Chapter 6 …
Han Gitae ground his teeth as he stared in the direction where the unregistered hunter had vanished into a mere speck moments earlier.
“Haah… You lost him again?”
At the light, carefree voice—as if it had nothing to do with her—Han Gitae’s tone turned sharp.
“Watch your mouth.”
Since this cold tone was nothing new, Noh Yoon‑young simply shrugged as she walked up beside him.
“This is bad. We’re going to get chewed out by the Poison Toad again.”
“The chief is a Poison Toad now? Have you no sense?”
“Yessir.”
Yoon‑young puckered her lips at Han Gitae’s nagging.
“But if you don’t call a Poison Toad a Poison Toad… what do you call him?”
Her voice sounded genuinely curious. Han Gitae opened his mouth to respond—then shut it again.
“More importantly, what were you doing that you’re only showing up now—”
When he asked why she was so late, Yoon‑young blinked her large eyes innocently and pressed her index finger lightly against her lips.
It was a naïve, guileless expression that suited her youthful face perfectly—but Han Gitae’s expression only grew colder.
“So what, are we just abandoning the car? You know this was paid for with taxpayers’ money.”
Han Gitae shot her a fierce glare at her flippant tone.
“Anyway, judging by the gate’s color, looks like it already closed before he came out.”
Yoon‑young wandered about while staring at the gate entrance, now glowing red instead of its original color.
“Do we really have to catch him?”
At the utterly pointless remark, Han Gitae dragged his fingers down his deeply furrowed forehead. Even so, the crease between his brows didn’t ease.
“Do you hear yourself?”
He spat each syllable as if grinding them between his teeth, his anger unmistakable.
Only then, sensing the mood from Team Leader Han Gitae’s razor‑sharp voice, did Yoon‑young back off while pretending to be distracted.
“Ugh, why does the engine sound like that? Is it broken?”
She wandered off toward the perfectly fine van parked in the middle of the road. Watching her retreating figure, Han Gitae clicked his tongue in irritation.
He had already lost him right in front of his eyes several times.
As Han Gitae stared at empty air, he shook out his hand. The sword vanished, leaving behind a trail of light.
‘Why?’
If he had no criminal record, all he had to do was register as a hunter and work legitimately for proper compensation.
And he wasn’t even collecting byproducts separately. Though his rank was unknown, Black Shadow’s taming ability was rare.
‘One of the very few tamers in the world…’
Once registered, other guilds would undoubtedly scramble to recruit him.
That was precisely why the government had concealed the fact that Black Shadow’s primary ability was taming. The order issued regarding him was capture—not execution.
‘Damn it.’
He clicked his tongue, displeased.
‘An unregistered hunter is a crime just by existing. No excuses, no circumstances.’
Grit. A vicious sound escaped from his clenched teeth.
Black Shadow’s evasive figure kept flickering in his mind.
‘Should I kill him?’
It went against orders from above, but he couldn’t help the murderous intent rising within him.
‘Creatures worse than beasts—ones that shouldn’t exist.’
Han Gitae’s fury toward unregistered hunters surged, and his silver eyes sank into an even colder glare.
3. Silver Spirit Guild – Do Jaegyu
“Woohoo! Nice one!”
At the same time, Do Jaegyu clapped his hands and cheered as he watched Sejin’s retreating figure flee atop Shinbong.
“You run well, our Black Shadow.”
“Are you really that pleased?”
Kim Myungjin, Do Jaegyu’s secretary, asked with a fed‑up expression as she stepped out of the luxury sedan behind him.
“Of course I am.”
“And why is that?”
“He screwed over Han Gitae and got away. Of course that’s satisfying.”
Which part of that, exactly? Myungjin knew her boss had a twisted personality, but still—honestly.
She shook her head.
Ignoring her reaction, Do Jaegyu flashed a grin like he’d stepped straight out of a commercial. For some reason, the smile sent a chill down her spine.
He swept back his wind‑tossed crimson hair with his fingers.
At a glance, he looked exactly like a handsome male model.
Over 190 centimeters tall, his body was packed solid with muscle, not an ounce of slack.
His cool, masculine features practically radiated testosterone—more than enough to capture hearts.
It was no exaggeration that people said even those who hated Hunter Do Jaegyu found it hard to hate his face.
His fame among hunters wasn’t due solely to his rank. That flashy face played a major role too.
But knowing the utterly rotten nature hidden beneath, Myungjin’s gaze darkened.
‘What an awful personality. No—he’s downright malicious.’
Still, since this man paid her salary, she swallowed the words rising up to her throat.
‘Think of your paycheck!’
Only then did she manage to rein in her disrespectful glare.
‘Why does he hate government hunters so much—borderline despise them?’
Was it resentment from when he stormed out of the government in the past? But even then, the hatred seemed too intense.
Was he abused or something? No—unless you wanted to die, who’d dare do that to an SS‑rank hunter? Myungjin tilted her head.
She could only assume there was some reason she didn’t know.
“So what do we do now?”
“About what?”
“We rushed over the moment we heard Black Shadow had appeared, but we missed him again without even seeing his face.”
They had pushed the driver hard just to make it out to the provinces, yet Black Shadow—whom Do Jaegyu had been dying to meet—vanished again without leaving even a strand of hair behind.
Did Black Shadow know he was the Silver Spirit Guild’s top recruitment target?
“Well. There’ll be another chance.”
Do Jaegyu shrugged, watching until Black Shadow disappeared completely.
He even looked proud. Faced with her boss’s incomprehensible taste, Myungjin swallowed a sigh.
“So we’re heading back now, right?”
“Hmm.”
Halfway into the sedan, Do Jaegyu tilted his head.
“We came all this way—let’s at least grab something good to eat. I’m hungry. You’re not busy, right, Secretary Kim?”
‘I am busy! You’re the only one with free time!’
Myungjin forced down her rising anger.
“Yes. Of course.”
For a mere office worker screaming internally about work‑life balance, there was only one possible answer.
‘Kim Myungjin! Think of your paycheck!’
This month’s expenses alone were—let’s see…
Endure it. He was insufferable, but Do Jaegyu paid very well.
Myungjin, you can do this!
She was busy enough to need two bodies, but the power of money was overwhelming.
It took her less than five seconds to plaster on a professional smile.
“Shall I reserve a nearby hotel restaurant? You said you liked it last time.”
“Hmmm.”
From the back seat, Do Jaegyu crossed his long legs and tilted his head. Sitting in the passenger seat, Myungjin listened carefully.
“I feel like something different today.”
“Something different?”
‘What crazy idea now?’
Despite her polite tone, her mind boiled with irritation.
“How about that?”
Do Jaegyu raised a finger toward the street lined with shops.
“Look at that grandma’s face. Doesn’t it look great? Feels like a hidden gem.”
“That… that soup place?”
The boss she served was notorious for his picky palate.
The guild even employed a dedicated chef just for him. And now suddenly—sundae soup? From a roadside place?
Unable to believe his whim, Myungjin asked again to be sure.
“You mean the soup shop at the end of that alley?”
Despite her polite words, she couldn’t quite erase the are you insane? undertone.
At her repeated questioning, Do Jaegyu kicked the front seat irritably.
“Sorry. My bad.”
There wasn’t an ounce of apology in his voice. The kick was clearly intentional.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
As a mere employee, Myungjin gave the answer he wanted.
Does money excuse everything?
Yes. Yes, it does.
“But why? Can’t I eat soup?”
His voice was thoroughly twisted with irritation. And it wasn’t just his mood—Do Jaegyu held grudges like a professional.
“Not at all. Of course you can.”
“Right?”
His calm tone made it feel like she was the unreasonable one.
‘You never eat this stuff normally!’
Knowing full well he’d drop his spoon at the slightest lack of freshness, Myungjin pressed her forehead.
Ugh.
When he says jump, you jump.
With a resigned expression, she turned her gaze in the direction he pointed.
The sign reading “50 Years of Tradition — Grandma Kim Mak‑rye’s Handmade Gukbap” filled her with foreboding.
As if proudly declaring itself a famous spot, the sign bore the image of an elderly woman in a neat hanbok—presumably Grandma Kim Mak‑rye herself.
He’d take a few spoonfuls, complain it was bad, and throw a fit.
Seeing the future clearly, Myungjin gestured to the driver.
“Please take us there.”
At the driver’s response, the car glided forward. Unlike someone else with too much free time, Myungjin had plenty of work to handle, and her fingers busily tapped the tablet in her lap.
‘My miserable life.’
Of course, she complained only in her head.
