FTE 006

Even I couldn’t help but exclaim loudly this time. The Chief covered his mouth and muttered ‘oh’.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Unaware of our reaction, Chae Won-u strode towards us with a puzzled expression. We stood about 10 meters away from him, holding the result report.

‘Not bad.’

Having experienced a matching percentage as high as 89%, Chae Won-u’s 78% wasn’t truly disappointing. This was precisely why I boasted the highest value within Gwak Seunggyu’s agency. No matter who my partner was, I consistently produced impressive numbers.

However, despite people often referring to these figures as compatibility scores, they didn’t actually reflect personal chemistry. So, I glanced sideways at my enigmatic partner. He seemed engrossed, still staring intently at the paper.

“This is our compatibility?”

Suddenly, he turned towards me and thrust out the paper. Then he pointed not at the compatibility value but at Chae Won-u’s ability stability, which was written as 34%.

“If that is the result, we need to terminate the contract.”

“Why?  Are you trying to break our contract?”

“No, it isn’t that.” I took one step closer and pointed to the bottom section. “78% is quite good.”

“The highest record among all the people hyung has met so far?”

“Nope. There was someone with 89%.”

“Why didn’t you sign a permanent contract with them?”

“Isn’t that too personal of a question? We aren’t close enough yet.”

Since he seemed unaware of boundaries due to his youth, I deliberately drew the line more firmly. However, Chae Won-u was one step ahead.

“Personal question? When can I ask personal questions? After one week?”

“No, that’s not…”

He really was like a child. Despite his cold and handsome appearance, he asked naive questions that didn’t match his somewhat low and husky voice. However, no matter how much it seemed otherwise, ‘naive’ wasn’t suitable for Chae Won-u.

“We just didn’t get along, so we broke up. The contract period ended, and we weren’t compatible. Their personality was quite nasty.”

“Was it only their personality that was nasty and not yours, hyung?”

Ah, he hits the nail on the head again. I responded without showing any signs of annoyance—actually, I wasn’t feeling annoyed at all.

“That’s why we fought and broke up.”

“Is that even possible?!”

“Yeah. Stop playing innocent. You’re not a rookie. Did you think this was some sort of eternal vow or something?”

Now that I understood the source of Chae Won-u’s endless innocent questions, I became a bit more lenient. It seemed he didn’t know anything because he hadn’t had any partners before. Still, I wondered how someone could be so clueless, but people often display surprising ignorance in areas they have no interest in.

“It looks like we got a good result, so hopefully, this partnership will last. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Right back at you, Hyung.”

“Hyung…”

“You don’t want me to call you that either?”

“Nope. It’s okay.”

“What did your previous partners call you?”

Strangely, he seemed too fixated on my past history. However, as this was his first partner and he might be curious about the system, I responded gently.

“The most common nickname?”

“Yes.”

“Son of a bitch?”

Next would come ‘fucking bastard’, then ‘rude bastard’ after that, followed by ‘useless guy’. There were also more neutral nicknames like ‘Guide Yang’. There was a reason why none of my previous contracts had been extended.

“I will call you hyung.”

“Fine.”

“You can call me Won-u.”

“No, I’m not really comfortable with that.”

“Then what should you call me?”

Are we setting our pet names now? With a disinterested expression, I provided an obvious, universal, and commonsense answer.

“Hunter Chae, Hunter-nim, or Partner Hunter-nim. I think ‘Hunter-nim’ will be used the most often.”

“Then I won’t know if you’re calling me or another hunter.”

“We’ll mostly be together, so how could there be any confusion?”

“What about on-site?”

“Then I’ll call you Hunter Chae.”

“Why can’t you just say ‘Won-u’?”

“Is it an order?”

“Will you listen if I make it an order?”

I nodded. After all, your position is higher than mine. Obeying orders was more important than considerations of ability and character.

“Then I will give an order. Please call me Won-u.”

What creepy talk is this? Normally, wouldn’t people say something like ‘then call me whatever feels comfortable’? 

“Okay…”

“Hyung, you won’t call me anymore, right?”

“I doubt I’d call you that even on my deathbed.”

“Hyung, you’re so stubborn. Fine. Just call me Hunter Chae, then.” 

I muttered internally, ‘You’re pretty stubborn yourself,’ and nodded.

“Can I go somewhere for a moment?”

“Where are you going? Do you want me to come with you?”

“I am meeting my agency colleague who made a mess of the matching room by vomiting blood all over the walls until they turned red. You wanna tag along?” 

“Yeah. Oh, is he in a Zone above my grade?” 

“No, that’s not it…  Just do whatever you want.”

“Hyung. Did you just, like, say ‘shit’?”

Why did he keep asking when he knew? Without replying, I turned around.

***

The infirmary was for minor injuries while the ward was for more serious ones. In the lobby, it was easy to check how many beds were left in the infirmary and ward, as well as who was using them. This reflected how important each individual was, with their whereabouts needing constant monitoring. Hyeongmin was in the ward. He would probably have to stay there for one or two days.

As I crossed the sky bridge towards the ward, Chae Won-u followed me limpingly. I thought he would just pretend to follow but didn’t expect him to actually come this far. I couldn’t predict his actions at all. It was impossible to grasp what type of character he was.

“Where are you going?”

“To Building B.”

“Then this way is faster.” Chae Won-u grabbed my arm as I turned right. His strength was so great that I felt like my arm might be pulled off.

“You want to go to the left wing? But it’s on the right?”

“Yes. If you take the freight elevator on the left, there is an F floor. It will be faster to go that way.”

“You know everything here.”

“I lived here for a long time.”

“…..”

“Why don’t you ask why?”

“It’s personal.”

I really wasn’t interested. Chae Won-u wasn’t the only one with a story here. My lackluster response made Chae Won-u visibly disappointed. He pursed his lips and stared at me, looking somewhat like a hunting dog with its tail down. I didn’t particularly care for dogs.

“Shall we go?”

No chance of it working on me. Unless he waved money around while wiping tears with a cheque, like some caricature. As Chae Won-u claimed, this route was indeed quicker. It seemed he knew this place as well as the back of his hand.

When I opened the door to Hyeongmin’s hospital room, four beds were visible. However, all of them were empty. I approached one of the beds with patient information hanging from it and took a seat without hesitation. Chae Won-u just stood there, staring around aimlessly.

“What are you doing? Sit down.”

“It’s quite simple here.”

“This isn’t the intensive care unit.”

Has he only ever been to intensive care units before? It was possible. Hunters typically recover quickly, which is why they mainly visit medical rooms. Being admitted to a hospital ward meant their injuries were severe enough to keep them off duty for at least a week. Even then, it’s only a week due to being a hunter; if they were civilians, the diagnosis would likely be between 11 to 14 weeks of recovery. There’s a reason hunters aren’t treated like ordinary people.

Chae Won-u unnecessarily pulled back all the curtains and sat on an empty bed, making it creak as he rocked his body up and down. After some time, he settled next to me despite there being space opposite. Clearly, he wanted to sit close.

“This person is also a guide?”

“Yes. This is a guide hospital room.” I replied while glancing at the identification tag on Chae Won-u’s wrist. Something was dangling from it, but I had no intention of asking about it. My motto was to maintain professional boundaries. The closer and more inevitable the partnership, the more important it was to uphold these lines.

Just as I hoped Won-u wouldn’t open his mouth with any nonsense, the door conveniently opened.

“Eh? Hyung!”

Hyeongmin waved his hand energetically. There didn’t seem to be any external injuries. His face was pale, and his lips were not just white but rather blueish. Three IV bags hung from the stand, which wasn’t unusual considering the severity of Guided Rebounds. In the early days before adequate information about this phenomenon was available, countless guides and hunters died despite possessing this skill due to its deadly side effects.

“Hyung, hyung. How did you know I was hospitalized? It got really scary there for a moment. I swear, I saw my late grandmother who passed away years ago! My insides felt like they were being twisted, and I vomited so much blood—it’s insane how much we have inside us. Even when it seemed like I had emptied myself out completely, more kept coming. Amidst all that, I experienced hallucinations and heard strange noises. And the ringing in my ears…!”

Chae Won-u’s jaw dropped in amazement as he listened to Hyeongmin. He propped his chin on one hand and watched him with interest. This was the first time he’d seen someone talk so fast and nonstop. Before long, his leg started bouncing in sync with Hyeongmin’s animated storytelling.

“But then, even though I wasn’t feeling any pain or drowsiness, my memories faded away as if I passed out. Yet, throughout that, I remained mentally connected to my partner. It felt like I was moving right when I was actually going left, hyung! Have you ever taken drugs that forcibly knock you unconscious? Your head feels like it’s about to explode. Seriously, it hurts so much, I thought I’d die. Oh, yes, my partner is truly amazing…”

Hyeongmin suddenly trailed off. His expression turned gloomy, and he slowly moved back toward his bed.