The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low Chapter 3

“Excuse me, may I use the phone for a moment?”

“Hey, go ahead and use it.”

“Thank you.”

No sooner had Wijae finished speaking than he headed for the counter inside the shop. Then he grabbed the old handset and dialed the direct line to the Director of the Awakened Management Agency—a number known only to him. His hand, pressing the digits, would not stop trembling. Yet,

—The number you have dialed is not in service. After the beep….

Just in case, he tried once more, but the result was the same. Wijae slowly set the handset back down. His heart, which had been as still as if doused with ice water, began to beat faster and faster, and before he knew it, cold sweat was trickling down his body.

Had I really been dropped into the future, eight years ahead? No, more than that… had I actually died?

But he could not be certain of anything. Perhaps the Director had simply changed the number. Wijae did not want to view the situation only in a negative light. Just as he turned to hurry out of the shop, he recalled one crucial fact.

He did not have a single penny on him. Before entering the Rift, he had packed only consumable items like potions, so this was only natural. Moreover, he had used up all the potions as well, leaving nothing behind. He was, in short, completely penniless. He did not even have money to pay for a meal….

Wijae stole a glance at the elderly woman and cautiously opened his mouth.

“Um, Grandmother.”

“Hmm.”

“I… well.”

As he rubbed his sleeve and faltered, the grandmother looked at him steadily. Then she slowly walked over to him. Her wrinkled, gnarled hand took hold of his still-unhealed hand.

“It’s all right, dear.”

“Pardon?”

“Just come back for a meal later.”

In Wijae’s hand were placed two crumpled 10,000-won bills. For a long while, Wijae could only open and close his mouth; unable to speak, he pressed his lips shut and bowed his head. The old woman opened the door beside the kitchen and went in, then soon emerged carrying an old navy-blue jacket and a black cap.

“Put these on and go.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m really fine.”

“Out in broad daylight, wandering around looking like that—you’ll get caught. Put them on.”

There was not a single thing wrong with what the grandmother said. As Wijae took off his tattered jacket, he suddenly noticed the silver watch on his left wrist. It was something he had had ever since the moment he awakened. This is it! Wijae urgently unfastened the watch and held it out to the old woman.

“Grandmother, this.”

“What is it?”

“A watch. This is all I have right now.”

“Keep it, I don’t need it.”

“No, please take it. Or let me leave it with you as collateral. I’ll come back for it later.”

Forcing the watch into the grandmother’s hand, Wijae pulled the cap down low over his eyes and bobbed his head repeatedly as he left the shop. The grandmother hurried out after him and called out, but he deliberately ignored her and ran as if fleeing.

After running for a good while, he looked up at the sky and saw that dawn was breaking. A long line stretched out at the bus stop, cars filled the roads, and people with tired faces walked along the wet sidewalks. Many people were going their own ways.

It was a peaceful scene, but to Wijae, it was merely unfamiliar. The Republic of Korea of the present—presumably eight years later—was so different from what he remembered. Wijae gazed at the tranquil moments of daily life with eyes that seemed somehow hollow.

Then it happened.

Beeep— A loud alarm began to sound all around. Everyone was pulling out their phones and checking something. Two boys in school uniforms chattered.

“Ah, crap, they say a Gate’s opening in thirty minutes.”

“Think we’ll get to see the Hunters? If a ranker shows up, let’s film it and put it on YouTube.”

“Sure. Ah, damn, if I’d known this, I’d have brought a drone.”

…A Gate is opening? Wijae looked around, bewildered. Yet even with the alert that a Gate was opening, the people seemed calm. As if Gate alerts were part of everyday life, there was not a trace of surprise. Flustered, Wijae stopped a woman passing by and spoke to her.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. Is a Gate about to open soon?”

“Huh? Yes. Didn’t you see the disaster alert that just came through?”

“Ah… yes. I left my phone behind.”

“Oh, I see. Look here….”

The woman held out her phone and showed him the message.

[Crack Management Agency]

November 14, 7:42 AM – Gate expected to appear east of Wirye-dong, Songpa-gu, Seoul. Residents are to evacuate to designated shelters. If prior evacuation is impossible, contact the Awakened Management Agency.

A Gate is, in simple terms, “a dungeon entrance that opens without warning.” While ordinary dungeons have fixed entry points, Gates appear suddenly in random locations and open an entrance, and if not suppressed quickly, they pour out monsters in droves. But they can predict the location and time of a Gate’s appearance in advance?

As Wijae stood motionless, lost in thought, the woman asked cautiously.

“Um, are you all right…?”

“Ah, yes… It’s nothing. Thank you for showing me.”

The woman gave him one worried look, checked his complexion, then nodded and walked away. After staring blankly at the backs of the passersby for a moment, Wijae too began to move.

Amid the booming exhaust notes of cars cutting through the road, auditory hallucinations he had tried to ignore swirled in his ears. The sound of bones breaking, flesh piercing, necks snapping, voices begging for their lives…. Familiar screams and noise overlay the peaceful cityscape. At that alien sensation, Wijae stopped mid-stride and stood rooted to the spot. And he thought.

Did all those sacrifices have meaning?

The world eight years later, without J, was so peaceful and so perfect. In fact, this was the very scene he had so desperately longed for.

Broken asphalt roads, buses crushed under monsters’ feet, collapsed buildings, burning and broken street trees, and people holding their breath in fear, trembling, not knowing when a monster might appear. The past is so vivid, as if it were yesterday, that he could paint it at any moment.

Wijae had sincerely wished for it. He had prayed to be granted a daily life without fear. Even if he himself were not there. But now that such moments were unfolding before his eyes, his feelings were mixed.

Even if J, who had been presumed dead for eight years, returned, what would change? The moment J announced his return, the world’s peace would shatter instead. Everyone would goggle and swarm him. They would dig mercilessly into what had happened inside the Rift, why he alone had survived, and why it had taken him eight years to come out of the Rift.

Wijae slowly wiped away his cold sweat. His stomach began to churn.

He ought to make known the deaths of his comrades who had sacrificed themselves for the world—of course, he thought so. He remembered their names and faces, naturally, and how they had died, every detail.

But….

“Wijae, remember this well.”

“The world has changed, and because you have power, everyone will try to lean on you. They’ll expect you to save everyone.”

“But Wijae, you’re still young….”

“You don’t have to save everyone.”

“It’s okay to run away.”

Suddenly, Wijae recalled the words his aunt had said to him, gripping his shoulder as if giving advice.

His aunt had been a Hunter who awakened to B-class after losing her family when Wijae was swept into a Rift; she too had lost her two sons and awakened. They were also the only two survivors in that hellish Rift. Though they were not actually aunt and nephew, the two who had survived alone leaned on each other like family. It was she who had advised him to hide his identity from J.

‘I understand now, Aunt.’

Cha Wijae rubbed his eyes for no reason.

Hunter J was already dead, and no one knew the human Cha Wijae. They wouldn’t even know such a person existed. Though eight years had passed, twenty-year-old Cha Wijae was still twenty. He could still vividly see his aunt celebrating that he had just become an adult. Yet in this world, he was twenty-eight.

People passed him by without a care. Wijae stood alone for a long time amid the crowd. Silently, alone.

And at last,

Wijae decided for the first time to run away.

∞ ∞ ∞

A few months later… back at the hangover stew restaurant.

Wijae, who had been about to do the backlogged dishes in the kitchen for a while, was forced to return to the dining area due to the endless orders and customers’ calls.

“Check, please!”

“Yes, just a moment.”

In the time he had been working at this shop, Wijae had realized one important fact. Though he had switched careers from Hunter to part-timer at a hangover stew restaurant, this was by no means a place where he could live hiding one hundred percent of his strength.

“More kimchi and cubed radish here, please!”

“Give us a little more Cheongyang pepper too!”

“Got it, please wait a moment.”

This place—the customers were far too numerous. To be precise, there were an absurd number of Hunter customers who ate fast and ate a lot. For that reason, Wijae pretended to be an ordinary person who was a little stronger and quicker than others, while using just a trickle of his abilities as an Awakened.

“Excuse me, our table is out of pepper—could we borrow some….”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

“Thank you.”

“If you’re done eating, clear the table quickly! We need to eat fast and get into the dungeon!”

“We’ll wipe the table on our way out. Can we use that cloth over there?”

“If you give me the peppers, I’ll slice them.”

“This bastard’s a B-class Hunter. His main weapon is a sword, so he’s damn good with a knife.”

In the brief moment Wijae went back into the kitchen, the customers began dividing up roles with practiced familiarity. Escaping at last from the bustling dining area, which was as crowded as a freshly opened Gate, Wijae pulled out the containers of kimchi and cubed radish from the refrigerator and finally caught his breath. With eyes that had grown hollow, Wijae moved his body mechanically.

‘I need to set up a self-service bar for kimchi and Cheongyang peppers as soon as possible.’

Grabbing bowls of rice and two bags of Cheongyang peppers, he emerged swiftly from the kitchen, thinking quickly as he scanned the Hunters with his eyes. It seemed best to leave the pepper-slicing to the B-class Hunter.

“You there, slice the Cheongyang peppers, and take the kimchi, cubed radish, and rice bowls. I’ll help with the payments.”

As soon as he gave the instructions, the Hunters fell into a coordinated labor exchange, as if tackling a dungeon raid. The B-class Hunter sliced the peppers with a dagger that appeared to be at least a C-class weapon, and the C-class Hunter used tongs to dish out the kimchi and cubed radish. Other Hunters held out their bowls and lined up in front, waiting to be served. Wijae swiped cards through the card reader, watching the warm scene.

Is this the peace I protected…?

Former Republic of Korea Hunter Rank 1, the nation’s first S-class Hunter, Hunter name J. A national hero who died eight years ago closing the West Sea Grade-1 Rift. His real name, known to no one, is Cha Wijae. He is—

“Thank you, goodbye. Welcome. How many are you?”

—currently a part-time worker at a hangover stew restaurant.