Retire 297
by Cristae297 Will (3)
The Director’s order that everyone working at the Supernatural Management Agency write a will sent ripples through the organization in more ways than one. Not all the responses were positive.
But when had the Agency ever been met with only praise? No one paid it much mind. In fact, even those who had been skeptical at first, after actually writing their wills, would quietly admit that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.
As I said before, being a Hunter was a job that brushed against death. And it hadn’t been that long since the commercialization of mana detectors had made it possible to prevent dungeon breaks. For Hunters, of course, but also for the support teams and office staff, death was always a possibility.
Even Han Taekyung, who was always so talkative, was wandering the Agency’s halls with a grave expression.
“Hey.”
“…What is it?”
“You’re too cold to your teacher. You’re going to hurt my feelings.”
“It’s been ages since I graduated…”
“Still, once a teacher, always a teacher! You always call the Director ‘teacher,’ so why do you pretend not to know me?”
Yoo Jieun scowled. The fact that she couldn’t refute him made her feel, somehow, as if she’d lost.
Well, not that there was any reason to argue. It was true that she’d learned from Han Taekyung back in her Academy days.
If you insisted on splitting hairs… after Hong Seokyoung, Han Taekyung could also be called Jieun’s mentor. He’d helped her a great deal, after all.
“This damned job… I should just quit. Everywhere you look, it’s just people from the same school. What kind of academic elitism is this?”
“You do realize you started it, right?”
“Exactly!”
No matter how much she grumbled, Han Taekyung just seemed to enjoy it.
“And you know, if it weren’t for school and regional ties, no one in their right mind would work in a place with such a crappy work environment.”
“…Yeah. It’s a shame that you and I are those crazy people.”
Despite what she said, she had no intention of actually quitting the Agency. Neither did Han Taekyung. That was as far as she was willing to play along.
Yoo Jieun cut off Han Taekyung’s rambling and asked,
“So what did you want?”
“Do I need a reason to come see you? That’s cold.”
“That’s not it… But you only start circling around the subject—without even talking about that damn cat—when you actually have business.”
“Chase is way cuter than any dog, you know!”
That wasn’t what she meant, but there was no point in arguing. Jieun just shrugged.
“I prefer dogs.”
“…I like dogs too! But Chase is Chase!”
Han Taekyung grumbled.
It was both comforting and exhausting that, even at his age, he hadn’t changed a bit.
At least, as he’d gotten older, he’d learned to distinguish between what should and shouldn’t be said.
…Though, judging by the number of lawsuits that had been coming into the Agency lately, maybe not as much as he thought.
“Anyway, Jieun.”
But Han Taekyung always managed to surprise her with his antics.
“You know a lawyer, right?”
Jieun turned to look at him sharply.
“A lawyer? Why? Did you hit someone?”
“Hey. Do I look like the kind of guy who goes around hitting people? If anything, I’d be the one getting hit.”
“……”
“…Well, maybe, but it would have been self-defense.”
“……”
“So, can you introduce me to a lawyer?”
Jieun answered with a skeptical look.
“What’s this about?”
“It’s just…”
“What about the lawyer you usually use? Did they finally quit? I thought they’d last a while.”
“It’s not that!”
Han Taekyung pushed up his slipping sunglasses in protest.
“No, it’s just that, writing that will got me thinking… Maybe I should get my affairs in order while I’m at it—my assets and all that.”
“Ah.”
Jieun nodded, understanding at last. Han Taekyung wasn’t the only Hunter who’d come to her for the same reason.
They’d all scratched their heads with embarrassed faces, saying, “Well, I just thought it’d be better to get things sorted out ahead of time, so my family wouldn’t have a hard time if something happened.”
She knew the reason, even if they didn’t say it.
Yes, she understood.
Still, Jieun looked at Han Taekyung with a face that said she didn’t quite get it, separate from understanding. Maybe he guessed what she was about to ask, because an awkward smile spread across his face.
“But couldn’t you just ask the lawyer you always rely on, Mr. Han? Why come to me?”
She put special emphasis on “teacher.”
Han Taekyung didn’t catch the sarcasm and hesitated. He’d never been quick on the uptake, but it was rare for him to fall silent. Jieun felt a flicker of concern.
Why would he want to find a lawyer in secret?
Surely he hadn’t gotten into trouble with a lawyer. She remembered her younger sibling, who would pour coffee on Han Taekyung every time he showed up. She’d laughed at the time, thinking it wasn’t her problem, but maybe her sibling had felt the same way she did now.
“Well, the thing is…”
“Did you really hit a lawyer?”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Then what? Did you get in a fight?”
“What do you take me for?”
“…Well, you are Han Taekyung.”
“My name is Han Taekyung, yes. But it’s not that. How many times do I have to say it?”
“Or did your lawyer finally refuse to take your cases?”
“No! It’s for another reason.”
Han Taekyung sighed, unsure if Jieun was worried or just teasing him. He’d been asked not to say anything, but he felt Jieun should know.
Besides, it had been over a year. He’d kept quiet long enough. His sister, really…
“It’s just… It’s a bit awkward to ask my little sister for this sort of thing.”
“…Little sister?”
Jieun’s eyes widened. As far as she knew, Han Taekyung had only one younger sister.
“Eunyoung? Eunyoung unni? She became a lawyer?”
“My father couldn’t stand to see her wasting away, so he took her to America. She’s only been back a few years.”
“Ah…”
“Eunyoung asked me not to tell you, but… Well. I just felt you should know. That’s how it is.”
Han Taekyung watched Jieun, worried she might be hurt by his sister’s decision. As she’d said, it was rare for him to care what others thought.
But fortunately, Jieun just smiled, as if a weight had been lifted.
“She’s doing well now, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s fine. The only ones I see from time to time are Seohyun unni and Hyunwook oppa… I was worried about how she was doing.”
“Ah, tell those two to come see me when they’re at the Agency! They’re always running away.”
“With your energy, I think it’s a bit much for them…”
“What’s wrong with me?”
Han Taekyung looked genuinely puzzled. If he could have understood, he would have known long ago.
Jieun shook her head, as if to say she wouldn’t explain further.
“Anyway, I understand. I’ll let the lawyer know. Other people have come to see her, so she’ll take care of it quickly.”
“Right, right. Thanks.”
Han Taekyung smiled cheerfully again and patted Jieun on the shoulder. The way he left as soon as his business was done made her wonder why he’d even bothered with the “teacher” talk. He was the type to run away, rubbing his arm, if you actually tried to treat him with the respect of a real mentor.
With Han Taekyung gone, Jieun found herself at a loss for what to do. She’d just cleared a dungeon a few days ago, so she was on break, and though she’d left the house out of boredom, she didn’t really have anything to do.
Maybe she’d go to the support team and offer some advice while the kids worked. Right now, Woo Heejae was running things on a small scale, but Hong Seokyoung was planning to expand the support team in the future.
There was even hope that, by recruiting retired Hunters who’d left the field due to injuries and building a solid system, the team could become an independent institution someday.
“Why? Korea isn’t that big; shouldn’t this be enough to cover it?”
Hong Seokyoung nodded at Jieun’s question.
“But do you think I can keep doing this forever? I’m human, too. I’ll retire when I get old.”
Or die.
It was right after Hong Seokyoung updated his own will in the Agency database. Jieun noticed that his hair was much grayer than when they’d first met.
“Jieun. My eyes aren’t on the top of my head, you know.”
“…But your scalp’s fine.”
“That’s not comforting.”
Hong Seokyoung was steadily preparing for the next generation. Jieun helped him.
She didn’t think he knew about those efforts, but even her cheeky younger sibling seemed to have grown a little more thoughtful after writing a will this time.
Jieun turned toward the support office. She needed to check on things. It definitely wasn’t because she was bored and wanted to tease Woo Heejae…
“Ah, Hunter Yoo!”
But as luck would have it, Jieun’s peaceful day off was shattered by a Hunter running frantically down the hall.
“The Director is looking for you. It’s urgent.”
“The Director?”
“Yes! He said to come right away.”
“…Did he say anything else?”
“Nope.”
Hmm.
Jieun stroked her chin. It didn’t seem like a dungeon had broken out. Maybe there was a request for cooperation from another country.
Jieun turned and headed off. The Director’s office was in the same direction she’d been planning to go anyway.
“Teacher? I heard you were looking for me.”
“Jieun.”
Hong Seokyoung greeted her with a voice heavy and dark.
“…Teacher?”
Jieun recognized that expression. She couldn’t not. Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest.
All the deep gloom and exhaustion, the worries and anxieties about the future, that he’d hidden behind bright smiles and silly jokes—she could see it now. The weary sigh of someone who wanted to run from it all, but stayed put out of sheer responsibility.
Jieun was suddenly afraid. She felt as if her teacher, her father, might disappear at any moment.
There was only one thing that ever made Hong Seokyoung unable to hide his emotions.
The death of someone close—someone he desperately wanted to protect.
And if he’d called her here, it meant the deceased was someone Jieun knew well, too.
Jieun swallowed hard. Her mouth went dry. Her throat felt as though it might tear.
“…Who. Who is it?”
Hong Seokyoung held out an envelope from his desk to Jieun.
On the front, in neat handwriting, was her name.
“To Jieun.”
“It’s a letter from Soonjin, written for you. Hunter Im Miseon brought it by.”
[It’s been a long time, Jieun.
If you’re reading this letter, it probably means I’m dead, or in a state close to it.
To reach out after so long, only to bring news like this… I’m sorry.]
The mana watch, synchronized to little Jieun’s mana pattern, unlocked a document I’d never seen before. Someone had scanned a handwritten letter.
The registration date… Unlike the one my father left, this one was from quite some time ago. Back when we were still testing the mana watch. Why would someone register a personal letter—not even an official document—here? What was this?
I skipped through the middle and checked the end of the letter. When was this written? Who wrote it?
Seeing the signature at the end of the two-page letter, I hurried back to the first page and began reading in earnest. I couldn’t help it.
[Soon Soonjin]
It was a name I never would have expected.