Chapter 49
“Hi. Done with training for today?”
“Yeah.”
It’s been a week.
A full week of this ridiculous role-play.
She hasn’t shown the slightest sign of trying to harm anyone or trying to extract something from Juhyuk.
What on earth is she aiming for by pretending to be an old classmate?
No matter how he tries to guess, nothing seems to fit.
No way a guild would try to scout me with such a stupid trick.
Maybe she’s someone from an illegal hunter group—like that Hyunho Candy crew—trying to recruit him?
But if that were the case, why pretend to be a classmate?
She probably figured it out by now.
She must’ve realized her lie had already been exposed.
And honestly, she didn’t seem like the type who was good at lying in the first place.
After a week of talking, Juhyuk started wondering whether she was even trying to deceive him at all.
Every time he felt that, he deliberately pretended not to notice.
Why? Because he was curious.
Curious about why this woman approached him.
If he exposed her lie too soon, she’d likely vanish without leaving any clues.
To pull out her roots properly, he needed to keep playing dumb.
And Mom’s happy because all the leftover bread gets sold.
She wasn’t harming anyone, Mom was delighted, and with his near-S-rank power level, he felt confident he could instantly obliterate any illegal organization that tried something foolish.
Juhyuk glanced at the mountain of bread on her table.
“Don’t you get tired of eating that much bread every day?”
“I told you, didn’t I? I really love bread.”
That part wasn’t a lie.
He’d seen her put down at least a dozen pieces every day without fail—nobody who disliked bread could do that.
“Your mom’s croissants are especially good.”
“That’s the best-selling item.”
She tore off a huge chunk of bread and chewed.
Once Juhyuk sat down, she washed it down with milk and spoke.
“What about you? Isn’t it exhausting training every single day without rest?”
“I’m used to it.”
When he first started learning swordsmanship, training was definitely hard.
Especially after he increased his daily training load—there were days he felt too drained to even describe.
But that was all in the past.
Ever since he returned from the Training Room, even if fatigue built up, it no longer felt difficult.
His immersion made him lose track of time; days passed in a blur.
Watching himself grow stronger filled him with joy.
He loved this repetitive life so much he never wanted to give it up.
“Just being able to do what I love, and feeling myself improve every day—that alone makes me happy.”
Holding a sword, getting stronger, and earning money with that strength.
The life he had always dreamed of since his academy days.
He was grateful for this reality and wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“…I see.”
Zia tore off another piece of bread.
“I heard your grades back in the academy were pretty bad. I’m glad things turned out well for you.”
Then she lifted the bread split in half and said:
“But don’t you ever think about this?”
The atmosphere shifted.
With a faint, bitter smile, she continued:
“The people who wouldn’t even look at you when you were nobody… now they’re suddenly calling you promising and praising you.”
Scorn.
The faint smile she showed was really scorn.
“All those people who mocked you and snickered behind your back—don’t you think it’s hypocritical how they bow down the moment you get stronger?”
Juhyuk’s so-called “dark age” during his academy years.
No matter how hard he tried back then, all he received were pitying glances mixed with ridicule.
If someone else went through what he did, they might have grown to despise that hypocrisy and become twisted.
He wasn’t incapable of understanding that.
But—
“No, I don’t think that.”
He simply wasn’t that kind of person.
He’d lived his whole life walking his own path without caring about other people’s opinions.
Sure, sometimes he felt hurt by the mockery.
But he also had plenty of people who supported him.
People who told him his effort would shine one day.
People who encouraged him to keep going.
There were people who believed in him—who believed in his seemingly pointless efforts.
“Why waste time on bad thoughts? Life’s too short to only listen to negativity.”
“….”
Her expression stiffened.
As expected, she wasn’t good at hiding her emotions.
Whether she reacted or not, Juhyuk continued:
“Effort doesn’t betray you.”
Words his late father said until Juhyuk’s ears practically fell off.
Words he carried in his heart every day.
“And I’ve already proven about half of that.”
He still had a long way to go, but there was plenty of time.
Today too, he had taken one more step toward becoming the strongest.
“And I’m going to keep proving it.”
He was still lacking.
Reaching S-rank wasn’t enough.
There were only three SS-ranks in the world.
Above that was the SSS-rank—now extinct.
And above even that was the legendary EX-rank.
“Still a lot of mountains to climb.”
A path far too steep for someone who wasn’t a genius.
Juhyuk looked straight at her.
“I’m too busy to waste time being resentful at the world.”
“Hm… I see.”
The shop grew quiet at the ambition he revealed.
“I also have a goal I desperately want to accomplish.”
“What is it?”
She tore off more bread, her voice flat.
“To destroy the Korea Hunter Association.”
“….”
The air froze.
Juhyuk had already suspected her identity, so he remained calm.
“So you’re with Hyunho Candy.”
“Yeah. I’m in the same squad as the one you met before.”
She popped the bread into her mouth, chewed lightly, swallowed, then said:
“Thanks for pretending not to know all this time.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Sure, it had been awkward at times.
But thanks to that, he’d seen Mom happy for the past week, so it worked out for him too.
Still… I feel bad thinking about the leftover bread returning once she stops coming.
Setting that thought aside, Juhyuk asked directly:
“So? Did you stick around all week just to try recruiting me again?”
“No, I don’t think that’d work.”
She shook her head.
He had expected some kind of sweet-talk recruitment pitch again.
But she easily gave up on that idea.
Then she explained why.
“You’re not someone who fits with us.”
A person who lives with resentment toward the world, and a person who buries it all and pursues only his personal goals.
Directions too different to walk together.
“To be honest, I liked you. But trying to convince you would just be a waste of time.”
“Glad you realized that.”
The scout attempt ended without a fight.
If she had pushed aggressively again, Juhyuk would’ve had to take a firmer stance, but thankfully it didn’t come to that.
“I just want to make one suggestion.”
“Well, we did know each other for a week. I’ll hear it.”
“Don’t interfere with what we’re about to do.”
Hyunho Candy’s goal:
To destroy the Korea Hunter Association.
Zia instinctively understood that Juhyuk would become the biggest obstacle to that plan.
So instead of recruiting him, she changed tactics.
“You’d succeed even if you work abroad. Even if the Association collapses, it won’t affect you much.”
“….”
“In fact, going overseas might even help you reach your goal faster.”
It was a somewhat reasonable compromise.
He wanted to become the strongest—and that didn’t require Korea.
“So let’s not clash. There are already two S-ranks in Korea, and we really don’t want to deal with another troublesome one.”
“And you want me to just watch while the Association collapses?”
A Korean hunter being told to stand by while his own country’s Hunter Association was destroyed…
It was absurd.
As Juhyuk raised one eyebrow, she said:
“Maybe if you hear our pitiful backstory, you’ll change your mind?”
“My empathy isn’t that great… so it won’t help.”
The two fell silent.
Juhyuk looked at her, then turned to the window and said quietly:
“To be honest, I don’t really care what happens to the Hunter Association.”
He wasn’t attached to it.
If anything, it was an organization that constantly interfered with his goals.
“But I’m still someone who knows right from wrong. I can’t just sit back and let it happen.”
He wasn’t stupid enough to condemn everything they did.
He needed special procedures only because he was a special case, and the Association had been trying to help him however they could.
From that perspective, watching it collapse without lifting a finger didn’t sit right with him.
No—beyond logic, Juhyuk simply wasn’t the kind of person who could shrug off a terrorist warning and say “oh well.”
“Right and wrong, huh…”
Zia repeated his words softly.
“So you’re saying stopping the Association from collapsing is the right thing?”
“For now, yes.”
“I see.”
She stood up.
Somehow, all the bread that had been piled on the table was gone.
“Then I’ll just have to change your mind.”
With a bright smile, she headed for the door.
He stood up too. The bell above the door jingled.
“It was delicious.”
“Come again.”
“I hope I can.”
The door closed.
Beyond the transparent glass, she waved at him.
On her face was a faint smile that refused to fade.
