Chapter 118

Chapter 118
## Chapter 118

### Title: Audience with the President

The following day, I made my way to the Hunter Association headquarters for the formal ceremony where the crown would be presented.

“Unbelievable.”

The turnout was massive. This wasn’t just a crowd of spectators, either.

“Does the leader of the country really have this much free time on his hands?”

I couldn’t fathom why he’d travel all this way just to hand-deliver a crown he lacked the power to use himself. He was essentially throwing a public fit about the whole situation.

The Korean president’s whims are a force of nature. Even an organization as powerful as the Hunter Association had to bow to them.

Naturally, the head of state didn’t arrive unaccompanied. Along with the president, a small army of high-ranking government officials had joined the procession.

To make matters worse, they had squeezed an unwanted formal lunch into the itinerary.

“I have zero desire to eat with people I don’t know.”

And these weren’t just any strangers; they were the most influential people in the nation. They were far from my preferred dining partners.

Meals in those circles usually consist of endless political maneuvering rather than actual sustenance.

“You look a bit on edge.”

“I’m fine.”

I’ve sat at tables with individuals whose global shadow loomed larger than a single president. This wasn’t about nerves.

It was simply a massive hassle. Their motives were as clear as day. It’s not like they were visiting out of some grandfatherly affection for me.

“Ah, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok!”

The ensuing sequence was entirely scripted. Journalists flashed bulbs as we exchanged glances and handshakes. I stood there, nearly nodding off, while the president gave a long-winded speech before finally presenting the crown.

I endured the standard rhetoric about how the nation was indebted to my contributions toward Korea’s future and the hope that I would maintain my efforts.

I posed for the cameras, sitting at the banquet table…

It was only after the media and photographers were finally ushered out that the actual meal commenced.

“It is truly a stroke of luck for the nation to possess hunters of your caliber, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok.”

With the record off, the conversation turned candid. I observed the man seated across from me—Jo Won-hoon, the President of Korea and master of the Blue House.

“I’m not doing anything particularly heroic. If anything, the credit goes to you all for managing the chaos of running a country.”

I decided to keep my responses polished and diplomatic. Jo Won-hoon let out a boisterous laugh and gave a firm nod.

As I looked at his friendly, smiling face, I found myself drifting into thought for a moment.

Since the dawn of the Erosion Zones, Jo Won-hoon had maintained his grip on the presidency without interruption. He had successfully restructured the legal framework so that term limits were a thing of the past.

There were no more restrictions holding him back. Remarkably, the public didn’t seem to mind. Under his watch, Korea had transformed into a global titan in the post-Erosion Zone era.

Most citizens likely believed that if he could keep the nation this powerful, a bit of autocracy was a fair price to pay.

The bottom line was…

‘This man is anything but ordinary.’

In my life, I’ve encountered all types. Some people possess an inherent brilliance—a presence that sets them apart, regardless of their moral compass.

I had run into many such figures before.

“Regardless, I am glad we finally have the chance to speak candidly like this.”

The laughing president before me was one of those standout figures. Only one other person in this country had ever given off that same aura.

The chairman of the Geumyang Group, Han Sang-ah’s grandfather.

This man was clearly not going to be a simple opponent.

“You have a striking appearance and a very solid frame. You look like someone a person could trust immediately.”

“The feeling is mutual. It is a privilege to meet the president who is steering Korea’s golden age.”

There was no reason to be hostile just because the cameras were gone. Neither of us gained anything from that.

For the moment, we were both content to coat our words in sugar and trade polite smiles.

“I actually keep a dog at the Blue House.”

A Jindo? It seemed to be a tradition for Korean presidents to keep pets there, though I doubted they did much of the actual caretaking.

“It’s a Jindo.”

As expected. I nodded along.

“Jindos are excellent companions.”

“The loyalty is unmatched; it never leaves my side. There is a certain… regal quality to it, I suppose.”

People usually say pets are the perfect way to break the ice, but men like Jo Won-hoon don’t indulge in idle chatter without a purpose.

“The trouble is, its fierce loyalty and intelligence occasionally put me in a bind.”

“How so?”

I waited for the punchline. Let’s see where he’s going with this.

“Every now and then, it snaps at other people because it thinks it’s protecting me. It comes from a place of love, certainly…”

Jo Won-hoon’s smile remained soft, but his gaze was locked onto mine.

“But it fails to realize the amount of grief it causes its master.”

I caught the subtext. He was casting me as the dog—doing my job as a hunter but becoming an annoyance to his administration.

He wanted to frame our relationship as master and hound. Fine. If metaphors were the game of the day, I could play.

Time to tell a story of my own.

“That sounds complicated. Personally, I’m quite fond of animals.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Recently, a stray cat has been hanging around my place. It circles the perimeter constantly. I started getting attached—I even began to think I was its owner.”

Jo Won-hoon let out a curious sound. “Oh?”

“They say animals have a knack for choosing the right people. It must have recognized your character, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok.”

“I appreciate that. But as it turns out, the cat just had a nest nearby with a litter of kittens.”

I gave a short laugh and rubbed the back of my neck.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? The cat didn’t care about me at all, but I was living in my own little fantasy thinking, ‘Is it following me because it likes me?'”

The translation: You aren’t my master. You never were, and you never will be.

Stop pretending you have any control over me. This ‘master and Jindo’ talk is a fantasy.

Jo Won-hoon and I exchanged smiles. Neither of us missed the hidden meaning in the other’s words.

“This has been an enlightening talk. You truly can’t know a person until you sit down with them.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

We returned to our food.

“You certainly have nerves of steel. Very bold, almost reckless. Most people lose their composure when they’re in my presence.”

“I just see you as the elder from next door. I’m having a meal with the President of Korea, not an audience with the Ruler of the Underworld.”

We both broke into a synchronized laugh. The unspoken dialogue was much louder:

‘I am the president—do you really intend to keep acting up? Do you know who you’re dealing with?’

‘And? You want a prize? Get lost, old man.’

The absurdity was that we were both grinning like best friends through the whole exchange.

“That’s the beauty of it. A hunter with your level of talent has plenty of choices. That’s where your bravado comes from, isn’t it?”

“I don’t actually have that many paths forward. I made my stance quite clear at the press conference, didn’t I?”

The president gave a slow nod.

“But those words were for the benefit of the public, weren’t they? We have to look at the underlying intent.”

Jo Won-hoon took a bite of his steak and continued.

“If you were to change course for an even greater national benefit, some might complain, but most would understand.”

“A man’s word is his bond. I’m sure you understand how vital that is in your position, Mr. President.”

I wasn’t moving. The Erosion Cores were staying on my hit list.

“Sometimes, one’s principles must be flexible.”

“If a situation truly demands it, I might bend. But as long as I can hold my ground, I intend to.”

It was a stalemate. He wanted me to stop targeting the Cores; I had no intention of stopping.

We kept up the pleasantries through the rest of the course. Eventually, dessert was served.

“In any case, congratulations on the crown once more. I’m no specialist, but I’m told it’s a legendary artifact. I trust you’ll use it for the sake of the country?”

“It will certainly be used for the public good. I can give you my word on that.”

He used ‘national interest’; I used ‘public good.’ It might seem like a small distinction, but the gap between those two concepts was an ocean.

“Well, this has been a delight.”

“It was an honor to meet the President of Korea.”

We stood up and shook hands.

“One more thing, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok.”

“Yes?”

Jo Won-hoon offered one last warm, grandfatherly smile.

“Be careful out there. The country would be in a difficult spot if someone as talented as you met with an accident.”

“Please, even if the entire national military decided to come after me, I’d be just fine.”

I let out an “Ahaha” of my own.

“Actually, the whole army might be pushing it. I’m just pulling your leg.”

Just a joke~

With that parting shot to keep his blood pressure up, the luncheon finally ended. Now, it was time for the real meeting with Sung Si-hoon.

The unexpected detour with the president had put me behind schedule.

I made it to the Attic Heights training grounds, passed through security, and was led down to the subterranean facility.

“This place looks robust.”

“It is a high-security national site. We conduct various experiments here,” my escort explained.

I doubted it could actually contain what was coming. There were no spectators for this duel, and we hadn’t set any rules.

Besides, the president had effectively told me to watch my back.

I planned to show him that his concern was misplaced—and then I was going home.

The massive, four-layered alloy doors ground open with a heavy metallic groan. Harsh artificial lighting filled the cavernous room.

“Representative Sung Si-hoon. My apologies for the delay. The president insisted on lunch, and I couldn’t exactly say no. I’m sure you understand.”

Sung Si-hoon offered no verbal response.

“I see you’ve brought all your equipment.”

“It’s a private duel. No restrictions.”

That meant he was coming at me with everything he had—which was the respectful way to do it. His gear was certainly top-of-the-line.

“Impact absorption, magic nullification, mental shielding, heat resistance, mana amplification…”

I folded my arms, mentally cataloging his loadout.

“This gear represents my entire career as a hunter. Don’t mistake preparation for cowardice.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

In fact, it was perfect. Everything he was wearing was something I could burn. I’d start with the magic resistance, naturally.

I always enjoyed having a lot of fuel to work with. I was starting to think I had a bit of a pyromaniac streak.

“Let’s get moving. Seal the entrance.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the massive alloy bulkhead slid shut behind me.

“Oh, and if the pain gets to be too much, just raise your left hand.”

If you’re still able to move it, that is.