Tak.
Kim Juhyuk slammed his spoon down on the table in frustration.
“These people have lost their minds!”
He was furious at the tremendous noise coming from beyond the front door.
It had only been an hour since the rift at Jeungsan Station had been closed.
After finally succeeding in closing the rift with great difficulty, Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun had hurried home.
Fortunately, Joo Gwangsik’s injuries weren’t serious, so after receiving treatment at the emergency center, he was able to return home safely with the help of the police.
When Kim Seojun relayed the contents of his call with Joo Gwangsik, Kim Juhyuk let out a sigh of relief and immediately called Madam Baek Yeonji to let her know they were safe.
As soon as Kim Juhyuk returned home, he was able to enjoy the delicious meal Madam Baek Yeonji had prepared.
Kim Seojun had already eaten dinner, but sat at the table with his father on purpose so he wouldn’t have to eat alone.
But the peaceful mealtime didn’t last long.
Somehow, countless reporters from TV stations had swarmed in front of Kim Seojun’s house.
They kept pressing the doorbell and noisily demanded they open the door.
On the living room TV, videos were playing repeatedly, calling some hunters “the heroes who prevented the tragedy at Jeungsan Station.”
Both Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun appeared in those videos.
“Don’t worry about it, dear. They’ll tire themselves out and leave soon enough.”
Baek Yeonji didn’t think much of the noisy reporters.
Her husband and son were being called heroes on TV; this level of commotion was hardly a problem.
“We can put up with it, but what about the neighbors? It’s even more infuriating that the neighbors are suffering because of those people.”
“That’s true. So what should we do? Should I call the neighbors and ask them to be understanding?”
From Baek Yeonji’s perspective, asking for the neighbors’ understanding seemed easier than trying to drive away the reporters.
“There’s no need to ask for understanding. We just need to kick those reporters out.”
Kim Juhyuk stood up from his seat.
At that, Kim Seojun spoke up to his father.
“If scolding would make them leave, they wouldn’t be called ‘press scum’ in the first place.”
“Still, we can’t just sit here and do nothing, can we? It’s already past ten. If we let them be, they’ll be at it until dawn.”
“Then why not just give them what they want?”
Kim Seojun suggested they might as well agree to an interview.
“But there’s nothing to say in an interview…”
“Just talk about what you did at the scene and send them away? Of course, without me involved.”
Kim Seojun decided to give all the credit to his father.
He also needed to make it sound like his own power was thanks to his father’s blessing.
“You’re planning to get out of it by yourself? You were the one who did the most important thing!”
“You know how I get all tongue-tied in front of the camera, Dad. You’re much more used to interviews than I am, so it’s only right for you to handle it. And… my master—the recluse who’s basically my teacher—told me, ‘You’re still a child, don’t pay any heed to hollow fame…’ He specifically warned me.”
With his nonsensical excuse, Kim Seojun dumped everything on Kim Juhyuk and dashed off to his room. Before closing the door, he added one more thing.
“Dad, fighting!”
Clenching his fist in front of his chest, Kim Juhyuk shook his head.
A moment later, Kim Juhyuk, left with no choice, let the reporters into the house.
With reporters and camera crews from eight broadcasting stations flooding in, the living room filled up with people and equipment.
Kim Juhyuk ended up sitting on the sofa, surrounded by microphones and camera gear.
“Mr. Kim Juhyuk, is it true you’re the chief administrator for the Hyeonmu Guild?”
“I heard you received the disaster alert on your way home from work. Weren’t you scared? Why did you choose to save citizens instead of escaping the scene? I’m curious about your reason.”
“I heard your son, who was with you at the scene, is a student at the Hunter Academy. Is it true he’s FA rank?”
“With FA rank, it would have been dangerous to go up against the Wolfz. Weren’t you worried about putting your son at the front lines?”
“With F-class mana, how was such a spectacular fight possible?”
“Did you use your blessing, which you wielded as a supporter in your active days, on your son?”
The barrage of questions made Kim Juhyuk’s expression grow heavier.
He had thought the interview would be simple, but it wasn’t at all.
In that short time, the reporters had already dug up all the personal information about him and Kim Seojun.
His plan to just explain his state of mind while fighting the Wolfz, how dangerous it was, and to wrap up the interview by warning about the rifts—turned out to be his own delusion.
The reporters’ questions started to cross the line.
They dug into Kim Juhyuk’s past, even probing into Kim Seojun’s life at the academy.
They even tried to forcefully open his son’s firmly closed door, saying they wanted to interview him, too.
Unable to bear it any longer, Kim Juhyuk yelled at them.
“What do you think you’re doing! Is this your own living room? Don’t you even have the slightest bit of manners?”
The reporters flinched at Kim Juhyuk’s outburst.
They quietly backed away from Kim Seojun’s room.
Once the room fell silent, Kim Juhyuk spoke again.
“As you’ve said, it’s true that I used my blessing in today’s battle. Even though I’m older, I’m still a hunter—that should be expected, shouldn’t it?”
Kim Juhyuk caught his breath for a moment.
He brought the microphone close and began to say what he really wanted to the attentive reporters.
“It’s true my son has F-class mana. But so what? Despite such low mana… even though he’s a nineteen-year-old student, he stood tall and fought against the monsters pouring out of the rift. He could have run away, but he chose to help his father instead.”
“So… was it thanks to Hunter Kim Juhyuk’s blessing that your son was able to perform so admirably?”
One reporter seized the chance to jump in.
But Kim Juhyuk shook his head.
“My son wasn’t admirable at all. Do you think it’s admirable for your child to fight terrifying monsters in a place where he could die at any moment? Not at all. I was on edge the whole time, afraid my son would be hurt. But… but I left him in danger because I thought we needed to save even one more citizen. Today, as a father, I was a complete failure.”
Was it because his words rang true?
The atmosphere among the reporters grew solemn.
“My son isn’t a hero. Neither am I. We just awakened to blessings and have a hunter’s license. We’re neighbors you could find anywhere. I only did my best to fulfill my duty and responsibility as a hunter. All the hunters present did their part and deserve praise together.”
As Kim Juhyuk calmly finished, not only the reporters but also the camera crew nodded their heads.
Just then, a female reporter suddenly cut in.
“The hunters who were there… that was well said. Then what do you plan to do with the corpses of the Wolfz you and your son took down? By your logic, shouldn’t all the corpses be divided into exactly twenty-four shares?”
With her twisted reasoning, the reporter tried to put Kim Juhyuk in a difficult spot.
In the hunter world, such matters were handled by checking the CCTV footage and paying the bounty to whoever took down the monster.
Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun had killed about twenty Wolfz.
Since ninety-two Wolfz had poured out of the rift this time, the father and son duo had taken down over twenty percent.
And yet she suggested splitting the bounty for the monster corpses twenty-four ways?
In other words, she was saying Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun should share the bounty equally with the other hunters, even if it meant taking a loss—utter nonsense.
“That’s not complicated, since we can just follow the hunters’ rules.”
“Is that so? Then how about this? In the footage, your son took an orange-colored mana stone at the end… strictly speaking, shouldn’t the surviving hunters also have a share in that mana stone?”
Once again, the reporter picked a fight.
The mana stone had come from the boss Wolfz that Kim Seojun took down at the end.
Because it was an elite monster, they’d been lucky enough to get a mana stone, and an orange mana stone could fetch fifty million won on the market.
Absorbing it could raise one’s mana by at least three to five points.
But now she was claiming the stone should also be split among the hunters, complicating things unnecessarily.
Kim Juhyuk checked the press badge around the reporter’s neck.
Reporter Yoon Jihee?
As the chief administrator of the Hyeonmu Guild, her name rang a bell for Kim Juhyuk.
Looking at the microphone she held, he saw the letters SBC engraved.
So that’s the one. Reporter Yoon Jihee, famous for her fake egalitarian ideas.
Equality activist Reporter Yoon Jihee.
She was notorious among hunters.
Whenever a rift occurred or a rare raid took place inside one, she would express extreme displeasure about the top hunters taking all the rewards, always raising strange arguments and making things difficult for the hunters.
Whenever anything related happened, she’d rush in and check if any lower-ranked hunter had been treated unfairly or had rewards forcibly taken—her meddling knew no bounds.
Now she had set her sights on Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun.
But something was off.
Both Kim Juhyuk and Kim Seojun were lower-ranked hunters, so why was she coming at them so aggressively?
Kim Juhyuk couldn’t figure out the reason.
Whatever it was, since he knew enough about her activities, he thought it best not to get into an argument—he didn’t want a few words from Yoon Jihee to cause trouble for his son.
So he decided not to escalate things. Still, he had no intention of dividing the mana stone his son had fought so hard for into twenty-four pieces just because of her.
“Are you speaking on behalf of all the surviving hunters? If that’s the case, I have no objection to dividing the mana stone my son took into twenty-four equal shares, as they wish. However, if they don’t contact us directly and request it, I’ll consider it as them relinquishing their rights.”
Kim Juhyuk was sure Yoon Jihee was only stating her personal opinion. As expected, her face twisted in displeasure.
Still, unwilling to lose ground, she pushed her argument further.
“Even if the other hunters don’t want to split it, wouldn’t it be nice for someone who has more to take the initiative and share first?”
Someone with more.
To her, the Kim father and son were a family with more than other hunters.
Father and son had both awakened as hunters, and they even owned a nice twenty-five-pyeong home in the heart of Seoul.
Her usual argument was that other hunters awakened in unfortunate circumstances, but often died as cannon fodder for higher-ranked hunters, unable to get proper rewards due to their low ranks.
Saying it would be nice to share because they had more, especially in front of all these reporters, was tantamount to demanding they be prepared for public backlash if they didn’t.
Even Kim Juhyuk was at a loss for words, letting out a long sigh.
At that moment, Kim Seojun’s door burst open.
Wearing sweatpants, Kim Seojun stood in the doorway, a twelve-inch tablet tucked under one arm and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He cocked his head slightly and stared straight at Yoon Jihee.
Every reporter’s spotlight now turned to focus on Kim Seojun.
“If the person involved comes out and speaks directly, wouldn’t it make for an even better scene? Huhu.”
Yoon Jihee, as if wondering why he hadn’t shown his face until now, moved toward Kim Seojun with her microphone at the ready.
Kim Seojun gripped the tablet tightly—and hurled it straight at Yoon Jihee.
The tablet flew at frightening speed toward her head.
No way an ordinary reporter could dodge an object thrown by a hunter who’d awakened their blessing. However—
Swoosh.
Yoon Jihee turned her head, letting the tablet graze past her cheek.
The tablet, having missed her, shot straight to Kim Juhyuk, who caught it as if he’d been expecting it all along.
As everyone stared in shock, Yoon Jihee raised her eyebrows and shouted.
“What do you think you’re doing! Are you threatening a reporter as a hunter?”
At that, Kim Seojun let out a snort.
“Ha. That’s funny, lady. Judging by how you dodged that, you’re not an ordinary reporter, are you? So why pretend to be shocked?”
Now that he mentioned it, everyone found it odd.
Yoon Jihee’s reaction was no different from that of a hunter.
“That’s…”
“No need to hide it. You’re a hunter, too, aren’t you? And a C-rank, at that.”
With Kim Seojun’s words, the atmosphere in the room changed drastically.
The reporters looked at each other in disbelief, but Yoon Jihee herself turned red and flustered.
“Dad. Turn on the tablet.”
“Alright.”
Kim Juhyuk set the tablet down on the table and pressed the button.
As the black screen lit up, twenty-four faces appeared in divided sections on the screen.
Seeing their faces, one reporter cried out in surprise.
“Oh? Aren’t those the hunters who survived today?”
It was true.
The people on the tablet were the hunters who had survived and given their all to close the rift.
Through the tablet camera, they were watching the situation unfold.
*****
Hunter Chatroom:
Hey, wow. That’s a ton of reporters. Are none of you busy?
EGS is here, MTK is here. But why is SBC here? That’s where that weirdo Yoon Jihee, the so-called equality activist, works, right?
Exactly. The station that shields that selfish reporter who’s never once helped out during a rift despite having a C-rank hunter’s license.
Seriously, why even bother getting the license then?
Because if you have one, you get steady hunter subsidies from the government.
That’s taxpayers’ money, right? It’s supposed to reward hunters who risk their lives for citizens. But a fake hunter who doesn’t fulfill any duty or responsibility collects that while acting like a press leech?
I know her well; we were academy classmates. She’s such a coward, she can’t even stand up to monsters properly. Still, maybe because her family’s loaded, she hides her identity as a hunter as tight as she can.
The last comment came from the only female among the surviving hunters.
With each hunter saying their piece, a hush fell over the room.
Only Yoon Jihee’s face turned purple with rage and trembled.
Kim Seojun grinned as he watched.
“Glad I got all the senior hunters’ contacts. I asked them all, and even if I offered to split the money from the mana stone, everyone refused. The mana stone belongs to Mr. Kim Juhyuk, the Great Mage of the Supporter world. Am I right, gentlemen?”
At Kim Seojun’s words, the hunters on the tablet burst out laughing.
Puhaha. That’s a great way to put it. Just as student Kim Seojun said. Mr. Kim Juhyuk, the Great Mage of the Supporter world! Thanks to you, we survived—how could we claim any right to the mana stone? No way.
As your son said, if Mr. Kim Juhyuk hadn’t come, half of us would be meeting the Jade Emperor somewhere else by now. Hahaha.
We wish we could give you more, but please understand. We’ve got to replace the weapons we lost in this operation.
Hey, you! Why’d you have to charge in like you wanted to die! You could’ve just collected government subsidies like some people, without risking your neck as a hunter. Tsk.
*****
Everything they said was broadcast live.
Now not just the people in the room, but most of the citizens watching on TV understood the situation.
The hunters who survived the Jeungsan Station rift felt deeply indebted to Kim Juhyuk and were sorry they couldn’t give him more.
Everything Yoon Jihee had said about equality was nothing but a mask to hide her own flaws.
Now her reporting career was finished, and so were her subsidies as a hunter.
Perhaps feeling ashamed, she hurriedly packed her gear.
The cameraman next to her couldn’t even raise his head, hunching over as they left the house together. At that moment, Kim Seojun spoke up.
“Hey, lady who knows no shame. If you’re a hunter, don’t just take the rights—take the responsibilities and duties that come with it. That way, at least you’ll be criticized less.”
“….”
Yoon Jihee glared at Kim Seojun as if she wanted to eat him alive.
But she couldn’t show her anger in front of all these reporters.
Grinding her teeth, she fled the house in disgrace.
The remaining reporters clapped at Kim Seojun’s refreshing words.
But the way Kim Seojun looked at them was anything but kind.
“This concludes the interview. Instead of hanging around here, go to the scene and cover the victims. Find out how the families of those who died are going to live, what their stories are, and help them however you can. Isn’t that what you’re
supposed to do?”
Perhaps feeling guilty, everyone quickly packed up, and within a few minutes, there wasn’t a single reporter left in the house.