright red—unexpectedly cute.

When the steaming bowls of gukbap arrived, Ji-woo didn’t eat right away, just stared at it. Hui-ro brought him salt and pepper, asking why he wasn’t eating.

“I’m bad with hot food.”

Hui-ro looked dumbfounded. Ji-woo scratched his cheek awkwardly. Hui-ro poured him some water and set it in front of him.

Then he placed both hands neatly on his knees and simply stared at his own steaming bowl.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“…I don’t really like hot food either.”

So the two of them sat there, blankly watching the steam rise until the food cooled. When the owner asked what they were doing, it was extremely embarrassing.

“Still… it’s good.”

Having unknowingly fulfilled his late-night craving, Ji-woo looked satisfied.

“Anyway… sorry about last night. You know, makgeolli hits late. I’m fine with other alcohol, but that one always sneaks up on me.”

Unlike soju, it lulled you into drinking more—then hit you all at once.

He knew that. He really did. But it’d been a while, and between the scenery, the food, and the mood, resisting had been impossible.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

That one sentence wiped out all his excuses. Right—Hui-ro had taken just a single sip and stopped. This was entirely Ji-woo’s fault.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s eat and go home. Oh—and I already released the article.”

“What article?”

“About the guild.”

Ji-woo’s utterly blank expression made Hui-ro sigh deeply.

“We decided to make a guild together.”

“What? When did I ever—!”

“……”

Hui-ro didn’t explain, just looked at him quietly. Ji-woo flinched, then wilted.

Even without being told when, it was obvious—it had happened during the part of last night his memory had erased.

“So I said something like that… yeah.”

Arguing that he hadn’t done something while blacked out was the worst look possible. Ji-woo simply nodded, resignation written all over his face.

“I contacted a reporter and asked them to run it. It went up this morning, so the area in front of your shop should be cleared by now.”

“…A reporter? You know reporters too?”

“They keep calling me. I usually ignore them, but today I needed something. I don’t remember which paper it was.”

In other words, he’d answered one random call. Ji-woo marveled at reporters’ persistence—and at how exhausting a hero’s life must be.

“So you just asked some random reporter to publish it?”

“Yes. They asked if it could be an exclusive, so I said sure. They sounded really excited.”

Overwhelmed, Ji-woo squeezed his eyes shut. With an article already out, he was officially stuck living a guild life he’d never planned for.

And with a ridiculously young national hero, no less.

“Honestly, from my perspective, I was being pretty generous.”

“What?”

Ji-woo raised one brow. Hui-ro protested sincerely,

“In exchange for making the guild, I withdrew my proposal. It was a wish ticket—surely you’re not saying you won’t grant the wish?”

“…I guess.”

When he thought of it that way, it didn’t sound too bad. Ji-woo continued eating his half-finished meal, his expression conflicted.