Episode 7
Shin Ji-yool placed the organized documents into a binder and headed straight to the Director General’s office.
Stopping in front of the heavy door, he adjusted his shirt collar neatly and knocked lightly.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
In the spacious office, Director General Choi Man-deok of the Ability Management Bureau was sitting on a sofa.
He had been carefully tending to a withering orchid but stood up immediately upon seeing Shin Ji-yool.
“Oh, Team Leader Shin! How did it go?”
“It looks like taming can help regulate a Hunter’s rampage value.”
“Are you certain?”
“This is the test result from Hunter Kyeon Soo-ho. Please take a look.”
Shin Ji-yool handed over the binder. Choi Man-deok carefully read through the report marked with a Level 1 Confidential stamp.
“A PV (penalty value) of 72.6. That’s quite a drop.”
“Compared to just before he entered the Yongin dungeon, it’s about 10 PV lower.”
Awakened beings accumulate penalties as they use their abilities. When these penalties exceed a limit, they enter a state known as Rampage.
Stabilizers were developed to prevent this, but their effectiveness drastically decreased for higher-grade Awakened.
Kyeon Soo-ho’s case was especially severe—he needed to be administered stabilizers up to twenty times in a row just to reduce his penalty by ten.
His PV had recently been creeping up to dangerous levels again, even with such extreme measures. He’d been deployed to high-level dungeons back to back, and the penalties were piling up faster than the stabilizers could take effect.
“Team Leader Shin, has there ever been a case where a Hunter in Code Red recovered naturally, without stabilizers?”
“No, sir.”
So an E-rank Tamer had pulled off the impossible.
Choi Man-deok let out a deep sigh and slumped his shoulders.
“Whew… Alright, Team Leader Shin. It looks like our Kyeonsuho is saved.”
Given that Kyeon Soo-ho was one of only five SS-rank Awakened beings in the world, it was natural that the nation regarded him as a living treasure.
More importantly, Kyeon Soo-ho was the son of Choi Man-deok’s late niece and her husband.
I practically raised that boy myself.
There was no way Choi could bear to see Kyeonsuho die from Rampage.
“How many Tamers do we have on our team?”
“I’ve attached a list at the end.”
“Have you? Let’s see…”
Choi’s brow furrowed as he flipped through the report.
“Just three?”
“Taming is considered a rare class. Many countries don’t have even one.”
“Tsk… That’s unfortunate.”
Choi clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“Only one of them is officially affiliated with our bureau?”
“Yes. Kim Minseok, a team leader in the Jeju branch, is an A-rank Tamer.”
“He’ll cooperate if we send a formal request. Next?”
“Han Joohwan, C-rank, freelance. I’ve already sent him a summons under the pretext of a rank reassessment. He’ll be visiting the research center this Friday.”
Choi’s face lit up with every additional piece of Shin’s report.
The gap between ranks increases exponentially at higher levels. The difference wasn’t just between heaven and earth—it was more like heaven and hell.
“Team Leader Shin, if an E-rank Tamer reduced PV by 10, then a C-rank could probably reduce it by 30, right? An A-rank might bring it down by 100?”
“Skills vary even within the same class, so I can’t say for sure, but the potential is definitely there.”
“If a Tamer manages Kyeonsuho’s PV, then there’s no need for stabilizers at all?”
“That’s correct.”
Stabilizers dulled the senses and left the body sluggish. Awakened beings, with their heightened senses, typically avoided them.
In Kyeon Soo-ho’s case—requiring over 20 times the normal dose—it was more than aversion. He despised stabilizers.
Of course, it wasn’t just stabilizers he hated. Kyeonsuho loathed every living creature on Earth, aside from himself.
“Looks like we won’t be getting any more reports of Kyeonsuho smashing up labs after stabilizer injections.”
“You’ve worked hard, Director.”
“Phew…”
Choi Man-deok pressed his thick fingers against the corners of his moist eyes.
His one and only nephew was teetering on the edge of Rampage, and somehow the public had caught wind of it, demanding full disclosure.
He’d suffered emotionally since then. Now that it was finally over, he felt tears welling up.
He turned another page of the report.
“And lastly, this is the Tamer who tamed Kyeonsuho. Let’s see… Name is… Hm? Kang Morae?”
Recognizing the name, Choi looked up. Shin Ji-yool asked,
“Director, do you know Hunter Kang Morae?”
“The surname’s different now, but it’s a rare name. I think she’s the kid I know…”
Choi trailed off and lowered his voice.
“Do you remember that Hunter who went into Rampage 12 years ago? Eun Seok-Hyeon.?”
The Rampage of Awakened Eun Seok-Hyeon. who had lost his wife, shocked the nation 12 years ago.
It was the first time people realized Awakened could turn their powers on civilians instead of monsters.
For nearly a month, the media had been in an uproar.
“Of course. It was a major case. Everyone knows about it.”
“She’s his daughter.”
“But the surname is different?”
“She was adopted by her aunt’s family. That’s how the name changed.”
“Ah…”
Choi Man-deok’s gaze darkened.
Even after all these years, he could still vividly remember how small she looked, lying alone in that hospital bed.
The thought of putting such a girl near Kyeonsuho made his conscience twinge.
If only Kyeonsuho’s personality weren’t so damn rotten, he wouldn’t be this worried.
“You know, Team Leader Shin… How about we exclude Hunter Kang Morae? We already have higher-ranked Tamers, so there’s no need to bring her in, is there?”
“…”
They had planned to recruit all Tamers, regardless of rank. Other high-ranking Awakened needed their PV managed too, not just Kyeonsuho.
Still, Shin Ji-yool couldn’t bring himself to reject Choi’s request. He kept picturing Morae’s face from their recent meeting.
That soft, pale face like a rice cake. Those big, fearful eyes like a startled animal.
She was just too small and fragile to be placed near someone like Kyeonsuho.
“Understood.”
“Good. Thanks, Team Leader Shin.”
Choi Man-deok smiled warmly and patted his shoulder.
Four days later.
In the underground third training room of the Ability Management Bureau, a containment capsule and a PV measurement device had been set up in the center. A handful of researchers bustled around, running system checks.
“Thank you all for your hard work.”
The door to the restricted training room opened, and Choi Man-deok walked in. The researchers paused to greet him.
“Good afternoon, Director.”
“Don’t mind me, just keep working. Hm? No, no, I don’t need a drink.”
Waving them off, Choi approached Shin Ji-yool, who was leaning against the wall, eyes on his tablet. Shin bowed slightly.
“You’re here.”
“You’ve done a great job, Team Leader. If we were in the lab, we wouldn’t have needed all this setup.”
“Testing in the training room is safer for preventing accidents.”
“True enough.”
Choi patted Shin’s shoulder. His face was brimming with excitement.
Shin felt the same, though he didn’t show it. Internally, he was quite thrilled.
Lowering a Hunter’s PV through taming—this could turn the world upside down. Of course a scientist would be fascinated.
Besides, he’d worked with Kyeonsuho for ten years now.
After all that time, even with someone known as the “national bastard,” it was impossible not to develop some attachment.
“Have the Tamers arrived?”
“They’re waiting in the lounge. We’ll begin as soon as Hunter Kyeon Soo-ho arrives.”
“Good.”
Shortly afterward, Kyeon Soo-ho arrived at the training room.
He was just one person, but the entire space felt suffocatingly full.
The room fell into an eerie silence. The previously bustling researchers shrank back in fear.
Choi Man-deok clicked his tongue under his breath. Just how badly had Kyeonsuho treated them to cause this much dread?
“Kyeonsuho, welcome. How are you feeling?”
