The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low

Chapter 154

?"J?"

Uijae answered back, his voice filled with suspicion.

“Nam Woojin, Hunter? Why are you answering the phone?”

Nam Woojin seemed just as surprised, but Uijae was the one whose mind immediately spun with countless negative possibilities. 

For Nam Woojin, a healer, to answer the phone in place of Jung Bin, it likely meant something had gone wrong. There was a strong possibility that Jung Bin was injured and unable to answer.

Injured?

‘But I spoke to him just a short while ago from Mokpo!’

Uijae clenched his teeth tightly.

?"Should I say it? ...Okay, you said I can? No? What? Fine, hold on, I’ll let you talk directly."

After a brief pause, a calm voice came through.

?"J, sorry for not answering earlier."

“Jung Bin, is everything okay?” Uijae asked immediately.

?"Oh... It’s nothing serious. Is it true that Lee Sayoung woke up? Is he alright?"

Uijae glanced down at Sayoung, still curled up in his lap. The redness around his eyes had diminished slightly, but the swelling was still evident. Uijae placed his hand over Sayoung’s eyes as he answered.

“He seems physically fine, but there’s another issue. I need to go see Hong Yeseong.”

?"An issue? What do you mean?"

Uijae tried to gather his thoughts, but after days of sleepless nights and overworking his brain, all he could muster was, ‘Lee Sayoung is two people.’ His exhaustion was evident. He hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been until the moment he saw Sayoung, when all that tension finally melted away.

He exhaled slowly and, running a hand down his face, replied.

“…It’s a long story. Too much to explain over the phone.”

Absentmindedly, he tugged gently at Sayoung’s cheek, earning a slight frown in response.

?"I’m tied up at the moment as well... Hmm..."

Jung Bin seemed to be pondering the situation before he finally responded.

?"I suppose I’ll have to hear the full story later. Would it be alright if I handed the travel pass to Minggijeok?"

“Is that okay?”

Jung Bin’s voice was calm and reassuring.

?"It’s fine. Since you’re J, I trust it’ll be okay. I’m currently handling matters with the Seowon Guild. Minggijeok should already have the coordinates for the Artisan Village. Do you remember the location?"

“Yes, I remember.”

?"Then I’ll be expecting you."

The call ended. Uijae glanced toward the driver’s seat. Minggijeok, who had been on the phone with someone else, likely Baewonwoo, judging by the booming voice that could be heard through his earpiece, turned to Uijae through the rearview mirror, blinking behind his sunglasses.

Uijae waved his phone.

“They said you should go pick up the pass at the Seowon Guild.”

“Vice-Guild Leader, give me a moment…”

Minggijeok pulled out one earbud and looked confused.

“Wait, all of a sudden?”

“They said you should already have the coordinates for Seowon Guild. Isn’t that right?”

“Did that bureaucrat really say that?”

“Yes.”

Minggijeok slammed his hands on the steering wheel in frustration.

“Damn it! They know me too well!”

‘Is it really that big of a deal?’ Uijae wondered. 

The master of stealth and infiltration, Minggijeok, was still seething with frustration, but he managed to park the van smoothly in front of the school’s fence where Gaeul had jumped earlier. As Gaeul got out, she suddenly handed something to Uijae—a small yellow Post-it with her phone number written on it.

Gaeul smiled sheepishly.

“If you ever need to contact me, just send me a text on that number.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Hehe… See you next time!”

Gaeul waved as she scrambled up the fence like a squirrel and disappeared over the top, heading back to school. Uijae fiddled with the Post-it, then glanced up at the click of a seatbelt being unfastened. Minggijeok, now parked in a quiet lot, wore an exasperated expression as he unbuckled himself.

“I’ll go get the pass. In the meantime, could you talk to Baewonwoo? He’s probably going crazy with curiosity since I cut the report short.”

Uijae, obediently searching for Baewonwoo’s number, asked,

“You can’t talk to him yourself?”

“Do I have time for that?” Minggijeok grumbled as he started to slip into the shadows. He poked his head out one last time to complain.

“You might not know this, but among Hunters, that bureaucrat is notorious for being the most nagging one of all.”

---

Jung Bin set his phone down, rubbing his itchy ear. He was dressed in a light blue surgical gown and white gloves, the standard attire for surgery.

“Now then…”

The smell of disinfectant mixed with the acrid scent of burning filled the air. Jung Bin adjusted his mask as he looked down at the figure on the operating table—Matthew, who was bound in black chains and connected to countless machines. The rhythmic beeping of the machines was the only sound in the otherwise silent operating room.

Next to him on a small cot lay a small, charred body, its shape so burnt and distorted it was barely recognizable. Yet, its bright green, bead-like eyes remained intact, glinting faintly in the dim light. Jung Bin approached the cot and stared into the green eyes.

“…It’s thanks to this one that we’re still alive. Didn’t you say the Puppeteer gave it to you as a gift?”

Nam Woojin, checking the machine readouts, nodded slowly.

“That’s right.”

“Do you think it can be repaired?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to contact them.”

When Matthew had suddenly gone berserk, it was the marionette that had shielded Jung Bin from the onslaught of flames and thorns. After blocking the attack, it had collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“…”

Jung Bin covered the marionette’s face with a white cloth before approaching the operating table.

Nam Woojin was in the middle of drawing blood from Matthew’s arm. The syringe filled with dark red blood.

Matthew had tried to say something when it happened, but then his consciousness slipped away, and his body began to mutate. Even though he was restrained by the black chains and couldn’t use his powers, he had still managed to summon flames and thorns.

‘Could it be because of the drugs?’

It was as if… this drug broke the system's very laws. Jung Bin swallowed hard.

“…Do you think it’s a curse or a restriction?”

“We’ll find out soon. But if we don’t want to see him lose it again, we’ll have to detoxify him. Since my assistant’s like this now, I’ll need the bureaucrat’s help.”

Nam Woojin picked up a scalpel, which began to glow faintly with white light. His voice was cold as he muttered,

“There better be something worth this sacrifice.”

With that, the scalpel sank into the flesh.

---

“Kkokko! Bring me some rice punch!”

“Kko-ok.”

“Oh, and I made some scorched rice earlier. I’ll bring that too! Wait right there!”

As the chicken raised one wing, nodding its head, it disappeared through the door. Hong Yeseong, following suit like his tail was on fire, dashed out as well. A thin plume of smoke rose from the cauldron in the yard. This was the Artisan Village at Inwang Mountain, where Hong Yeseong resided.

By the time Minggijeok returned with the pass, he looked completely drained, as if his very soul had been wrung out. With dark circles hanging under his eyes, he declared that he would be staying at the base of the mountain. So, Uijae climbed the mountain alone, with Sayoung cradled in his arms.

A mild breeze rustled Uijae’s hair. He glanced around. The quiet thatch-roofed house built just for Hong Yeseong felt as if it were cut off from the rest of the world. But the silence wasn’t unsettling, perhaps because there was the occasional sound of something crashing and breaking in the distance.

“…”

Uijae adjusted his position and glanced at Sayoung, who lay stretched out on the bedding in the main room. After Minggijeok left to fetch the pass, Uijae had called Baewonwoo to update him on Sayoung’s condition.

But Baewonwoo had said something unexpected.

‘Didn’t he snap at you? Get mad… or punch you?’

‘…Punch me?’

Sayoung had been irritated, but he hadn’t thrown any punches. Uijae looked down at the peacefully sleeping Sayoung and waited for Baewonwoo to continue.

‘Well, here’s the thing… when Sayoung loses control over his own body, he tends to get pretty anxious and upset. Even his personality can get... yeah. When we rescued him, his psychological evaluation showed signs of that.’

‘…’

‘What was it called again? Trauma? PTSD?’

‘Trauma?’

‘Yeah, that’s it. The guild master thinks it’s possible that being restrained and experimented on left him with trauma. When it gets really bad, he can… ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to say too much.’

Images of a boy, unable to move a single finger under his own will, tied up and surrounded by machines

, flashed through Uijae’s mind.

Sayoung had been especially sensitive when bound by those black chains at the Artisan Exhibition. And then, there was the way he had snapped about not being able to control his own tears.

Maybe everything—the way he had clung to Uijae, the way he had asked Uijae to call his name—had been Sayoung’s way of trying to regain some sense of control.

Through Uijae.

Uijae raised his hand as if to touch his lips, then stopped, remembering he was still wearing his mask. It was a strange feeling.

No, it was more than that…

“…”

Was it… satisfaction?

The sudden realization hit him. Was he satisfied knowing that he was the one Sayoung relied on?

As the thought crossed his mind, Uijae slammed his head into the table. Thankfully, it was one of Hong Yeseong’s handcrafted tables and didn’t break. From afar, a shout echoed.

“What was that? Did something explode? Don’t go breaking my house!”

Uijae, still face-down against the table, responded in a dry, distorted voice.

“Nothing important.”

“Huh? Alright then.”

With his face still pressed into the table, Uijae sighed deeply.

“Ah….”

His ears, exposed through his faded gray hair, were glowing bright red.

“…I’m hopeless.”