In truth, a Grade-3 Corrosion Zone is nothing special.
The real problem is that a rookie hunter is an even more insignificant existence.
"So the government must be pleased."
"For now, it seems they intend to watch his movements more closely. However, if that kid shows something beyond what he's displayed so far…"
If that hunter were to rise beyond the position of merely a promising rookie and reach something greater—
Then it wouldn't matter even if Korea wobbled a little. The test they were conducting would continue without interruption.
"Setting Gyodong Island aside, what about the others?"
"The Tsushima experiment was a success. The other nineteen were failures."
The hooded man let out a deep sigh.
"This is troublesome. Still, I suppose we should be grateful that the success happened in Japan."
The success rate was a measly five percent. Even so, the fact that they had extracted useful data remained unchanged. There had been one success. If they could identify what went wrong in the nineteen failures and analyze the single success, they could raise the odds.
"Prepare again."
"Will that be all right? Wouldn't it be better to leave a bit of a gap—"
"By the time we're ready, that guy Yoo Chanseok will probably be showing better results too."
But what if he doesn't…?
The reporter muttered unconsciously.
"If he can't produce results, then he was just a shooting star that flared briefly. Nothing more. Nothing changes."
"S-sorry."
The two figures disappeared into the back alley.
Defeating a Grade-3 Corrosion Zone alone is something famous hunters do as casually as eating a meal.
But when the one who accomplishes it is a rookie who's only just become a hunter, something anyone at the top could do is transformed into something practically impossible.
"I feel like a kid who showed up on a gifted-talent discovery program."
Stories about me were drawing massive attention in Korea. And this wasn't just a small storm limited to Korean soil.
To begin with, Korea was no longer a small country.
"This is just the beginning."
All eyes were on me. If you start off this strong, everyone starts eagerly anticipating what you'll do next.
When you receive more attention than your actual abilities warrant, you eventually fail to meet expectations—and at that moment, disappointed interest turns into mockery.
On the other hand, if you live up to expectations, those expectations turn into cheers. And the people watching the situation closely will start preparing bundles of cash to hand to me.
"It won't take long."
Without Lee Se-eun's help, it would have been difficult to attract this much attention so quickly. Thanks to the Gyodong Island request she introduced me to, I was able to deal with a Grade-3 Corrosion Zone on my own.
But now, it seemed I no longer needed her help. To begin with…
"She's ranked tenth in the world. She must be busy. Burdening her once was enough."
They called it the List of Hope. Something like a hall of fame. A hunter roster periodically updated under the leadership of the Korean Hunters Association headquarters.
The list contained one hundred hunters. A kind of global ranking chart drawn from hunters worldwide.
"According to data from the Korean Hunters Association, the current number of hunters worldwide is about seventy million…"
And among them, only one hundred.
I casually scanned the list displayed on the monitor.
Thirty-seven of the hundred names belonged to Koreans. Put simply, Korea was the birthplace of hunters. This was the power that kept other nations from daring to challenge Korea—and the force that allowed it to retain the title of global leader in eliminating Corrosion Zones.
Anyway, I could compare the current situation to archery. When a talented rookie archer appears in Korea, people don't hope for an Olympic silver medal, do they?
"Gold. Always gold."
A country that dominates a field places extremely high expectations on newcomers in that field.
Which meant…
At the very least, my name had to be on that list for people's expectations to solidify into something closer to certainty. To receive proper recognition, I had to go beyond merely making the list—I needed to rank high.
If I couldn't, I'd just become another "once-promising rookie hunter," an unremarkable nobody.
I checked my clothes one more time and left my seat.
Media outlets that had heard the rumors requested interviews, and today was the day I would stand before them.
"There weren't any so-called 'grand seniors,' right?"
There had never been a precedent for someone handling a Grade-3 Corrosion Zone alone on their very first request—except for one person: the legendary hunter known as the "Grand Senior," who had remained firmly in first place ever since the List of Hope was first created.
"In his case, calling it a 'first request' doesn't even really fit."
The first thing he eliminated after becoming a hunter was something that, only later, came to be classified as a Grade-3 Corrosion Zone.
In short, the image the media—and the public—wanted from me was no longer that of a rookie who had just become a hunter.
I opened the door, stepped out, and spoke while facing countless microphones and cameras.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Yoo Chanseok."
There was no reason to be nervous. I'd stood in front of far more people than this before. Of course, there hadn't been any filming equipment like this in the other world—but that hardly made a difference.
No sooner had I finished my greeting than one of the reporters spoke up.
"I hear you resolved the Grade-3 Corrosion Zone that appeared on Gyodong Island on your own."
You already knew everything—why ask again? Still, it was true that there was a big difference between hearing something secondhand and hearing it directly from the person involved.
"That's correct."
By some stroke of luck, I didn't bother adding any unnecessary qualifiers.
"It couldn't have been easy to make and carry out such a decision. What were you thinking at the time?"
"I did it because I believed I could. And judging by the fact that I'm standing here talking like this, it seems I wasn't wrong."
It was fine if I came off as cocky. As long as the results followed, arrogance would be wrapped up and presented as poise.
If someone who could barely play Chopsticks said, 'I looked at the sheet music and figured I could play it—doesn't everyone?' they'd be laughed at.
But if Mozart said it, people would sigh in admiration and say, 'As expected…'
I'd set a record with exactly one precedent worldwide. Conducting an interview like this wasn't going to cause any problems.
"The IHC has confirmed a ten-week transfer period starting sixty-five days from now. Is there a company you have in mind?"
Hunters could only change companies during the official transfer period.
Carrying out requests took time. If a hunter suddenly handed in their resignation mid-mission and cheerfully said, 'Goodbye everyone, I wish you all happiness!' before leaving, it would cause serious issues.
Newly selected hunters were exempt from this restriction for the first month after selection—but for me, that window had already passed.
"I don't plan on joining a company yet."
Would the reporters focus more on the word yet, or on the fact that I said I had no plans at all?
The questions kept coming. About thirty more minutes of back-and-forth passed…
"Many people seem to be very interested in your future movements as a hunter. Could you share a brief thought or resolution going forward?"
It looked like things were finally wrapping up. After this question—and probably one more—the press conference would come to an end.
What should I say?
I went to put out my neighbor's fire, only to find my own house burning when I got back?
They wouldn't understand anyway.
"I'll show you results that exceed your expectations."
That was really all there was to say. After the brief press conference ended, I was summoned to meet the Association Chairman.
"You looked quite seasoned out there."
"I'm glad to hear that. My hands were soaked in sweat, though."
"Were they?"
The chairman said it casually, then looked at me and continued.
"Do you already have your next request lined up?"
"Yes, I do."
I was essentially a freelancer. And a freelancer who isn't working is no different from an unemployed nobody.
Naturally, I had my eye on several potential requests. The chairman spoke in a calm tone.
"When choosing a request, there are many factors to consider."
As he said that, he showed me his smartphone. On the screen were several requests.
"Are these… recommendations?"
"There are requests that are relatively important—and others that aren't."
The chairman's words stirred a bit of curiosity in me. Listening carefully to his tone, it didn't sound like that 'relative importance' was based on danger alone.
"This request, for example…"
A cargo ship that had departed from the United States was scheduled to make a brief stop at Busan Port, unload supplies at Zhanjiang, and then head on to Nanning.
I was to join the ship in Busan and protect the cargo for the duration of the journey to Nanning.
"So… daily necessities?"
China wasn't doing well. Just as hunters had the List of Hope, Corrosion Zones had what were called the Great Eight.
The eight most dangerous Corrosion Zones in the world. One of them—Gonsalok—was located in Beijing, China.
"Gonsalok was one of the very first Corrosion Zones to appear simultaneously around the world thirteen years ago."
The problem was that one of the Corrosion Zones that appeared in China at the time emerged right inside the Great Hall of the People while the National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party was in session.
China's top leadership, all attending that event, was wiped out by the Corrosion Zone. As a result, unlike Korea—where the first hunters appeared—China failed to mount an effective initial response.
In any case, that chain of events left China completely shattered, like a dalgona candy crushed under a truck wheel.
"Practically speaking, Nanning is China's capital now."
Even so, rotten or not, a fish is still a fish—China hadn't completely collapsed.
Those who somehow managed to survive fled south to escape the spreading Corrosion Zones radiating out from Gonsalok in Beijing. They regrouped around the People's National Salvation Republican Party based in Nanning.
"But putting that aside."
I checked the list of items being transported by the cargo ship and looked back at the chairman with a stunned expression.
"No matter how I look at this, these aren't daily necessities."
Had Chinese dietary habits grown even more extreme while I'd been fighting in another world? Was grilling mink fur and washing it down with brandy now considered a standard Chinese meal instead of tomato-and-egg stir-fry?
In addition to fur and brandy, the cargo included luxury furniture, cars, clothing, and watches.
"You know people don't live on daily necessities alone."
Without arguing further, I scrolled through my phone and showed the chairman an article about China's recent situation—how food shortages had made proper rationing impossible.
"I don't really understand what you're getting at, Chairman. But I do know that what China needs most right now is basic necessities."
The chairman let out a quiet sigh as he read the article.
"It's true that many countries are suffering because of Corrosion Zones. But that doesn't mean international politics have collapsed to the point of being meaningless."
So this was about greasing the wheels—maintaining diplomatic relations. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and replied.
"I have no intention of getting involved in politics."
In a world that was steadily falling apart, I had neither the time nor the interest to spare for pathetic people scrambling to protect the tiny scraps of power they still clung to.
"The Korean government considers this matter important as well."
"I don't."
The chairman looked incredulous.
"Hunter Yoo Chanseok, I don't mean to be rude—but you've only just debuted as a hunter. It seems the excessive attention has gone to your head."
The man in front of me wasn't some neighborhood uncle; he was the Association Chairman. Plenty of hunters would have trembled at those words and immediately regretted their behavior.
Just as I was about to say something in response, the door suddenly opened.