Chapter 55

Chapter 55. Oppa, What If You Become Famous…?

Needing a refuge from the relentless ring of incoming calls from journalists and guild representatives, and wanting to share the day’s chaos, I promptly started a video call with Sia.

True to form, she picked up virtually the second the connection went through.

[Oppa! Oh, hold on, Oppa. Did something go wrong?]

Her initial greeting had been bright, yet the moment my image appeared on her screen, an anxious note crept into her tone.

The sheer strain of handling phone inquiries from dawn to dusk was clearly written across my features.

[Could it be… you misplaced the ring? Is that the reason for your call?]

‘Wait, what?’

Looking down, I noticed the band Sia had gifted me was missing from my hand.

A sudden shiver swept over me as the thought of having dropped it crossed my mind, but thankfully, retracing my steps assured me that wasn’t what had occurred.

“Not at all. I… slipped it off while washing up a moment ago. Come to think of it, I left it sitting by the sink.”

That brief panic felt like it shaved a decade off my lifespan.

Had it genuinely disappeared, I couldn’t begin to imagine how severe the fallout would have been.

[Phew, what a relief. It isn’t pinching your finger or causing any discomfort, is it?]

“Not in the least. The fit is seamless. Very comfortable, actually.”

At moments like these, my own composure felt almost unsettling.

The untruth rolled off my tongue effortlessly, without the slightest twitch or shift in my expression.

I truly appreciated the effort Sia had put into crafting it for me, and I recognized that keeping it on granted tangible benefits.

Even so, that utility couldn’t erase the eerie sensation of wearing it.

I had grown sufficiently accustomed to the item that the physical oddness was manageable, yet whenever I recalled that both this band and the pendant resting against my chest were shaped from Sia’s own skeleton, a wave of chills crawled across my skin.

Acting as though everything was completely ordinary, I stepped into the washroom, slid the piece back onto my finger, and held it up to the camera for her to see.

[Even if it had gone missing, I could have fashioned another. My main worry was that you might feel troubled over it.]

A breath of genuine relief escaped Sia’s lips.

[So, Oppa, if the jewelry wasn’t the issue, what brought all this on?]

I gave her a concise rundown of the day’s developments.

“It felt novel at the start, but over time it turned into pure exhaustion.”

[Even so, isn’t that wonderful? It proves that society is acknowledging what you’ve achieved and respecting your worth.]

“In the past, I might have felt validated by that, but these days it hardly matters to me. Regardless of how much public approval comes my way, that isn’t the priority anymore. The only recognition that counts is yours.”

Whether my standing jumped from D-rank to B-rank in six short weeks, or somehow soared straight to SSS-rank, my true objective remained unchanged: mastering the draconic authority residing within me.

That was the straightforward thought behind my words, but Sia evidently took it as a deep romantic confession, as her cheeks instantly flushed crimson while she shifted with bashful delight.

[Oppa, really now…]

Watching Sia react with such intense bashfulness occasionally made me feel a bit flustered myself.

Clearing my throat slightly, I went on with my explanation.

“The point is, fielding all these inquiries is wearing me down, yet simply cutting off the line or shutting down the device seems reckless. I still have no clue who distributed my personal contact details. I figured that if I must spend time on a call, I’d much rather dedicate it to my Sia than waste energy on strangers.”

[Uh-huh! Don’t stress over it. I’ll make sure all that tiredness melts away. Now, what shall we chat about?]

Our conversation stretched on comfortably, during which we ironed out the specifics for our upcoming date later in the week.

Eventually, our extended dialogue reached its natural conclusion.

“I’ll catch up with you on that day, then.”

[Understood! Also, Oppa, if you’re keeping the phone active solely on my account, go ahead and power it off. If I need to reach you, your computer is always available.]

“That makes sense. We aren’t strictly dependent on cellular calls anyway.”

Why that alternative hadn’t crossed my mind sooner was beyond me.

Between voice channels and digital messaging, alternative avenues were plentiful.

“Alright, Sia, I’ll likely power this down for the remainder of the evening, so don’t be alarmed if calls don’t go through. Deal?”

[Deal! Dinnertime is right around the corner, so make sure to enjoy a hearty meal.]

“Make sure you do the same.”

Disconnecting the call, I tossed the device onto the mattress, feeling a wave of renewal wash over me.

That lengthy exchange with Sia had drained away the heavy fatigue weighing on my shoulders.

Having informed her beforehand that the device would be going dark, I moved to switch it off completely.

Right at that second, another incoming ring resonated from the screen.

“Seriously, again…?”

Prior to shutting down the power entirely, I opted to entertain just this solitary final caller.

*

With the call to Minjun concluded, Sia drifted deep into contemplation.

Seeing the man she cherished earn widespread acclaim from the public was undeniably positive.

Minjun had appeared visibly drained from the nonstop outreach that praise entailed, yet hadn’t he admitted during their talk that there was a certain satisfaction buried within that weariness?

Even with that acknowledged, a nagging apprehension tugged at her mind.

‘What if Oppa ends up getting pulled onto broadcast television?’

Judging by how Minjun had expressed himself moments ago, he seemed utterly uninterested in public media appearances or sit-down interviews.

Yet that was merely her read on his current mood.

There was always a chance he might reconsider down the line and choose to make a guest appearance on some high-profile broadcast.

The average person would likely question why anyone would fret over such a scenario; shouldn’t having your partner featured on public television be thrilling?

Sia, however, perceived the matter through an entirely distinct lens.

‘If Oppa gains widespread fame on the screen, there will inevitably be shameless vixens who become smitten with him and start fawning all over him.’

Should Minjun show up on television, the network segments would naturally highlight his staggering development and heroic feats as an awakened Hunter.

Yet Sia harbored no doubt that the audience would also fixate on his striking facial features, which easily matched the standard of prominent actors.

A civilian outside the entertainment world possessing looks capable of turning women’s heads would unquestionably evolve into an overnight sensation.

When combined with the immense potential Minjun had demonstrated on the battlefield, public fascination would only intensify.

A Hunter blessed with both elite capability and extraordinary looks—what media producer could possibly ignore that?

Such attention would inevitably snowball into further media invitations, and once he attained celebrity status, outside women would start directing their desires toward him.

He could find himself sharing stages with glamorous, widely recognized female stars, cultivating rapport, and from there…

What if one of his glamorous co-stars made a calculated effort to captivate him?

What if alluring, youthful, high-achieving women—free from the physical constraints binding Sia and able to be at Minjun’s side whenever they pleased—began subtly weaving temptations around him?

Most onlookers would dismiss these thoughts as absurd paranoia and excessive worry.

Yet it was an emotional reality impossible to grasp unless one stood in her exact shoes.

Sia had returned to the mortal realm barely six weeks ago, and already two separate women had made clear romantic advances toward Minjun.

She equally remembered Minjun mentioning from their shared past that, prior to her rebirth, random strangers had repeatedly approached him asking for his number.

She had personally witnessed women making obvious passes at him on multiple occasions as well.

Having two distinct rivals surface in such a brief window made it utterly impossible for her anxiety to stay quiet.

Crack, crack.

Gripped by mounting distress, she unconsciously began gnawing at the edge of her fingernails.

“No way. That scenario simply cannot come to pass…”

Minjun’s image must never be broadcast across public airwaves, or even circulated widely on YouTube.

She yearned for the world at large to validate Minjun’s prowess, yet paradoxically craved that his charm remain a secret preserved for her eyes alone.

Those conflicting impulses tangled messily within her heart.

‘What is making me this unsettled?’

Releasing her fingertips from her lips, Sia reached for one of Minjun’s worn shirts resting nearby, drawing its fabric close to inhale the lingering scent.

His natural aroma had faded substantially with the passage of days, but she made up for the loss by lightly misting the cloth with the scent of his preferred cologne.

“Haah.”

Her internal storm quieted marginally, but her train of thought soon shifted in a different direction.

If an unknown party had leaked Minjun’s private contact details, wasn’t that breach the very reason behind the endless barrage that had exhausted him today?

‘Now that I reflect on it, that is utterly infuriating.’

The wave of public fascination centered on Minjun was one issue.

Entirely separate from that, who dared to take his private records and broadcast them to the public without authorization?

Sia was suddenly seized by a desire to confront the culprit face-to-face.

‘I need to uncover who did this as well.’

She remained unaware of how Minjun’s confidential data and phone number had managed to leak into the open.

However, if his records had been distributed through an illicit breach, Sia vowed to make certain that whichever individual was responsible paid a severe, fitting retribution.

*

If I were to boot up the mobile device currently resting dark and silent, how many unread calls would be piled up on the log?

A fleeting impulse urged me to switch it on simply to satisfy my curiosity, but recalling the unrelenting deluge from earlier instantly snuffed out the urge.

Perhaps letting it stay dark until the morning hours was the wiser path.

Even so, shutting down my mobile didn’t mean I could just sit around idling, so I took a seat in front of my computer monitor.

The initial action I took after booting up the system was browsing the daily headlines.

Unsurprisingly, an assortment of coverage regarding my recent feats dominated the central news aggregators.

<‘D-Rank to B-Rank in Roughly a Month: The Rise of an Unprecedented Prodigy in Domestic Hunter Records?>

<‘Renegade or Tactical Genius?’ Analysts Claim ‘Substantial Likelihood of Deliberately Masking Raw Ability’>

<‘A Double-Grade Leap in Six Weeks’: Record-Breaking Surge Attracts Global Focus>

<‘A Stellar Hunter Blazes onto the Scene—Will Middle Eastern and Chinese Investors Open Their Coffers?>

Scrolling through the articles, I observed an unending parade of wild speculation, completely ignoring the fact that the person at the center of the rumors had no desire to cater to their hype.

A few reports even boldly declared the whole thing an elaborate scam, inventing baseless claims that I had artificially manipulated my performance during my preliminary evaluation to receive an intentionally suppressed score.

Fortunately, one silver lining remained: none of the public articles disclosed my legal identity or dropped hints distinct enough to make narrowing me down simple.

Had such identifying details been included, I might have seriously explored legal action against the source of the privacy breach.

Having skimmed the latest headlines, I was preparing to search the network for suitable anomalies to challenge over the coming days when, on an impulse, I clicked open my primary digital inbox.

Precisely as anticipated, dozens of inquiries from prominent organizations, media outlets, and field reporters filled the screen.

Choosing not to click inside any of the messages, I merely reviewed the headers, discovering that even a high-profile network broadcast program had extended a formal booking request.

How on earth was an individual supposed to manage responses to such an onslaught?

‘A network variety program, of all things…’

The brief prospect of interacting with recognized celebrities carried a faint allure, but the foreseeable complications far outweighed any shallow perks, so I resolved to decline the invitations across the board.

Having pushed aside the correspondence, my focus returned to seeking out fitting dimensional breaches for an upcoming operation.

A B-rank anomaly located within the capital territory, specifically one where the exploration authorization hadn’t been monopolized by a syndicate, allowing an unaffiliated practitioner like myself to enter.

Those were the exact parameters required.

“…The selection is remarkably thin.”

I had anticipated that the count of accessible instances would be constrained, but the actual availability was far bleaker than my estimates.

The mechanics driving that scarcity were straightforward.

To begin with, the frequency of low-grade breaches was vast, whereas higher-ranked rifts appeared with far lower regularity.

Furthermore, commercial groups routinely snapped up the clearance contracts for the vast majority of A-rank and B-rank instances, significantly shrinking the options left for independent combatants operating without backing.

During my tenure at D-rank, lacking organizational ties had presented zero hurdles when scouting for accessible breaches.

Major factions rarely bothered spending capital to secure rights for D-rank zones, and the territory was crowded with them.

Once stepping into B-rank territory and above, however, those exact market realities turned independent participation into an uphill battle.

‘Would committing to an established faction have been the smarter route after all?’

I had regularly heard complaints about independent operatives hitting a wall when seeking B-rank assignments.

Encountering that bottleneck firsthand made me question whether refusing recruitment offers had merely been stubborn defiance.

It wasn’t as though I harbored deep-seated resentment toward organizations or carried scars from past administrative betrayals.

Perhaps accepting a slightly trimmed compensation split in exchange for fewer scheduled sorties—freeing up the balance of my hours for conditioning and combat drills—was the practical compromise.

Alternatively, seeking counsel from Rokan might yield better clarity.

Rokan would undoubtedly possess sharper perspective on which trajectory aligned with my needs.

With that conclusion reached, I made my way directly toward Rokan’s private domain.

The instant I stepped into his presence, however, Rokan met my arrival with subtle surprise.

“What an intriguing coincidence. I was preparing to summon you this very moment.”