Chapter 314: Again, Japan (2)
“Because Lee Hyun-seok is alive.”
A link of fate that hadn’t been mentioned in the original story was now clearly visible.
Should this be considered part of the subconscious? Or was it truly a connection born from this world itself? Kang-hoo couldn’t come to an easy conclusion. What was clear, though, was that he was now seeing the link between Park Sang-oh and Lee Hyun-seok with his own eyes.
If flipped in perspective, it could be said that in the original story, this connection between the two was never “activated” because Lee Hyun-seok had died early due to Moon Yu-seok’s betrayal.
Regardless of whether this connection was created subconsciously or through some creative force, its existence was undeniable.
“Either way, this means I can receive support from Lee Hyun-seok through unofficial channels. That’s good. He cleared the path on his own.”
Lee Hyun-seok truly had a good sense for things.
Knowing what Kang-hoo might find bothersome, he had gone ahead and covered those parts himself.
It was something that couldn’t be done without genuine care and concern for Kang-hoo. That consideration itself was filled with meaning.
Lee Hyun-seok was currently at the front lines against the Jeonghwa Guild.For Kang-hoo, who saw him as a key player, the idea was to start receiving help through unofficial routes—such as information about Jeonghwa Guild’s weaknesses, something that would open the gates of hell for Jang Si-hwan.
The person welcoming Kang-hoo as he exited immigration at Haneda Airport was a chauffeur Takashi had sent in advance.
Once Kang-hoo boarded the limousine, he found that Takashi’s avatar was already seated inside.
For some reason, the avatar was dressed neatly in a suit today.
Considering how often Takashi dressed his avatars in red samurai armor or anime cosplay outfits, this was a very uncharacteristic look.
It was like applying a “normal skin” in a game. There was no sign of the usual flamboyance.
As soon as Kang-hoo got into the limousine, he shook hands energetically with Takashi’s avatar.
They grasped each other’s hands so tightly that it almost felt like they became one for a moment—a warm welcome in its own right.
The chauffeur then stepped on the gas and activated the limousine’s soundproofing system.
It was a feature designed to respect the privacy of conversations.
Once their private space was secured, Kang-hoo opened the conversation.
“It’s been a while, Takashi.”
“How’ve you been, Shin Kang-hoo?”
“As you can see.”
“Hey, about the Cheongmyeong Detention Center thing—man, that was amazing! Even the storyline was perfectly tied together.”
“……”
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t trying to trigger your past or anything. I just felt like it was poetic justice, you know? It really resonated!”
Kang-hoo had simply been staring at Takashi out of habit.
But Takashi seemed to think he had stirred up trauma and quickly apologized.
Kang-hoo appreciated Takashi’s sincerity.
He acted tough, like he didn’t care, like he looked down on people—but deep down, he genuinely cared.
“That’s just how it went.”
“Anyway, it was seriously impressive. My friends were amazed watching that video—especially your skill setup.”
“Yeah, I did kind of feel like I ended up as a showcase.”
“If my friends were that impressed, that means they truly think you’re amazing. I knew it—my judgment that you were different from the others wasn’t wrong!”
The “friends” Takashi mentioned were likely the Takashi Family, or “TakiFam.”
They were hunters just as skilled as Takashi and notoriously picky, so if they praised something, you didn’t need to second-guess it.
It could be taken at face value as genuine praise. That made Kang-hoo feel even better.
Kang-hoo asked, “What have you been up to?”
“Me? I’ve been dungeon-hopping around Japan. Met some friends, stayed busy.”
“No plans to visit Korea?”
The question Kang-hoo casually tossed out implied: haven’t you met with Jang Si-hwan or seen the Thirteen Stars lately?
Of course, Takashi likely didn’t realize Kang-hoo knew about the Thirteen Stars—about Justice.
There were no direct references in the question, but the conversation would still give Kang-hoo a conclusion.
“I do have a few friends in Korea, but I haven’t met them lately. It’s boring, and they don’t really pay attention to me.”
“Oh, really?”
To a third party, it might’ve sounded like small talk.
But Kang-hoo had gained very important intel from Takashi’s answer.
If you filled in the omitted subject—“Jang Si-hwan”—the meaning became complete.
He hasn’t seen Jang Si-hwan lately. It’s no fun to meet him. Jang Si-hwan doesn’t care about him anymore.
The context fit perfectly.
Right now, Jang Si-hwan would be completely focused on the battle in Dongducheon.
And in the original story, even Chae Gwanhyeong considered Takashi worse than a shut-in loser and hated him. It would be no different now.
“Yeah. That guy and I think too differently. I figured it’s best we go our separate ways.”
“Must’ve been a pretty close friend, for you to think about parting ways like that.”
“We weren’t shallow, no. But maybe it was just my one-sided view.”
A faint sense of disappointment—or perhaps betrayal—lingered in the way Takashi’s avatar lowered his head.
It was likely an unconscious emotional expression coming from wherever the real Takashi was controlling the avatar.
It was an even better answer than Kang-hoo expected, and a faint smile naturally appeared on his face.
If he could fracture the bond between Jang Si-hwan and Takashi, he could drag them both into a web of complications—via Emilia and Yu Cheonghwa.
Perhaps feeling the conversation had gotten too serious, Takashi clapped his hands and changed the topic.
“Anyway! He’s not my only friend, right? I’ve got you! I’ll have fun hanging out with you instead, won’t I?”
“Sounds right to me.”
“Yeah! So let’s have fun this time, okay? I even got ready for a bath after so long—mmph.”
“Let’s not imagine that.”
“Heh. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m feeling amazing right now.”
Even his voice radiated excitement, and Kang-hoo found himself smiling.
It was like a child thrilled to be heading to an amusement park with their parents.
That innocent, uniquely Takashi-esque purity—it was something Kang-hoo could never imitate.
The place where Kang-hoo and Takashi’s avatar got off was in front of the same five-story apartment they had visited before.
Back then, Kang-hoo had heard that Takashi had bought the entire apartment building.
The story went that a few units in the apartment had turned into dungeon entrances, so he just bought the whole thing while he was at it—a “heartwarming” tale, in a way.
Just like before, they settled down in front of the stone stairs that led downward.
Takashi pulled out a can of coffee he had brought and handed it to Kang-hoo, then opened one for himself as well.
Even though the avatar couldn’t take a sip, just like last time, he still matched Kang-hoo’s rhythm as an act of consideration.
Then, from the mansion across the stairs, a man came rushing out, did his recycling, and hurried back inside.
It was a scene that looked vaguely familiar. Still, since it was a common occurrence, Kang-hoo didn’t think much of it.
After sharing a casual toast with Takashi using their canned coffee and taking a sweet sip, Takashi cautiously brought something up.
“Shin Kang-hoo.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s an organization in Korea that really hates you.”
“Eclipse?”
“Yeah. So, what if you moved your base of operations to Japan? I could make sure you have a safe space here.”
“It’s not like I’ve never thought about it.”
Kang-hoo nodded at Takashi’s suggestion.
That thought was both past and present. Growing abroad didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
Especially with Takashi watching his back, Japan could be a more comfortable environment for growth.
But Kang-hoo considered that idea to be putting the cart before the horse.
The network he was building in Korea would eventually become far broader and more valuable than anything abroad, bringing overwhelming advantages.
No matter how much Takashi had his back, Kang-hoo’s activities in Japan would still be inherently limited.
Even though Japan was relatively open to foreign hunters, it still kept a close eye on any hunter trying to expand their power base.
They might be casual about individual hunters, but a force formed by a group of individuals was a different story.
For example, if Kang-hoo started building a guild and expanding his influence in Japan, from that moment, the Hunter Public Safety Bureau and other guilds in Japan would label him a threat and issue warnings.
Unless he joined an existing Japanese guild or dissolved his own, he would face constant penalties.
That’s why, for Kang-hoo, coming to Japan in his current personal capacity was more convenient.
And if he stayed outside Korea too long, he would naturally grow out of touch with internal developments.
Even if he stayed informed, it wouldn’t be the same as experiencing it firsthand.
Kang-hoo continued, “It’s fine. If I keep avoiding danger, the result is the same. I’ll just be eliminated someday.”
With that answer, Kang-hoo decided to use the moment to dive deeper into conversation with Takashi.
It was a consistent effort he’d been making since the first time he met Takashi—his “genuine emotion tactic.”
A method of provoking the alienation Takashi currently felt from Jang Si-hwan and Justice.
The reason behind his loneliness, even in the original story, was simple.
“You guys always leave the actual sincerity out of your conversations. Is this what real comradeship looks like? If we’re really comrades, why do none of you try to make sacrifices first, and why are you all so indifferent to each other’s pain? Isn’t it weird? You talk about unity, but all I see is people trying to suck out the benefits.”
It was the fact that no one had ever spoken to him with genuine sincerity. Not even Jang Si-hwan escaped that criticism.
“You never take what I say at face value. All you talk about are topics that benefit you. How is that friendship or comradery? Isn’t it just that you need someone to take your stress out on and clean up after you?”
In the original story, Takashi finally exploded with these emotions, and only then did everyone open up.
That turned into a heartwarming episode of growth for Jang Si-hwan and his allies, as befitting a protagonist’s arc.
But right now, that rift was only deepening, and Jang Si-hwan wasn’t even aware of it.
Which meant that with a little push, Kang-hoo could turn that crack into a massive fracture.
He planned to dig into Takashi’s emotional wounds—the disappointment and mistrust festering inside. It was a perfect opportunity.
“Takashi.”
“Yeah?”
“First of all, I really appreciate you setting up something this nice for me. I was just as excited as you before I came. I had high hopes.”
The start of his sincerity tactic!
Kang-hoo decided to shake up Takashi’s heart while he had the chance.
If you leave a wound alone, it might heal—but if you dig and scratch at it, it will eventually fester and burst.
He planned to play the latter role to perfection.
And even if some of the emotions he showed Takashi were fake, the sincerity outweighed the lies by far.