At the Hunter Association's Returnee Management Headquarters, a storm brewed beneath the surface.
Chief Kim Dong-jun, usually wasting away his hours playing online games, received an unexpected order from Vice President Go Tae-hyun. The message was simple yet suffocating: fully support Team Leader Jo Kang-hyun without hesitation, no matter the pros or cons.
Dong-jun's face twisted in rage. He knew immediately what it meant—his rival, Jo Kang-hyun, had gained the upper hand because of Lee Seong-jun. The returnee he had only intended to use as a tool to humiliate Jo had instead become a dazzling success. By defeating the Super Gorilla, Seong-jun had flipped the balance of power.
To Dong-jun, the injustice burned. It was he who had suggested the ridiculous challenge in the first place. Without him, Seong-jun would never have faced the boss monster. Yet, instead of credit, the honor had been handed over to Jo.
As his resentment boiled, Jo Kang-hyun himself appeared, brisk and prepared for departure. He packed lightly, announced he was leaving on urgent business, and excused himself under the authority of the Vice President. Dong-jun tried to cling to his role as chief, attempting to insert himself into the mission. But Jo denied him with calm finality, repeating the same phrase: this is an order from the Vice President.
The humiliation stung. Dong-jun, too cowardly to confront Go Tae-hyun directly, fumed in silence. Even his father, the ruthless conglomerate chairman Kim Seok-hoon, could not be relied on; any complaint would be dismissed as childish whining. The only outlet for his fury was darker: suspicion.
He convinced himself that Seong-jun's feat was impossible. How could an F-rank returnee suddenly crush a D-class boss monster within days? To him, the only answer was fraud. Perhaps Jo Kang-hyun had secretly aided him. Perhaps both were hiding something.
A sinister gleam filled Dong-jun's eyes. If he uncovered their secret, he could destroy them both. He immediately sent instructions to tail Seong-jun, his lips curling into a predator's smile.
Meanwhile, Seong-jun himself had already left the battlefield behind. After the test and the victorious hunt, he stopped at the Hunter Association's main headquarters to exchange his rewards. Unlike the F-class gate with its convenient booths, this E-class gate had no exchange station. The Association's central office was the only place to process byproducts.
But the place was crowded. His number was 189, and the counter was still stuck at 162. With an average of ten minutes per person, he faced nearly an hour's delay.
The thought of time pained him more than the battle had. It was already past 5:30, dangerously close to his treasured family dinner. Missing it left a bitter taste.
He considered his options. Belonging to a guild or alliance would solve this problem easily—their staff would immediately appraise loot and transfer cash upon exit. Convenience was their greatest weapon. Yet convenience came with chains. Schedules, rules, and obligations would bind him. For Seong-jun, who valued balance and his time with family, that price was too steep.
For now, independence remained his path, though it meant harder work until he could dictate his own terms.
As he organized these thoughts, a familiar face approached. Jo Kang-hyun appeared, far more polite than during their first meeting. His timing was perfect, and his tone carried none of the arrogance from before. Clearly, the test had turned the tables.
Jo extended a hand of negotiation, offering to skip the exchange process under his authority. Seong-jun countered with a demand of his own—conduct the conversation while driving him home. This way, he could still make it in time for dinner. He knew Jo could not refuse.
Thus, they left together, sliding into a black sedan in the underground lot.
As the car pulled onto the road, Jo Kang-hyun wasted no time. He stated their intent clearly: the Hunter Association wanted to recruit Seong-jun. Normally, the Association moved with frustrating slowness, hampered by bureaucracy. But for him, they were ready to act swiftly, breaking their own traditions.
Then came the offer.
A signing bonus of 5 billion won.
An annual salary of 500 million won.
And most importantly: maximum freedom—a rare promise, one that no guild could match.
It was a bold opening move. Seong-jun, however, remained silent, his expression cold and unreadable. His stillness was not refusal but power. He knew Jo's words carried desperation. The Association needed him more than he needed them.
And in this car, with the city lights flashing by, a silent game began. Seong-jun weighed his options, while Jo sought to secure him with every tool available.
The negotiation had only just begun.