The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low - Chap 297

Several hurried footsteps trampled over white ash and vines. Flashlight beams swung chaotically, illuminating the floor and ceiling in frantic bursts. The vines fiercely lunged at their feet and legs, but with a single snap of the fingers— crack —they all burned away. Jung Bin bowed slightly toward the approaching Matthew and then raised his voice.

“This is Jung Bin! Are you there?”

As if in response, a shout erupted from the end of the corridor.

“No, breaking things won’t solve the problem— ugh…!”

Boom!

A loud crash echoed through the passage. Jung Bin and Matthew exchanged glances. The voice belonged to Gyu-Gyu. Normally laid-back and cheeky, he now sounded flustered. Something was definitely wrong. Jung Bin hastily shone his flashlight toward the corridor’s end.

And beneath the light…

“Are you listening? The thing’s reinforced, it won’t even break— ugh, why are these things only attacking me? Hey! Listen to me, dammit— wow, they’re seriously strong…!”

Bang!

“Ah, I get it. You wanna collapse the place and bury us alive? That’s what this is? If you wanna die, just say so…!”

Gyu-Gyu was clinging onto someone’s arms. His shaggy light-blue hair swayed as he dangled from them, his fur-lined field jacket flapping with every movement. Jung Bin hesitated, his voice uncertain.

“…Gyu-Gyu-nim?”

Gyu-Gyu whipped his head around and yelled.

“Somebody stop this guy! He won’t listen!”

“What exactly is going on?”

“The dungeon entrance closed, and he’s acting like this! Smashing the walls won’t open a sealed dungeon— he’s just gonna get us all buried alive!”

Bang!

The person Gyu-Gyu was holding onto kicked the blocked-off wall, making the entire passage tremble. White ash and dust trickled down. Jung Bin handed his flashlight to Matthew, then pulled out a black chain, wrapping it around his hand.

“…J-nim, is that you?”

“…”

“It’s me, Jung Bin. I came to escort you back.”

The foot that had been poised to strike the wall again stopped in midair. The young man in a black mask turned his head. His ash-gray hair, catching the flashlight’s glow, almost looked silver. Jung Bin softened his voice, speaking as warmly as he could.

“There’s a lot I want to ask you. And a lot I want to tell you, too.”

“…”

“J-nim.”

“…I’m listening.”

J pried Gyu-Gyu’s hands off his arms. Gyu-Gyu shrugged and backed off without protest. Jung Bin suddenly thought— the circular beam of the flashlight felt like a spotlight, casting its glow onto a criminal.

“The way you’re talking…”

The spotlight illuminated only J.

“I must be the only one who made it out.”

Once again.

People trapped in this space. J, escaping alone. It was exactly like the West Sea rift. Jung Bin’s throat tightened. After the West Sea rift, J had disappeared without a trace. And only after a long time did he finally resurface. Would he disappear again this time? Jung Bin hesitated. If J tried to run, should he let him go?

But—

“Yeah. Seems like there’s a lot I need to hear, too.”

J didn’t run. Contrary to Jung Bin’s worries, J stood firm. Relief settled in Jung Bin’s chest. As he stomped his heel over the vines still clutching at his ankles, he gestured behind him.

“For now… this place is dangerous. Let’s talk outside.”

J gave a silent nod, but he didn’t move right away. He stood there, running his hands over the blank wall— his back looked strangely lonely. Meanwhile, Gyu-Gyu approached Jung Bin, clutching his arm and groaning, ow, ow, ow, as the bitter scent of cigarette smoke wafted from him. He scoffed.

“Damn… that guy’s strong. Like a bull.”

“You held on well.”

“Nah~ …If this had gone on a little longer, he would’ve smashed everything, preservation be damned. And then some.”

Gyu-Gyu ruffled his already messy hair.

“He’s not in his right mind. He’s totally lost it.”

The three of them turned their gaze back to J, still running his hands along the wall. And Jung Bin noticed something strange. The white vines that covered the passage and relentlessly attacked their legs…

“…”

Did not approach J. He stood tall among the white ash and vines. As if—

He was a part of them.

A grim feeling crept up Jung Bin’s spine, but he shook it off. There was no need to let uncertainty cloud his judgment. Anxiety only got in the way of rational thinking.

Eventually, J pulled his hand away from the wall and approached them.

Step, step… A long shadow stretched behind him. The overwhelming pressure in the air pressed down on everything around them. The vines wrapped around their feet and legs sagged, suddenly lifeless.

J tossed a crumpled cigarette pack into the air, caught it, and said—

“Let’s go.”

***

Awakened Management Bureau, Director’s Office.

Four people were seated in the director’s office. Matthew sat upright, while Jung Bin slouched with a laptop on his lap. Gyu-Gyu sat with his legs crossed, leaning to one side, and J was reclining against the sofa.

J— Cha Eui-jae —gently ran his fingers over a lukewarm teacup, lost in thought. Summarizing everything Jung Bin had just reported, the situation was as follows:

The fact that people were transforming into monsters had been classified as top-secret and hidden as much as possible. However, a YouTuber had live-streamed the entire mutation process, making it impossible to conceal any longer. The doctors and researchers publicly announced they were working on a vaccine, but it did little to reassure the public. The number of people exhibiting early symptoms was increasing.

Fear consumed the masses. When Awakened individuals underwent grotesque transformations, it was manageable— after all, it wasn’t their problem, and the Hunters would take care of it. But this was different. Every single person who had transformed into a monster thus far was a civilian. No one knew when, who, or how the next person would turn. The mere sound of someone coughing was enough to draw sharp, suspicious glances.

No one trusted anyone. Even Jung Bin— who had practically been a symbol of faith— was no exception. Hunters could kill monsters, but they couldn’t stop people from turning into them. It was an age of fear and distrust.

And one group was capitalizing on that fear and distrust.

“Prometheus.”

“Yes. A small community appeared, presenting itself as a volunteer and relief organization. But before long, well… it essentially turned into a cult. They claim to be gathering to hear the words of the Seer.”

“What, like, if you listen to the Seer and pray, your mutation stops?”

“They say those with true faith are given an injection of the cure.”

“A cure?”

Matthew pushed up the silver-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“You’re familiar with a person named Ga-young, aren’t you, J?”

Despite Cha Eui-jae’s efforts to conceal his discomfort, it was evident in his expression. Matthew smirked wryly.

“I have my own history with her. She’s been working with the doctor to develop a vaccine and treatment. But as far as I know, nothing’s been completed yet. My guess is, they’re injecting people with prototypes and monitoring the results.”

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes, sometimes not. When it doesn’t work, they claim the condition is too severe and requires multiple treatments… or so they say.”

“…So they’re basically running clinical trials on civilians.”

“Exactly.”

“Are they even allowed to do that?”

“Technically, it is a stage in vaccine development. But… the problem is they’re deceiving people into thinking it’s a cure. And they’re collecting all sorts of data that way.”

Cha Eui-jae let out a small sigh.

“So, in short, I came back to the worst possible situation.”

“If this is your definition of ‘worst,’ then yes.”

It wasn’t all that surprising. Cha Eui-jae’s life had always been a series of worst-case scenarios stacking on top of each other. He simply clicked his tongue in resignation.

Meanwhile, Jung Bin, who had been typing something into his laptop, finally stopped to take a breath. Loosening his tie slightly, he muttered,

“By the way… the situation inside the eroded dungeon isn’t looking good either. A Memorial Dungeon, of all things. And one formed from the memories of a world that was destroyed…”

“Yes.”

“J, you… forgive me for putting it this way, but you died early on in there. That’s why you returned first, right?”

“Probably. The others were still alive when I left.”

Even if Cha Eui-jae died, the world wouldn’t disappear. He never imagined that thought would bring him comfort. But something still gnawed at him. Lee Sa-young— left alone, wandering through that ruined world.

Could he endure it again? The endless isolation and solitude?

Just then, Matthew cautiously asked,

“How is Honeybee? Is she well?”

“She was, the last time I saw her.”

“…That’s a relief.”

Matthew pressed his fingers against his temple, exhaling in relief. Jung Bin let out a quiet sigh.

“We haven’t disclosed the disappearance of the Hunters who entered the eroded dungeon. As you know, people might recall the West Sea rift…”

Ah. Here we go again. Cha Eui-jae fought the nausea rising in his throat. If it had been just a matter of consuming monsters, it wouldn’t be so bad. But when those monsters had once been human… even Cha Eui-jae had his limits.

“…J? Are you feeling unwell?”

“…No, I’m fine. That was a reasonable decision.”

“It was a choice made from experience. I’m sorry you all had to bear the burden.”

A low, feminine voice cut through the air. Ham Seok-jeong had arrived. Jung Bin and Matthew immediately stood. Cha Eui-jae hesitated before getting to his feet as well. The only one who remained seated, legs still crossed, was Gyu-Gyu. Ham Seok-jeong gestured dismissively for them to sit before taking her own seat at the head of the table. She said nonchalantly.

“With everything going on, people have been demanding to know where the number one and two Hunters are. You must have taken quite the beating.”

Matthew added with a grave expression,

“Honeybee’s sponsorship deals were terminated.”

Ah, damn. The atmosphere was getting worse. Cha Eui-jae lowered his head in resignation. Gyu-Gyu, still toying with a pair of dice, smirked.

“Lee Sa-young got dropped too, you know~ That weird public service ad sequel of his.”

“The one that was basically a psychic attack on the viewers?”

“Yup, that one.”

Cha Eui-jae immediately snapped his head up, his previous solemnity forgotten. Lee Sa-young’s public service ad got canceled? Since when was there even a sequel in production? No— more importantly.

“…That’s actually a relief.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but everyone silently agreed.