Chapter 285: Ju Haemi (1)
“So this is… home, huh.”
Just breathing in the familiar air of Korea brought a sense of relief.
From the moment he landed at the airport, the thought, Ah, this really is Korea, came over him.
As soon as he passed through immigration, as if he had been under watch, a message from Takashi arrived.
The content was simple.
The dungeon raid schedule had been confirmed for seven days later.
The team consisted of Kang-hoo, Takashi, Yu Cheonghwa, and Emilia, just as discussed before.
The dungeon difficulty would be set according to the team’s average level, so it would likely be a tough challenge for Kang-hoo.
Before returning to Korea, Kang-hoo had already made arrangements in Germany to head straight for Yuri Land.
The reason being, Celestial Assassin’s quarters were going to be established there.According to K, Celestial Assassin grumbled about it, but it was probably just a front.
Celestial Assassin’s most beloved younger sibling is K. There’s no way she resented the gesture.
Besides, with Yuri Land under K’s tight security, it was free from outside eyes.
No hunter would dare approach the area unless they had a death wish.
Especially if they were from the Jeonghwa Guild, which had a good relationship with K—no way they’d risk provoking anything.
A secure limousine had already been arranged by K’s consideration.
Kang-hoo briefly thanked K for the preparations and got into the secure limousine.
Since K mentioned being busy, he was probably working on a large-scale medicinal supply contract with the Jeonghwa Guild.
As one of K’s main clients, it was only natural.
The demand for herbs and medicine likely surged after the recent Dongducheon battle, so prices probably skyrocketed.
From K’s point of view, it was the perfect time for business.
Soon, Kang-hoo, enjoying the smooth ride of the limousine, headed for Yuri Land.
And he began catching up on the domestic news he had completely ignored while in Germany.
He had deliberately avoided the news to stay focused on the raid while abroad.
Now, finally catching up, he realized just how much had piled up.
Faced with the overwhelming amount, he considered just tuning out and listening to music… but his eyes moved first.
“This one’s heavy.”
What immediately grabbed Kang-hoo’s attention was the report that the warlord group, The Abyss, had tied down Jeonghwa Guild’s main force on one front.
And then launched a surprise attack on Haeyeong Guild’s main base, causing significant damage.
It also reported the death of Jo Chi-hoon, the fourth-ranking executive of Haeyeong Guild, who was killed in the process.
Footage from the scene showed him surrounded by The Abyss’s Red Tiger Unit, gunned down without a chance to escape.
But that wasn’t all.
Before dying, Jo Chi-hoon revealed internal secrets of the Haeyeong Guild.
Whether it was a desperate attempt to survive or a deal not shown on the footage, it seemed something had happened.
—“We cooperated with the Jeonghwa Guild to verify the business potential of their core operation—hunter trafficking!”
“We didn’t just cooperate blindly! We had our reasons! We were investigating secretly from within!”
“So please, spare me! I don’t want to die like a dog here…!”
The footage released by The Abyss showed Jo Chi-hoon dying on camera.
Even just that was expected to cause a massive uproar, but surprisingly, the situation was quickly contained.
Jeonghwa and Haeyeong Guilds issued nearly simultaneous official statements, claiming it was a manipulated setup by The Abyss.
They stated that the relationship between Jeonghwa and Haeyeong Guilds remained strong, not something that could be broken by a single defector.
But the situation didn’t settle with the statements from both guilds.
Follow-up leaks continued.
There was a particularly big development.
Some popular influencers on Huntergram started releasing information sourced from The Abyss.
“Turning this into a propaganda war? Not a bad choice. Honestly, it should’ve started sooner.”
Kang-hoo welcomed the influencers who began releasing short videos and data supporting The Abyss’s side.
They uploaded footage of Kim Dae-man, Jeonghwa Guild’s fourth-ranking executive, handing over a bound hunter to the Kashimar Guild.
The source was unknown.
But from the camera angles, it was clear the footage had been taken from inside the Kashimar Guild.
In other words, it was an internal leak. Most likely deliberate. The footage probably sold for a high price.
It was hard to claim manipulation when Kim Dae-man’s face was so clearly captured.
And the content and context directly tied to hunter trafficking, leaving no room for excuses.
It became a scandal that completely ruined Jang Si-hwan’s image—he had long been the most vocal critic of Kashimar Guild’s atrocities.
On Huntergram, the interpretations split between pro-Jeonghwa and pro-Abyss influencers.
Those on Jeonghwa’s side claimed the traded hunters were criminal prisoners from The Abyss, arguing they were disposable.
Influencers siding with The Abyss called out Jang Si-hwan’s hypocrisy, attacking relentlessly.
“I didn’t think saving Lee Hyun-seok would ripple this far… Feels like I’ve really twisted fate.”
Just by keeping Lee Hyun-seok alive, both Jeonghwa and Haeyeong Guilds had been drawn into the mess.
The Abyss’s propaganda war was exactly what Kang-hoo had hoped for—and it was working.
“Might be a good idea to toss in another juicy source through secure mail.”
What Kang-hoo thought of was a potential ally inside the Public Safety Bureau who could support Lee Hyun-seok.
A figure also connected to the original story.
In the original, the Public Safety Bureau would later launch a kind of ‘rebellion’ aimed at seizing the Jeonghwa Guild’s assets.
A failed assassination attempt on Jeonghwa executives like Jang Si-hwan and Chae Gwanhyeong.
Naturally, the Bureau’s top three leaders were the first to be executed as the rebellion began.
They had been Jeonghwa’s loyal collaborators, making them prime targets.
The leader of the rebellion was depicted as one of the Bureau’s hunters—Yu Do-hoon.
He was portrayed as someone who had long felt deep disappointment at seeing the Bureau reduced to Jeonghwa’s second division.
Eventually, he came to believe that to restore the Bureau’s dignity, the Commissioner and other hypocrites had to die—
—and that the ultimate solution was to destroy the Jeonghwa Guild, the root of all evil.
But that was a story set two or three years from now, and at that time, the Jeonghwa Guild was even more powerful.
All the rebellion did was stir a tempest in a teacup before the entire faction was arrested.
What happened to the captured rebels afterward—whether they died or not—was never covered further in the original story.
“Yu Do-hoon may have been portrayed as greedy… but looking at it from the angle of that damn delusional ending, maybe even that was a lie.”
Kang-hoo bit down hard on his lip.
Because of this damn delusion and collaborator ending that he had created as the original author.
He constantly had to reinterpret past events, the story, and the future—it was a constant headache.
Because of that ending, the original story had effectively become the world as seen through the eyes of a delusional Jang Si-hwan.
So he couldn’t just interpret justice as justice, and evil as evil anymore.
“I don’t need to push any harder. I just need to create one point of contact between Yu Do-hoon and Lee Hyun-seok. Just letting him know there’s someone outside he can reach out to—that alone will steer him in the right direction.”
Kang-hoo changed the plan—he would send a secure message to both Lee Hyun-seok and Yu Do-hoon.
If everything went as he wanted, it would paint quite the interesting picture.
The current Public Safety Bureau, to be frank, was a disposable organization. No, it would be better off gone.
If it could be shattered while dealing damage to the Jeonghwa Guild, then that was a win many times over.
Tap. Tap tap tap.
Kang-hoo’s fingers began to move swiftly.
He was preparing messages to be delivered to both men via anonymous secure mail.
What would be the best way to begin and end the message?
Around that time, Celestial Assassin had already arrived at Yuri Land, unpacked everything at the villa, and stepped outside.
Beside him stood a woman with a strong, sturdy build.
Publicly, she was only known as a young woman serving Celestial Assassin.
But in truth, she was his adopted daughter.
Just as K and Kang Bok-hwa had adopted Jung Yuri, Celestial Assassin had an adoptive daughter of his own.
Her name was Ju Haemi, and she was twenty-three years old this year.
She had one notable trait—her vision was impaired.
She was practically blind, and so Ju Haemi always wore an eye patch to cover her eyes.
And changing the color of the eye patch was a hobby of sorts for her.
She could vaguely distinguish shapes very close to her, and see colors just a little.
Seeing the color of her eye patch gave her the faint reassurance that her optic nerves were still alive—it was her only comfort.
She wasn’t very talkative, but if there was one person she spoke to a lot, it was her adoptive father, Celestial Assassin.
Since it was just the two of them now.
Even when meeting K, she hadn’t said a word beyond a greeting—yet now she spoke first.
“Father. That hunter named Shin Kang-hoo… does he really have the skill and qualifications to be your disciple?”
There was a clear tone of doubt in Ju Haemi’s voice when it came to Kang-hoo.
It wasn’t out of hostility.
She just wanted to know whether her wounded adoptive father could afford to open his heart to someone again.
She was also cautious.
If Celestial Assassin were to be hurt again, she feared he might completely lose control.
Celestial Assassin nodded.
“There are people you can understand the future of by looking at their present. Shin Kang-hoo was exactly that.”
“You saw your own past in him?”
“Yes. I saw myself.”
“Then… he must be a lonely person.”
“You could say that.”
Celestial Assassin smiled.
From the moment he first saw Kang-hoo, he felt a startling resemblance to his younger self.
It wasn’t just the expressionless face that rarely showed emotion or agitation.
There was also the deadly seriousness, the determination with which he threw himself into everything—a true fighter’s instinct.
Truthfully, it hadn’t been that long since Celestial Assassin changed into the more easygoing person he was now.
If K hadn’t drawn out his original, buried personality, he’d still be cold and reserved.
He would’ve been someone who hid his emotions too well, impossible to read for others.
But thanks to his younger sibling K’s efforts, Celestial Assassin had become more honest with his emotions than ever before.
“What do you wish from him? If you’ve decided to take him in as your disciple… then surely you must have something in mind.”
Ju Haemi’s question made Celestial Assassin’s gaze deepen.
After a brief silence, Celestial Assassin gently held Ju Haemi’s hand.
At that moment, her hand trembled slightly. She could feel the emotion within his grip.
Even without making eye contact, even without sound, Ju Haemi could sense her father’s feelings.
The tears that flowed behind her hidden eyes were no overreaction—it was emotional transference.
“There’s not much time l—”
Just as Celestial Assassin was about to answer Ju Haemi’s question.
“Hyung-nim! He’s here!”
K could be seen waving happily in the distance. Kang-hoo had finally arrived.