Chapter 37
Do You Still Hate Him That Much?
The call continued in a rush.
―“Really? Really? What did he say he wanted to do?”
She looked just as incredulous.
“Well… I guess… I’ve been free lately, he seems busy, so I wanted to help out, and I wanted to try working here…”
―“Hmm… Is it really because you like being there?”
“What do you mean?”
Sori didn’t even consider Minjeong’s opinion. If Cha Yunmin really had romantic feelings toward Sori, wouldn’t he have applied for an after-hours date?
‘He’s interested in the place, not me.’
Or perhaps it was the food.
But thinking about it, it was a little odd. Cha Yunmin was also a potion maker affiliated with a guild.
He openly sold spices at the Agora Market. While Sori was the only person buying them…
If he didn’t know she existed, she could have even given him directions to the shop.
―“Hey. You never know. Maybe he’s already regretting it by now?”
Minjeong spoke, frustrated, referring to the after-hours application.
“If that were the case, wouldn’t he have asked again already? He just came here, ate, and left.”
―“He said he wanted to help, right? Maybe he was embarrassed to say it again?”
“No way.”
―“Well, Cha Yunmin’s pretty quick. He’s known for handling work efficiently. Hiring him part-time wouldn’t really be a loss.”
“Really?”
Sori did hope he’d be hired as a part-timer for being good at his job. Still, his motives remained unclear.
After a brief silence, Minjeong continued.
―“But… do you really dislike Cha Yunmin?”
Minjeong never gave up.
“Why all of a sudden?”
―“Just… thinking about it, I can understand why you might. He should just ask for a date again, right? Cha Yunmin is like that. Efficient at work… but…”
“It’s not because of that.”
Sori recalled Gijun’s standards. His sarcastic voice, even over small things, lingered in her mind. Strangely, Minjeong seemed to have thought the same.
―“Or is it because of Gijun? You two don’t get along? Is it bothering you?”
Perhaps it was inevitable. Sori sighed. Even after years of breaking up, it felt like going back to the old days.
“…I don’t know.”
―“You know what?”
Minjeong hesitated before speaking carefully. Sori didn’t welcome her hesitation. Surely it would be about Gijun.
―“If he wanted to try being nice to you again, what would you do?”
It was the most unwelcome question. Was it necessary to entertain such meaningless “what ifs”?
“I don’t think that will happen. I don’t even want to think about such fantasies.”
She deliberately answered nonchalantly. In truth, she didn’t want to think about it.
Minjeong asked again.
―“You don’t know that. What about your own feelings? Do you still hate him that much?”
[I do.]
Minjeong had already noticed. She had seen Sori’s eyes daily, bloodshot, despite her pretending to be fine.
Do those eyes really say “I got tired of you,” Sori thought? Besides…
[I just grew to hate him. I don’t even want to see how good he is. We just don’t match.]
She remembered vividly how Sori had laughed loudly while downing drinks she barely could handle.
It made her realize the real reason they had broken up. No question was necessary.
[…We just didn’t suit each other.]
Sori’s words seemed to speak Minjeong’s hidden thoughts.
The day Sori decided to break up with Gijun, Gijun had just placed second in a Hunter battle tournament, equipped with top-tier gear from home.
“Hello?”
There was a long pause in response to Minjeong’s question about her feelings.
“Sori, are you listening?”
The question might have been too blunt. Worried, she tried again. Sori’s voice finally came.
―“Yeah, Minjeong. I’m suddenly really busy. I’ll contact you later. Sorry!”
Click.
She hung up quickly after saying it.
Perhaps she had spoken unnecessarily. Yet, Gijun’s gaze toward her…
Hurriedly ending the call, Sori gulped down water.
She shook her head.
‘Minjeong really asks unnecessary questions.’
Sometimes, Sori felt burdened by her curiosity.
Like now.
She had never imagined Gijun might want to try being nice to her again.
[You know we really don’t match, right? It’s hard for me to adjust to you.]
The last words they exchanged were just this.
[You just do as you please. I want to live for myself now. Don’t feel sorry for me; live as you like.]
She had only spat out harsh words, thinking now there was no room for such imagined scenarios.
“Even so, maybe he secretly has a girlfriend. Right, John?”
Sori thought of Hong Mari and muttered something.
From John, there was only a breath instead of an answer. He lay on the sunny windowsill, exposing his pink belly, in deep sleep.
“Lucky you.”
Seeing John so carefree, she stretched and opened the window wide.
Rumbling!
Startled, John shivered and jumped up.
“Ah, what’s going on, Awakener? If you have complaints, speak up!”
Half-closed eyes, he whined.
“Ah, the flower scent is nice. Should I give you some Baigrid food?”
Sori hummed, ignoring him, and opened the Hunter Market.
The public excitement about Sori sweeping through the Red Ginkgo D-class dungeon had somewhat subsided.
At least on the streets.
But while Sori felt at ease, internally, the dungeon management headquarters and guilds were conducting investigations.
Minjeong glanced between Lee Gijun and Cha Yunmin sitting before her.
“So, what do you think, Lee Gijun?”
It was natural to ask an S-rank Hunter such questions.
Gijun’s expression didn’t look good. The two sat side by side, but it felt like an invisible wall separated them.
“Certainly, this does not seem like an ordinary Awakener.”
Minjeong and Gijun had known each other before, but they couldn’t speak casually in such a formal setting.
Minjeong continued, keeping a professional tone.
“Do you think an ordinary Awakener could reach above A-rank?”
Usually, the logic held that unless an Awakener specialized in combat, it would be hard to match an A-rank combat Hunter.
“Ordinary Awakeners haven’t appeared long. It’s certainly possible.”
“I see. Then, considering the recent D-class dungeon incident, do you think one has already appeared?”
Gijun sipped water, pretending to think, then answered slowly.
“Fast and precise. That alone doesn’t completely rule out A-rank potential. Of course, this will be registered officially. Without registration, ranking is impossible.”
While Gijun spoke, Cha Yunmin glanced at him, scribbling on a blank sheet.
“I see.”
Minjeong recorded Gijun’s opinion. Cha Yunmin, who had been silent, spoke softly.
“There’s quite a debate about forcing registration. Has the Dungeon Headquarters considered this?”
Many Hunters were curious about this point.
Minjeong hesitated, then replied.
“It’s still under discussion. A bill requiring ordinary Awakeners to register was submitted two months ago, but it’s still pending at the Hunter Committee.”
“I don’t understand. Forcing registration seems like the right move.”
“Exceptions are hard to make in law… and recently, there’s been public opposition.”
It was the usual “it would lower our ranking” excuse. Cha Yunmin shook his head.
“Problems would still arise, though.”
“That will have to be debated later. Today, I actually wanted to ask Cha Yunmin something.”
Minjeong smiled.
“That’s right.”
Cha Yunmin smiled gently. Gijun thought,
‘What a hypocrite.’
“Do you think ordinary people can easily buy Hunter potions?”
“……Not really.”
Cha Yunmin shrugged.
“Even accessing the Hunter Market isn’t enough. Most are locked to Hunters.”
“Couldn’t they get them offline?”
“But I don’t think combat Hunters would casually share that information with ordinary Awakeners.”
Gijun intervened.
“Some ordinary Awakeners can be re-awakened as combat Hunters.”
“Oh, has that already happened?”
Cha Yunmin reacted in surprise. Gijun continued calmly.
“I met one before. We participated in the same raid. I think they were once an ordinary Awakener, then re-awakened as a Hunter.”
“I see. Then that Awakener might have easily gotten potions.”
Minjeong nodded.
“Or maybe Cha Yunmin set up a potion with wasabi as bait. Anyone who drinks it wouldn’t be okay, and we could see who loses their senses in the dungeon.”
Gijun couldn’t remain patient. Cha Yunmin chuckled.
“Oh. Was it that hard?”
Gijun glared.
“I already told you back then, it wasn’t me, right?”
The investigation suddenly sparked a new conflict in another direction.
