Chapter 97
“No matter that it’s an overseas assignment, isn’t this too much?”
They had been in China, and had cleared four gates.
In just two weeks, they had taken down two A-rank and two S-rank enemies.
It was essentially a forced, relentless sprint—ignoring even the short mandatory rest periods because it was China.
Jia had no choice but to tag along with Juhyuk.
Fortunately, Juhyuk handled all the battles himself, and she only needed to provide support. Had she been in the same combat role, her magic would have been depleted long ago, and she would have collapsed.
“Thanks to that, we made a lot of money.”
“If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have come along at all.”
Jia grumbled, wearing a sleep mask.
She lifted it slightly and asked:
“Does it cost that much to start a guild?”
“Yeah, it does. But that’s not why we’re earning it.”
If they were only raising money for the guild, they wouldn’t have rushed around so urgently.
[Magic stones! Magic stones! Magic stones!]
Juhyuk was collecting magic stones thanks to an artifact that made even economy-class flights feel as comfortable as business class.
‘This guy really knows how to make a racket.’
He had converted the magic stones into funds for the guild and kept a considerable stockpile.
At this rate, he could give one S-rank magic stone per day to the artifact for several months and still enjoy comfortable days ahead.
“Yeah, with that money, get Mom another baking machine or something.”
Though it was curious where he planned to spend the money, Jia didn’t pry. She herself disliked people delving too deeply into her private matters, so she treated others the same way.
“Speaking of which, want to go to your place when we land?”
“What about the company?”
“Anyway, if I say I’m with you, it counts as working outside. We earned a lot, so let’s take a little break.”
In two weeks, they generated more profit than anyone working at the company during that time.
But did he really intend to move all the money he earned on his own into the company’s funds?
She knew from hearing their stories that there was a strong bond, but she hadn’t expected them to share everything so thoroughly.
“The money you earned… you’re putting it all into the company?”
“Even if I kept it, I wouldn’t have a use for it.”
She adjusted her frog sleep mask on her forehead and turned to face Juhyuk.
“I should invest it more in catching those bastards and punishing them.”
“….”
For a moment, she forgot.
The goals she and her family shared.
Everyone had a unified purpose, and they would stop at nothing to achieve it.
Though it seemed peaceful, they were unmistakably criminals.
Even if they consistently violated societal laws, it was all in the pursuit of revenge…
‘Villains?’
Was it really correct to call them villains?
So far, Hyunho Candy hadn’t caused a single innocent casualty.
And upon examining their targets, they were villains who deserved punishment—enough to be hanged or worse.
So, was Hyunho Candy truly a villain?
“….”
Juhyuk didn’t have a clear moral compass.
He simply moved straight ahead, following his conscience.
Until now, the direction his heart pointed and Hyunho Candy’s actions had coincided precariously.
But that could easily diverge at any time.
‘I’ll think about it when it happens.’
No matter how much he worried now, it hadn’t happened yet.
He stared at the faintly visible mountains and the high clouds outside the window, clearing his mind.
“Huui~”
Jia stretched her arms as they emerged from the airport.
On the way home by taxi, she asked:
“By the way, did you get all the guild members?”
“Guild members?”
“When you make a guild, don’t you need at least five members?”
“Oh, that.”
The minimum number of members needed to form a guild.
Even with all the money, you couldn’t create a guild without enough people. Normally, you’d recruit members before starting a guild.
“I didn’t recruit anyone.”
“What?”
Juhyuk had only himself and Hyunsu; no one else.
“You just need five members, they don’t have to be hunters. I’ll fill the rest with Mom or ghost guild members.”
Essentially, just filling slots with names.
If he were to recruit hunters, they’d inevitably get involved, so he planned to use managers or staff instead.
“I’ve seen some guilds do that, you know? Some hunters in the entertainment industry do it as a personal entertainment-like guild.”
“That’s true, but…”
Jia nodded reluctantly at the valid point.
“Still, it’s a guild—are you really going to run it alone?”
Other people might not do it like Juhyuk, but some did create guilds to operate alone.
Yet when setting up buildings and facilities required for guild approval, the effort often compelled them to recruit additional members to recoup costs.
“Spending tens of billions on that isn’t nothing.”
“And even if you recruit members, you’ll just get headaches.”
Hyunsu would manage the guild in practice, but the guildmaster still had responsibilities.
Having members would increase the things he needed to manage beyond training, making it hard to see as a positive.
“If you brought Cheonshi, there would be two S-rank hunters in one guild in Korea…”
Indeed. If Juhyuk accepted Cheonshi, they would have two S-rank hunters, unprecedented in Korea.
The guild’s influence would be significant, impossible to ignore—even the established five major guilds and the Hunter Association couldn’t easily interfere.
The power of the S-rank hunter title was immense.
Jia was surprised by Juhyuk’s refusal of Cheonshi but assumed he had his reasons and didn’t comment.
“That way, all the annoying people bothering you will disappear.”
Yet on second thought, she couldn’t help speaking.
Spending billions on a guild just to run it alone… refusing an S-rank hunter…
From a bystander’s perspective, it seemed frustrating.
But Juhyuk thought differently.
“Actually, having two S-ranks would be more troublesome.”
A new guild with two S-rank hunters.
The five major guilds, and even the Hunter Association, wouldn’t ignore them.
“I’m already annoyed enough moving alone; imagine two S-ranks.”
Juhyuk wanted to focus on his own training.
If Cheonshi joined, he foresaw nothing but trouble.
Some might say staying quiet would solve the problem, but life rarely goes as planned.
“I’m already getting flak because of my connections.”
He knew just from his own experience.
“…Then what does that make me?”
Jia looked away, remembering the interrogation she’d caused.
The taxi grew quiet.
She stared out the rainy window at the faintly reflected Juhyuk.
“Jung Juhyuk.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you do that back then?”
“Back then? What did I do?”
His nonchalant tone annoyed her.
She knew why she was asking, yet he acted oblivious.
Still, she needed an answer.
She had wondered about it while in China, but feared ruining the rare overseas trip if she asked then.
“That time…”
Her voice faltered.
His black shadow touched hers, deepening in the window reflection.
“During the interrogation.”
Her trembling voice reflected her anxiety.
“What made you admit that we were close—”
Screeeech—
The car jerked lightly, cutting her off.
The driver flicked the blinker and spoke through the rearview mirror:
“We’ve arrived. Is this it?”
“No, the bakery comes after two more signals.”
The taxi stopped prematurely, breaking the moment.
“Whatever.”
“Forget it.”
The flow of conversation was gone; she decided to ask another time.
Soon, they got out. The rain made the smell of the bakery even richer.
Drawn by the aroma, they entered.
“Hello!”
Three people were inside.
Expectedly: Juhyuk’s mother, the part-timer Jigu, and Yena, a frequent visitor or customer.
“….”
But Juhyuk frowned.
The silhouette looked oddly familiar.
Not Yena—too short—but long hair he’d seen somewhere.
The person was sitting with his mother, welcoming him back to the store after a long absence.
“Hyung! You’re back!”
“….”
His uneasy feeling didn’t stop at instinct.
Cheonshi—who should have been in China—was smiling brightly before his eyes.
