The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low

Chapter 298

For a brief moment, Uijae had come to appreciate the one functional aspect of the Memorial Dungeon. But that thought didn’t last long.

Ham Seok-jeong took the laptop Jeong Bin had compiled notes on and skimmed through the data. Tapping her fingers against the chair’s armrest, she mused,

"From the looks of it, the method of apocalypse in that world and this one seems eerily similar. The whitening phenomenon there is nearly identical to the mutations and the erosion phenomenon we’re seeing in our own Eroded Dungeons. But what bothers me is that our world hasn’t had a Monster Wave. Could the sequence have changed?"

"It’s a possibility we can’t rule out," Jeong Bin replied.

"Pull up data on locations showing early signs of a Wave. Cross-reference with past occurrences as well."

"Understood."

The two continued their discussion with grave expressions.

But their voices were drowned out by another—the voice of Hong Yesung, immortalized within the black-and-white film of his workshop.

—

"I told you, didn’t I? We’re erasing the old world and creating a new one. But since this damn clockwork system is flawed, the previous world didn’t completely disappear this time. That’s why the destroyed world keeps interfering with the current one."

"Haven’t you ever found it strange? The West Sea Rift kept expanding, swallowing Hunters without end—until you entered. After that, did any more Hunters go inside? No. You were the last one."

"That ruined world finally found its first axis. But the price the current axis paid wasn’t enough. So it’s searching for someone else to pay the rest."

—

Uijae’s entire body shuddered as if struck by lightning.

The unending horde of monsters. The ceaseless battles, no matter how many he cut down. The endless waves—

No way.

What if those monsters had been the ones meant to spill into this world via the Monster Wave?

Then it would make sense why the mutation had begun skipping steps, why the usual sequence had been broken. It would also explain Hong Yesung’s words.

Cha Uijae had unknowingly paid the missing price at the West Sea Rift.

By slaughtering every last surviving human and monster from that world.

He wasn’t sure whether to call that fortunate or absolutely catastrophic.

Anxiously, Uijae rubbed his hands together before hesitantly raising one.

"...Uh, excuse me."

"Yes?"

"You have something to say?"

"Uh… I think you can rule out the Monster Wave as a concern."

"...Why?"

"Do you know something?"

All eyes turned toward him.

He hated this kind of attention. Even more so when it meant he’d saved the world without even knowing it. Uijae grimaced before mumbling,

"...I think I already took care of it."

"……."

"……."

"……."

A heavy silence filled the room.

Thud, clatter…

Gyu-gyu, who had been idly tossing a die into the air, let it slip from his fingers. It rolled away, forgotten.

Then, the sharp crack of applause shattered the quiet.

Clap, clap, clap—clap, clap, clap—clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!

A perfectly timed 3-3-7 rhythm.

Gyu-gyu beamed.

"The almighty J-nim can even save the world in his sleep! Absolutely incredible!"

Uijae had always been faster with his actions than his words.

So naturally—

THWACK—!!

"J-NIM!!"

"Why’d you hit me?! I meant it!"

"Shut up!"

Uijae’s flying kick reached Gyu-gyu before his words did.

Crash!

The couch overturned, the table flipped, and the tea in the cups was sent soaring through the air.

In the middle of the chaos, Ham Seok-jeong calmly took a sip of her coffee before calling out to Jeong Bin.

"Team Leader Jeong."

"Violence is never the answer! We should settle disputes through discussion— Yes, Director?"

"Put the repair bill under J’s name."

"...Understood."

***

The commotion finally died down after Jeong Bin and Matthew physically separated Gyugyu and Uijae. Even as she was being dragged away by the two, Gyugyu continued clapping energetically.

In the wrecked director’s office, only Uijae and Ham Seok-jeong remained. Ham Seok-jeong was still sitting with her usual elegance, sipping coffee. Uijae, glancing at her reaction, quietly began putting the overturned furniture back in place. He then sat on the couch where he had originally been, but as soon as he did, one side of it sank—one of its legs must have broken.

Ham Seok-jeong smirked.

“So, feeling a bit relieved now?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. Any injuries?”

“None.”

“Even the ones from the rift?”

“Yes.”

“How’s your mental state?”

“I’m fine.”

“That means you’re not.”

“I’m fine.”

“You think I can’t tell just because you’re wearing a mask? I can hear your heartbeat, and it’s irregular. A young man like you wouldn’t have arrhythmia, would you?”

This is why high-ranked Hunters were such a hassle. There was nothing he could properly hide from them. Uijae pressed down firmly on his chest. Ham Seok-jeong turned her gaze back to her laptop.

“Stop by the Administration’s medical team before you go. They’ll prescribe you a stabilizer for Awakeners. The doctor’s too busy to see you himself.”

“Because of the vaccine development?”

“Yeah. Apparently, thanks to some notebook, the development speed has increased significantly.”

Notebook. Uijae’s eyes widened. He had given an empty notebook to Nam Woo-jin inside the Memorial Dungeon. If that notebook and the one here were connected… Cold sweat formed on his palms.

Ham Seok-jeong, without lifting her eyes from her laptop, smirked slightly.

“Looks like you have a guess.”

“……”

“That’s a good thing. You should move while you’re still young and healthy.”

“…Yes.”

“Get going. If you say I sent you, no matter how busy he is, he’ll at least show his face. And don’t run into Gyugyu again and start another fight.”

Uijae nodded and stood up. Just as he grabbed the doorknob, a casual voice called out to him from behind.

“Come to think of it….”

“Yes?”

“Was she alive there? Hye-gyeong?”

Uijae tightened his grip on the doorknob.

“…No.”

“I see.”

A short, breathy chuckle escaped. Her voice, as if she had never expected otherwise, remained indifferent.

“So memories are useless after all.”

“……”

“I’m joking.”

Uijae ran his fingers over the cold metal of the doorknob and muttered.

“You and my aunt… died stopping the monster wave. Together.”

“I see.”

Ham Seok-jeong let out a short, scoffing laugh.

“The version of me over there was better than I am now.”

“…Director.”

“That was a joke too.”

“I know it’s not.”

“If you know, just pretend you don’t. Don’t go making an old woman feel awkward.”

Uijae turned his head. Ham Seok-jeong was staring somewhere into empty space. Her vacant eyes reflected a long stretch of time and waiting. Then, in a hushed voice, she murmured.

“Sometimes I wonder… If I hadn’t thought about the country, if I hadn’t thought about anything but myself, if I had acted on my own selfishness and kept her by my side… what would have happened?”

“……”

She let out a trembling chuckle.

“Haha… It’s a great way to pass the time. Though, at this point, it’s a completely useless thought.”

The trembling in her shoulders stopped. On her face, the weight of endless time and regret had settled. Strangely, for the first time, Uijae felt like he could completely understand her heart.

Ham Seok-jeong muttered.

“Kid.”

“Yes, Director.”

“Don’t be like me.”

“……”

“Don’t give up on anything.”

“……”

“Don’t throw away your life, don’t abandon what you want to do. Live with greed. Don’t regret.”

Her empty eyes finally turned to Uijae, locking onto him. Then, she smiled.

“Someone like you… deserves to be a little greedy, don’t you think?”

***

Seowon Guild.

Contrary to what Ham Seok-jeong had said, even though Uijae had claimed she sent him, Nam Woo-jin didn’t so much as show the tip of his hair. Supposedly, he was too busy to even eat or sleep. Instead, Uijae was simply led to the doctor’s lab.

The young assistant who escorted him gave a small bow.

“If you wait, he’ll come eventually.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. If you’re tired, you can sleep on the cot over there.”

In other words, he was supposed to wait indefinitely. Well, at least the doctor’s lab was a good place to kill time. The room was packed with papers, books, monitors, and various drugs. Uijae wandered around the lab, looking through the scattered items. Before long, his eyes landed on an old notebook resting reverently on a desk.

A grin spread across his face.

‘You left something this valuable just lying around?’

Jackpot. This meant he didn’t even need to see Nam Woo-jin. He could just check the notebook and leave.

Uijae opened it to the first page. The originally unreadable, magically distorted text had been overwritten in clear Hangul.

[…J gave me this notebook. He called it a gift even though he just picked it up off the floor. That guy never fails to be ridiculous.]

[Still, since I’ve received it, I might as well record something.]

[It’ll help, somehow.]

‘This must be right after I gave it to him.’

Uijae flipped the page.

[Too many patients. Not enough hospital rooms. Need to open the underground level.]

[Extracting blood from mackerel to create a new treatment.]

[Formula…]

From there, it was filled with jumbled letters and numbers, completely indecipherable. Without hesitation, Uijae flipped past them. Honestly, Nam Woo-jin had terrible handwriting. Maybe it was because he was a doctor, or maybe he just didn’t care about writing neatly, but deciphering each letter required immense concentration.

‘Well, he probably has no trouble reading it himself.’

Reading this notebook wasn’t just reading—it was decoding. Uijae continued skimming through each page. Soon, he reached something chilling.

[J is dead.]

[We decided not to hold a funeral. If people knew about his death, they would despair.]

[Lee Sa-young is in charge of his remains. Gave him a preservation stone.]

Beyond this point was the future Uijae didn’t know. He turned the page. Among the indecipherable formulas, there was a set of shaky, desperate notes.

[The new treatment is ineffective.]

[Lack of manpower.]

[J’s absence is too large.]

[Whitening is accelerating.]

[More Awakeners are getting injured.]

[Need to rethink the vaccine.]

This was the last page. There were no further entries in Nam Woo-jin’s handwriting.

‘So no one else has died yet.’

That was good, at least… but—

‘There’s no real useful information.’

Clicking his tongue, Uijae casually flipped through the remaining pages. Then—

“…Huh?”

He found something.

At the very bottom of the last page, a different handwriting had been added.

[You said you gave me this notebook.]

[So…]

[Are you watching?]

Unlike Nam Woo-jin’s hurried scribbles, this handwriting was neat and precise.