Chapter 81: The Place I Should Be

“You’re heading out now?”

“Yes. I’ll be back soon.”

A few days earlier, the Hunter Association had requested a visit from Yoo Heero. Sung Jiwoo figured it was probably related to the guild’s establishment.

Having finished getting ready early in the morning, Yoo Heero left for the Association right at the time the general store opened. In the meantime, Sung Jiwoo planned to notify the accepted guild members of the date for their first guild meeting.

Since they didn’t yet have a proper guild headquarters, the meeting place was set as the general store.

When asked what he planned to do next, Yoo Heero said he’d handle it himself. Apparently, among the rewards he’d received for clearing the X-Gate was a building.

He said he’d give Sung Jiwoo the list once he found it. Sung Jiwoo couldn’t understand at all why he was giving it to him.

Still, as vice–guild master, he had to help with guild operations, and at the very least, he needed to personally check something as important as a guild building.

After all, Yoo Heero clearly had neither the aptitude nor the interest for such things.

Money wasn’t what Yoo Heero wanted.
Neither was fame.
Nor did he desire power or authority.

He was the kind of person Sung Jiwoo had never met in his life.

Sung Jiwoo honestly couldn’t tell what Yoo Heero was thinking.

It wasn’t that Yoo Heero hid things or refused to talk. He just said so many nonsensical things that Sung Jiwoo couldn’t grasp what he actually wanted.

After clearing an X-Gate, all he did was form a guild. And not even a large one—just a tiny guild with the bare minimum of five members. Something completely unimaginable given Yoo Heero’s fame.

“Well… it is less of a burden to run, at least…”

At times, Sung Jiwoo wondered if Yoo Heero simply didn’t realize how influential he was. But then he remembered how Yoo Heero had once used that influence to put him in a difficult position, and it seemed unlikely that he was completely unaware.

He was just… strange.
His way of thinking wasn’t something Sung Jiwoo could understand, no matter how hard he tried.

Sung Jiwoo felt like he was starting to understand Yoo Heero—yet at the same time, still didn’t.

Knock, knock.

Someone knocked on the door of the general store.

“Welcome.”

It had been a while since he’d greeted a customer—but once again, it wasn’t the customer he’d been expecting.

“Gu Mina?”

“Ugh… hey, don’t just stare—help me out.”

Gu Mina staggered into the shop carrying a whole bundle of luggage. She was clutching a box nearly as big as her upper body, with more bags hanging off her wrists.

“What is all this?”

As far as he knew, he hadn’t ordered anything from her recently.

“Ah, I’m dying.”

She dumped the heavy luggage down and flopped onto the sofa.

“Air conditioner. Air conditioner.”

“It’s morning—why are you already asking for that?”

Muttering, Sung Jiwoo still grabbed the remote and turned it on. Beep. A cheerful electronic sound rang out, followed by cool air.

He examined the items she’d brought. Even the packaging was different from what Gu Mina usually delivered.

“What’s all this? I don’t think I requested any of it.”

“Oh, that can wait. The white shopping bag over there has the young radish kimchi we buried back then.”

Sung Jiwoo immediately opened the white bag. Inside was a dark brown plastic container filled to the brim with young radish kimchi.

It was something he’d completely forgotten amid everything that had happened. He stared at it in amazement.

“Wow. This is the first time someone’s ever given me kimchi.”

“Really? Congrats.”

Despite the half-hearted congratulations, Sung Jiwoo grinned happily. Gu Mina waved her arm lazily and continued.

“And the rest are from the people in our village.”

“The villagers…? Why would they?”

Suspicion crept onto Sung Jiwoo’s face. No matter how he thought about it, there was no reason for the villagers to send him anything.

Gu Mina sat up lazily and craned her neck to look at him crouched in front of the boxes.

“Because you saved our village.”

“…Me?”

“Yeah. People were really grateful that you stepped up and said you’d enter the gate first.”

Sung Jiwoo’s expression grew complicated. He had said that—but at the time, the situation had been suffocating. No one was stepping forward, and he’d blurted it out just to break the deadlock.

They couldn’t wait hours longer for hunters who might never come. People were already on edge, snapping at each other—and then, as if that weren’t enough, the power went out.

“They said it’s just vegetables and fruits grown in the village, so it’s nothing special, but they wanted me to pass along their thanks.”

“…I see.”

Inside the box were grapes wrapped neatly in paper, the peaches they’d eaten back then, plums, tomatoes, potatoes, corn, and even plum extract.

“Wow. This is all a first for me.”

Kimchi too—things he’d never even imagined receiving from anyone. Like a child unwrapping gifts, Sung Jiwoo checked each item with delight.

“Really? I’ve gotten sick of this stuff.”

Gu Mina shrugged, unimpressed.

In truth, it wasn’t just these things—Sung Jiwoo barely had any memories of receiving gifts from anyone at all.

That was probably why he felt both happy and burdened at the same time. He wasn’t used to receiving—or giving.

For just a few words, this was far too much. If anything, Gu Mina or Yoo Heero, who had actually fought in the gate, deserved it more.

As Sung Jiwoo popped a grape into his mouth, Gu Mina suddenly spoke, as if remembering something.

“Oh, right. That thing you asked me last time.”

“…Something I asked? What did I ask?”

He chewed the grape, puzzled.

“You asked me why I decided to become a hunter.”

“…I asked that?”

He had no memory of it at all. When had that happened?

Seeing his expression, Gu Mina clicked her tongue like she’d expected it.

“Yeah. You were drunk, slurring your words, and then you passed out.”

Sung Jiwoo’s face flushed red instantly. He scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“I don’t really remember that night…”

“Well done. Then do you also not remember your amazing junior insisting he had to leave, then dragging you into your car at dawn?”

“…I don’t remember the process, but I woke up once in the middle and realized. Before we got to Seoul…”

Gu Mina shook her head in disbelief.

“Thanks to that, I got to see something rare. I’ve never seen someone handle a grown adult so carefully.”

“…Wait.”

Sung Jiwoo asked cautiously, dread creeping in.

“What exactly did Yoo Heero do to me…?”

Instead of answering, Gu Mina pulled a sofa cushion into her arms and held it up with both hands.

In Sung Jiwoo’s mind, an image flashed—himself being cradled tightly in Yoo Heero’s arms—then vanished.

“…Forget it,” Sung Jiwoo said gravely.

“You’re asking the impossible.”

“Ugh!”

Sung Jiwoo let out a strangled cry and shook his head furiously. His lack of memory didn’t erase the number of witnesses.

Watching his despair in real time, Gu Mina clicked her tongue again.

“Anyway, I thought you were overthinking why I became a hunter, so I wanted to tell you it’s not that grand.”

She scratched lightly at the edge of the cushion. Talking about personal matters without alcohol was a bit embarrassing—but not impossible.

“I’m not a fatalist or anything. I just felt like this is where I’m supposed to be. That’s all.”

“…When did you feel that?”

Sung Jiwoo had never felt anything like that in his life.

To him, life had been nothing more than assigned tasks—things to get through, or ways to kill time. He’d never once wondered where he truly belonged.

Gu Mina held up two fingers.

“When I was an intern. And when I entered the X-Gate.”

Both were unexpected.

“Why?”

She looked a little fed up by the question, but answered properly.

“Before that, I always felt uncomfortable, like I was in someone else’s place. But when I was an intern, and when I was inside the X-Gate, I didn’t feel that way. Hard, sure—but not uncomfortable.”

Her words were abstract, hard to grasp. Sung Jiwoo tilted his head, frowning.

“I still don’t really get it.”

“I told you—it’s nothing grand. Are you uncomfortable right now?”

Sung Jiwoo thought for a moment. Was he uncomfortable here?

It was ambiguous. But he couldn’t say he was uncomfortable.

Rather…

“I’m anxious.”

Anxious was closer.

Someone who has already met a tragic end tends to make defensive choices—to avoid repeating that tragedy.

Up until now, Sung Jiwoo’s choices had been safe and passive. He believed that at least they wouldn’t harm him.

And they hadn’t.
But they hadn’t helped him either.

When did I become this timid?

He let out a hollow laugh. He hadn’t always been the type to overcalculate.

Yet now, he’d gone beyond hesitation—to the point of choosing nothing at all, drowning in pointless worries.

Seeing his increasingly serious expression, Gu Mina asked casually,

“So before this, you were uncomfortable?”

Before… meaning his previous life.

Yes. He’d definitely been uncomfortable. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but if he had to say—it felt like life itself had been uncomfortable.

Sung Jiwoo nodded.

“Yeah. I was.”

“Then that’s good.”

“Good? What’s good about it?”

“If you went from uncomfortable to anxious, you’re almost there.”

“What?”

Gu Mina stood up, saying she should get going. Just before opening the door, she threw one last question over her shoulder.

“Why did you say you’d enter the gate back then?”

The reason he’d said it wasn’t some lofty sense of duty.

He’d simply found the situation uncomfortable.

“Oh.”

The realization burst out of him. Gu Mina nodded, as if she’d known it all along.

“You felt it then too, didn’t you? Where you were supposed to be.”

She opened the door and disappeared.

Sung Jiwoo stared at the gifts from the villagers for a long time.

In his previous life, no matter how hard he tried, nothing ever came back to him. But this time, he’d barely done anything—and yet he’d received so much.

So much that he wondered if it was really okay for him to accept it.

At the same time, he didn’t want to lose anything anymore. It was different from when he’d had nothing.

He didn’t know exactly what it was yet—but he was sure of one thing.

There were things he wanted to protect now.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Right on cue, his phone began to vibrate. The caller was Yoo Heero.

“Hello?”

[-Hyung….]

Yoo Heero’s voice sounded slightly subdued. Had something bad happened at the Association? Sung Jiwoo sprang to his feet.

“What? What happened?”

[-It’s raining outside.]

“…Huh?”

[-Can you come pick me up?]

The request was unexpected. Sung Jiwoo hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Where are you right now?”