Among the only five SS-rank awakened beings in the world, Kyeon Su-ho was a unique figure who trailed a small number of loyal fans and a massive wave of anti-fans wherever he went.
Morae was among the rare few—one of the so-called “Kyeon-ae-mae” (short for Kyeon Su-ho’s fan to the grave).
Songiya muttered seriously,
“There’s been talk that his rampage index is dangerously high. Should he even be deployed like this?”
“They announced it recently—Ability Control Agency said it was fake news.”
The rampage index of high-tier awakeners was always a hot topic. When an A-rank awakener rampaged, a whole city could vanish. If it was an S-rank, a nation could fall.
So when rumors began circulating about Kyeon Su-ho’s unstable rampage index, the Ability Control Agency held a press conference to quickly shut down the public panic. That had been only a few days ago.
Sure enough, the news anchor brought it up again.
[“Reporter Kim Jimin, there’s been growing concern over Hunter Kyeon Su-ho’s rampage index, correct?”]
[“Yes. Although the Ability Agency dismissed those claims at a press conference, some experts remain skeptical.”]
[“It’s a verified fact that the higher the awakening level, the less effective suppressants become. That’s why public demand for disclosure of rampage indexes is growing.”]
[“Exactly. People want to know—both for transparency and to ease their fears.”]
[“I’d love to hear Hunter Kyeon Su-ho’s thoughts on that. Reporter Kim Jimin, do you think we can get a comment?”]
[…]
For the first time, the reporter—who had been speaking with a stern expression—fell silent.
Morae and Songiya saw it clearly: the momentary contortion on the reporter’s face.
Her expression practically screamed, Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.
Reluctantly, she replied,
[“Uh, yes… Well then… I’ll try to get an interview.”]
Outside the safety line around the dungeon, reporters swarmed like ants as usual. But inside the boundary, only one man stood.
[“Hunter Kyeon Su-ho! Please, just a moment of your time!”]
[“When were you called in? Have you been briefed on the situation?”]
[“Are you planning to raid the dungeon alone?”]
Flashbulbs popped wildly as reporters shouted over one another. The frenzy was more intense than that surrounding most celebrities—a common scene whenever Kyeon Su-ho was deployed.
Kim Jimin elbowed her way through the chaos and extended her mic.
[“Hunter Kyeon Su-ho! For the sake of public safety and the right to know—will you disclose your rampage index?”]
The man didn’t move. Hands in his pockets, he stood perfectly still. The Bluetooth earbud snug in his ear glinted in the sunlight.
Kyeon Su-ho never removed his earbuds, no matter the setting. That meant reporters always had to yell at the top of their lungs to get his attention.
Then, Kim Jimin suddenly darted inside the safety line. Not out of journalistic bravery—someone had apparently shoved her forward.
Flailing to regain her balance, she instinctively grabbed at Kyeon Su-ho’s waist.
Everything went silent.
All the shouting, the camera clicks—gone. A heavy, ominous hush fell over the scene.
The man, still as a statue until now, slowly turned.
He stood at 193 cm, weighing 93 kg—a massive presence. But his face, framed by glossy black hair and pale skin, looked as if it had been sculpted by a divine hand.
His features were as precise as a finely drawn painting. His cool, chiseled expression, normally cold and ascetic, was offset by a small beauty mark beside his lip, giving him a touch of dangerous allure.
“Handsome” wasn’t a strong enough word. As his dark eyes calmly dropped to meet the reporter’s, the world seemed to freeze.
[“Ah! I-I’m so sorry…”]
Kim Jimin looked utterly panicked. She scrambled backward, trying to create distance, her face a picture of apology and fear.
Even Morae, watching from the screen, felt a pang of sympathy.
[“H-Hunter Kyeon Su-ho… Could I ask for a short interview?”]
Kim Jimin was clearly terrified, but she didn’t back down. You had to admire her nerve.
To her surprise, Kyeon Su-ho finally opened his mouth. His voice was low, almost chillingly so.
[“Go ahead.”]
Go… ahead?
Instead of ignoring her with his usual disgusted expression, he actually agreed to an interview? Kyeon Su-ho?
Morae and Songiya exchanged a glance, then focused back on the screen.
Nobody had expected that answer. The crowd of reporters was thrown into chaos. Kim Jimin blinked, stunned.
[“Y-You mean… You’ll do the interview?”]
Kyeon Su-ho smiled slightly.
His long, slanted eyes curved softly, and the corners of his lips lifted just barely. A hypnotic smile that seemed to stop time.
[“Sure. While I’m wasting time answering pointless questions, the idiots trapped in that dungeon will probably die. But hey—I’m not the one dying, right?”]
The broadcast cut off.
The screen abruptly switched back to the studio. The anchor, mouth agape, quickly tried to recover.
[“We apologize for the disruption in the broadcast. Let us pray for the safe return of all hunters involved and move on to the next story.”]
“…Seriously, does he have to be such a jerk?”
Songiya shook her head. Morae also somewhat agreed—but as a Kyeon-ae-mae, she couldn’t abandon her loyalty.
“Um, well… Hunter Kyeon Su-ho was a little blunt, but… he’s not wrong about the vanguard being in danger…”
“I guarantee you, he didn’t care one bit about the vanguard. He was pissed someone touched him.”
“…”
“Kyeon Su-ho just hates people. He hates talking to them, being touched by them. The earbuds? He wears them because he can’t stand human voices entering his ears.”
An angelic face with a demonic personality. A walking national risk.
Sharp tongue. Public enemy number one.
You could tell what kind of person Kyeon Su-ho was just from his many nicknames.
It wasn’t his unusual last name that made him infamous—his actual personality was the issue. Not cute like a puppy—more like a rabid dog.
That’s why he had more haters than fans, and they multiplied like magic.
Songiya didn’t care what people said. She didn’t love Kyeon Su-ho the person, just respected his powers as an awakener.
But Morae was different.
She wanted Kyeon Su-ho to be more loved. To be welcomed wherever he went.
There wasn’t a single person on Earth who didn’t owe their life to him. He deserved to be respected—adored, even.
But reality was cruel. He could give his life to save the world and still get insulted for it.
Even as a fan, Morae couldn’t always defend him. And that hurt.
“If only he’d soften his words a little. Right?”
“Nope. He’s already beyond saving.”
Morae shut her mouth at Songiya’s cold verdict.
A hunter with a hatred of humanity—what could be more tragic?
She didn’t know why he loathed people so much, but still… someone had to care for him.
Once a favorite, always a favorite. A true fan doesn’t abandon their idol. They accept even the darkest sides.
Songiya shifted the gear.
“Let’s go. If we wait any longer, we’ll hit traffic.”
“Want some music?”
“ZII’s new song is fire.”
A sharp beat filled the car. The yellow jeep, parked on the shoulder, rolled back onto the road.
The four-lane mountain highway was completely empty—barely any traffic passed through this area.
Morae and Songiya hummed along as they wound down the curvy road. Just as they slowed near a turn—
CRASH!
A massive impact slammed into the jeep.
Like colliding head-on with a speeding train. All the windows shattered at once.
“Urgh!”
“S-Songiya!”
