“What are you talking about?”
“It’s not just the gate. There’s something else people are making a fuss about.”
It was the same story every time a problematic dungeon appeared. The higher the dungeon’s rank, the greater the rewards upon clearing it. Titles, items—on top of that, the rankings of the hunters who participated in the raid could shift.
“Looks like a rumor’s going around that there’s a legendary-grade item hidden in this dungeon. It’s already drawing a ton of attention, and with pressure coming in from all sides, that kind of talk just makes everyone lose their minds.”
The dungeon had formed within the territory of the Rapture Guild. By principle, that meant ownership belonged to them.
However, after a round of meetings, simultaneous entry with other guilds had been approved. On the surface, it was framed as a polite request for cooperation—but in reality, it had been forced through by pressure and coercion.
“Even if a ton of people go in together, it won’t mean much. Aside from a handful, the rest will just be extras. The ones who take down the boss monster are the only ones who benefit. Hell, it might not even be the monsters people end up fighting—it could turn into hunters fighting each other.”
Gong Siyoung frowned.
So they were already blinded by the reward. Judging by the way Gong Sijin was talking, he must’ve been dragged through that so-called meeting for quite a while.
They hadn’t even figured out what the overlapping gate actually was yet. Instead of focusing on solving the situation, everyone was scrambling to grab profit first. It was pathetic.
“No wonder they were swarming in like a pack when entering a D-rank.”
“If they want to confirm whether the rumor’s real or not, they have no choice but to go in themselves.”
Gong Sijin let out a quiet sigh. It was something he had learned the hard way while running a guild. People weren’t as righteous as they liked to think. Everyone had their own reasons for acting cowardly.
You couldn’t say that was entirely wrong—but that didn’t mean he was willing to defend hunters acting selfishly.
“With this many people, there’s definitely going to be interference. No telling what kind of variables might pop up inside the dungeon. Hunter Myeong Haejin will handle coordination, but Siyoung… you especially need to be careful.”
The moment the name Myeong Haejin came up, Siyoung’s expression twisted on reflex. Gong Sijin emphasized it again.
“Tone down your personality.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And take good care of Yurian. I don’t need to spell out how important he is, right?”
The hand patting his shoulder pressed down harder. Instead of answering, Siyoung slapped it away.
“I know he’s not just some lunatic. That’s why I’ve been treating him well.”
There was no end to how unusual Yurian was. Discovering an anomalous dungeon, using abilities that weren’t skills, possessing deep knowledge about monsters—none of that was common.
On top of that, the system recognized Yurian as ‘Unknown.’ At that point, it would’ve been stranger if he wasn’t from another dimension.
“Treating him well is fine… but don’t trust him too much either, Siyoung. What we need is his ability. Yurian might not be as good a person as we think.”
Even while acting warm enough to hand over his liver if asked, Gong Sijin didn’t fully trust Yurian. Cold, but realistic. There was still far too much they didn’t know about him.
“You’re the one who told me to treat him well. Why dump someone who might be dangerous on me?”
“I told you. Because you’re capable of subduing him. If something happens, you might have to step in. You understand what I mean by not getting too attached, right?”
Gong Siyoung was, in essence, a failsafe. A contingency in case Yurian had to be eliminated. Gong Sijin’s intention had been obvious from the start.
“If Yurian betrays us… or starts thinking differently… you might have to deal with him yourself.”
Like livestock fattened for slaughter, Gong Sijin spoke of Yurian’s usefulness without hesitation. The idea of putting him down if he became a threat was cold—but practical.
Better than letting a threat linger.
As Guild Master, Gong Sijin was making the decision to protect his people. Siyoung understood that, logically.
“…I’m heading out first.”
Understanding it didn’t make it sit any better.
Did he genuinely like Yurian? Not really. If he were being honest, the guy was closer to annoying and troublesome. He talked nonstop, hovered around constantly, made noise every second.
They hadn’t even known each other for a full week—what kind of meaningful bond could they have formed in that time?
And yet, Gong Sijin’s words still left a sour weight in his chest. First it was “make sure he eats well,” and now it was “kill him if necessary.”
Easy to say.
When you saw someone every day, talked to them, dealt with them constantly—things weren’t that simple.
‘Should’ve never gotten involved.’
He shouldn’t have picked him up from the dungeon. Should’ve just ignored him. Now he was stuck dealing with problems he didn’t need.
Gong Siyoung pressed his fingers against his brow and exhaled, forcing down a sigh as he left the meeting room.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, a series of electronic popping sounds echoed faintly.
Down the corridor, Yurian and Myeong Haejin were sitting side by side on a row of chairs. White hair and pink hair practically glued together. The irritation he’d managed to suppress surged right back up.
“What are you doing over there?”
Yurian snapped his head up. His cheeks were flushed, tinted rose. His eyes sparkled nonstop.
Siyoung halted mid-step.
“No, look at this. Haejin said he’d show me how to use it, so I’ve been watching.”
“Hyung, see this? If you press here, you can subscribe too. I’ll recommend you a few.”
Myeong Haejin tapped away at the phone. Yurian looked like he was about to get sucked straight into the screen. Haejin nudged his arm lightly.
“Want to try it yourself?”
“Yeah, I want to.”
He eagerly took the phone. Every awkward tap on the screen was followed by a burst of amazement. Their faces were so close it looked like they were about to kiss.
“Nice job, hyung.”
Myeong Haejin smiled, eyes curving. Then he looked over at Siyoung, wearing a shameless expression like he’d been there the whole time.
There was no way an A-rank hunter hadn’t noticed someone approaching. That attitude was deliberate—meant to piss him off.
Gripping Yurian’s arm in plain sight, Myeong Haejin smirked.
“Haejin, how do you do this?”
Yurian called his name—already dropping the surname. They’d been together for what, a few minutes? And he was already calling him that casually?
That was it.
Siyoung stepped in between them.
“Aren’t you leaving? This isn’t the time to be messing around.”
“We were just about to. Yurian hyung, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll head out first.”
“Yeah.”
Yurian answered without even looking up from the phone. Completely absorbed. Myeong Haejin strolled off lazily, then paused at the stairs.
“Oh, right.”
He turned back.
“Siyoung hunter, there are a lot of articles about you. You might want to be careful for a while.”
He waved casually before leaving. What articles? Before Siyoung could ask, he was already gone.
Siyoung stared after the obnoxious pink head, then turned to Yurian, who was still sitting there.
“Let’s go. Get up.”
“Huh? Oh… okay.”
Even as he answered, his eyes didn’t leave the screen. What the hell was he so mesmerized by?
Siyoung leaned over to look.
[All the World’s Manufacturing ─ Korea’s Mass Production Technology BEST 5]
The screen showed a factory producing fishing rods. Machines moved in perfect synchronization.
Why was he watching this? And how had he even found it?
The machinery spun and rolled. With a hiss of compressed air, a fishing rod was assembled in seconds.
Siyoung hesitated, then spoke.
“…Why are you watching this?”
“Huh? Ah… I don’t know. It’s just… fascinating? Wait, let me finish this first.”
Barely paying attention to where he was going, Yurian remained glued to the phone.
It was a little strange—but not inappropriate. Hard to comment on.
Still, it wasn’t all bad.
Since discovering this new “technology,” Yurian had been quieter than ever. The guy who couldn’t go a minute without talking was now completely silent.
That alone was nice.
So this was why parents handed kids phones.
Standing at the stairs, Siyoung suddenly stopped—and Yurian walked straight into his back, bumping his forehead.
“Ow—what was that? You scared me. Why’d you stop all of a sudden?”
“…It’s stairs. Put the phone away before you trip.”
Only then did Yurian notice. He scratched his head awkwardly—yet still didn’t let go of the phone.
Siyoung narrowed his eyes.
“Hand it over. I’ll check it.”
He hadn’t specified what—but it was obvious.
Yurian hesitated, then handed it over.
Siyoung examined the video app first, registering his own account to filter inappropriate content, then closed it. Next, he opened the contacts.
Among the few entries, his finger stopped on “Myeong Haejin.”
Without hesitation, he deleted the number.
After checking there was nothing else of note, he confirmed his own number—already saved, likely by Gong Sijin—and locked the phone.
“I’ll hold onto it until we arrive.”
“Why? I haven’t finished watching that yet.”
“The fishing rod isn’t done yet,” Yurian protested.
Siyoung shook his head firmly.
“That’s not what matters right now. Did you forget we’re entering a dungeon?”
“I didn’t forget, but…”
“I’ll teach you how to use a smartphone later. For now, follow me. We’re seriously running out of time.”
They still had to register and prepare once they arrived. Siyoung smoothly changed the subject and shoved the phone into his pocket.