10.11.2039, Seoul, Gangnam-gu, Seoul Hunter’s Association, Main Operation’s Hall

  Yoon Taeha glanced at the digital clock high above the operations hall entrance.

  Hunters and soldiers were swarming in organized groups, their uniforms revealing their origins. The Seoul hunters’ uniform was black, while Jeju wore green and Busan blue. The hall buzzed with movement and voices, the noise of equipment echoing, filling any gap of silence.

  The sight was mesmerizing. Trust between the Associations had always been weak, and Taeha included, they hadn’t expected them to deliver. The politics of it all had created a mistrust the Associations were never quite able to escape from. Still, the sight of everyone together should have been comforting, reassuring, but Yoon Taeha was tense.

  All southern Associations who had sworn allegiance had come. Still, the one Taeha had waited for the most was missing; the one carrying the most manpower. Taeha began replaying the phone call with Pyongyang in his mind. He wondered whether he hadn’t been clear enough, or maybe they were pulling a prank on him and not really sending anyone.

  The anxiety crawled slowly as he registered the arriving hunters with Kwon Jeonhak sitting next to him.

  “Be patient, little one,” Jeonhak said, smiling as he tapped the registration tablet. “They’ll come.”

  Yoon Taeha frowned but didn’t reply. This wasn’t training, this was the biggest mission he had ever been in, one he was partly in charge of.

  The main doors swung open with a loud bang. For a split second, the room fell silent. Then they marched in: the one hundred and twenty hunters in vermillion uniforms, moving as one, in the precise formation Taeha had been waiting for. His breath caught.

  They came.

  He pushed back from his chair and hurried forward to meet their leader. He slowed once he saw him, the man at the head of the formation, broad-shouldered, handsome, familiar.

  No way.

  The man stepped forward and saluted the lieutenant.

  “Captain Ri Seong-ho, at your service,” he said with a thick northern accent, loud and steady. “Pyongyang and Hamhung reporting for duty.”

  Taeha could only stare, realizing the man in front of him was his seonbae from military school.

  Name: Ri Seong-ho

  Rank: Captain

  Birthday: 1.4.2014

  Sex: Male

  Secondary gender: Beta

  Height: 195 cm

  City of birth: Pyongyang

  Hunter class: S

  Qualities: Wind Bending

  “First Lieutenant Yoon Taeha,” he returned the salute. “We’re glad to have you fight with us.”

  “Yoon Taeha?” Ri Seong-ho’s eyes widened. “Of course it’s you!”

  “Good to see you too, seonbae,” Taeha replied over the man’s warm laugh.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” Seong-ho continued. “You look different. You look like a man. Still tiny, though.” He patted Taeha’s back without hesitation, like an old friend would.

  Seong-ho leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “So? How’s the spying going?”

  Taeha snorted. “Please. There’s nothing here worth spying on.”

  The joke landed well in the northern ears, but he could feel the eyes of the southern hunters fixed on them, their brows furrowing at the comment. He noticed it, but didn’t care. Neither did the captain, he only laughed harder. Their reputation already was what it was, and the captain had been prepared for a less-than-warm welcome.

  Regarding Yoon Taeha, no one ever quite knew what to do with the short, young omega who had climbed the ranks faster than most alphas twice his age.

  “Some things never change,” Ri Seong-ho said, shrugging, a grin on his face.

  Taeha gestured toward the registration tables. “Let us know if you need anything. We’ll start registering your hunters and issuing badges shortly.”

  Seong-ho blinked. “Badges?”

  “The Associations agreed to it,” Taeha explained, rolling his eyes faintly. “Unified Republic insignia for the joint mission. They want the public to see us working together. It’s just PR.”

  “Can’t believe our leaders agreed to something like that,” Ri Seong-ho clicked his tongue.

  “I can’t believe we’re allowed to say that out loud,” Taeha replied, and they shared a laugh.

  “Oh, how far we’ve come!”

  The dictatorship in the North had ended, but the leadership was still harsh. Still, what the unification had brought them was more important than anything else: freedom of speech. Taking down the leaders’ pictures from the walls wasn’t what people cared about. What mattered was being able to speak their minds. Years and years of keeping quiet, pretending, and obeying orders that rarely made sense had become too much. Now, the citizens of the North were finally free to seek the comfort they deserved.

  The sight of the two leaders talking amused the hunters around them, drawing in curious glances. Whatever manners Yoon Taeha had learned during his time in the South vanished within seconds of meeting Ri Seong-ho. He had never really fit in, but his northern heritage was too obvious now. Nevertheless, having a friendly face from the northern side was exactly what Taeha needed.

  The man’s presence wasn’t the only thing that comforted Taeha. Ri Seong-ho was strong and reliable. He had battle experience exceeding that of many S-class hunters in the South. Despite the hardness the North had forged into him, his command was calm. Standing beside him gave Taeha certainty. Certainty that there was a chance. Element manipulation, especially wind, would be highly beneficial.

  We have enough.

  Across the hall, Colonel Kwon was briefing the Jeju and Busan teams. Nearby, General Han leaned over a display with Chief Seo Gyeong-hee, discussing formations, drawing Taeha’s curious gaze.

  Name: Seo Gyeong-hee

  Rank: Chief

  Birthday: 31.6.2000

  Sex: Female

  Secondary gender: Omega, recessive

  Height: 169 cm

  City of birth: Gangneun

  Hunter class: A

  Qualities: Quality Imitation

  A female omega leading the Association had caused no small stir, particularly among older men who had grown accustomed to male alpha leadership. Chief Seo had transferred directly from her role as Minister of Defense, her qualifications making her the obvious choice in decision-making.

  Still, for some, it would never be enough. For them, the only thing worse than a female omega in power was a male omega.

  The buzzing in the operations hall never stopped. Taeha looked around the hall once more.

  It’s going to be alright. We can make it.

  With Kwon Jeonhak and Ri Seong-ho standing beside him, smiling easily, it felt like a sure win.

  11.11.2039, Seoul, Mapo-gu, Mangwon

  “I already hate this day,” General Han sighed, tugging his uniform jacket into place.

  Kang Jeonhak snorted as he fastened the straps on his own gear. “We have over three hundred hunters fighting today. There’s no scenario where we don’t beat the beast.”

  “I like how you’re saying over three hundred,” General Han muttered, “when it’s exactly three hundred and one.”

  Yoon Taeha stood a short distance away, already dressed, his fingers browsing his inventory. Weapons. Ammo. Potions. Emergency kits. Everything was where it should be.

  “Over is over,” Jeonhak shrugged. “It sounds better.”

  Outside, the streets of Mangwon had been transformed, full of tents, lined in long rows, bearing the Unified Republic’s insignia, where the three hundred and one hunters prepared themselves. The Association had reserved doctors, assistants, technicians, coordinators, and anyone useful to the hunters for the mission. Buzzing through the streets, they moved from one tent to another, offering last-minute instructions.

  This was a rare moment, a joint mission with southern and northern hunters. The scene was magnificent. For one mission, three hundred men and women had gathered to take down the most dangerous gate in history.

  Everyone understood what was at stake. It wasn’t only the Unified Republic that would be in danger. The vermillion bird didn’t respect borders and could cross oceans if it chose to. The threat now was global. But, with this many hunters, there was no way they would lose.

  Taeha’s gaze moved over to his team, his friends, the familiar faces he longed to see every day. Then to the northern troops, his countrymen standing in disciplined formation. Then to Kwon Jeonhak, who met his eyes with a confident nod.

  Both of his worlds stood side by side. The anxiety drained away, replaced by the pride he felt in that moment.

  “I’m proud of you, kid,” Jeonhak said, slapping Taeha’s back with enough force to jolt him forward slightly. “You pulled this together. We’re taking this bastard down.”

  “Together,” Taeha replied, grinning, like he didn’t have a worry in the world.

  The hunters took formation on Mangwon-ro. There was no north or south anymore; there were only hunters. Chief Seo stood on a pedestal before the joined forces, with the rest of the leaders beside her.

  “This is the moment we make history. Four Associations are standing together, united, to defeat the vermillion bird.” Her voice carried far. “I won’t lie to you. This mission is dangerous. But we have gathered the strongest hunters in the country.” She paused. “And we will stand together until the end.”

  She placed her hand on her chest for the oath, the three hundred hunters following her lead.

  “I pledge allegiance to the Republic…”

  The oath had never made much sense to the hunters. It was something they chanted out of habit rather than belief. This time, it was different. For once, it wasn’t about politics or optics. It was about trust. About believing the person beside you would fight just as hard, fall just as fiercely, and protect you if it came to that. This time, it gave them hope.

  We’re ready, Yoon Taeha thought.

  Their alarms went off. The red gate was open.

  20.10.2049, Seoul, Gwanak-gu, Sillim-dong

  Yoon Taeha hit the floor hard. The dark room around him spun as purple pixels dissolved back into Lee Si-woo’s form. His view became clearer while his hands were still pressed against the cold floor. The situation was absurd, and nothing made sense. Si-woo, the oh-so-mighty northern general, had broken into the Glasshouse. And the other man, Kwon Gi-tae, a mere guard, still moved like he belonged in that room.

  Lee Si-woo was speaking. Gi-tae paced back and forth, rubbing his chin, listening. Taeha saw their mouths moving. He heard them too, but he couldn’t understand the words. His ears were ringing.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What is going on?” he asked quietly, but no answer came.

  The men didn’t even react to his voice, making him think he hadn’t spoken at all. He tried again, but nothing. The ringing in his ears wouldn’t subside. He squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his hands against his ears as if the sound would stop if he pushed hard enough. But everything around him felt like chaos.

  His mind went straight to ten years ago, red gate, blazing flames, the last bang.

  He opened his eyes and finally raised his voice. “Answer me, god damn it!”

  Lee Si-woo turned toward him, taken aback. He didn’t say anything at first, but he saw him now, Taeha’s confused face. He walked closer, reaching out a hand to help him up.

  Confusion wasn’t the only thing showing on Taeha’s face. Lee Si-woo could tell he was terrified.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he said softly. “This mission came to us so quickly, we haven’t been able to plan it properly. We received intel that you would be facing disciplinary actions tomorrow, so we had to break you out before they put you in isolation.”

  “Why would they do that?” Taeha asked. “Disobeying orders doesn’t usually lead to such drastic measures.”

  “We couldn’t risk the possibility.” Lee Si-woo answered.

  “I’m going to be frank with you,” Kwon Gi-tae began. “The Chief has it out for you. We don’t have the full details, but we know it has something to do with your hunter qualities.”

  “What would she know—”

  “There’s something that she wants,” Si-woo said, “and we have reason to believe she’s trying to use you to get it.”

  The only thing Yoon Taeha had been hiding was his healing quality and his reawakened rank.

  Is that what the Chief wants? My healing?

  “I don’t really get it. Instead of prison, I’m supposed to stay here then? Isn’t this another kind of prison if I stay locked in?”

  “We won’t stay for long. We have a mission,” Kwon Gi-tae said.

  “You lost me. I don’t understand shit.”

  “Take a look around you, Taeha,” he replied firmly.

  Uncomfortable for Kwon Gi-tae dropping the honorifics, Taeha still did as asked, but nothing stood out. The apartment was small and neat, but it showed signs of being lived in.

  Yoon Taeha looked out the window. The streets of Sillim were full of orange tents lined up, with steam rising from pots of tteokbokki and skewered fish cakes, their scent drifting all the way to the apartment. Laughter echoed through the walls. Older men stumbled drunkenly along the sidewalk, arms slung over one another’s shoulders, arguing loudly about something, or nothing at all. As if their world wasn’t in danger. The sight of people living comfortably while the hunters were fighting for their country made Taeha grit his teeth.

  He moved away from the window and observed the apartment for a little while, until he reached the bedroom. He walked closer to a dresser, and there it was, a framed photograph. Taeha’s chest burned as if it were on fire. He lifted his fingers, brushing them lightly over the face in the photo.

  The memorial photo of Kwon Jeonhak. He finally realized where Lee Si-woo had brought him.

  “Looks like I came here after all,” Taeha whispered, a painful smile on his face.

  He thought he had already run out of tears, but he hadn’t. He set the frame down carefully and noticed another one beside it. Jeonhak stood smiling, his arm around a beautiful woman. Between them, a small boy with raven-black hair grinned at the camera.

  It was strange that Yoon Taeha hadn’t recognized the apartment before. Kang Jeonhyun’s elderflower scent lingered everywhere. It was almost as if he was there. He never forgot his scent, but his emotions were blinding all his senses.

  There was no end to his tears. Yoon Taeha couldn’t keep himself together, how could he? He kept going over everything he had done in his life so far. What was the grave sin he had committed that he deserved to be punished like this? What higher force was turning his life upside down in such precise patterns, just like an hourglass? He was drowning in the sand, and no one broke him out.

  He cursed every life he had lived so far, and the cycle of reincarnation. He cursed every ancestor who might have committed the sins instead, in case he was taking punishment on their behalf. For a moment, he prayed for death itself, but then grief grabbed his heart. A sharp guilt followed, from believing death was the solution, when death was something the people important to him might be escaping from while he remained idle.

  His hand shook as he held the picture closer to his chest. Then he heard the door open.

  He startled, placed the frame down gently, gave one last glance at the family in the picture, and walked back into the living room.

  If his chest hadn’t already been tight, seeing Kang Jihee in the flesh in front of him surely tightened it further. They had never met before, but Jeonhak used to show pictures of his family every chance he got. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize her.

  Her gaze turned to Taeha as she was removing her shoes, and she just stood there, wordless.

  She was older than she had been in the pictures. Her face showed signs of worry and grief, and no wonder. She had lost her husband, and now there was a chance she’d lose her son as well. Despite everything, it seemed the years had been kind to her. Taeha had expected her to be worse.

  He felt both guilt and relief crawl up his spine, his instincts telling him to run, while also telling him to reach out to her. He didn’t want to face her, but he also wanted to get closer. His head was pounding, and he wanted to scream.

  With one shoe still on her foot, Jihee ran toward him.

  He was ready to receive a blow from the woman, so he turned his face slightly to the side and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. But the hit never came. Only two gentle arms wrapped around him.

  “Taeha,” she said softly. “You came.”

  Yoon Taeha felt like there were a thousand things he should say, but no words came. He remained completely silent.

  Kang Jihee lifted her gaze to his face, and her expression shifted into something even gentler. With her sleeve, she slowly wiped away the tear on Taeha’s cheek he hadn’t even noticed he’d cried.

  “I asked him so many times to bring you here, to meet us. He talked about you so highly, always with pride.” She held his face. “You were so important to him.”

  Yoon Taeha, no longer able to keep himself together, dropped to his knees. He unconsciously grabbed the hem of Kang Jihee’s skirt and cried.

  “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, his voice desperate. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jihee could only stare at him for a moment. Then she knelt down in front of him and wrapped her arms around him once again.

  He had been like a little brother to her husband. She hadn’t known the extent of their relationship, but seeing him now, she understood exactly why her husband had held him so dear. Unlike her husband, Taeha had been just a kid back then. A fragile one, forced to face death.

  “Look at me,” she said. “I might not know what happened in there, but I know you have done nothing wrong.”

  Taeha didn’t reply.

  “The world might have misunderstood you, even my son, but I always knew you couldn’t have been responsible.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Taeha cried. It was the first time Taeha wanted to confess everything, but even then, something was pulling the words back into his throat.

  “I know,” she said calmly. “And when you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll listen. But now, we have something we need to do.”

  Taeha’s tears slowed. For the first time, he understood why he was there.

  “We’re going to him, aren’t we?”

  “Yup. We’re going to help my cuz,” Kwon Gi-tae said, crossing his arms with a grin.

  Taeha felt like his mind was failing him. This was why he had found the man odd. Of course he did. This man was related to his best friend.

  “But Si-woo,” Taeha turned to him, “why are you involved?”

  “I’m hurt you’d think I wouldn’t be,” he mock-sobbed, then straightened his posture. “Gi-tae and I go way back, and he asked for my help. But my main reason is to make sure you’re okay.”

  Yoon Taeha felt guilty. He knew how the man felt about him, so he didn’t know how he would be able to exploit those feelings and ask him to help.

  Si-woo looked Taeha straight in the eyes, as if he could read his mind, and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  Yoon Taeha helped Kang Jihee up, who brushed the dust off his shoulders.

  “I know it’s a lot of me to ask,” she began. “Will you help him?”

  “I’d do anything for him,” Taeha said firmly.

  Jihee laughed softly.

  “I knew you’d say that. Jeonhyun is lucky to have you,” she smiled. “I understand why my husband liked you so much. Both of them.”

  “I’ll make sure he comes back.” Taeha nodded, then turned to Si-woo. “What’s the plan?”

  “Before we go into detail, I want to confirm something.” Si-woo’s eyes turned serious. “When did you reawaken?”

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Taeha frowned, knowing Si-woo had been hiding his quality too.

  He realized it the moment Lee Si-woo appeared in front of him. The way he used his quality was still clumsy, meaning he rarely used it. But being so comfortable with it, it had to have been a while since he reawakened. Whatever the case might have been, Lee Si-woo carried a secret as dangerous as Taeha’s.

  “2045.”

  “2039,” Taeha confessed, his eyes narrowing.

  “You’r quality?” Si-woo asked.

  “Healing.”

  It was Si-woo’s turn.

  “Teleportation.”

  He knew it was wrong to blame the man for hiding it, as he had done the same, but he couldn’t help but feel wronged.

  “Reawakened hunter class?” he finally asked.

  “S,” Si-woo said confidently.

  Of course he was S-class. Taeha didn’t even know why he had asked. Teleportation was one of the rarest hunter qualities, along with healing. It seemed strange that both of them had awakened from low classes, especially Si-woo, and then risen to S-class.

  Teleportation, however, was different from healing. All teleportation hunters ever registered were S-class. For healers, Taeha was the first S-class one.

  “Your turn,” Si-woo continued.

  Taeha hesitated for a moment. He had already revealed too much. He didn’t know whether it was okay to trust Si-woo with this.

  Kang Jihee placed her hand on his shoulder and nodded with a smile. If she trusted Lee Si-woo, he’d have to do the same. He owed her that much.

  "S."

  “Haa—” Lee Si-woo exhaled. “Fuck, the doc was right. No wonder—” He stopped himself.

  “No wonder what?” Taeha asked, raising a brow.

  “Let’s leave it at that for now and focus,” Si-woo said. He had no intention of telling him, but Taeha didn’t pry further. “The three of us are going in the gate.”

  He pointed his thumb at Gi-tae, who was standing right behind him.

  “But he’s a guard.”

  “Nope,” Gi-tae grinned. “I’m a hunter too, although an incomplete one.”

  “But you don’t have a monitor.”

  “That’s why I’m saying incomplete. I manifested late, and a monitor never popped up. I can’t see yours either.”

  “So what’s your quality?”

  “This is actually a good chance to explain things to you.” Lee Si-woo crossed his arms. “Gi-tae’s quality, although a secret, is memory manipulation.”

  Taeha burst out laughing.

  “You tested my morals with the whole digging-into-people’s-brains thing only to pull this?”

  “Hey, hey, hey, I’m different—”

  “No matter how questionable, we need his skills,” Si-woo cut in. “When we enter the dungeon, we can’t risk people spreading word of your skills. Gi-tae will have to manipulate the other hunters’ memories before we get out.”

  Taeha understood it. He really did. But he couldn’t help the knot forming in his stomach. He had just made an entire speech about how disgusting it was to dig into people’s brains, yet now he was going along with Gi-tae doing it to someone.

  “You need to ignore your morals now,” Gi-tae said firmly. “It’s for the greater good.”

  Yoon Taeha, no longer understanding what this “greater good” meant, sighed and sat down on the living room couch.

  “Whatever. Just tell me what to do.”

  Lee Si-woo nodded.

  21.10.2049, Seoul, Gwanak-gu, Sillim-dong

  “Did you sleep well?” Kwon Gi-tae asked Yoon Taeha, as he sat at the breakfast table.

  “What do you think?” Taeha frowned, “I didn’t sleep a wink.”

  He had tossed and turned through the night, sleeping in Kang Jeonhyun’s bed. It was impossible for him to sleep with the man’s scent still fixed on every fiber of the fabric wrapped around Taeha.

  It wasn’t the house Jeonhyun lived in, but the scent had been fresh. It felt like he had spent a lot of time at that house preparing to enter the gate.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who cares about Jeonhyun the way you do. Except for his mom, obviously,” Gi-tae laughed.

  “It’s not really a laughing matter at this point, but he is special to me.” Taeha took a sip of his coffee. “We didn’t get along at first,” he smiled lightly, remembering the bickering. “No—he loathed me.”

  “He’s gone through a lot,” Gi-tae said, gazing down, both his hands resting on the kitchen counter.

  “I didn’t understand why he hated me so much, and I was confused for a long time.” Taeha exhaled. “I had no idea he was Jeonhak’s son.”

  “Is it true you don’t remember what happened in the Jujak Gate ten years ago?”

  “No. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  “I guessed. Will you ever talk about it?”

  “Maybe.” Taeha paused for a moment. “Do you want to check my memories?”

  “I’d be a hypocrite if I did,” Kwon Gi-tae laughed. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I will listen.”

  Taeha smiled, but there was no joy in it. He knew that whatever was going to happen that day was meant to save people who were important to them, but he was terrified of what they would find once they entered.

  What if they had already fallen?

  Yoon Taeha had broken out of detention for their sake, for Kang Jeonhyun’s sake. It was too late now to go back, not that he wanted to. He knew the risk he was taking, and he knew he’d face much harsher sanctions if they survived.

  He might have been a normal, above-average soldier in combat, but he was the rarest hunter to ever exist. And Taeha knew he was their only shot.

  Still, unlike Kwon Gi-tae and Lee Si-woo, he didn’t want to be overconfident in his skills.

  Lee Si-woo walked in with grocery bags.

  “I brought snacks,” he said. “Dump them in your monitors and get ready. Some birds have been spotted coming out of the gate.”

  “That means their forces are struggling.” Kwon Gi-tae swallowed hard.

  Yoon Taeha’s face turned pale as he realized. “The gate class has shifted.”

  “We better hurry.”

  The three hunters got ready, and the only sounds filling the living room were the metallic clicks of their straps and their combat boots. No one said a word, as if their spirits might shatter if their thoughts were spoken out loud.

  After strapping on his boots, Taeha finally lifted his gaze. The reality hit them all at once.

  This is it.

  Yoon Taeha had no intention of leaving without saying goodbye to Kang Jihee, who was sitting in her bedroom, holding her family photo tightly in her arms. She looked more at ease than Taeha did, but he still felt he needed to say something, anything, to the mother waiting for her son to return.

  “I promise I’ll bring him back,” he said. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Jihee lifted her gaze and smiled at him.

  “Jeonhak would be so proud of you,” she said. “Just like I am.”

  Taeha was taken aback, only for a second, then gave her the most genuine smile he was capable of.

  “Can you take us directly to the gate?” Yoon Taeha asked Lee Si-woo, who was browsing his monitor.

  “No. We have to get closer first. We’ll try Hongdae.”

  Yoon Taeha and Kwon Gi-tae nodded in unison. They were ready.

  Both men grabbed Lee Si-woo by the arms, gripping tightly, as if they were afraid of being left behind. The last thing Yoon Taeha saw was Kang Jihee standing by the bedroom door.

  And just like that, once again, they evaporated into a dissolving mass of purple pixels.

  21.10.2049 Seoul, Mapo-gu, Hondae

  They landed in the shadows of an alleyway filled with garbage from the Chinese restaurant next door. The awful stench almost pulled Yoon Taeha out of the horrifying thoughts occupying his mind. He didn’t know which one was the real reason he wanted to hurl. No matter how many times Taeha tried to convince himself he was ready to face the gate again, he was still trembling with fear.

  “This is disgusting,” Kwon Gi-tae said, kicking the trash stuck to his boot. “If this doesn’t foreshadow doom, I don’t know what does.”

  “If you’re going to be so dramatic, you might as well stay home,” Yoon Taeha snapped.

  “Stop it,” Si-woo said, his gaze turning cold. “It’s time for us to go.”

  “Si-woo, are you sure you want to do this?” Gi-tae’s eyes showed a strange kind of worry as he looked at him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Of course it does. This is my world too.”

  “It’s one thing to get Taeha exposed, but I don’t want you to become their—”

  “Gi-tae!” Si-woo raised his voice. “I’m no more or less important than any other hunter. If the Association wants to take me, let them. See if I care.”

  “Why would they take you?” Taeha asked. He felt like he was being left out again.

  Si-woo pinched the bridge of his nose and gritted his teeth.

  “Did you never wonder why they kept you hooked into machines inside the Association while you were in a coma?” Lee Si-woo asked. “Why you were the only one in that infirmary?”

  Taeha couldn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say. How did Si-woo even know?

  “Lieutenant,” Gi-tae exhaled, “this is how they control hunters. Lower classes are… whatever. But we—” He hesitated for a moment. “In their eyes, we’re like mutants. We’re defects. Errors in their system.”

  “So they want to get rid of us?” Taeha asked.

  “Not at all,” Gi-tae said, crossing his arms. “On the contrary, they want to control us.”

  “Control us?”

  Gi-tae glanced toward the alley entrance, then back at him.

  “They’re the ones who decide who gets to exist.”

  “What does that mean?” Taeha asked. “We’re not just hunters. We’re human beings. No one has the right to decide our existence for us.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Lee Si-woo scoffed. “What do you think they do to the unregistered ones? Officially, they don’t exist. So there’s no one to look for them, and no one who can publicly miss them.”

  “Meaning they’re easy to eliminate…” Taeha’s gaze dropped. He had never truly trusted the Association, but this was beyond anything he had imagined.

  “Exactly, to keep order.” Si-woo said. “And they’ve already done it.”

  Taeha’s heart dropped, remembering the unregistered hunters who had attacked him in the alleyway. If it wasn’t enough that they’d been beaten to pieces by Kang Jeonhyun, then based on what these men were saying, it was very likely they had already met their maker. And no one would ever know their names.

  “That’s why you’re hiding,” Taeha said, looking first at Gi-tae, then at Si-woo. “And that’s why you’ve disguised yourself as a soldier.”

  “You’re very clever, Taeha,” Si-woo finally said. “And since you are, you can imagine what the Association might want from you if they find out you’re the first S-class healer in the history of the Unified Republic.”

  “They’ll dissect you like a guinea pig,” Gi-tae laughed dryly. “An S-class healer means unlimited recovery, endless stamina, and endless hunters.”

  “And if you’re not with them, you’re a problem.” Lee Si-woo said. “Kang Jeonhyun, being SS-class, is different than us. He’s a national treasure, a rare one, the crown jewl of the Association.”

  “And I’m the one who gets killed. Got it. So all I have to do is not get caught.”

  “Doc was confident the Chief doesn’t know about you yet,” Gi-tae said, his eyes narrowing. “But she’s waiting for you to slip.”

  “Exactly,” Si-woo nodded. “So just follow my lead and reveal nothing.”

  He extended his arms for the two men to grab.

  “Ready to enter hell, Lieutenant?” Kwon Gi-tae asked, wearing a playful expression.

  “Please,” Taeha said. “That’s just me going home.”