“If the President gives a direct order, not even you would be able to stop it, would you, Team Leader? Instead, if those three arrive at the Association, I’d like you to pass something along.”
“What should I tell them?”
“That I’ve left the Association. They’re cooperating with the Association because of me. Once I’m gone, they’ll act on their own judgment.”
“Pardon? Hunter Cha Seohu, that’s—”
“You don’t need to escort me back to the room either. I’m heading out now anyway.”
What?
He’s leaving? Just like that?
Seeing Cha Seohu show not a hint of hesitation, Park Minhyuk’s mind raced.
If he let Seohu go like this, it was guaranteed he’d never set foot in the Association again. He needed to come up with some excuse to stall him.
“I’ll deliver your message to the three of them as requested. But I don’t think leaving right now is a wise decision.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a crowd of reporters at the Association. They’re waiting for the official release of your rank evaluation. It’s going public soon.”
“Oh.”
Cha Seohu seemed genuinely caught off guard.
He must’ve forgotten about the re-evaluation in all the shouting matches with the President.
Relieved, Park Minhyuk pressed the advantage.
“There are far too many reporters gathered. Whether it’s the front or back entrance, both are blocked. It’ll be hard to sneak out unnoticed.”
“Hmmm.”
“We plan to release your rank to the press and then send them away, so I suggest returning to your room for now and waiting for things to settle.”
“But if I do that, it’ll delay letting those three know I’ve left.”
That shut Park Minhyuk up for a moment.
Even if the Association President gave the order, the ones being interrogated were S-rank dealers—practically superhuman.
Who was worried for whom here? Cha Seohu was just a Supporter.
He should be thinking about his own safety first.
“That part...”
Feeling a headache coming on, Park Minhyuk rubbed his temples.
“I’ll do my best to mediate from the middle. I’ll make sure they’re not put in any disadvantage, and I’ll explain your current situation as well.”
“Hm.”
Cha Seohu blinked a few times, as if measuring something, then slowly smiled. That smile again.
“Can I trust you?”
“...I wouldn’t stoop so low as to lie about something like this.”
Seohu let out a long, satisfied laugh.
“Alright. I’ll trust you.”
Only then did Park Minhyuk let out a breath.
The situation wasn’t fully resolved, but at least Seohu wasn’t storming out this second.
I need to come up with a few more excuses to stall him...
As the conversation came to a close, Seohu pulled his arm back and turned away.
“No need to walk me to my room. If you’re going to keep your promise, you’re going to be busy anyway. I’ll get there on my own. You should go take care of your work.”
Park Minhyuk watched him walk away and debated whether to stop him again, but this time he gave up.
It felt like Cha Seohu was politely but firmly pushing him away.
This was the time to step back.
With a soft sigh, Park Minhyuk also turned and headed toward Building 1.
The route to the guest room he had been guided to yesterday wasn’t complicated.
Just enter the adjacent building and take the elevator—it was simple enough that it made Park Minhyuk chasing after him earlier feel unnecessary.
In the elevator, he pressed the button for the 12th floor and started sorting out his thoughts.
Even with reporters outside, Sahyeon’s around, so it’s fine...
But disappearing without # Nоvеlight # a word would make things worse with Park Minhyuk and the Association.
Then again, after that blowout with the President, things were already at rock bottom.
Still, Park Minhyuk might be useful later...
He had confidently claimed he’d mediate everything, so giving him one chance seemed reasonable.
He was still worried about the three S-ranks—especially Ryu Sunghyun and Song Jiwoon—but Park Minhyuk didn’t seem like the type to make excuses.
Trying to leave using Sahyeon’s skill would only raise more questions...
The biggest variable in this situation was Sahyeon.
Sending him off ahead of time had been a good decision, but it wasn’t viable to leave him wandering without a proper place to stay.
He needed to settle things quickly and return to Yesung Guild.
He recalled Sahyeon’s blunt remark in the snowy mountains—that he’d always been a beggar—and pressed his fingers against his brow.
He’d given him his wallet and told him to stay at the hotel, but... it still made him anxious.
Just as he got off the elevator and was walking toward the room, an odd sense of discomfort hit him.
...Was the hallway always this quiet?
Well, it was business hours. There wasn’t much reason for staff to be on the guest room floor anyway.
Shrugging off the unease, he pulled out the keycard he’d received yesterday and unlocked the door.
He stepped out of his shoes at the entrance and just took his first step into the room when—
“......!”
A shadow flashed at the edge of his vision, and a massive hand grabbed the lower half of his face.
SLAM!
Before he could even scream, he was slammed into the floor by sheer force.
A dull crack rang through his skull, and his blood turned ice-cold.
He tried to turn his head to see who had pinned him down, but the grip on his head only tightened.
“Ghhk, ngh...!”
The weight pressing down on his lower back made it impossible to breathe.
The figure he’d glimpsed before being taken down—massive.
And this presence...
No way!
Realizing who the attacker was sent chills down his spine.
He tried to summon the shadow linked to Sahyeon, but the hand over his mouth kept him from making a sound.
Just as he started struggling with all his might to break free—
“Mmgh...!”
A sweet fragrance drifted in from somewhere.
His nose and mouth were covered, and yet the scent was unmistakably clear.
Floral.
A thick, overpowering floral scent soaked into his skin...
No...
His limbs went numb. His thoughts clouded rapidly.
He tried to resist, but his eyelids kept growing heavier.
Through his blurry vision, he saw smoke spreading like writhing snakes.
Then came the slow, heavy footsteps of leather shoes.
Just before he blacked out, he saw a pair of pitch-black dress shoes stop in front of him.
Unlike Cha Seohu, who had returned to Building 2, Park Minhyuk had gone down to the main hall of Building 1. On his way to the interrogation room, he ran into another employee.
“Hello, Team Leader.”
“Good afternoon.”
The staff member approached briskly, looking around as if checking for eavesdroppers, and asked in a hushed voice,
“I heard you’re close with that Supporter everyone’s talking about. Mind if I ask something?”
“...Go ahead.”
“Is it true? That he really awakened three skills? I also heard his rank’s officially been declared SS-rank.”
The information Park Minhyuk had just learned in the exam room was now coming freely from another employee.
Caught off guard, Park Minhyuk asked,
“Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, there was a news flash. That’s how I found out...”
“A news flash?”
Wait—did that mean the information had already gone public?
Not even thirty minutes have passed since I left the President’s office...
It had to be the President. He must’ve seen that Cha Seohu was about to leave and rushed the announcement to keep him tied down.
The original plan had been to hold an official press briefing, which would’ve taken at least two more hours.
Haa...
A headache pounded in his skull as he realized the President was rushing things again. He decided to check the internet for updates on the way to the interrogation room.
“Thanks for the info. I have something urgent, so I’ll—”
“Huh?”
Before Park Minhyuk could finish, the staff member’s eyes widened, puzzled. He followed the man’s gaze—and spotted a suspicious figure.
A tall man wearing a black jumper and jeans stood in the center of the main hall.
Who is that?
He didn’t flinch under the stares of the staff. Instead, he casually looked around before pulling something from his inventory.
To everyone’s surprise, it was a violin.
A pristine, snow-white violin.
He placed it on his shoulder and raised the bow with his other hand.
Employees who’d been hurrying about stopped in their tracks.
More and more people gathered, drawn to the man as if hypnotized.
Eyes closed, a faint smile on his face, the man gently moved the bow.
A beautiful violin melody rang out, bright and full of rhythm, filling the entire hall.
Loud and clear, as though it were being broadcast through a speaker—it was no ordinary instrument. Park Minhyuk realized it was an item.
The melody quickly picked up speed.
Rhythmic, joyful, almost impossible not to imagine dancers twirling on stage.
The man was playing Jacques Offenbach’s Can-Can on the violin.

Comments

Loading...