CHAPTER 38

The ink orb rolled again.

A tense silence fell between the three—Soo-hyeok, Kim Man-soo, and Hanarum, who watched from the side.

Then, a gleam sparked in Kim Man-soo's eyes.

A black sphere ripped through the darkness, grazing just past Soo-hyeok's left elbow.

'I didn't see it.'

Soo-hyeok swallowed hard.

It was a chilling moment. If the mystic flow of the Taeguk Eight Trigrams Step Form hadn't naturally diverted the force, his arm would've been twisted backward.

It was night, making it even harder to see the orb—but its speed was extraordinary.

Faster than most bullets, it seemed.

"You dodged that?"

Soo-hyeok had expected a follow-up shot.

But Kim Man-soo didn't attack again. Instead, he spoke in disbelief.

A confused expression crept over his face.

Then came a hollow laugh.

"Has my intuition dulled? Even if the first time was luck and timing, this time…"

Muttering, Kim Man-soo suddenly clapped his hands as if struck by revelation.

"A newly Awakened… Of course—it's you!"

His eyes now burned with fire.

"Yang Soo-hyeok. So it was you!"

No doubt—he'd remembered the name.

Then Kim Man-soo tucked the ink orb back into his coat and raised both hands.

"Let's stop here. I have no intention of becoming your enemy."

Hanarum, still standing behind, looked completely dumbfounded.

"A-Are you insane?!"

Kim Man-soo turned his head calmly toward her, locking eyes.

His heavy gaze made her flinch instinctively.

Smirk.

Then, he smiled and said,

**"I don't think I'm insane.

If I were, I'd actually want to fight that man."**

Once again, his eyes turned back to Soo-hyeok.

"Our meeting wasn't under the best circumstances, but honestly, I'm glad. I've been looking for you."

"This isn't the time or place for a long conversation, but I'll be in touch soon. I hope it's a productive one."

"Keep dreaming."

Soo-hyeok replied coldly.

In Kim Man-soo's eyes—those of a man who nearly became vice president of one of Korea's three great guilds—there was unmistakable ambition.

What kind of conversation he wanted was obvious.

There was no need to give false hope for something that would never happen.

From Soo-hyeok's perspective, it would just be a hassle.

"Come on now, don't cut me off so harshly. Who knows? Maybe it'll be something you're interested in."

"I'm not. Haven't you heard the full rumors about me yet?"

"Heh… Heard plenty. I even heard you fought that Imoogi."

Man-soo's comment was vague.

Did he mean Park Moo-gi, or was he referring to Jun Su-jeong, whom Soo-hyeok fought during his trainee days?

Still, it seemed like the former.

But Soo-hyeok's eyes narrowed.

'That fight's already leaked?'

If the battle between him and Park Moo-gi were made public, it'd be huge.

Which is why Moo-gi would surely want to keep it secret.

For someone like Man-soo—who had retired from the frontlines—to know it already, something didn't add up.

No one should have known.

"Don't get so sensitive. We've got our own intel network—and instincts. Anyway, what I thought was just a bothersome job turned out to be quite the catch. Let's meet again, friend."

"…We're not friends."

Before Soo-hyeok could say more, Kim Man-soo turned his back, waved dismissively, and vanished into the darkness.

Considering his silver-tier physical abilities and skill with the ink orb, it wasn't surprising.

But now, it was Hanarum who was panicking.

"U-uh…"

She let out a soft, strained sound.

Soo-hyeok's gaze toward her was icy.

"I told you, didn't I? If I wanted to kill you, it wouldn't even be hard."

The street was dark.

There were no CCTV cameras in this alley—clearly chosen for that very reason.

They had waited here, full of malicious intent.

And now, Hanarum realized—she had walked into the trap she set herself.

Panicking, she turned to flee.

Of course, Soo-hyeok was faster.

"Where do you think you're going?"

In a flash, he cut off her escape, extending a hand.

"Kyaa—!"

She tried to scream with everything she had.

Desperation flickered in her eyes as she grasped at the only chance she thought she had left.

But Soo-hyeok's hand was quicker.

He struck her ahyeol—the mute point.

Just like the previous man, Hanarum could no longer make a sound.

Her eyes widened like a startled rabbit as her hands clutched at her throat.

Nothing came out.

That realization broke her.

Tears welled up.

Thud. She dropped to her knees and began rubbing her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Though no words came out, Soo-hyeok knew what she meant.

"Hanarum."

She shook her pale head furiously in response to his voice.

She rubbed her hands harder.

Please. That's what she was begging for.

With her eyes, she screamed that she wouldn't ever cross Soo-ah again.

"You'd better mean it."

Hanarum nodded her head vigorously.

She wasn't just agreeing—Soo-hyeok hadn't asked for agreement; he had declared a certainty.

But if someone asked how long her sincerity would last, he could answer without hesitation:

'Only until she escapes this moment.'

Soo-hyeok didn't like leaving behind loose ends.

If this were the Hwan continent, he'd have simply killed her and moved on. But this was Earth—this was South Korea.

Laws mattered here.

Thankfully, Soo-hyeok had a rather useful weapon at hand.

"Listen closely. Right now, I've got two very interesting videos in my possession."

Hanarum's already pale face went sheet white, as if no more blood could drain from it.

With her long hair hanging down, she looked almost like a ghost.

"I could spread them right now—but I won't."

Her head bobbed like mad. Her eyes shimmered, filled with gratitude.

Strangely enough, she even seemed to regard Soo-hyeok with a kind of admiration.

'Disgusting.'

Soo-hyeok clicked his tongue in irritation and continued.

"Remember this—and tell whoever's behind you, too. Let's not touch each other while things are quiet. But if you do want war, then come prepared to lose everything. Because I…"

He paused briefly, organizing his thoughts, then said:

"…Because No-Name will make that happen."

No-Name.

A name now far more fearsome than Yang Soo-hyeok.

The major guilds in South Korea were already shaking. Even prideful Kim Man-soo had backed off.

It showed clearly on Hanarum's face—shock, disbelief, and dread.

That was enough.

Thinking so, Soo-hyeok said what he had meant to from the beginning:

"Right now, I could ruin you. I could break bones, just like you said."

Hanarum's face continued to shift with each passing second—pale, then stunned, then trembling in terror.

She looked like she could faint at any moment.

"But I won't. I won't be the one to punish you. Soo-ah will. Understand?"

This time, Hanarum had no response.

She simply lowered her head and trembled.

Through the curtain of her fallen hair, Soo-hyeok could see tears glistening.

He didn't care.

"Just wait a little longer. I'll show you just how worthless everything you rely on truly is."

With that, Soo-hyeok turned and left.

What remained was a woman who couldn't even scream, sobbing silently—and a man too stunned to offer comfort or move a single step.

***

Late that same night.

Two people returned to a mansion in Hannam-dong.

In his study, a man was told his daughter had come home with a face soaked in tears—and his expression turned to stone.

"So you failed to retrieve the video—and instead ended up giving them more?"

The subordinate, head bowed low, could only remain silent before the scolding voice.

Han Gi-jae, Hanarum's father—five-term elected lawmaker from Jongno District, now leader of the main opposition party—frowned deeply.

"You might as well have thrown yourself into the sea in Incheon. Why come back at all?"

"…I'm sorry."

"If you didn't want to be sorry, you shouldn't have done it."

Gi-jae clicked his tongue and slammed his hand down on the desk.

He needed to think—how to manage this without blowing it out of proportion.

As the party leader and a presidential hopeful for the upcoming election, unnecessary scandals were the last thing he needed.

The public finding out about his daughter's antics? Absolutely not.

That's why he sent people to quietly resolve it. But instead, they came back with the situation even worse.

"Where's Kim Man-soo?"

"He… left."

"That bastard. Arrogant as hell. If I become president, the first thing I'll do is leash all these damned Awakened."

Gi-jae's nostrils flared with rage.

Though he barked like that, he knew full well he couldn't follow through.

Awakened beings were essential—not just to Korea, but the world.

If he pushed too far and the system backfired, it could lead to disaster.

So, this was just bluster. A bluff.

Still, the man in front of him was an Awakened too.

He was timid and cowardly, but the threat wouldn't fall completely flat.

Gi-jae glared at him coldly.

This was how one put a mental leash on someone.

"Did you hear anything else?"

"The young lady and the target spoke, but… they kept their distance and their voices low. I couldn't make it out."

"Useless idiot. Get out. Bring Hanarum here."

"She… she said she doesn't want to come."

"That damn brat—!"

Gi-jae swore at his own daughter and began to rise from his chair.

Ring ring.

His phone buzzed.

"Kim Man-soo?"

He slammed the desk a few times in disbelief, then took a deep breath and waved off the subordinate standing before him.

"Yes, sir. I'll take my leave then…"

Only after the man left did Gi-jae answer the call.

"Hey, Mr. Kim. What, you leave the job half-done and vanish without a word?"

His tone now was much higher and more jovial—like he was speaking to someone completely different.

[You asked me to handle some minor trouble, and instead you dumped a monster in my lap. You really should've checked your target properly. You realize this job has already gone way over budget, right?]

At Kim Man-soo's dry criticism, Gi-jae's brow furrowed deeply.

But he made sure not to let the irritation show in his voice.