There’s something Kim Daram once said during a meal to us single Hunters—me included.

“Why do I like my husband?”

Kim Daram didn’t have to think long.

“Because. He always lets me win.”

It was a quick conclusion, not quite fitting for someone whose thought process isn’t exactly known for its speed.

Especially since it was a pretty difficult question.

It was a short exchange, but I thought a lot was packed into that one line.

If the essence of marriage—or a similar form of cohabitation—is “maintenance,” then Kim Daram had a rough sense of what gets consumed in exchange for that maintenance.

But a relationship that’s maintained through one-sided sacrifice or concession doesn’t really exist.

In that sense, Kim Daram’s marriage is healthy.

“But it’s not like he just lets me win all the time. Sometimes he’s stubborn. Especially when it’s something that directly involves him—he digs in his heels like a bull. Yeah. That’s what I like.”

When she said that, I could read a genuine sense of happiness on her face.

Back then, she still gave off a total ‘young lady’ vibe. Now? Now she’s just a mom who’s clearly been through some shit, plugging her nose and inspecting every nook and cranny with a look of displeasure.

“Not bad.”

That was Kim Daram’s verdict after looking around the bunker.

“Yeah. Not bad. Not bad at all, really?”

It sounded like she was grumbling, but coming from her, that’s probably the highest form of praise I’m going to get.

“We’ll take this room.”

Without even a hint of hesitation, she claims the royal suite.

In the past, I would’ve just laughed it off with a “sure, sure,” but not anymore.

“That one’s mine.”

Truthfully, I’d been considering another room, but I wasn’t about to just sit back and let her do whatever she wanted.

Kim Daram might have the instincts of a beast, but she knows how to show gratitude, more or less.

Though she gave me a slightly annoyed look, she ended up choosing another room.

After that brief mental tug-of-war, exhaustion hit me all at once.

To be honest, I just feel like it was a waste.

Even if things turned out okay, something just feels off.

That’s how it is now.

I spent way too many resources just to rescue Kim Daram.

“...”

Was it worth it?

While I was deep in thought, Kim Daram suddenly asked,

“Weren’t you coming back from the Rift? What happened?”

“Mm. Let’s talk about that later. Any word from the others?”

“Woo Min-hee?”

Let’s ignore the obvious passive-aggressive jab in her voice.

She’s gotten better, but for Kim Daram, Woo Min-hee has always been the ultimate rival—even though Woo Min-hee never gave a damn.

“Yeah, her. And Cheon Young-jae too.”

She sighed lightly.

“No idea. We barely managed to extract one person—me—so I have no clue what happened to anyone else.”

Then, furrowing her brows like she remembered something, she looked at me.

“Min-hee’s probably somewhere else.”

That’s not a lie.

It was just a feeling I had.

“I heard she got on a plane before things went south.”

“A plane? Out of nowhere?”

“No clue. Maybe to Jeju or something.”

“Jeju, huh.”

“She acts all down-to-earth, like she doesn’t care about anything—but you know she’s built different from us, right? I don’t know. Maybe she got info through another channel and got out early.”

“What about Young-jae? Heard anything?”

“Young-jae-ssi?”

Kim Daram frowned slightly.

“Eh... I wasn’t that close to him. But he knows Heo-saem, so maybe they’re together?”

She’s probably talking about Heo Jong-chul.

“Where’s Heo Jong-chul now?”

Kim Daram looked completely clueless, but her husband answered instead.

“He’s still at the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

“Yeah.”

Her husband gave a dry laugh, tinged with self-deprecation.

“...He’s the famous doctor, after all. Unlike me.”

There’s always been some subtle tension between the two.

Even back then, Daram’s husband always seemed to be lagging behind, and now, months later, it looks like Heo Jong-chul has completely overtaken him.

Either way, Daram’s husband unexpectedly turned out to be the keyman.

He knew Heo Jong-chul’s personal identification number.

“Well, whoever’s running that hospital, I’m sure they’re treating him well. He might even still have a radio.”

I tried contacting Heo Jong-chul using his personal ID.

Personal ID: NTL_HSPT_003

Beeep—

The line connected.

“Madam—no, Councilwoman?”

It was Heo Jong-chul’s voice.

But the title wasn’t directed at me—it was meant for Kim Daram.

“It’s me. Me.”

Her husband spoke instead.

No need for me to pop in out of nowhere saying long time no see. Better to let someone familiar explain the situation—it goes smoother that way.

“Oh! Sunbae!”

Heo Jong-chul’s joy was clear.

Daram’s husband glanced at me before speaking again into the radio.

“Hey, is there someone named Cheon Young-jae with you?”

“Young-jae? Ah, yeah, he’s here.”

Daram, who had been listening with arms crossed, nodded and gave me a smug look, half-lidding her eyes.

Looks like she’s feeling proud of herself.

It’s nice to hear Young-jae is safe, but the whole vibe is kind of irritating.

Some people risk ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) their lives and burn through supplies to help, while others just press a button on a radio and walk away with a win. Doesn’t exactly feel like a fair trade.

“But... how’d you know?”

Heo Jong-chul asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Can you just put him on?”

Heo Jong-chul passed the radio to Young-jae.

We switched speakers at the same time.

“Young-jae.”

I called his name.

Just for a second, my throat tightened.

“I thought you were dead. Glad to hear your voice again. Sunbae.”

Unfortunately, Young-jae’s voice was more cynical than anything else.

Sounds like a lot happened while I was in the Rift.

No need to go over it all right now—he seems to feel the same.

Any misunderstandings can be sorted out later.

“For starters, the situation’s not great.”

Currently, Cheon Young-jae is at a newly set-up clinic on the outskirts of Seoul.

The fact that such a clinic can even operate tells you that it’s under the control of a military-backed group.

“There’s this guy named Im Ju-hun. He’s the successor to Jang Hyun-ho—he used to have a lot of pull in Incheon.”

I’ve heard Jang Hyun-ho’s name before.

Like Kim Daram, he was a civilian council member and a strong leader of a major shelter group.

If someone like Young-jae’s relying on them, they must be powerful.

All the strong factions are gathering around New Seoul now.

That’s because if you can absorb the supplies, industrial base, and infrastructure in New Seoul, you become the strongest player on the board.

But wearing the crown is never easy.

Same goes for Seoul.

Everyone’s eyeing it, but right now, it’s occupied by a mysterious group.

“No one knows who they are. Rumor is, they’re a coalition of private soldiers that Hong Jeong-ho wiped out back in Jeju—but that’s not confirmed. What is clear is that they’re no joke. Gear, numbers, even reports of Awakened among them. Might be Joun Si-hoon’s hidden mercs.”

This mystery group shoots anyone who approaches, so not just individuals—even factions—don’t dare get close.

And in the process, the group Young-jae was with took major losses.

They tried to force their way into New Seoul and got hit hard—lost a bunch of fighters and equipment, even got shelled.

When word got out that they were weakened, other factions that had been allies—or at least indifferent—started circling like vultures.

During all this, their leader’s daughter was seriously injured.

“...It’s a time attack now. We don’t know when or where the next attack’ll come. Probably won’t survive the next one. Jong-chul’s being stubborn, but we need to leave fast.”

“Can’t you come alone? I’ll send you the address.”

“No. I need to bring Jong-chul with me this time.”

“You’re bringing Heo Jong-chul?”

“I owe him.”

Young-jae let out a heavy sigh.

“If he hadn’t covered for me, I’d already be dead.”

“Then bring him.”

It wasn’t in the original plan to add one more person, but the situation doesn’t seem worse because of it.

Young-jae’s skill is already proven, and Heo Jong-chul—despite the ‘famous doctor’ image—is also trained for combat.

He won’t drag us down in a fight or mission.

But then something unexpected happened.

“Ah, well... it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“You heard how Im Ju-hun’s daughter got hurt, right? He’s forcing Jong-chul to operate on her. Came into the hospital with a gun himself and told him to reattach her finger or else.”

Kim Daram muttered from the side,

“Can’t he just slap it on and leave?”

If it were your kid?

I hate this kind of rhetoric. She’s my junior, but damn, every time she talks like that, I lose affection for her.

Apparently, Young-jae heard that.

“There’s that option, sure...”

Well, desperate people have looser moral boundaries. Let’s just accept that.

“But Jong-chul’s being stubborn over it.”

“Stubborn?”

“He insists on fixing the girl properly before leaving.”

I looked at the Daram couple.

This wasn’t my call to make.

It was something especially her husband had to handle.

He picked up the radio again.

“Jong-chul. It’s me.”

The speaker on the other end changed again.

“Sunbae! Where are you right now?”

“Near Goyang?”

“Can you come here? It’s urgent.”

“What? Do you know what time it is?”

“There’s a patient who needs your help.”

At those words, Kim Daram’s husband’s face hardened.

I’ve kept referring to him as Kim Daram’s husband, but his name is Kwon Gi-ryong.

Sometimes, being someone’s something is easier than using their name.

That’s the case for him.

If I’m not personally tied to someone, it’s easier to relate to them as someone connected to someone I know.

Anyway, Heo Jong-chul kept pleading.

“I need your help, sunbae. I can’t do this.”

Kwon Gi-ryong looked at me briefly.

He covered the radio mic with his hand and said,

“You ever hear that onions in plastic bottles grow faster when you praise them?”

I nodded.

He gave a wry smile and muttered,

“He’s like that. Everyone keeps calling him a famous doctor, and now he’s starting to believe it. I mean, he is good...”

Sounds about right.

The Heo Jong-chul I knew was a typical pessimist. A misanthrope.

He almost got himself killed because of it once.

I’d heard that he was doing well at the hospital after putting his skills to good use, and now apparently that’s turned into this new version of him.

Kim Daram suddenly chimed in.

“Teacher Heo... his ears looked soft, like reeds. I still don’t get how he got into school and graduated.”

The radio continued to spit out frantic words.

“Sunbae. It’s urgent. I need you here.”

Kim Daram gave me a look of understanding.

I nodded to let her know she could continue the call.

Kwon Gi-ryong sighed and spoke into the radio.

“What kind of patient is it?”

Heo Jong-chul answered.

“Severed finger.”

The moment he heard “finger,” Kwon Gi-ryong’s face twitched for the first time.

“She’s just a kid.”

“How long’s it been?”

“Over two hours. But we kept it in a box.”

“...It’ll take me forever just to get there, and there’s no guarantee I even make it in one piece. And hey, you’re good at this, right? You’ve got clairvoyance or whatever—can’t you do something?”

“That won’t work. I can’t even begin.”

“You can’t even try...?”

“Didn’t you used to be a hand surgery specialist, sunbae? I heard you once reattached five fingers at once and made them functional again.”

For the second time, Kwon Gi-ryong pressed his lips shut.

“....”

Heo Jong-chul kept going.

“I just can’t. The more time I spend here, the more I realize—I can’t do it just by seeing. Every time I put someone in a body bag, I feel how lacking my knowledge and experience are.”

Kwon Gi-ryong’s expression shifted into something complex.

He glanced at me awkwardly and muttered,

“What’s with this guy? He used to rag on me all the time for being second-rate...”

That’s probably not it.

Heo Jong-chul’s not exactly the kind of guy who gossips about people. He’s more of the brooding, internally-spiraling type.

Gossip is a trait you only find in proactive people like Kim Daram.

I told him,

“That’s not it.”

There was a strange glint in Kwon Gi-ryong’s eyes.

“He’s a weird guy, yeah. But he knows how to acknowledge others.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have graduated from our school.”

I looked at Kim Daram.

She thought for a moment and nodded.

Exactly.

Our school may be known for producing elite combatants, but being a Hunter means learning how to operate as a single, intricate unit of four or more fighters.

Acknowledging and respecting others is the first requirement for becoming such an organism.

A school that lacks even basic empathy wouldn’t let someone graduate.

Not even someone from the twilight generation.

My mentor Jang Ki-young was a phenomenal teacher, at least in that regard.

With that conviction in my chest, I said to Kwon Gi-ryong,

“Shall we go?”

Didn’t really need to ask.

One look at his face said it all.

The face of someone who desperately wants to prove his worth is easy to read—it carries a stubbornness and resolve all its own.

Of course, it won’t be easy.

I can already feel that cold stare from the side.

Sure enough, Kim Daram was glaring at us with her usual dissatisfaction.

I could step in.

I could take Kwon Gi-ryong’s side and smooth things over.

But this is a matter between husband and wife.

I’m not married, so I wouldn’t know, but there are things only a couple can resolve between themselves.

I was a little concerned.

Everyone knows that Kwon Gi-ryong is kind of henpecked.

But Kim Daram—despite liking to take charge—doesn’t always want to lead.

I’ve worked with her long enough to know.

Her position in the team is heavy sniper—someone who doesn’t initiate, but waits for the perfect moment and strikes without hesitation.

Naturally, that kind of person would pick a husband with some insight.

“Daram.”

Kwon Gi-ryong said.

“I want to go this time.”