Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Chapter: 30

Chapter Title: Nerve Overhaul

The following day, my morning meal consisted of a spread of grain porridge, simmered beef, salted pollock roe, and chilled water kimchi. On the surface, it looked like a decent enough spread, however…

Hospital cuisine is notoriously bland, regardless of the effort put in. It is an uphill battle to make such meals genuinely savory. In reality, these trays aren’t designed for culinary pleasure—they are strictly functional biological fuel.

If a hospital meal actually tasted fantastic, it would likely be overloaded with seasonings and fats, which contradicts the entire purpose of a recovery ward.

Once I had cleared my tray, a knock sounded at the door with precise timing, as if the visitor had been counting my bites.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ja Su-jeong, and I’m with the administrative office of Embargo Tower.”

I accepted the card she offered. Her name was indeed Ja Su-jeong, a pun on the word for “amethyst,” and she seemed to carry the name with a certain level of pride.

“I wasn’t aware there was a Ja family line in Korea,” I remarked.

She gave a small, practiced nod in response to my observation.

“I hear that quite often. It makes me easy to recall, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps not as unforgettable as someone literally named ‘Telephone,’ but she certainly left an impression. Her physical appearance was equally striking.

It was clear that Embargo Tower was pulling out all the stops to gauge my character. I made sure to let my gaze linger on her occasionally as we spoke.

I was playing the role of a man with a healthy, visible interest in women—not a complete deviant who asks about the color of their undergarments, nor a fragile klutz who develops a nosebleed at a pretty face.

“I’ve brought a small token, just a cake from the Oduak bakery,” she said, presenting a box featuring the well-known brand logo.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I demurred.

“Even in a high-end VIP suite, the cafeteria food can be a bit depressing. Think of it as a small bribe to keep us in your good graces. It isn’t quite the quality of the flagship store, but it’s still quite good.”

Throughout our small talk, Ja Su-jeong’s eyes never stopped analyzing me. She was clearly operating under specific directives from her superiors. Corporate life is a grind for everyone, it seems.

“I could have handled the refreshments myself,” I noted.

“The firm views you as an extremely high-priority asset. If I let you play the host for menial tasks, I’d likely find myself in the unemployment line.”

With that, she efficiently prepared the drinks and began portioning the dessert.

“At any rate, we should pivot to the professional matters,” she stated.

The atmosphere shifted. Ja Su-jeong straightened her posture, took a centering breath, and shed her suit jacket before sitting down. Clad now in a sleek, white turtleneck that accentuated her silhouette, she became the picture of focused professionalism.

“Regarding your earlier request: we have reached out to Embargo concerning the mobilization of their 3rd Team.”

“I see. To be honest, I thought it was a long shot. Lee Se-eun is a high-profile hunter with a packed schedule.”

I kept my tone light and indifferent, as if I had already moved on from the idea. She countered:

“As it turns out, it is actually quite doable. Zanabi’s 5th Team is scheduled to wrap up their stint in France and return by the end of the month.”

So, they’re rotating the 5th Team into Cheorwon to free up the 3rd? That implies Lee Se-eun is actually coming. That’s a bit more attention than I bargained for.

“The leader of the 3rd Team seems quite eager for the change of scenery as well,” she added.

Given that the 3rd Team had been stationed in the trenches of Cheorwon for nearly a year, their desire to leave was understandable. I turned my attention to the files she had laid out on the surface between us.

The mission involved the rail transport of specialized cargo originating from the Port of Vladivostok.

The transport train had already secured clearance from various international hunter guilds, allowing it to transit toward Amsterdam on a five-day high-speed sprint.

“A logistics escort. I’m curious about the nature of the freight.”

If this was just more luxury contraband like the Association President’s business in China, I wasn’t interested. She slid a secondary briefing document over.

“It’s a prototype mana-integrated shield generator, a new development out of the United States.”

My interest piqued. I felt a momentary urge to demand the technical schematics.

“I wonder how far the technology has progressed. It’ll be interesting to see.”

She nodded in agreement.

“This journey serves as their field test.”

Once the generator arrived in the Netherlands, it was slated for immediate aerial transport to Dover, England, for its final evaluation.

“The situation in Europe has turned dire due to the influence of the Ristorante Erosion Core.”

That specific Core was situated in Naples, Italy.

“I’ve heard that particular Core has devastated the continent,” I commented.

Even though Florence is located in the southern regions, that solitary Erosion Core had essentially stripped Europe and North Africa of their defenses against the monster tide.

The United Kingdom remained one of the few stable regions, protected by the natural barrier of the English Channel.

“The situation is so desperate they’ve begun clear-cutting Epping Forest,” she noted.

That was the famous woodland area to the northeast of London. With the European economy in a freefall and the infrastructure shattered, the populace had lost access to basic utilities like gas or oil. They were reduced to poaching timber for warmth and hunting local fauna to the point of extinction.

“The plight of the lower class is truly harrowing right now.”

She shared a recent report: a woman who had managed to secure a small food ration died, leading to a lethal struggle between her husband and child over the leftover porridge. The father had killed the child in the fray and simply discarded the remains.

“That is grim,” I muttered.

In my previous life, such tragedies were associated with places like Somalia, not the heart of Europe.

“You don’t seem particularly shocked by the news,” she observed.

“Oh, I’m plenty horrified.”

The truth was, I had witnessed the absolute bottom of human depravity caused by famine in the other world—cases just like that, and even darker instances where families traded children to avoid the psychological toll of eating their own.

“The elite always find a way to stay comfortable, regardless of the chaos,” she added.

“That… is an eternal truth,” I agreed.

The European mainland hadn’t become a wasteland, per se. The political structure had simply collapsed. With traditional governments failing, private hunter corporations had filled the vacuum, essentially becoming feudal warlords.

“There is a high probability of conflict during the transit,” she warned.

The plan for any local power would be to hijack the train, take the generator, and use it as leverage for political or resource-based concessions. A classic train robbery.

“Which is exactly why you’re being brought on board, isn’t it?”

My job was to neutralize any interference along the tracks.

“It isn’t just the tech—we are also hauling humanitarian aid at the behest of global organizations.”

“So it’s not just warlords we have to worry about. Desperate people are just as dangerous.”

On a contract like this, anything could go sideways. Hunger rots the body, but it destroys the moral compass first. She nodded.

“You haven’t performed any overseas operations yet, have you, Yoo Chan-seok?”

“I haven’t.”

At least, not in this specific reality.

“We will likely witness a fair share of horrors together.”

“Together?” I questioned.

She confirmed with a nod.

“Yes. Embargo Tower is providing the logistical intelligence and data support for this contract. We need a liaison on the ground, and that will likely be my role.”

“Good to hear. It’s better to have a familiar face on the team.”

She offered a bright smile.

“I feel the same. It’s an honor to be working with you.”

The transition into my acceptance of the job was seamless. Embargo had achieved their aim of placing an operative near me, and I had succeeded in creating a controlled vulnerability for them to exploit. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

“One more thing,” I said, catching her gaze.

“Yes?”

“I want Han Sang-ah to be included in the party.”

She blinked, searching her memory. “Han Sang-ah… Oh.”

“The woman from the Great Demon Island excursion.”

“I gave her my word. I intend to make sure she honors hers.”

My plan was to train her in combat; her role was to pay for that expertise. If there was no profit in it, I’d walk away. But since we had an agreement of payment, I wasn’t about to let the opportunity slide.

As we concluded our meeting and rose to our feet, I added:

“Since we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other, should we exchange contact info?”

Her expression lit up.

“Of course!”

She clearly needed something concrete to take back to her superiors, so the exchange of numbers took only a moment.

“I should probably get some rest, seeing as I’m still technically a patient.”

After she departed, I sat back on the edge of my mattress. A nurse came in to check my vitals and then left. I took a deep, steadying breath.

I was dreading the next step. I likely wouldn’t be able to move for at least an hour afterward. But it was a requirement. I instructed the nursing staff to ensure no one entered my room until I gave the word, then I settled into a cross-legged position on the bed.

“Time for a nervous system reconstruction.”

The mana circulating through my pathways had finally hit the threshold necessary to begin modifying my physical nerves.

The objective was simple: Drastically increase my reaction time.

A standard human cannot react to an auditory cue faster than 0.1 seconds—it is a hard-coded biological limit of the nervous system. This is why any start in a track race faster than 0.1 seconds is flagged as a false start.

“I need to bring that down to 0.02 seconds…”

A world-class sprinter covers roughly 10 meters per second. A mere 0.01-second advantage grants a 10-centimeter lead.

“In a life-or-death struggle, 10 centimeters…”

It’s the difference between a blade passing through your shoulder or missing you entirely while your own weapon finds its mark.

And that calculation didn’t even account for mana-based physical enhancement.

Hunters, bolstered by mana, move much faster than standard athletes, meaning the distance gained by a faster reaction time is exponentially larger.

“I really hate this part.”

The process was agonizing, and a single lapse in concentration could leave me in a permanent vegetative state. Tinkering with one’s nerves is inherently suicidal.

The fact that even I was dreading the sensation meant the pain was going to be astronomical. I placed a makeshift gag in my mouth to prevent myself from shattering my own teeth.

“Krrgh.”

The sensation was akin to white-hot needles being threaded through every single nerve fiber in my body. And that was just the opening act. Through the waves of agony, I harnessed the incoming mana, meticulously using it to reshape the neural architecture.

There’s no poetic way to describe it: imagine the pain of passing a kidney stone while simultaneously being expected to perform complex office work.

“…”

My mouth was locked open, but no sound came out. When pain reaches a certain threshold, the ability to scream vanishes—the mind simply goes blank, like a piece of paper soaked in blood.

If I lost focus for even a second, total paralysis would take hold.

Biting down on the gag, I shook with silent tremors, looking like a pest caught in a cloud of poison. My hospital gown was instantly drenched in cold sweat, and my own nails left deep gouges in my skin.

‘This is the second time. You’ve done this before. You can—dammit, no. I can’t. It doesn’t matter if it’s the second time, there is no getting used to this. Just hold on, you idiot.’

Internal battles between the urge to quit and the will to survive flickered like dying embers.

Eventually, my solitary, grueling struggle came to an end. My gown, ruined by sweat and flecks of blood, hung off me in rags. I was deathly pale and looked like a wreck, on the verge of passing out.

Yet, as I assessed my condition, a grin spread across my face.

“Experience truly is the best teacher.”

The results were superior to my previous attempt. There’s a reason veterans are so highly valued. I had aimed for a 0.02-second reduction, but I had managed to shave off 0.05 seconds. I had more than doubled my goal. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“A-Are you alright? Stay with me!”

I had managed to signal the nurse, who rushed in, saw my state, and immediately began calling for emergency assistance while performing rapid triage.

As they worked to stabilize me, I lay back and clicked my tongue internally.

“In the last world, a success like this would have been met with dramatic cheers and shouts.”

Real professionals operate differently. No theatrics—just efficient action. It was a world away from the chaotic reactions of the common folk.