The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low Chapter 5

Black hair and a white scarf. A mask so unique that it was impossible not to recognize it.

‘Isn’t this a violation of portrait rights?’

Anyone could see that this was a character drawn after Hunter J—Cha Wijae himself. Should this be called a violation of portrait rights, or a violation of mask copyright? Aren’t they using it too freely just because I’m supposedly dead now?

In fact, J appeared not only in this book. Whether everyone thought it was fine to use J since he was dead, or whether J was simply convenient to insert when explaining the era after the Day of the Rift, J was the next most frequently appearing figure in all sorts of media after Jeongbin.

When he appeared on broadcasts and such, he had not thought much of it, but seeing it printed like this felt oddly unsettling. Maybe he should have set up a foundation with the royalties from his S-class awakening as a commemorative gesture. Feeling troubled, Wijae clicked his tongue and gestured toward the checkout counter for Haeun.

“That will be 30,000 won.”

‘The price of two bowls of hangover stew.’

Calmly taking out cash from his wallet and paying, Wijae held the book in one hand and took Haeun’s hand with the other as they left the bookstore.

After the Day of the Rift, prices had skyrocketed through the roof. The hangover stew sold at the grandmother’s long-established shop had been 7,000 won before, but due to rising ingredient costs, the price had gone up to 15,000 won—and even that was very cheap compared to nearby prices. Was that why Hunters came flocking here?… Those moneyed bastards.

“Uncle.”

“Hm?”

At the sudden call of his name, Wijae’s thoughts stopped. Haeun pointed at his other hand with her finger.

“I’ll hold the book.”

A single book was not too heavy for a child to carry, so he obediently held it out. Haeun let go of her uncle’s hand and cradled the book in both arms, hugging it preciously. She seemed excited to have bought something she had wanted.

“Where are we going now?”

“Where would we go? Uncle is taking you home and then going back to the shop to prepare for the evening service.”

“Hmph. No fun.”

Wijae answered without a moment’s hesitation, and Haeun pouted her lips. She seemed to want to go to the shop together, but Wijae shrugged as if it could not be helped.

“I have a lot to prepare for the evening, so not today. I’ll buy you ice cream—go home and eat it with Grandmother.”

“…Okay.”

He patted her round head as she reluctantly nodded, and they walked side by side. For all his gruffness, Wijae found Haeun, walking closely pressed against him, unbearably endearing, so he placed his hand on her small shoulder.

∞ ∞ ∞

Cha Wijae—no longer Hunter J, but a part-timer at a hangover stew restaurant—had to cook bowls of hangover stew for Hunters again today. The daily routine of the hangover stew restaurant was as follows:

At 6 AM, the shop opened. Then, Hunters who had been drinking through the fifth round of after-parties all night would come for the sixth round at the hangover stew restaurant, or Hunters who had been worn down and softened by night shifts would cling to the door like barnacles and rush in to grab seats. Most of the customers at this hour were, quite literally, zombies. Even the orders went like,

“Ughhh.”

“Yes. Two hangover stews.”

It would go something like that…. Wijae even thought he might need to make zombie simultaneous interpretation his third profession.

After the zombies crawled out wobblingly, somewhat more normal customers would start coming. Most were people stopping by for breakfast before work—they carried their own fatigue plastered all over them, but they were still more civilized.

Then came lunchtime, from 11:30 to 2:00. This was the time when the shop had the highest table turnover. The customers coming at this hour were, nine times out of ten, Hunters, so they would surge in like a flood and recede like the tide.

Sometimes during this time, an emergency call would come in, and Hunters would leap up mid-meal and dash out breathlessly. Whenever that happened, the surrounding Hunters would all gaze at their retreating backs with the same wistful sympathy. That pitiful Hunter, forced to leave behind his rabbit-like hangover stew—it could be his own fate tomorrow….

After the storm of lunchtime passed, Wijae would precisely hang a sign on the door saying “Preparation Time.” Dealing with Hunters’ hearty appetites made a break period essential. During this time, he would go pick up Haeun from school, finish the backlog of dishes, prep ingredients, and get ready for the evening service.

Lastly came the evening shift, from 5 to 10 PM. Lunchtime was chaotic, but in fact, the hangover stew restaurant was much busier in the evening. There was not much difference from the earlier shifts, except that dealing with Hunters who threw tantrums demanding just one more bottle of soju was a royal pain.

Watching them hide empty bottles just to drink one more made him sigh involuntarily. Their repertoire was all the same too—the only trick they had was stuffing bottles into their inventories. Since they would not even feel tipsy unless it was alcohol made specifically for Awakened, what was the psychology behind ordering soju in the first place? Wijae truly could not understand.

“Hoo….”

And now, 10:20 PM. After chasing out the last lingering customers by brandishing a stainless steel ladle, the shop returned to its quiet, old-establishment state as if it had never been crowded. Wijae, who had been tidying the tables, straightened his back and let out a long sigh. Another hard day’s work done….

After wiping tables, sweeping the floor, and doing the dishes, he picked up a basket of whole garlic from a corner of the kitchen and sat down at the table right next to the counter. Since he mostly lived in the storage room-slash-single room attached to the restaurant, closing up and preparing for opening naturally fell to him.

Rustle, rustle. As he peeled garlic with practiced skill, Wijae suddenly thought.

‘Living like this isn’t so bad.’

No need to be summoned here and there by the Agency, no wrestling with monsters, just sitting still and peeling garlic—what a life. There was no greater comfort. Perhaps this was the life I had hoped for….

Thus, while living a relatively peaceful daily life, Wijae’s recent worry was the grandmother’s leg health. Over the past month, her mobility had noticeably declined, so these days Wijae was handling most of the shop work himself. She really should go to the hospital and get checked—but what if she needed surgery?

Wijae let out a soft sigh. The restaurant was so busy that taking even a single day off was no easy matter, and raising money for surgery was an even bigger problem. J had lived comfortably without money worries, but Cha Wijae was not J.

Frowning, he peeled garlic skins and fell deep in thought.

‘If it really comes to that, I can sneak into a dungeon… sell a few things.’

Most dungeon byproducts fetched decent prices, so it might help cover the surgery costs. Just as Wijae was mulling over which dungeon to tackle and how, the phone on the counter rang—at this hour, no less. Wijae slipped the receiver to his ear and kept peeling garlic.

“Yes, this is the hangover stew restaurant.”

Occasionally, he got calls asking whether they delivered, so he planned to answer as usual—business hours were over and they did not deliver—and hang up. But the unexpected voice that followed made his fingers pause.

—Would that be nice, Wijae….

“Grandmother?”

It was the grandmother. The slight tremor at the end of her voice suggested something was wrong. Wijae held his breath and waited for her next words. After a moment, the grandmother’s voice came through the receiver.

—Haeun has disappeared.

“Pardon? Haeun is gone?”

Wijae was flustered and quickly adjusted his grip on the receiver. The grandmother, apparently struggling to calm down, continued urgently.

—Haeun is nowhere to be seen, Wijae. I don’t know when she slipped out without me noticing. The world is so dangerous these days, and she went out alone, oh dear….

Wijae glanced at the clock. 10:20 PM. Far too late for an elementary school child to be wandering around alone. Unpleasant thoughts also sprang into his mind, but he forced them away.

“I’ll contact the police first. And I’ll go out to look for her too, so please rest for now. It’ll be nothing serious.”

Wijae set down the knife and garlic, then spoke in a deliberately bright tone. The grandmother asked worriedly.

—Oh my, dear… Are you really all right?

“I told you, it’s fine. Don’t worry too much.”

—Be careful. Haeun probably couldn’t have gone too far, right? Wijae, don’t stay out too late yourself, come back quickly, you hear? Understood?

“Yes. I’ll call you in a bit.”

After hanging up, the image of Haeun beaming with joy over her new book came to mind. As he prepared to go out, Wijae’s expression was hardened, quite unlike his voice from moments ago. His reassurance that nothing would happen was also meant to calm himself.

Putting on a mask, Wijae strode to the door and stepped outside. Then he locked it and hung up the red “Closed” sign. The night air was quite chilly.