They were seated inside the makeshift situation room hastily set up in front of the Woongin Life building in Mapo-gu.
It was Korea’s second RP Dungeon. The first one had emerged around the time of the Cataclysm—nearly eight years ago.
All S-Rank Hunters and the elite raid teams from major guilds had gathered to assess the situation.
The room was packed with top representatives from each guild, all projecting authority—but the meeting ended more anticlimactically than expected.
The moment the Association President saw On Jurim, he started clearing his throat so aggressively it was almost comical, then hastily assigned the guild for this RP expedition and vanished like his ass was on fire.
The supporting guild had been chosen, but the others remained behind for a while longer.
Everyone knew that the moment they scattered, the reporters camping outside would ambush them with a barrage of questions.
“Is Hyeonak not deploying? Is Guildmastuh On Jurim really staying on his ass even when an RP Dungeon shows up?”
No one would care about the president’s official decision—they’d just throw out nonsense like that.
In the end, this was just a performance to show that even Hyeonak wasn’t sitting idle, and that Korea wouldn't overlook a national threat.
“Aaah~~ no matter how you look at it, it’s sketchy as hell~~”
“Hm? What is?”
Gidan looked up from his phone game at Team Leader Kim Jongwon’s muttering.
“I’m talking about Association President Ahn Seonyeong... It’s super weird and shady that she only deployed her daughter-in-law’s guild.”
“Why? Isn’t it because it’s an RP?”
In truth, RP dungeons operated under entirely different rules than others.
RP Dungeon.
The official name was “Replay Dungeon,” though some referred to it as a “Role-Playing Dungeon.” It was a massive dungeon that randomly replayed the memories of a world preserved within the System.
According to researchers who had studied the System, it wasn’t of Earthly origin. The prevailing theory was that it had been artificially created in another world, and crossed over to Earth alongside that world’s destruction.
RP Dungeons were a projection of that other world.
Academics compared it to a cache file left inside the System.
So while other dungeons were governed by a specific monster or boss, RP Dungeons were ruled by the System itself.
That made their clearing method unique.
Once the System projected a world, it generated a tailored scenario quest that suited the dungeon.
Clearing the RP Dungeon meant the participating Hunters had to carry out that scenario successfully.
The moment they entered, Hunters no longer belonged to Earth. They became inhabitants of that other world, like actors stepping onto a stage and being assigned roles.
Each person received a shared main quest, and individual quests based on their role.
Clearing the main quest was the only path to conquering the RP Dungeon.
Which is why it was widely accepted that sending in a well-coordinated guild team—rather than throwing in a random mass of bodies—was the most effective strategy.
That’s why a single major guild (Brom) had been designated as the core force, along with its affiliated allied guilds as support.
From what little precedent they had, as long as everyone played their roles properly, the main quest wasn’t particularly difficult to clear.
The real danger came from dungeon breaks.
In normal S-Rank dungeons or lower, a break meant the monsters inside poured out into the world.
But an RP Dungeon break was different. When an RP opened, worlds collided.
Literally. Cities collapsed. Nations fell. The impact was apocalyptic.
That’s why, despite the comparatively low difficulty, RP Dungeons were still classified as “Great Dungeons” and triggered a full S-Rank Hunter mobilization.
Gidan leaned back deep into his chair and continued.
“Low difficulty, RP—so it gets tons of attention showing up in the middle of Seoul. Feels like a great excuse for political leverage.”
“Hey, you damn high schooler, grown-ups have intuition. Something that hits you right in the gut. Right, Guildmastuh?”
He glanced toward Jurim.
Jurim didn’t respond. He just puffed his cigarette, fiddled with his phone, then finally muttered one line:
“Aren’t food names these days way too long?”
They all agreed with that point, but truthfully, Jurim had been mentally checked out lately. The man who used to sleep half the day was now barely sleeping a third. Something was up.
Nayeon chimed in, saying she couldn’t remember any names anymore, while Jongwon crossed his arms with a sour look.
Meanwhile, Gidan was tapping away at his keyboard, apparently looking for someone in-game. All he found were rows of question marks in the chat.
Then Nayeon, who had been quietly pondering the team leader’s suspicion, clapped her hands.
“Oh! Maybe she’s trying to give an artifact to Guildmastuh Chun?”
Artifacts.
Items crafted with otherworldly tech, held by bosses stronger than S-Rank—like Viaat’s Void.
If an RP Dungeon really was a projection of the original world, it meant they might be able to loot artifacts that only existed in the remnants of that world.
“Tsk... could it really be for artifacts? To hand one off to her daughter-in-law? This is why blood ties and personal connections are a problem.”
Gidan interjected at Jongwon’s muttering.
“That’s like saying ‘Time travel through black holes is theoretically possible.’ If it were real, the whole world would be in chaos.”
Not just artifacts above S-Rank—elixirs (legendary potions said to cure all ailments), or lost technology archive books (books preserving long-lost techniques).
If it were actually possible to bring those out?
When RP research was first published, it caused a frenzy. Every Hunter wanted in.
But now?
“Artifacts? Never seen one. Do they even exist?”
“Top-ranked American Hunter says, ‘You’d have better luck hunting another S-Rank monster than finding an artifact in an RP.’”
So many interviews with Hunters returning from the boonies or outskirts of RP Dungeons had piled up that most people now saw them as little more than annoying and tedious.
That’s when Jurim, who had been silent all this time, flicked his cigarette into dust and rose from his seat.
“What are you doing?”
“Feels like I’m getting dumber just sitting here.”
“Whaaa?”
“Ow—shit, that’s a four-week internal injury right there.”
The team leader grimaced while Gidan clutched his ribs.
“Don’t worry, Guildmastuh. Stupidity isn’t contagious.”
Nayeon smiled sweetly.
Unbothered, Jurim pulled open the tent flap of the base camp.
“Uh, Guildmastuh, where are you going? There’re still reporters ★ Novelight ★ outside.”
“Running an errand.”
His dry reply left everyone dumbfounded. Even Nayeon looked horrified.
An errand? From whom? Jurim wasn’t the type to take errands from anyone.
“Our guild, NAG, takes the safety of our citizens very seriously. I’m not saying Brom will fail, but unlike dungeons with established strategies, RP Dungeons are unpredictable, so we’ve placed our entire guild on standby for real-time mobilization in case of an accident—”
Gu Shinhoo, rambling into a mic outside the base camp, suddenly trailed off.
The reporters had all turned their gaze at once.
It was where On Jurim stood—just stepped out of the Hyeonak base camp.
“Thank you for your response, Guildmaster Gu Shinhoo.”
The reporter holding the mic quickly wrapped things up and began heading toward Jurim. Every other reporter camped in front of Gu followed suit.
“Guildmastuh On Jurim, what are your thoughts on the RP Dungeon?”
“Guildmastuh On Jurim! What response does Hyeonak plan?”
Mics and cameras were thrust toward him from all sides, but the man at the center of attention said nothing. He simply strolled on at his own pace, unbothered.
Fuck, with a face like that he should’ve been a celebrity, not a goddamn Hunter.
Gu Shinhoo scowled in irritation as he glared at Jurim.
Whether it was Jurim, Gidan, Nayeon—even Jurim’s adoptive daughter—Hyeonak’s team all had unusually good-looking faces.
So no matter how unlikable they were, people were more curious about Hyeonak than NAG.
Jurim, dragging a full crowd of reporters behind him, entered a convenience store down the block, then walked out holding a bag of strawberry candy.
What kind of next-level maniac shit is this?
The most watched person in this disaster calmly buying candy from a convenience store without saying a word.
With camera shutters snapping like mad, Gu Shinhoo could already imagine the headlines.
[PhotoS] On Jurim’s Great Dungeon-Level Sweet Tooth
[PHOTO] Thank You, On Jurim! Smiling Hanyang Candy Co.
This damn looks-obsessed society. Rage bubbled up inside him as he turned to return to the NAG tent—
Only to meet Jurim’s gaze.

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