Mirai folded her hands together again. "However," she continued, "there is another position."
Han's attention snapped back to her instantly.
"In our family's dungeon operations," she said, calm and measured, "there are support roles that don't require a hunter registry. Low-combat, low-clearance. One of them is informally called a Yellow Coat."
Anne frowned. "Miss Mirai…"
"I know," Mirai said without looking at her. "But listen first."
She returned her gaze to Han. "Yellow Coats don't fight. They don't lead expeditions. They assist. Logistics, mapping, emergency supply transport, monitoring dungeon stability, escorting miners out when something goes wrong." A pause. "It's not glamorous."
Han swallowed. Of course he knew the supporters. He was saved by one, multiple times. They were strong, stronger than him, even if society marked them cowards.
"Unlike miners," she added, "they're protected by company contracts. Insurance. Legal coverage. And they're paid properly."
The word properly hit harder than he expected.
"And?" Han asked quietly.
"And the position is currently open," Mirai said. "Within my family's company."
The restaurant suddenly felt too quiet.
Han leaned back slightly, fingers curling against his thighs. A job. Not just any job, her job offer.
His chest tightened.
"Where?" he asked. It mattered.
Mirai didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she refused to force. "You'll be stationed near active dungeon zones," she said at last. Han exhaled slowly. "I know that much. Where." He asked again, sharply.
she sighed. "Central district, around the dungeon-mother."
He almost laughed out loud. He managed to hold it back.
'Are you crazy? As if...'
"I need time to think," he said with a calm voice, already knowing he'll refuse it through a phone call later.
Mirai nodded once. "That's reasonable."
As if on cue, servers began approaching the table, metallic carts gliding softly over the polished floor.
"Ah," Maria said, lifting her head. "Food's here."
The scent hit him first.
Butter. Garlic. Something rich and ocean-deep.
A massive platter was placed at the center of the table—lobster, split cleanly, its shell crimson and gleaming, steam rising as melted butter pooled beneath it. Side dishes followed: delicate breads, greens dressed lightly, sauces arranged with surgical precision.
Han stared.
This… was his order.
His throat felt dry.
A server placed a plate in front of him, along with utensils he barely recognized. "Please enjoy," the man said, bowing slightly before retreating.
For a brief, almost surreal moment, nothing existed but food.
Han picked up the fork, hesitated, then set it down again. His appetite had vanished entirely.
Just as he reached for a piece of bread...
A scream cut through the air.
Sharp. Raw. Close.
Another followed.
Then another.
Chairs scraped violently against the floor. Horns blasted off. Somewhere beyond the restaurant's glass walls, people were shouting, running, panicking. "RUN, FUCKING RUN!"
Han's heart slammed into his ribs.
"What in the world?" Maria muttered, lazily casting her eyes away from the food in-front of her.
The doors burst open as a man stumbled inside, face white, eyes wild. "Dungeon–" he gasped. "Dungeon breach! It broke through, RUN!"
The guests watched him in silence first, then realization hit. Blue clothes, dark vest, gray coat. "Hunter-Safety enforcement officer!?"
Chaos erupted. "RUN!" He screamed out one more time, then his head was cut off. Blood surged out, splatting against the floor beneath him.
Guests surged to their feet. Some froze. Others screamed louder. Guards at the far table moved instantly, hands going to weapons, bodies forming a wall around Mirai.
"Miss Mirai, we're evacuating," one of them said sharply. "Back entrance. Now."
Anne was already pulling her chair back. "This shouldn't be possible," she muttered. "This district's barrier.. It's an S rank for God's sake!"
Han couldn't hear the rest. He stood up from his chair, his heart thumping as he watched the man's head roll on the ground. Something was behind him, though the lighting got cut off.
Electricity disappeared, they were left in the dark.
His head was buzzing. He remembered the system's words, though it was eerily quiet now.
∗∗For mission failure, punishment will be rewarded.∗∗**For mission failure, punishment will be rewarded.**∗∗For missiont failure, punishment will be rewarded.∗∗
A dungeon breakout.
'No. No, no, no.'
His breath came fast, shallow.
'This is it.'
The system's punishment. He thought, his legs gave-out making him kneel, barely getting ahold of him by leaning against the chair he sat on.
He could almost feel it watching, amused, waiting for him to step into the role it wanted.
"Han!" Maria grabbed his sleeve. "Move!"
His legs refused to respond.
If he ran, if he left, what then? Would it mark him as abandoning the scenario? Would it escalate? Punish him harder?
'Think. Think. Punishment? Dungeon break-out? Why? Isn't it supposed to punish me individually?'
The guards were ushering Mirai toward the kitchen area when another guest took their phone out, and flashed the entrance.
The front doors exploded inward. Wood splintered. Glass rained down. Something small and green burst through the smoke with a shriek.
A goblin. Its skin was a sickly moss color, stretched tight over wiry muscle.
Yellow eyes gleamed with feral intelligence, mouth split into a grin far too wide for its face. A jagged blade was clenched in its clawed hand, smeared dark with blood.
The two goblins behind shrieked back, high-pitched, triumphant, and charged.
In a flash of a second the three goblins moved step-in step with the guests. they didn't slow down. The goblins moved through the crowd.
One guest turned too late, his scream cut short as a jagged blade flashed upward. His head separated cleanly, momentum carrying it forward as his body kept running for half a step before collapsing.
Blood sprayed across fleeing backs. Another man tripped. Hands clawed at the floor. He looked up just in time to see yellow eyes above him.
The goblin didn't stop. Steel came down. The head rolled away, bumping against a chair leg, mouth still open in a soundless plea. Panic became stampede.
People shoved, screamed, and fell over one another. The goblins wove between them with horrifying precision, ducking past swinging arms, blades rising and falling in quick, practiced arcs.
A woman's head struck the table beside Han.
It bounced once.
Then rolled to a stop near his foot.
Warmth soaked into his slipper. Maria shook him by the arm again, "HAN, HAN! We need to go," She looked at Mirai who was being escorted to the musician's area where a backdoor waited. At least they hoped.
"Run, Mari."
The words came out calm, too calm. Mirai was an important person, meaning her guards would be able to protect her. "Run."
Maria stopped shaking him. "W-what?"
Han understood. Running with her meant dragging her into it. Running meant he'd put her in danger.
They weren't hunting randomly.
They were hunting him.
"There's no point," he said quietly. Then louder, sharper, "Run when I tell you to."
He shoved his phone into her trembling hands.
He knew she'd be able to access his bank account even with him gone.
Han pushed her back. Hard.
"Toward Mirai. Go. Now."
Maria stumbled, tears streaking down her face. "Han…"
"GO! YOU HAVE A DREAM RIGHT!?"
Maria's eyes teared, her head twitched. She ran towards the back, Han standing between her and the chaos. The goblins didn't even glance at her.
They kept walking forward.
Bodies fell between them and Han, heads rolling, blood splashing, screams cutting off mid-breath.
The monsters stepped over the dead without slowing, blades rising and falling in mechanical arcs.
They were clearing a path.
For him.
"GET DOWN!" someone screamed.
Too late. Another blade flashed. Another head hit the floor. The last guests scattered, hiding behind overturned tables, a few of them at-least, leaving only overturned chairs, shattered glass, cut-off heads and Han.
The goblins stopped three steps away.
Close enough for him to smell blood and rust. Close enough to see himself reflected in their yellow eyes. His heart slammed against his ribs.
'This is it, huh?'