I've never really been in love.

Someone like me—someone who loves himself the most—naturally has very little emotional bandwidth left to love anyone else.

The kind of job I have, and the life I live—where you could die any day—doesn’t help either.

But of course, the biggest reason is the fire of hatred still burning inside me.

Still, there are people in this world who understand things deeply even if they've never done them themselves.

I'm one of them.

I've never been in love, but I have a mountain of data.

After all, I spent years surrounded by young men and women in their physical prime, all rigorously trained. It’s no surprise.

Upper management didn't just tolerate romantic relationships among Hunters—they actively encouraged them. That probably contributed too.

Back then, I’d see young couples fall in love and get caught up in their drama and brush it off. But experience—no matter how passively acquired—is hard to ignore.

Even without having been in a relationship myself, the experiences I accumulated during that period gave me a thorough understanding of the problems and solutions that come with love.

Kim Han-na, who I happened to meet again recently, is in love.

The guy? A friend named Han Garam, four years younger than her. She's twenty-nine this year.

According to Sim Hyeong-bo, the guy’s nothing special.

Not tall and commanding like me, not objectively good-looking like me or Hong Jeong-ho.

He doesn’t have any flashy skills that captivate women, like beatboxing or hacking.

He's the type to constantly roll his eyes around, looking for a hole money might come out of, and the moment he gets some cash, he blows it on cheap gambling or nightlife. The concept of working hard to earn a reward doesn’t even register for him.

When Sim Hyeong-bo called him a “loser,” it wasn’t criticism. It was just a statement of fact.

“She’s too good for him. Kim Han-na’s been around since the Jeju Rift—that makes her an elite Awakened. Honestly, based on my experience working with her, she was better than Ahn Seung-hwan or Lee Haru. She’s got the experience and intuition. But when it comes to men, she’s got zero judgment.”

Sim Hyeong-bo thought Kim Han-na was trapped in a self-destructive relationship where she was getting nothing in return.

“She doesn’t listen to me. She might seem naïve, but she’s stubborn as hell. Can’t talk any sense into her. But maybe she’ll listen to you, boss.”

So Sim Hyeong-bo brought me to their base.

Just like I’d heard, it was a small group settled inside an apartment complex.

The complex was mid-sized, about 1,500 units spread out across multiple buildings in a courtyard layout—central park surrounded by buildings like a fortress wall.

This kind of layout is preferred by powerful refugee groups. Even Park Penguin, another leader from our forum, chose a similar structure for his stronghold.

But it’s not just about the layout. You also have to consider things like water supply, surrounding threats, proximity to resource-gathering areas.

In that regard, the area where Minsik’s leftover faction set up shop isn’t very good.

No natural streams nearby. The city ruins right next door provide cover for attackers. Worst of all, it’s too close to an erosion zone.

Honestly, the rundown twin-building officetel in the next neighborhood would’ve been a better choice for a group of Minsik’s caliber.

But enough of my doomsday real-estate analysis.

We arrived at Kim Han-na’s apartment.

Before the war, upper floors used to fetch higher prices and were considered “royal floors.” Nowadays, it’s the low floors.

The new “royal tier” is between the third and fourth floors—easy to climb, but still with privacy.

Even though she’s treated like the black sheep of her group, Kim Han-na was given a royal-floor unit. A sign of hope in her innate potential, perhaps.

“There it is,” Sim Hyeong-bo said, pointing toward the door with a troubled expression.

“She’s been doing fine there.”

There was resentment in his voice.

He must have gone to her repeatedly, asking for help.

She refused. He got demoted after a failed hunt.

That’s how he ended up reconnecting with me. But still—I couldn’t help but wonder.

Would Kim Han-na actually listen to me?

Sure, I’ve done more for her than Sim Hyeong-bo ever has. But we both know that just because someone’s been kind to you doesn’t mean you owe them anything.

“Oh? Boss?!”

Let’s skip the unexpected reunion, the look of surprise, the faint emotion.

Kim Han-na wasn’t exactly living the good life.

The air in the apartment was terrible.

No surprise—every window had been sealed with planks. Gaps stuffed with old blankets and plastic sheeting.

In times like these, insulation matters more than ventilation.

On the living room floor, high-voltage cables were coiled like snakes. Nearby, tools like wire cutters and knives, along with baskets—one for rubber casing, one for copper.

Looks like she was making a living by stripping copper from wires.

Not the life you’d expect from an Awakened.

But it’s a life where she doesn’t have to go out and fight.

It took me less than five minutes to realize convincing her was impossible.

“Yeah, I’m... more or less satisfied. At first, I wondered how I’d survive, but people adapt, you know? That’s how we make it.”

She smiled. Just a little. But it was genuine, if only for a moment.

“After I left the battlefield, the hum in my ears, and that strange pull... it’s much weaker now.”

Kim Han-na had always wanted to get away from the battlefield.

I glanced around the room.

Refugees don’t usually decorate their homes—it’s not like you plan on staying. But most people still leave behind small tokens of taste or sentiment.

There weren’t many things left by Kim Han-na.

But there were a few things that clearly belonged to a man.

Instruments.

Multiple electric guitars—some with broken strings—were neatly arranged around the room, still fairly well-maintained.

The word “loser” echoed again in my mind.

It’s a stereotype, but musicians often struggle. Some make it big, but most either abandon the dream or crash with their guitars still in hand.

“I heard from Team Leader Sim that you’re living with some guy.”

I asked once.

“Oh, yeah.”

Her face lit up at the mention of the guy.

A face she never once showed me.

But only for a second.

She quickly sobered and asked,

“Did you come because you need something from me?”

Clear wariness.

“I’m satisfied with my life.”

That was the first time I’d seen her wear that kind of expression.

*

“That guy. That guy’s seriously bad news. Back in New Seoul, he refused to work. Got his credit card deactivated, treated like a legal invalid. You know how it was there—no job, no work, you weren’t even considered human.”

Sim Hyeong-bo looked like he expected this.

“That’s the guy.”

If the first human profession was prostitution, then the first game ever played must’ve been gambling.

Even in the apocalypse, gambling finds its way into some people’s lives.

Just like Sim Hyeong-bo said, the guy wasn’t anything special.

He’d already run out of money and was now reduced to licking his lips, watching other people’s hands at the gambling table, giving unsolicited advice or sighing dramatically—the typical useless spectator.

“If you want to reach Kim Han-na, you have to go through him first.”

I asked,

“Have you tried already?”

Sim Hyeong-bo smirked.

“I did. Of course I did. But he doesn’t listen. He was already treated like trash back in New Seoul. You think beating him up will work? Not like we can beat him to death.”

Sim Hyeong-bo’s a decent person as a Hunter. But is he a good person? I’m not so sure.

He’s principled and morally upright, but once his mind’s made up, he’s hard to sway.

He sees Kim Han-na’s boyfriend as the root of all evil, someone who needs to be eliminated.

“He’s a leech. Just sucking her dry. You call that a pimp, right? Anyway, once he’s out of the picture, Kim Han-na will wake up.”

Sim Hyeong-bo probably spent a long time crafting his “rehabilitation plan” for Kim Han-na.

The method? Simple.

Remove the man, one way or another.

Sure, it’ll shock her, but time will heal.

She might even return to the battlefield—a valuable asset regained.

He’d considered persuading the guy too, but he hadn’t thought through the details.

“Hm.”

I watched the guy.

I won’t pretend I’m great at reading people, but at my age, you learn to estimate.

Doesn’t seem like the type who listens well.

To make matters worse, despite having a girlfriend—Kim Han-na—he tried to flirt with another woman.

“Look at that prick. Trying to two-time with that face. Then again, Han-na’s not that pretty. Big-boned. Thick ankles especially.”

Sim Hyeong-bo let a bit of truth slip.

Definitely not a good guy.

Not someone worthy of someone like Kim Han-na, who he saw as a little sister.

Maybe Sim was right—maybe a good thrashing would drive him away.

But interpersonal relationships aren’t exactly my specialty.

I decided to watch a little longer.

Even if time wasn’t on my side, I believe people deserve at least a little effort.

*

We bought a vehicle first.

A battered old bus, sold to us at a “comparatively cheap” price by Sim Hyeong-bo’s crew.

Anyone in the know will tell you—buses are tougher than most vehicles.

Even against a truck of the same weight class, the bus often wins.

Plus, it has that big, beautiful cargo space.

The tires were intact, and someone had even added makeshift armor and a defensive setup on the roof.

But scavengers aren’t to be underestimated.

“Hey. This engine’s acting weird.”

The engine was in worse shape than expected.

Looks like they only tuned it enough to get it to roll here.

“Typical scavengers. Nothing they sell is ever legit. Most of what they sell is stuff they’ve already deemed useless or broken. There’s no way they’d give up a bus this solid without a catch.”

No refunds in the apocalypse.

Getting scammed is on you.

Still, Minsik’s remnants somehow managed to drag the bus this far.

We weren’t planning to go far—just a one-way trip. So the smart move would be to stretch the dying engine for just a bit longer.

While working on the engine, we talked about Kim Han-na.

A less-than-trustworthy guy, and a woman who blindly supports him.

Depending on your perspective, it’s either a tragic story or an inspiring one.

Maybe that’s why—

As we wrapped up the conversation, I found myself asking aloud,

“Can you really call that love? How does a relationship like that even last?”

Kim Daram, ever the married woman, answered without shame.

“The key to a lasting, healthy marriage is one side letting things go.”

She glanced at her husband, working in the distance.

“My husband lets things go a lot.”

“Really?”

“Well, I let things go sometimes too. I have a conscience, you know. But if a woman gives in too often, the balance in the household breaks.”

Fair enough.

Maybe she was hitting the nail on the head.

But a relationship built solely on one side yielding... I’m not so sure.

Isn’t that just a fragile relationship built on an unfair foundation?

What if the one always yielding suddenly wakes up and says “no more”?

That’s the thing.

There aren’t many people in our group worth asking ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) about this, but I did ask Cheon Young-jae—reluctantly.

“Sex,” he said.

“...What?”

“It’s the sex. You look at a couple, and you think they don’t make sense? They stay together anyway? That’s why. Good sex. There’s nothing deep about it. If the chemistry’s right in bed, it works—even if you don’t want it to.”

That’s on me for asking him.

I returned to Minsik’s remnants.

Turns out my real-estate analysis was right.

On my second visit, I saw lines of people hauling water nonstop.

No brains, more pain.

I came to get engine parts, but I still had unfinished business with Kim Han-na.

And by chance, I spotted her on the way in.

She wasn’t alone this time—she was with her boyfriend.

I watched them from a distance.

After a while, I found myself nodding.

They were talking.

“Hey. How was the food today?”

“So-so.”

“So-so? Was it good?”

“No.”

“Picky, picky. That’s why you’re so scrawny.”

“Being skinny makes it easier to run away, doesn’t it?”

“You’re cold all the time. Hey, why are you touching my face?”

“Something was stuck there. Look.”

“Oh, really? When’d that get there? Wait—is this a sign I’m gonna win money today?”

“Ugh. You don’t even have money to lose. Just help out a little.”

They were having a conversation.

Looking each other in the eyes, no walls between them. Lighthearted. Free.

[...]

The foundation of a relationship is communication.

You have to be able to talk.

No matter what outsiders say—imbalanced, self-sacrificing, whatever—Kim Han-na and her boyfriend could talk.

It might seem like a small thing, but it’s actually everything.

Our forum’s original goal was communication, wasn’t it?

Love comes in many forms, but I think the core is always communication.

In that sense, Kim Han-na’s relationship isn’t so bad.

Because there’s no wall between them.

I left quietly, a little sad.

*

“Someone named Jetong asked me to give this to you.”

Two days later, someone I didn’t recognize from Minsik’s group approached me.

Jetong.

Who was that again?

“Oh.”

I remembered.

Jeju Unified Hospital.

“Jetong” was Kim Han-na’s unfortunate nickname.

A short note had been delivered in that name.

Simple and to the point:

'Thanks for just walking away. Honestly, I didn’t know how to say no.'

'There’s someone else who can take my place. The address is below.'

'P.S. Please don’t tell anyone I told you!'

She must’ve seen me walking away that day.

Must’ve seen my back as I turned around after coming to find her.

Anyway.

“...”

She’s still that same deep, kind-hearted person.

I stood still for a while, holding the note.

I hope that couple lives happily for a long time.

At the very least, I hope they don’t have regrets when the end comes.

That’s the best I can hope for her.

And I wonder...

If Woo Min-hee and I were ever in love...

What shape would it take?