The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low

Chapter 276

Uijae jolted upright. Something damp and heavy slipped off him, but he had no time to care. He rubbed his face and blinked repeatedly, but no light appeared. Nothing but darkness.

‘My eyes…’

He touched his lips, a sinking realization dawning on him. Could this be the penalty? How long would it last? Was it temporary… or permanent? He reached around, feeling the soft, heavy fabric beneath him and the warmth of the floor—likely a blanket. As he continued groping, his hand closed around something damp and lukewarm.

‘A towel?’

He stretched the towel out. Someone must have tended to him. No wonder his forehead felt damp earlier. After wiping the back of his neck, Uijae carefully folded the towel and set it aside. At least his powers had returned despite losing his sight—he could vividly sense the movements outside the room. His fever and the crushing pain were gone, too.

“…”

He let out a quiet sigh before opening his eyes wide.

**<Tracker’s Eye!>**

In the darkness, flames flickered to life. A small flame and two large ones moved around nearby. Closer still was a flame that stood utterly still. Relief washed over him. This was enough—enough to fight if needed, or to act as though nothing was wrong.

There was no need to worry anyone unnecessarily.

‘I can’t be a burden.’

A powerless J was useless. He had already shown enough weakness. No need to reveal any more of his shortcomings. He needed to prove his worth. A voice echoed faintly in his mind.

‘Prove yourself.’

‘Do what you must.’

‘Don’t rely on anyone.’

‘After all, you’re…’

“…”

Uijae roughly rubbed his face and rummaged through his inventory, pulling out his mask. As it clicked into place, a sense of stability returned. At least now he could hide his aimless gaze behind the smooth surface. He rubbed the mask and took a deep breath.

‘Alright. That’s enough.’

The purple flame was approaching. Uijae slipped out from the blanket and opened the door. The scent of pine, the creak of wooden floorboards beneath his feet, the earthy smell of dirt, and the crackling sound of burning logs—it all painted a vivid scene. Even the sharp tang of resin from the pine trees felt real.

‘This is where Hong Yesung lives, according to Sa-young.’

This must be Hong Yesung’s retreat, the same place he visited during the Artisan’s War. Uijae tapped his bare foot against the wooden floorboards.

“Hyung?”

Sa-young’s voice came from behind. Uijae turned toward the sound. The purple flame was watching him.

“Yeah.”

“Your body? Do you still have a fever? You shouldn’t be moving so recklessly….”

A hand reached out but hesitated. Uijae sensed the hesitation in every movement. Naturally, he grasped Sa-young’s arm and gave it a light pat.

“I’m fine, that’s why I got up. See? I’m fine.”

“…”

Even without sight, Uijae could feel it. Sa-young was staring at him, likely with skepticism or perhaps even a mocking smirk. Uijae clenched his fist.

“I’m serious. I’m fine now. The fever or whatever it was is gone. If you don’t believe me, want me to prove it? Or should I punch you instead?”

“Oh, sure.”

Sa-young chuckled, the sound mingling with the muffled hiss of his gas mask. So, he was wearing it. That was confirmation. Sa-young pulled his arm back.

“You must be fine if you’re talking like that. Forgotten already how you were groaning in pain earlier?”

“You’re the one who put the towel on me?”

“Who else would do it?”

“My, my. Look at you, Sa-young, knowing how to nurse someone. All grown up now.”

“Hah.”

Sa-young scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as Uijae patted his shoulder.

“What am I, a kid to you…?”

“Sure, sure.”

Answering half-heartedly, Uijae shuffled his bare feet against the veranda. “Where’s my shoes?”

“There, on the stone by the door.”

“Oh.”

Uijae’s dumbfounded exclamation earned a click of Sa-young’s tongue.

“You’re not fine. Sit down before you trip trying to put them on.”

Fine. He’d play dumb like Hong Yesung for now. Uijae obediently perched on the veranda, listening intently to Sa-young’s movements. The rustle of fabric, the soft thud of something being set down—he must’ve bent down. Cool hands grabbed Uijae’s ankle. The feel of leather gloves was unmistakable.

The hands cautiously traced over his ankle, the protruding bone, and the top of his foot. It was a gentle, almost reverent touch. Sa-young’s voice, muffled by the gas mask, resonated softly.

“No scars here.”

“Well… I’ve never injured my feet or legs.”

“Surprising. You run around so much, I figured you’d have at least one scar.”

The hand paused momentarily, then lifted his foot slightly. Something cold and hard pressed against the top of his foot. What was it? With no sight, he could only guess.

‘Ah.’

He realized—it was the gas mask filter.

Wait. Wasn’t this kind of like a kiss? Uijae stiffened, the muscles in his foot tensing. Sa-young let out a low chuckle.

“What’s with you?”

Gritting his teeth, Uijae snapped, “Stop fooling around and hurry up. Honeybee’s probably nearby.”

“She’s busy looking for Hong Yesung.”

Right. Uijae turned his attention to the still flame nearby—the Romantic Opener, while Honeybee’s flame darted around. Kkokko’s was the small, unmoving one. But there was no sign of Hong Yesung.

“He’s really not here, huh?”

“Did you check with your skill?”

“Yeah. It’s just us and Kkokko. No sign of anyone else.”

“So he opened the space for us and then disappeared. Tch.”

Sa-young clicked his tongue as he tied the laces of Uijae’s boots. The tug of the laces tightened the fit, and Sa-young asked, “Is that comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

Uijae nodded. Sa-young, skilled as ever, moved to the other foot. This was starting to feel too indulgent, like he was being treated as a child. When was the last time someone helped him with his shoes? Probably his parents when he was little.

Looking at the flickering purple flame, Uijae wondered. He couldn’t even clearly remember his parents’ faces anymore. It had been too long. All he had was their resident ID numbers, meaningless digits.

“Do you remember what your parents were like?” he asked suddenly.

“…”

Sa-young paused before replying, “Why?”

“I can’t remember mine well. I was curious if you did.”

Sa-young answered nonchalantly, “I don’t either. It was too long ago.”

“Right…”

The memory of their first meeting was sharp in Uijae’s mind. Two bodies shielding Sa-young amid rubble, their arms protectively wrapped around him. They must’ve been his parents. Uijae murmured, “They must’ve been good people.”

“Why so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“When I first saw you… they were holding you. They’d already passed, but they were still protecting you.”

“…”

“It’s thanks to them that I was able to save you.”

Without their sacrifice, Sa-young would’ve been just another casualty. Another lost soul Uijae couldn’t save. Another failure.

“…I see.”

Uijae stared at the purple flame. Was it chance or fate that they met? He tilted his head as if to gaze at the sky—not that he could see anything.

“Anyway, that’s that.”

“Sentimental today, aren’t you?”

“Must be the fever.”

Uijae swung his foot lazily. Sa-young, still tying the other lace, muttered, “Uncomfortable? Want me to redo it?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Just?”

“It feels… embarrassing.”

“…”

He didn’t need to see Sa-young’s face to know the look he was getting. The disbelief was palpable. Sa-young gripped his ankle a little tighter.

“You know how dumb that sounds, right?”

“I mean, this feels like something you’d do for a kid. It’s embarrassing!”

“Oh? Want me to embarrass you more? Make you regret saying that?”

“Get off, idiot!”

Uijae kicked free and leapt to his feet. But Sa-young was quick, grabbing for his wrist. Uijae dodged, twisting away, only for Sa-young to lunge again. Back and forth they went, each movement faster than the last. A smile tugged at Uijae’s lips.

This was fun. Fighting by sensing movement alone wasn’t so bad. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a presence near the furnace.

It wasn’t Honeybee or Kkokko.

‘…Hong Yesung?’

As Uijae turned, a rough hand seized his collar. Damn it! He twisted to see Sa-young’s expression, but his gaze met nothing.

The sound of a gas mask’s release clicked ominously. Uijae’s instincts screamed.

“Hey, over there! Look!”

“I know.”

The gas mask hit the floor with a thunk. Sa-young wasn’t letting go, his grip

 on Uijae’s shirt unyielding. If Uijae forced his way out, his shirt would rip. Desperate, he added, “I mean it! I think Hong Yesung’s here!”

“I said I know.”

Sa-young’s steady breathing drew closer. Uijae tilted his head back as far as it would go, but it was futile.

A hand touched his mask. Damn it. Uijae clenched his eyes shut. Not that it made a difference—he couldn’t see anything anyway.

Should he kick him? No, that’d be too harsh. He couldn’t hit Sa-young, so there was only one option. With all his strength, Uijae thrust his head forward—

And slammed the back of his head into the sturdy wooden pillar of the hanok.

**CRACK!**

The pillar splintered with a deafening crack.