* * *
A reason why he must be found.
Why they must find Seohwa, the worst hunter in history yet also the strongest S-rank hunter in history.
Why they must borrow his power.
The capabilities of modern hunters had been standardized.
Even a level-six dungeon was something they could handle on their own.
That “D-Day” that’s approaching—surely not…
The number seven flickered in his mind.
“No, but the vice Guild Leader has already achieved his goal.”
“What? Don’t tell me…”
Cho Wookwon glanced around again before lowering his voice as much as possible.
But to Seohwa, it was as clear as if he were speaking right next to him.
“He didn’t show up himself, but he sent Kobami to check on the situation and then left. Anis noona and I caught him right away.”
“…Hunter Seohwa is really alive.”
“He told us not to tell anyone, so you definitely can’t say anything. Only five people in the world know this. You make six.”
“And you’re telling me this classified information because…?”
“Because you need to keep it to yourself.”
Cho Wookwon playfully pinched Kim Biyul’s cheek.
Kim Biyul, still dazed from the revelation of Seohwa’s survival, belatedly swatted his hand away.
Rubbing his arm, Cho Wookwon continued.
“Anyway, now that Hunter Seohwa knows about the vice Guild Leader’s condition, he’ll probably give up on staying in hiding soon. It was an extreme method, but it worked.”
Kim Biyul didn’t look convinced.
“I don’t know if forcing someone out of their peaceful solitude is really the right thing to do.”
“Don’t put it like that—it makes us sound like the bad guys.”
“Well, from Hunter Seohwa’s perspective, we are the bad guys. He must be wondering why we’re making his life so difficult. He probably wants to scream at us to just leave him alone.”
Seohwa felt uneasy.
It wasn’t that bad…
“When I was younger, I had an eating disorder.”
At Cho Wookwon’s sudden confession, Kim Biyul raised an eyebrow.
“I hated eating. Every bite I took went straight to my height. I didn’t want to grow, so I hid in the closet during every meal. But my mom and hyung always dragged me out and forced me to eat. Every meal was a war.”
“…”
“I resented them so much back then. ‘Why?’ I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to starve. Whether I lived or died, it was my body, my decision. Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone?”
Cho Wookwon let out a bitter laugh.
“I get it. There are people who can live completely alone. Even if they were stranded on a deserted island for life, some people could still stay mentally stable. But Hunter Seohwa isn’t one of them. The vice Guild Leader said it himself—Hunter Seohwa suffers from ‘affection deficiency deficiency.’ He’s incredibly sensitive to loneliness.”
“…What deficiency?”
“Affection deficiency deficiency.”
“…?”
“You heard me right. Deficiency deficiency. Double deficiency”
What the hell?
“What does that even mean?”
“It means he’s so lacking in affection that he doesn’t even realize he’s lacking it.”
“…”
“I agree with the vice Guild Leader. Even back in his ‘Hate’ days, when the whole world despised him, he secretly gave grape jelly to the person who broke his arm. That hunter’s favorite flavor was grape. Doing something for someone else usually means you want to receive the same in return. You know that.”
“…”
“Someone that starved for affection can’t live alone on an island. Hunter Seohwa has to come back into the world. And when he does, we’ll wrap him up like a kimbap and stuff him with so much love he won’t know what to do with it. Then, when he finally shares some of that love back, we’ll tell him thank you, that it’s delicious, and cry from happiness. Until his ‘affection deficiency deficiency’ is cured and he’s drowning in love.”
It was a touching thought, but from Seohwa’s perspective, the premise itself was completely off.
He didn’t particularly like people. He didn’t feel lonely being alone.
Even in the final moments of the first timeline, Kang Yigeon had refused to acknowledge it.
“You do not believe in the emotion of love. You act as if you love people, but in truth, you are cynical about them. You act as if you love the world, but in truth, you distrust its order.”
“You’re making me sound like a misanthrope.”
“Having zero expectations of humanity is, in itself, a form of misanthropy.”
Misanthropy and affection deficiency deficiency.
Which was worse?
It didn’t really matter.
“The reason we want to bring Seohwa back into the world is because he’s too mentally weak to survive alone.”
If they were saying that, then at least it didn’t seem like there was a major crisis like a level-seven dungeon looming over them.
“That ‘we’—you mean the Epsilon Expedition, right? Epsilon is completely obsessed with Hunter Seohwa.”
“Yeah. We’re comrades who survived life-or-death battles together. But even online, people are saying Seohwa should be ‘kidnapped, locked up, and wrapped like a kimbap.’ These days, there aren’t many people left cursing him because of side effects.”
“Because most of them have been freed. That’s all thanks to Kang Yigeon.”
The hidden reward for the level-six dungeon Seohwa had pretended to target was a single wish.
When Seohwa went into hiding, Kang Yigeon had taken the reward instead.
And he wished to erase the side effects of [Flight of Time].
That was the widely accepted theory behind why the rejection of the timeline was fading.
But only Seohwa knew the truth.
“The vice Guild Leader said, ‘If we prove our sincere affection for Hunter Seohwa, he’ll come back.’ Apparently, that was the promise. So everyone in Epsilon has already prepared their own ‘post-proof’ plan.”
“Post-proof?”
“Yeah. The vice Guild Leader is handling the ‘pre-proof’ to bring him out. Our job is to make sure he can’t go back into hiding afterward.”
…They were way too systematic about this.
“Anis noona has already made 300 potions just for Hunter Seohwa. She regrets not being able to provide potions when they fought together before. She says she’ll prove her devotion by making him drink all 300 of them.”
If Seohwa had arrived at the situation without hearing that, he might have thought Anis still hated him.
“And what about you? How will you prove yourself when you meet Hunter Seohwa?”
Cho Wookwon grinned.
“I’ll use my healing skill.”
“I get your intentions, but if Hunter Seohwa is in perfect condition, a healing skill would be useless.”
Swish.
Cho Wookwon swiftly slashed the air with a knife that had appeared from nowhere.
Not only that, but he twirled it midair before catching it sharply like a hawk.
The movement was so fluid and precise that he seemed like a veteran dagger specialist who had spent decades mastering a single weapon.
“I always carry a knife just in case Hunter Seohwa has no injuries. The moment I meet him, I’ll cut my own wrist. Then, I’ll heal the wound immediately to prove that [Veil of the Sky] also works on Hunter Seohwa now!”
Is he insane?
“Are you insane?”
“All of Epsilon is crazy. My method is actually mild. The Guild Leader plans to make Hunter Seohwa the co-Guild Leader of Danbaek. Team leader Choi Jihyung said he’s going to register Hunter Seohwa as his daughter’s godfather at the district office. And Tuyeon noona…”
Seohwa thought seriously.
Even if the oath with Gaius Jung were to be nullified, returning would still require careful consideration.
After Cho Wookwon and Kim Biyul left for a hidden mission, Seohwa also started moving.
Finding poisonous mushrooms was easy.
It was an herb dungeon, so it was relatively safe, but a dungeon was still a dungeon.
Poisonous mushrooms were scattered everywhere.
Seohwa ignored the ones with bright red caps and yellow polka dots that practically screamed, “I’m a poisonous mushroom!”
Instead, he looked for ones that resembled pine mushrooms—the kind hunters often mistook for edible ones.
Without hesitation, he plucked one with his bare hands and put it in his mouth.
Chew, chew.
Even for high-ranking hunters, toxins were dangerous.
But—
‘It’s not like I can die anyway.’
Munching on whatever he grabbed, he casually looked around.
That was when he noticed a solid black wall.
While searching for poisonous mushrooms, he had unknowingly reached the edge of the dungeon.
Every dungeon had these pitch-black walls at its borders—smooth, rock-solid, and indestructible by any means.
On rare occasions, for reasons unknown, the wall would turn liquid-like.
When that happened, it became soft enough to pass through.
Some awakened individuals had taken the chance and crossed over.
Not one had ever returned.
Not just missing—they had definitely died.
Some of them had even been under oath contracts, yet within seconds—at most, a minute—after crossing, the system had confirmed their deaths.
Because of this, the wall was called the Gate Horizon, a boundary where crossing meant certain death—like an event horizon surrounding a black hole.
It was infinite in size.
Digging downward only revealed more of the wall, and flying upward only led to more of the same.
Seohwa suddenly felt curious.
‘Now that I think about it… I can’t die. What would happen if I crossed the Gate Horizon?’
* * *
