* * *

Beom Sinje stood frozen, staring at the bathroom door where Doyoung had disappeared.

Hearing the sound of running water, he lowered his gaze to the mug of honey water still in his hand.

You’re so obvious, it’s ridiculous.

Yeo Giwon’s voice echoed in his mind, teasing him for behaving differently around someone he clearly liked while pretending not to realize it himself.

And not just that—his earlier conversation with Yeo Giwon came rushing back.

It was just before their video meeting with ATE Pharmaceuticals had ended.

“Hey, Guild Master Beom. Let’s grab a drink.”

Yeo Giwon’s inexplicable smile had lingered on his lips as he strolled over.

“A drink?”

“Yeah. Don’t you have something you need to discuss with me?”

Beom Sinje had given him a puzzled look, but Yeo Giwon had only sighed deeply in response.

Then, out of nowhere, he had said something completely unexpected.

“You’ve been preoccupied all day, haven’t you? I even heard complaints that nothing’s getting done because the Guild Master keeps zoning out.”

“Zoning out?”

“Come on. It’s about your brother, isn’t it? The one you’ve locked up at home.”

Locked up? Beom Sinje had simply meant for Doyoung to rest properly.

“Oh, I know it’s because you care. But I hear Hunter Park Chanoh has been standing guard outside your house like a fortress?”

“That’s to ensure no one disturbs him while he’s resting.”

“Sure, let’s go with that. Anyway, you’re coming, right?”

Faced with Yeo Giwon’s persistence, Beom Sinje hadn’t even bothered to reply.

The wide, doe-like eyes darting around betrayed his mischievous intentions.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

If Yeo Giwon had something to say, it was best to hear it directly.

And, predictably, Yeo Giwon had grinned knowingly.

“Good choice. Let’s wrap things up and head out, Guild Master. I’ll grab my stuff too.”

Watching him wink and disappear, Beom Sinje couldn’t help but think he looked more like a carefree college student than a team leader.

It was no wonder many guild members treated Yeo Giwon more like a friend than a superior.

“Probably heard some nonsense again,” Beom Sinje muttered.

Yeo Giwon had a way of picking up rumors and half-truths and casually tossing them his way, often expecting confirmation.

This time was likely no different.

Just as Beom Sinje prepared to leave the conference room, his steps were halted by a ringtone.

[Sarah Choi.]

It was a call from the ATE Pharmaceuticals representative, not the staff they had just met with but the CEO herself.

And she wanted a video call.

Sitting back down, Beom Sinje answered.

“Good evening, CEO Choi.”

“Good evening, Guild Master Beom. Apologies for the late hour.”

“No need to apologize. What’s this about?”

Their earlier discussions had been completed, and any reports should have been passed along by her team.

Beom Sinje was curious why Sarah Choi was reaching out personally.

“I received the meeting summary just now. But I wanted to propose something additional, which is why I contacted you directly.”

“A proposal?”

Watching her through the screen, Beom Sinje couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about her.

Her smile was perfectly professional, but from their first encounter, something about her had rubbed him the wrong way—like she was hiding another agenda.

“From the start, she’s been far too accommodating.”

He still couldn’t figure out why ATE Pharmaceuticals had approached them first and proposed forming a business partnership.

According to ATE’s claims, Chunho was undeniably one of the leading guilds in the country.

But if they were genuinely serious about aggressively entering the domestic market, it would have made more sense for them to contact the government, not a private guild.

“There’s no way the government would’ve turned them down.”

Especially after the Antithesis Coup and the mass defection of hunters, the government had been struggling to reclaim its footing, losing influence to private guilds.

They would have seized any opportunity to recover their position.

And yet, ATE Pharmaceuticals bypassed the government entirely, sought out Chunho, and even convinced an uncooperative man like him to sign an MOU with them.

Of course, that was largely thanks to Doyoung’s intervention.

Still, his doubts didn’t fade.

◇◆◇◆◇

“You must’ve seen considerable results in the dungeon today,” Sarah Choi began.

“Yes, it was a significant help to our guild members,” Beom Sinje replied, acknowledging the benefits while carefully trying to gauge what Sarahmight be getting at.

“I’ve been reviewing the footage myself,” she continued, “and I thought it might be worth testing the related aspects more thoroughly.

Would you be open to the idea?”

“A test?” Beom Sinje asked with a frown.

“Yes. Something along the lines of what we discussed previously—selecting a few hunters and verifying their performance through sparring or simulated scenarios.”

At this suggestion, Beom Sinje’s expression darkened.

“I’ll have to decline. The abilities of our guild members are confidential.”

For domestic hunters who had lived almost militarized lives, showcasing their abilities wasn’t common practice.

While interest in global rankings and challenges against international hunters had been growing recently, no one in Chunho Guild, as far as he remembered, was inclined that way.

Revealing their capabilities would be akin to exposing their strategic hand.

“But with the dungeon footage already public, haven’t some of their abilities been revealed anyway? Surely it wouldn’t make much difference,” Sarah argued, undeterred.

Her perspective as a foreigner seemed different, but Beom Sinje was firm.

“I don’t think it’s a matter worth considering,” he said curtly.

“Hmm…”

Faced with repeated rejection, Sarah seemed to decide there was no point in pushing further, stepping back slightly.

“Well, I suppose there’s still a lot to deliberate on regarding this. Let’s revisit it another time.”

Beom Sinje was convinced there wouldn’t be a next time, but he didn’t bother saying so. What bothered him more was the question Sarahasked afterward.

“By the way, is it still difficult to get in touch with Secretary Na?”

“He won’t be coming in for a while. If you need anything, you can contact me directly or reach out to Hunter Park Chanoh.”

Why were so many people so interested in Doyoung lately?

“Ah, I see. Is he unwell?”

“It’s for personal reasons,” Beom Sinje replied in a professional yet stiff tone, finding ATE Pharmaceuticals’ sudden interest in Doyoung increasingly unsettling.

What’s going on?

As the call ended, a vague unease lingered in Beom Sinje’s eyes.

So many things felt harder to decipher today—Sarah Choi’s actions, and even Yeo Giwon’s.

Beom Sinje stared at the darkened phone screen.

But as always, staring wouldn’t give him answers.

◇◆◇◆◇

Knock, knock.

A light tap on the door interrupted his thoughts as Yeo Giwon peeked in.

“Guild Master, why are you still here? Got more work to do?”

“Just a moment,” Beom Sinje replied, setting his concerns aside and sending a message to Park Chanoh.

If Doyoung had overheard their earlier conversation, he might think Beom Sinje was keeping tabs on him.

[What’s he up to?]

[He had dinner, and now he’s in the living room on his laptop.]

[It’s pretty late, isn’t it?]

Beom Sinje double-checked the time to make sure he hadn’t misjudged.

It was undeniably late.

[It seems he’s waiting for you.]

Beom Sinje’s expression turned complex.

[What should I do?] Park Chanoh asked.

[Just let him do as he likes. He’s not the type to listen even if I tried to stop him.]

A brief thought crossed Beom Sinje’s mind.

If he returned home to find the lights on and Doyoung there waiting for him…

[Understood.]

The calm reply brought him back from his fleeting reverie.

[You can head out now, Hunter Park. Thank you for your hard work.]

[I’ll stay until you return. Secretary Na told me to wait inside.]

Someone else staying alone with Doyoung?

Beom Sinje almost told him to leave but hesitated.

‘Why do I even…’

His uncharacteristic behavior left him confused.

Flustered, he escaped into the bathroom, running water over his hands and sighing deeply.

“I’m losing my mind.”

Why was he letting this unsettle him?

It had to be those dreams—dreams he couldn’t even admit to, especially not to the person involved.

* * *