Chapter 16
Once a month.
The leaders of Korea's four major guilds sat around a single round table.
Geumseong of Gangnam.
Baekho of Gangseo.
Hyeonmu of Gangbuk.
Cheongryong of Gangdong.
It was a gathering where the monsters holding Seoul's four directions in their grip came together under the pretext of discussing cooperation and harmony.
Hunters in Korea collectively called it the Four Directions Round Table.
Publicly, it was for the nation's security and the safety of its citizens.
To respond jointly to dungeon disasters.
To share information with one another and reduce unnecessary competition.
In short, it was a gathering meant to show that the four major guilds representing South Korea, a Hunter powerhouse, had left the age of biting and tearing at one another behind and were now building a mature system of cooperation.
Those were always the sorts of words written in press releases distributed to the media.
But reality was a little different.
The Four Directions Round Table was not a social gathering.
If anything, it was closer to a battlefield without drawn swords.
Open clashes between major guilds had almost disappeared upon entering the twenty-first century.
The Big Four guilds had simply grown far too large.
Hundreds of Hunters.
Mana-engineering equipment.
Partner companies.
Political connections.
If major guilds that encompassed all those things collided head-on, it would no longer be a guild war.
It would be a small war waged inside Seoul.
Naturally, neither the government, the military, nor the Hunter Association would stand by and allow such a thing.
So the way they fought had changed.
Information instead of fists.
Public opinion instead of blades.
Contract cancellations instead of raids.
Rather than kill their opponents outright, they leaked a rival guild's weaknesses and drove away its sponsors and partners.
Once a major Hunter guild in a developed country reached that level, there were more than enough ways to bring down an opponent without resorting to the crude business of shedding blood.
And the Four Directions Round Table was where those guilds met face-to-face once a month.
Myeong-dong, Seoul.
An upscale Korean restaurant atop a skyscraper.
One entire wall was made of glass, offering a sweeping view of downtown Seoul.
A private room within.
Three people sat across from one another, with a long wooden table between them.
Jang Song-hee of Geumseong Guild.
Han Sora of Baekho Guild.
And.
“Heh-heh. Sorry. I’m a little late, aren’t I? The ad shoot ran longer than I expected.”
A woman entered, leisurely brushing back her long black hair.
A strangely limp cowlick poked up from the top of her head.
“Guild Master Yoon Mi-ja⋯ For a guild master to arrive last at such an important meeting⋯”
“Oh my, Song-hee. The more important the occasion, the later the main character is supposed to arrive.”
“The Four Directions Round Table isn’t an awards ceremony.”
“That’s why I rushed here the moment the ad shoot ended~.”
The guild master of Hyeonmu Guild.
Yoon Mi-ja.
By all appearances, she was an exquisite beauty.
Her smooth face and relaxed smile made her age impossible to guess.
But she was the Hunter who had survived longest among those seated there—and the woman with the most connections to show for it.
“Hmm. In any case, it looks like Cheongryong won’t be joining us again this time.”
Jang Song-hee shrugged.
“That makes three absences in a row.”
“Unexcused absences, right?”
“Yes. They didn’t even notify us in advance.”
Han Sora added as she set down her teacup.
“I heard there’s been another internal feud in the guild.”
“Again?”
Yoon Mi-ja raised an eyebrow slightly.
“They really are consistent.”
“They’re the sort who clawed their way into the Big Four through sheer force. I heard this guild master was assassinated too. Apparently, the executives are tearing each other apart over the new guild master's seat.”
“Still, I thought this one might last a little longer. Did it make it three months?”
“Four months.”
“By Cheongryong’s standards, that counts as a long reign.”
The three did not laugh particularly hard at that.
Nor did they express any sympathy.
They merely lifted their teacups, looked out the window, or shrugged faintly.
In the end, they left one seat vacant and began the meeting as usual.
“We received a report that several regional guilds recently tried to hand over exclusive dungeon rights to Chinese Hunter companies.”
“Dungeon activity is concerning as well. The frequency of C-rank and higher dungeons has clearly increased compared to the previous quarter. Cases of rank increases are especially common on the outskirts of the capital area.”
“There’s talk in Japan of a new S-rank candidate. It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but advertising contracts and political contacts are already in motion. We should probably consider it half confirmed.”
Geumseong traced the flow of money, while Baekho read the flow of dungeons.
Finally, Hyeonmu asked about the flow of public opinion and political power.
The Four Directions Round Table always began this way.
The domestic dungeon situation.
Pressure from outside forces.
Movements in the overseas Hunter market.
They were more sincere than anyone when it came to tearing at one another, but the moment a common threat appeared, they quickly aligned their information.
Enemies when they were enemies, allies when they were allies.
Perhaps the reason Korea had come to be called a Hunter powerhouse in such a short time was precisely that strange solidarity.
The meeting continued, and before long, the sun had begun to sink outside while the food on the table had nearly been cleared.
Yoon Mi-ja leisurely set down her teacup.
“Sora.”
“Yes, Guild Master Yoon Mi-ja.”
“Ho-ho. Come to think of it, our Sora has grown so much since I last saw you. You’re old enough to get married now.”
Once the main business was over, another beginning followed.
In other words, with the discussion of external enemies over, what remained was the internal war of nerves.
That was how the latter half of the Four Directions Round Table always went.
Han Sora smiled.
At the corners of her mouth.
But inwardly, she was already spitting.
‘What does this old hag want now?’
Yoon Mi-ja.
The woman who had supposedly looked exactly like this since her own mother's time.
Rumors even claimed that she had been alive since the Joseon era—let alone the Japanese colonial period—and that Hyeonmu itself was merely a shell meant to conceal her.
Yet despite her larger-than-life history, what she did by the end of the Four Directions Round Table was always more or less the same.
She acted like a grandmother and got under the skin of women much younger than herself.
“You little brat. If you spend the prime of your youth in some corner of the guild digging into other people's backgrounds, you'll get wrinkles, wrinkles. Why don't you let this granny help you with your work?”
“What kind of help are you referring to?”
“For example⋯ you could share a little of the information you’ve been digging into lately.”
As expected.
It sounded nice to say she would help, but in the end, it amounted to wanting a share of the information Baekho had gathered.
She even made freeloading sound so elegant.
Yoon Mi-ja smiled with her eyes.
“In return, I could introduce you to a rather famous male idol trainee from the entertainment industry these days.”
“Ho-ho. I’ll decline as enthusiastically as possible.”
Han Sora cut her off with a smile.
A male idol trainee.
It sounded like tempting bait, but in reality, it was unattainable.
To begin with, male celebrities in this world were not simply celebrities.
They were ultra-high-risk human resources monitored not only by the Ministry of Men and Family Affairs but also by international male-protection organizations.
No matter how powerful the Big Four guilds were, they couldn't casually lay a hand on such people.
Above all, Yoon Mi-ja herself was an old maid who had apparently not even properly held a man's hand once in all those years.
If she really had connections like that, the old hag would have gone after him herself before introducing him to anyone else.
In short, it was complete bullshit.
“What about Miss Song-hee? I heard Geumseong is working on some new equipment project. If you tell this old granny just a little about it, I could even arrange a blind date with a decent man.”
“I’m sorry, but my trust isn’t cheap enough to sell for a single bout of lust.”
“Oh my. Young people these days are so direct.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t understand if I beat around the bush, Guild Master.”
This time, Yoon Mi-ja’s words jabbed toward Jang Song-hee, but she didn’t even blink.
If anything, because Song-hee had answered so bluntly, a thin silence descended over the table for a moment.
It seemed this Four Directions Round Table, too, would end with nothing more than some light provocation.
The next moment.
“Come to think of it, Sora.”
“Guild Master. As I said, I’m declining that sort of introduction⋯”
“How is your mother?”
That was true—until Yoon Mi-ja brought up Baekho's guild master.
⋯⋯
Han Sora had attended the Four Directions Round Table as acting guild master for eight years.
No one had ever taken issue with it before.
At least, that had been true up until the previous meeting.
But Yoon Mi-ja had brought up that name for the first time.
And so openly.
Jang Song-hee showed no particular reaction.
To Jang Song-hee, who knew nothing about Baekho Guild’s internal situation, it merely sounded as though Yoon Mi-ja had casually asked after a legend who had retired long ago.
But not to the daughter herself.
Han Sora knew better than anyone that Yoon Mi-ja was not the sort of person to bring something like that up without a reason.
“Why are you suddenly asking about my mother?”
When Sora asked in a lowered voice, Yoon Mi-ja slowly rose from her seat instead of answering.
Then, before Sora knew it, Yoon Mi-ja had come up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder as though soothing a granddaughter.
At least on the surface, it was an affectionate touch.
But the sensation was strangely cold.
As though, with a smile on her face, she had brought the tip of a knife to the back of Sora's neck.
“There’s one thing you should know, Sora.”
“⋯What is it?”
The playfulness vanished from her voice.
“A beast that has lost its fangs, you see, is no longer a beast. From that moment on, it becomes prey.”
No answer came.
Only the fingertips around her teacup tightened ever so slightly.
Yoon Mi-ja smiled again.
With the same sly, grandmotherly expression she had worn while chattering about male idols and blind dates moments earlier.
But Sora knew.
That was not a joke.
It was a warning.
Perhaps something even more overt: a declaration.
Hyeonmu had already caught the scent seeping from the wound Baekho had hidden deepest within itself.