Chapter 65

Chapter 65
## Chapter 65: The Offering of Oduak’s Master

—

The moment the entrance swung open and we crossed the threshold, a woman clad in a sharp, professional uniform was there to meet us. She possessed a striking elegance and a tall, commanding stature; what truly stood out, however, was a small beauty mark situated just below her left eye.

“I welcome you to Oduak.”

“Greetings, Owner Sa Seung-hee,” Choi Seung-gi said, bowing respectfully.

In response, Sa Seung-hee pointed her index finger toward him before tilting her hand to give a sharp thumbs-up of approval.

“You’ve certainly had your hands full. I imagine hosting such high-profile guests hasn’t been easy.”

After addressing Choi Seung-gi, Sa Seung-hee’s expression shifted into one of slight apology.

“That being said, I’m afraid this upcoming discussion might be a bit uncomfortable with President Choi Seung-gi in the room.”

The hint was unmistakable. Choi Seung-gi offered a stiff, formal bow and exited the premises without a word of protest.

“Well then, our brew is quite exceptional—why don’t you start with a cup while you get settled?”

These were the first words Sa Seung-hee directed at us once Choi Seung-gi had vanished. Following her lead, Han Sang-ah and I took our places and began sipping the coffee she provided while we waited for her to return.

“This is actually very good,” Han Sang-ah remarked after her initial taste.

I personally felt that all coffee generally hit the same notes, but after taking a sip, I found myself nodding in silent agreement.

“It really is.”

A short while later, Sa Seung-hee returned to our table, expertly balancing a heavy tray.

“I hope yukgaejang is to your liking?”

The spread she presented was magnificent: steaming bowls of yukgaejang, rolled omelets, gondre herb rice, glazed lotus root, and refreshing watery radish kimchi.

After taking my first few bites of the spicy beef soup, I looked up at Sa Seung-hee in genuine surprise.

“Did you slip some kind of secret elixir into this yukgaejang?”

I’ve had soups that were thicker or packed more heat, but if you wanted to define the dish for a newcomer, this was the gold standard. It was neither too much nor too little—the exact, platonic ideal of flavor that surfaces in your mind when you crave “delicious yukgaejang.”

It was baffling. Had they reduced an entire cow into this single pot? The depth of the broth was staggering. It made perfect sense why people would lose their minds and travel great distances just to catch a scent of her cooking.

“I’m glad it meets your standards,” she replied.

As I sat there in awe, I noticed that half of Han Sang-ah’s bowl had already disappeared into thin air.

“You’re inhaling that yukgaejang like an old-timer at a morning soccer match downing a health tonic,” I remarked.

“If you’re planning on leaving any behind, feel free to slide it over,” she countered without looking up.

“Keep your hands off, or I’ll introduce these chopsticks to your forehead.”

Before a conflict could erupt, a fresh portion of yukgaejang was lowered into Han Sang-ah’s bowl. Sa Seung-hee had anticipated the demand and brought extra. It wasn’t just the soup, either—every side dish on the table was a masterpiece.

It’s hard to categorize food this good. Usually, you compliment a home meal by saying it tastes professional, or a restaurant meal by saying it tastes like home. This defied both. It was simply incredible.

“Thank you for the meal. It was superb.”

“Hearing that is my greatest reward.”

Only spotless plates remained. Honestly, Han Sang-ah and I were nearly at the point of chewing on the ceramics. I found myself wondering if I should send a thank-you note to the Gold Yang Group chairman; if we had settled for convenience store ramen, we would have missed out on a life-changing culinary experience.

“Ever since I asked Choi Seung-gi to arrange this meeting, I’ve been holding back two specific portions just in case.”

As she spoke, Sa Seung-hee placed two dessert plates before us, each holding a slice of pumpkin pie.

“The locals call this the ‘ssamssam pie.'”

This was the legendary pastry that reportedly caused a hunter to be jumped and beaten by 33 others after he tried to cut the line to get the last slice.

My assessment after the first forkful was immediate.

“My sister was desperate to hire you as a private chef. Are you absolutely certain you won’t change your mind?” Han Sang-ah asked, her eyes wide.

“I’m just impressed the crowd stopped at a beating and didn’t actually kill the guy,” I added.

If someone had cut in front of me for a taste of this, I would have lost my cool too. Humanity finds joy in many things, but the pure euphoria of a perfect meal is a sensation that sits at the very top of the hierarchy. Sa Seung-hee’s culinary skills were nothing short of a miracle.

“We truly appreciate the hospitality and the food. But now—let’s get down to the real reason we’re here.”

The meal was a dream, but she hadn’t summoned us and treated us like royalty without a motive. However, with a stomach full of world-class food, I felt much more inclined to listen than usual. That is the power of a good host.

“It isn’t anything overly complicated. You two gave a press conference in Donghae City a few days ago, didn’t you?”

“We did. I remember it well.”

Sa Seung-hee offered a small smile, drying her hands with a cloth as she continued.

“What you said caught my attention.”

With a smooth motion, she slid a thick stack of documents across the table toward us.

“What exactly are we looking at?”

“In Changchun City, within the Jilin Province of China, there exists an Erosion Core known as Violet Cloud Valley.”

Because of its proximity to Gonsalok—one of the legendary Great Eight—it was left largely untouched, allowing it to mature into a formidable Rank 1 Erosion Core.

Violet Cloud Valley was essentially a satellite of Gonsalok’s influence. This proximity made it far too dangerous for the average hunter, meaning it had years to develop without interference. The papers I was flipping through contained an alarming amount of granular data on the place.

“Did you compile all of this yourself?”

“You’d be surprised what hunters are willing to talk about over a hot meal at Oduak.”

That made sense, yet these files represented years of careful, methodical collection.

“If you don’t mind me asking… why do you put so much effort into this?”

“Monsters claimed my husband’s life. I lost my pregnancy due to the physical and emotional trauma of the evacuation,” Sa Seung-hee stated, her voice eerily calm.

“The life I had planned with the man I loved is now a frozen memory. The child we wanted never even got the chance to breathe. Do I need to provide more reasons than that?”

No. That was more than enough.

“I make a habit of identifying exceptional hunters and passing this information to them,” she said, her finger tracing a line on the wooden table. “I hope it helps. I don’t have the personal talent required to be a hunter myself.”

She finished her thought and leaned back against a nearby counter, watching Han Sang-ah and me closely.

“Most of the hunters I chose to back in the past have done quite well for themselves. They’ve earned fortunes, fame, and the respect of the public.”

“And I’m guessing they ended up being a disappointment to you,” I interjected.

A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

“Disappointment is a strong word… it’s just human nature. They achieved their personal goals and found contentment.”

She tapped her nail against the tabletop.

“Once I achieve my goal, I’ll be content as well. So how could I judge them for doing the same?”

It was a transparent bluff. She looked like someone who had been let down time and time again. Yet, she was still handing us this vital information, likely clinging to the tiniest shred of hope that we might be different.

“Violet Cloud Valley, then.”

The documents described a faint violet haze that meets anyone entering the Erosion Zone, growing denser and more lethal as one nears the Core.

“Sensory hallucinations and neurotoxins. A nasty combination.”

The namesake purple mist was the primary obstacle, but the residents were mostly of the undead variety.

“Any zone under Gonsalok’s shadow is going to be crawling with the dead,” I noted.

Gonsalok, one of the Great Eight, was famous for its endless, terrifying legions of the deceased. Each individual soldier in that army was as strong as a Rank 2 or 3 Core boss, and their sheer volume was staggering. There are nearly a million undead stationed near Beijing where Gonsalok resides. They are known to swarm and obliterate any intruder in seconds before returning to a death-like stillness.

Hunters who survived the outskirts described it as a silent, apocalyptic army just waiting for a signal.

“Quantity over quality, typical. Regardless, let’s look at Violet Cloud Valley.”

The files were meticulous—monster types, topographical maps, the specific chemical makeup of the mist, and detailed accounts from both the first explorers and the most recent failed attempts. This woman’s hatred for monsters was clearly her life’s work.

“We might end up letting you down just like the others,” I said honestly.

“It doesn’t matter. Every time an Erosion Zone or a Core is scrubbed from the map, it’s a victory for me.”

That was her bottom line. I tucked the documents into my coat.

“With information this comprehensive, Violet Cloud Valley is officially our next objective.”

Rank 1 Cores are rarely challenged and even more rarely cleared. Reliable data is usually non-existent, so this was a massive advantage. It significantly lowered the risk for us.

“Are you planning to strike immediately?”

I shook my head at Sa Seung-hee’s question.

“No. I have a new recruit in mind that I need to bring up to speed first.”

There was also a mountain of logistical preparation required. Lee Se-eun’s methodical dismantling of the Bratsk situation was a good blueprint to follow. Tackling a Rank 1 isn’t a casual stroll; you don’t just kick in the door and break the core. Lee Se-eun had shown me the process, and with my background, I understood the framework well enough to replicate it.

“I understand that these things take time.”

“I’ll bet you’ve heard that plenty of times before people started avoiding your calls,” I remarked.

Sa Seung-hee let out a genuine laugh.

“I started feeling like a debt collector. They’d have a laundry list of excuses ready the moment I reached out.”

She kept her tone light, as if it didn’t hurt, likely worried that if she pressured us, we’d abandon the Violet Cloud Valley mission altogether.

“Sa Seung-hee, I appreciate everything. I know talk is cheap and you’ve heard it all before, so you probably don’t believe me, but I’ll tell you this much.”

Since she was trying to play it cool, I felt the need to be blunt. She had been burned by “promising” hunters too many times. Her aura reminded me of a stray that had been kicked too often—resigned to the idea that everyone eventually leaves.

I took a deep breath to settle my thoughts.

“My personal objective is the total eradication of every Erosion Core on this planet. Han Sang-ah here is dedicated to bringing down at least one of the Great Eight—specifically Club Shandai.”

“With or without your help, we are going to pursue those goals until we succeed or die.”

I stood up from the table.

“The food was beyond words. These files are going to be a game-changer. Do you want us to help with the dishes before we go?”

Sa Seung-hee laughed again, waving her hand to dismiss the offer.

“It was just a few bowls of yukgaejang. Do you think I’d make guests do manual labor? That would be terrible service.”

“Then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded and offered a polite bow as we stood to leave.

“Drop by for a meal whenever you’re hungry. Just don’t make it a daily habit.”