Chapter 52
Im Soon-hoo.
(Former) President of the Hunter Association of the Republic of Korea.
There isn’t much to say about his reputation.
He simply sat in the president’s seat for a long time and stepped down without anything remarkable.
At most, he had a few bribery scandals, but in Korea that was practically a standard feature, so it wasn’t anything surprising.
“He ran the place for 15 years, so the timing probably fits.”
If Jia was still a child back then, Im Soon-hoo would have been at the height of his presidency.
“And during that time, the Hunter Association knew everything but pretended otherwise.”
The laboratory had operated for a long time.
If the lab had been destroyed and awakened orphans had escaped, it would have been major news.
Yet no matter how much he searched online, there wasn’t a single trace of it—not even a speck.
“The Association and the government must have covered everything up together.”
A predictable story, in a way.
The rotten higher-ups perfectly buried the incident to hide their dirty secrets.
Hyeonho Candy’s goal was to take down those very higher-ups.
Revenge.
Anger at those who ignored their suffering and even tried to conceal it from the world.
“It’s a story I can fully understand.”
Had he not heard it, he might have simply blocked them without hesitation.
But now that he’d listened, he couldn’t shake off the unsettled feeling.
That didn’t mean he could just watch while they attacked the Association.
“If the Association that oversees all gates collapses, the whole system will fall apart.”
If that happened, the system would break down, and the supply of magic stones would instantly become difficult.
That was why he needed to prevent the Association from being destroyed.
His heart understood their motives, but also the necessity of stopping them.
Mephisto must have expected Juhyuk to struggle emotionally here.
“Then I just won’t struggle.”
Juhyuk didn’t think too deeply about it.
When torn between reason and emotion, what was needed?
Compromise.
The world wasn’t made of extreme choices—only all or nothing.
If he couldn’t choose either of the two paths, then he’d simply carve a new one.
Bzzz—!
Juhyuk picked up his buzzing phone, switched it to speaker.
“Hello.”
Juhyuk,Ilookedintowhatyouaskedyesterday…Juhyuk, I looked into what you asked yesterday…
“Did you find something?”
Yes.Honestly,itcameoutsoeasilythatitsurprisedme.Yes. Honestly, it came out so easily that it surprised me.
Hyunsu had brought good news.
After parting with Mephisto, Juhyuk had immediately contacted him for information.
Compared to Juhyuk, who had no notable connections in the Hunter world, Hyunsu—grandson of a mid-sized conglomerate’s chairman—obviously had a much wider network.
Juhyuk had asked hoping even one thing might come up, but judging from his reaction, it seemed more than just one.
Eventhoughthepresidentretired,severalexecutivesconnectedtothatincidentarestillinsidetheAssociation.Even though the president retired, several executives connected to that incident are still inside the Association.
“You secured the evidence too?”
Yeah.Tossedthemabitofmoney,anditcamerightout.Yeah. Tossed them a bit of money, and it came right out.
Evidence obtained with a couple of bribes.
It was almost absurd how smoothly things were going.
Ithoughteverythingwouldbegonebynow,butIguessit’sbeensolongtheygotcareless.I thought everything would be gone by now, but I guess it’s been so long they got careless.
“I see.”
But…ifthisgetsusedtostriketheAssociation,thefalloutwillbehuge.Isthatokay?But… if this gets used to strike the Association, the fallout will be huge. Is that okay?
“Who knows.”
Striking the Association, huh.
He had considered that angle, but it wasn’t his decision to make.
“That’s for the Association to handle.”
Juhyuk lifted his head and looked across from him.
“Isn’t that right, President?”
“….”
Silence from the current President of the Korean Hunter Association.
After not showing his face for over a month, he suddenly appeared and received this bombshell.
No wonder he was speechless.
Juhyuk brought the phone back to his ear.
“Thanks for the help, Hyunsu. I’ll contact you later.”
Okay.I’llemailyoualltheevidence.Okay. I’ll email you all the evidence.
The call ended.
With one “ear” gone, the Association president finally opened his mouth.
“When you suddenly showed up, I wondered what this was about…”
“I only just heard it myself, so I had no choice.”
Juhyuk explained everything to the president.
A criminal Hunter organization was targeting the Association.
Some among them were awakened humans who had made contracts with demons—making them a serious threat.
He explained why they were targeting the Association, and that he had secured evidence, as confirmed by the phone call.
“I won’t drag this out.”
He placed his phone on the desk and opened the newly received email.
A long list of names and evidence linking them to the lab.
He pushed it toward the president.
“You’ll need to remove all executives related to the lab if you want the Association safe.”
“…Do you even understand how influential these people are?”
“I don’t. And I don’t care.”
Of course they had influence.
That was exactly why Hyeonho Candy hadn’t gone after them directly.
“Leave a rotten branch alone, and the whole tree might be uprooted.”
The point now wasn’t the executive’s influence, but that the Association might be attacked because of them.
A demon-contracted awakened person was at least A-rank.
And nobody knew what abilities they had.
“If they join forces with other illegal Hunter groups and storm in together…”
“It’ll be bad. An awakened person contracted with a demon is like a ticking time bomb.”
Just the existence of such a person was dangerous—if they went berserk, they could reach near S-rank in threat.
Knowing Jia was targeting them was more than enough danger for the Association.
“If only you’d told us right away when you first suspected something.”
“She came to my mother’s shop. How was I supposed to predict any of this and react rashly?”
“…Fair point.”
He sighed and tapped the wooden desk.
After tapping for a while, he finally said,
“But it won’t be easy.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re stronger than me.”
Some of these executives had been in the Association far longer than the president.
In terms of influence, they were equal to or even above him.
“Some on this list are even preparing to enter politics.”
People who were aiming far beyond the small pond of the Association—toward the entire nation of Korea.
Against them, a mere ten-year-experience newbie president was nothing.
“Even if I try to trigger an incident to expose them, they’ll shut it down immediately.”
“So what, we’re supposed to sit around and wait to be attacked?”
“Hmm…”
“I said earlier—if you don’t push them out, the entire Association will be in danger.”
The president fell into troubled silence.
When Juhyuk pressed further, describing the potential disasters ahead, the president finally spoke.
“So you’re saying we should abandon those executives and save the Association.”
“I said you should cut off the rotten branches.”
“The premise is wrong.”
Juhyuk had called them rotten branches.
But the president disagreed.
“It’s not rotten branches. It’s a rotten root. One buried very deep.”
This wasn’t something you could pull out just because you felt like it.
No matter how hard you tried, the root was buried too deep.
Perhaps Juhyuk wouldn’t understand—but that was reality.
But Juhyuk hadn’t come just to accept that reality.
He wasn’t stupid enough to leave with nothing.
“So because the root is deep, you’ll just ignore it and watch?”
“….”
“Saying it was already rotten before you got here, making excuses about inevitability, and doing nothing—do you really think that’s right?”
Juhyuk stood.
He understood the president carried heavy responsibility and couldn’t move lightly.
But this wasn’t the time to move lightly or heavily—it was simply time to move.
Juhyuk left him with one final line.
“I’ve sent all the evidence to your contact. The rest is up to you.”
“…You know something?”
The president’s eyebrow twitched.
He spoke with a troubled expression.
“I really hate having to make decisions.”
Even at his age, with hair already white, he still struggled whenever he had to choose something.
He once believed that with age came wisdom, and that choosing a path would become easy.
Instead, as the years passed, the burdens on his shoulders grew, and each day he drowned in crossroads.
Constantly agonizing over choices tightening around his neck.
Juhyuk answered the president’s complaint:
“There are those who never had the chance to choose.”
The office interior was tidy and warmly lit.
The wallpaper exuded an antique feel.
The polished floor gleamed, spotless, and the window showed not a single smudge.
“Those orphans imprisoned and tortured so they could awaken—they never had a choice.”
“….”
“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”
Juhyuk exited the office.
The president remained alone, staring at the door he’d left through, then lowering his gaze with a sigh.
“I just wanted some peace finally…”
Life never went as one wished, but how could the heavens burden him with trials like this?
With a feeling like thorny vines twisting inside his chest, the president picked up his phone and began dialing somewhere.
