Chapter 16

Chapter 16
## Chapter 16: Scrap Dealer Contract

—

A vehicle pulled to a stop just outside the window, and a figure began unloading a specialized container from the trunk.

“Just a moment—I’ll go retrieve the hardware.”

He stepped out and returned shortly after, laying the case flat and clicking it open.

“This is a sleeve-type shoulder protector. As for the exterior plating…”

He produced a power drill, jammed the bit directly against the surface of the gear, and squeezed the trigger. A piercing, metallic screech—kaga-gaga-gak—filled the room, yet the armor remained completely unmarred.

“Hunters are constantly pulling high-intensity maneuvers, right? This reinforcement prevents dislocations and similar impact trauma.”

It bore a striking resemblance to the heavy-duty braces professional athletes utilize for joint stabilization. The only noticeable drawback was its asymmetrical design, protecting only a single shoulder.

Embedded within the frame was a streamlined mechanism designed to house emergency pharmaceuticals, featuring a quick-release trigger for immediate subcutaneous injection during combat.

“Sturdy piece of work, isn’t it? If it’s not to your liking, feel free to trade it in, and we will credit the full market value to your account, minus the standard handling fees.”

I gave a slow nod as Choi Seung-gi finished his pitch.

“I’ll pay the overhead and the extra charges myself; I’d like to keep it.”

“No, there’s really no need for that. You haven’t actually collected your dividends from the previous job yet, have you, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok?”

It made sense; the chaos surrounding the Gyodongdo incident had only recently been settled.

“If we simply retain that portion, it more than covers our internal processing and the associated service fees.”

Choi Seung-gi exhaled a long breath of relief, a wide, toothy smile breaking across his face as he gave his chest a confident pat.

“Phew, I’m glad we cleared that up. I was honestly concerned I was being a bit too aggressive with the sales pitch.”

He wasn’t being pushy at all. I was in the market for supplemental protection anyway. However, there was still a lingering point to address.

“Even with you preparing this equipment, there is no guarantee I’ll actually sign a contract with your firm.”

He merely gave a casual shrug at my warning.

“In that case, consider it a gesture of goodwill. Rookie hunters are perpetually desperate for decent gear, after all.”

While he spoke, he cast a subtle, calculating look in my direction.

“I won’t lose sleep over it.”

Liquidating the biological remains from a Grade 3 Erosion Core wasn’t going to generate a life-changing sum of money regardless.

Acquiring a high-grade piece of protective equipment in exchange? I was clearly the one coming out on top in this arrangement.

“Now that the gift is out of the way, let’s get down to the actual terms.”

Choi Seung-gi let out an inquisitive “ah” and shifted his full attention toward me.

“Let’s start with the primary concern: the commission. We are requesting a 30% split.”

“That is significantly higher than the industry standard for a scrap dealer.”

He nodded solemnly.

“View it as an investment in a partnership built on a deeper level of reliability.”

“What exactly are you implying?”

He took a hard swallow, using his straw to stir the ice cubes clinking in his glass.

“My personal credo is simple: people with full stomachs are far less likely to turn into backstabbers.”

“It’s hard to argue with that logic.”

Loyalty and professional integrity are almost always proportional to the compensation involved. You simply cannot expect lifelong commitment for a pittance.

“In exchange for that increased percentage, we guarantee never to skim from your loot. In truth, even at 30%, the actual profit the company retains is roughly the same as what our competitors take.”

“So the surplus is funneled directly to your field recovery teams?”

He nodded once more.

“Embezzling hunter spoils usually happens when crews are looking for black market side-gigs. If you pay them a premium, no one is stupid enough to risk a prison sentence for a few extra scraps.”

The logic was sound. The document clearly delineated the breakdown: the corporate share and the field crew’s compensation.

“There is a very deliberate reason behind our 30% requirement. It isn’t just a matter of greedily hunting for spare change.”

“I assume that’s also why you decided to handle this meeting personally.”

He shook his head in dissent.

“That’s a separate matter. We genuinely want you on our roster, Hunter Yoo Chan-seok.”

“Quite the flatterer.”

He let out a sudden burst of laughter before his expression smoothed back into a serious mask.

“Please, sign with us. We may not have the massive infrastructure of a firm like Blue Wrench, but we are a powerhouse within our specific niche.”

“Approaching me with such humility seems like it puts you at a disadvantage in a negotiation, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does. We aren’t the top-ranked firm. And you are easily the most coveted recruit among the current crop of new hunters.”

It was difficult to push back when he was being so transparently honest. Besides, his assessment was accurate.

“The relationship between a scrap dealer and a hunter? Once a contract is inked, it’s typically a lifelong bond unless a major disaster occurs.”

The entire system is built on foundational trust. Once you find a partner who delivers, there is rarely a motive to look elsewhere. This meant if they failed to secure my signature now, the window of opportunity might close forever.

“What if we set the split at 40%, but start with a three-month short-term trial?”

He looked up, blinking in surprise.

“A short-term deal…”

“I want to test our compatibility first.”

The specific percentage wasn’t the deciding factor for a mere ninety days. If the working relationship proved to be a headache, being trapped in a multi-year commitment would be far more costly.

It was like purchasing groceries. The massive, cheap bag of onions is only a bargain if they don’t rot on the shelf while you’re trying to use them.

I would rather pay a premium for a trial run to see if we clicked; if the service was excellent, we could transition to a long-term 30% agreement later.

“Understood. It’s a highly unconventional request, but…”

Choi Seung-gi thumped his fist against his chest, his gaze intensifying.

“I’ll make sure you’re eager to sign that long-term extension.”

“I certainly hope so. Finding a replacement scrap dealer down the road sounds like a massive inconvenience.”

We finalized the paperwork on the spot. Once the signatures were dry, he handed over a specialized device—a chip implanter shaped like a small handgun, identical to the one Kim Min-je had used for tagging targets.

“It comes pre-loaded with 150 microchips, plus another 150 spares for critical situations. If you run low, just send word—we’ll facilitate a resupply immediately.”

“I look forward to our partnership.”

Scrap dealer secured. An Oduak voucher as an added perk. It had been a highly productive session.

The only remaining objective: Tsushima. With the contract finalized, I gathered my things and moved to rendezvous with Han Sang-ah.

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

It was a blunt reality, but there were no civilian ferries operating toward Tsushima.

None whatsoever. With a Grade 2 Erosion Core firmly entrenched on the island, no commercial vessel was reckless enough to sail into those waters.

Consequently, we required the logistical support of the Busan Coast Guard.

“We appreciate the cooperation.”

“Not at all, it is our distinct honor to assist you.”

The power of a reputation. Regardless of the circumstances, I was a public figure now. This was exactly why I had been cultivating my fame.

Under normal conditions, this would have involved endless interrogations and bureaucratic hurdles, but public recognition managed to bypass the red tape.

They guaranteed us transport to Geoje. I met up with Han Sang-ah at the designated spot.

“You’re looking quite sharp today.”

She made a slight face, appearing unsure of how to process the compliment.

“I wasn’t actually expecting a response.”

After linking up with Han Sang-ah, we made our way toward Geoje High School. The harbor was located in the immediate vicinity, allowing us to board the Coast Guard vessel the moment our business concluded.

At the school gates, a crowd of waiting locals immediately fixed their gazes upon us. They were mostly older individuals—even the youngest among them looked to be in their late forties.

“We are truly indebted to you for coming.”

“Hey, Old Man Hyun—isn’t that the fellow from the television?”

An elderly man clutching a bottle of makgeolli spotted me and nudged his companion.

“That’s him.”

As a wave of hushed conversation swept through the group, several people stepped forward, grasping my hands with desperate strength.

“My family went out to sea and never returned…”

Unlike the idle chatter of the media, the expressions on these faces were etched with genuine, raw anguish.

“First, there is something we need to clarify.”

Roughly fifty people focused their undivided attention on me.

“I need to know your exact priorities.”

“What are you implying by that?”

It was a simple matter of logistics.

“Either I neutralize the Erosion Core, or I focus on rescuing the prisoners. If I am forced to choose one over the other, where should my focus lie?”

It was a question of priority. In the heat of a mission, you can sometimes only achieve one objective.

What then?

A heavy silence descended as people began trading uneasy glances. In that moment, the division became clear.

The crowd consisted of two main factions.

There were the families whose loved ones had been snatched away to Tsushima, and the local fishermen who were too terrified to leave the docks since the incident began.

The divide was written on their faces. Some wore expressions of sheer hostility, while others muttered under their breath, looking around nervously.

I saw no reason to let the tension simmer. I moved on to the next point.

“What evidence do you have that they are being held captive? Or that they are even alive?”

Statistically, it was far more likely they had already perished.

“A survivor made it out. I believe it was Jeje Island? Or perhaps Baek Hospital? He was taken there for treatment.”

According to the survivor’s account, it seemed the abducted fishermen were indeed still being held.

There was likely some truth to that report.

“Even if they haven’t survived, bringing their remains home would provide some form of closure.”

About seventeen people nodded in agreement. The rest? Those were the frightened sailors.

“To minimize the damage, we should destroy that monster den first, shouldn’t we?”

“What are you saying? If he does that, everyone taken there is as good as dead!”

I cleared my throat loudly, the sharp sound cutting through the burgeoning argument.

“I understand the predicament.”

Ultimately, the decision rested with me. These people weren’t the ones picking up blades, sailing into the heart of danger, slaughtering beasts, and dragging their kin back to safety.

“Yes, exactly—we trust the famous Hunter Yoo to handle this the right way. We have full confidence in you.”

I felt a small, cynical smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

“The priority is rescuing survivors. If no one remains, we will secure the bodies.”

The coordination with the Coast Guard was already established. We would prioritize ferrying survivors or remains back to Geoje first, then turn our full attention to the core.

“Listen, the dead can stay dead for a bit—the living have to come first! It’s peak crab season, and we can’t even get the boats out…”

“Who gives a solitary damn about your crabs at a time like this?!”

The bickering flared up again instantly. I moved to settle them one last time.

“I will do everything within my power.”

“But in all seriousness—can just these two really pull this off?”