Chapter 73

Chapter 73
## Chapter: 73

### The Witch Who Calls Herself a Magical Girl

During my period of recuperation in the medical ward, Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon remained dedicated to their drills.

Our upcoming objective was Jawun Valley. However, even with Jawun Valley firmly in our sights, I hadn’t pushed aside the lingering suspicions regarding the chaos that followed the Refrigerator subjugation.

The exploitation involving blank contracts, the shadowy figures pulling the strings, and the involvement of the descendants of Dangun were all weighing on me.

“The descendants of Dangun are almost certainly not the culprits here,” I mused.

Han Sang-ah gave a small nod, agreeing with my assessment.

“I’m inclined to agree. Based on the core tenets of that group, they wouldn’t risk such a stunt in the middle of Seoul.”

My initial brush with the blank contract scheme involved Kim Ji-hyun, a member of the descendants of Dangun. Yet, Sohwi hadn’t seemed to fit that mold.

“For the moment, the trail has gone cold,” I remarked.

With Sohwi dead, the secrets of who she signed that blank contract with, and the circumstances surrounding it, had been buried with her.

Jeong Oh-hoon, who was busy emptying magazines into a training dummy, shook his head firmly.

“So, is your equipment still in the shop?”

Valera’s brutal assault had reduced my high-end gear to literal junk. I’d handed the wreckage over to Choi Seung-gi for restoration, though even he looked grim when he saw the twisted metal.

“He mentioned he’d try to salvage what he could by this afternoon and find alternatives for the parts that are beyond saving.”

I wasn’t particularly optimistic. The chest plate that had taken the brunt of the damage was pulverized past the point of no return.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Choi Seung-gi.

“Just as I thought. He couldn’t save the original plate I was wearing.”

Apparently, he had pivoted to a different solution, crafting a replacement using the slime byproducts we had harvested back in Bratsk.

It wasn’t long before the items Choi Seung-gi sent over arrived at the facility.

“Created from the slime materials collected in Bratsk,” the delivery note read.

The protective plate I pulled out was a slender, pliable film. Inside was a layer of processed, clear gel derived from the slime’s biological secretions.

“Want to see how it holds up?”

Without hesitation, I drove a fist into the center of the plate. At the moment of impact, the clear gel turned a stark white and became incredibly rigid at the point of contact.

“It reacts to sudden kinetic energy, hardening instantly to disperse the shock and shield the wearer’s vitals.”

A few seconds later, the white, hardened area faded back into its original transparent, liquid-like state.

“It resets to its fluid form after the energy dissipates. Unlike your old metal plate, this one won’t crack or shatter under pressure.”

“Choi Seung-gi really went above and beyond on this.”

“The refinement process was supposedly a nightmare. The raw slime material is notoriously difficult to stabilize.”

The courier finished his explanation, offered a polite bow, and exited. I began integrating the new flexible plate into my combat suit.

“Does that mean we’re ready to move out?” Jeong Oh-hoon asked, hopeful.

I looked at him and shook my head.

“You aren’t ready yet.”

He let out a frustrated grumble and rubbed his scalp aggressively.

“I feel like I’ve leveled up significantly since we started this.”

“You’ve still got a long road ahead of you, kid.”

During a brief interval in training, Han Sang-ah spoke up.

“Rumors are swirling that Jawun Valley is our next stop.”

“It’s not just a rumor—it’s the plan,” I replied.

I wasn’t sure how the information leaked, but the hunting community was already buzzing with the news that Jawun Valley was our confirmed target.

“A lot of freelance hunters seem to be sniffing around.”

“Interest is one thing; actual competence is another. That’s the problem.”

Plenty of people were eager for the glory, but very few possessed the actual caliber required for such a zone. It was a bit grim. To make matters worse, I had some inconvenient news to share.

“Se-eun noona won’t be joining the roster for this excursion.”

Han Sang-ah’s expression fell. “That’s a shame. She was a powerhouse for the team.”

“She did, however, recommend a substitute to fill her spot.”

According to Lee Se-eun, this individual was a bit of a wildcard mentally, but their combat prowess was undeniable.

“Really? What’s the name?”

“Adakawa Nanami.”

Han Sang-ah’s eyes widened slightly in recognition.

“The Japanese hunter Lee Se-eun unni mentioned? The one she owed a favor to?”

The debt had likely been wiped clean during the Bratsk operation, so her involvement in the Jawun Valley subjugation seemed to be born out of her own curiosity.

“She’s heading to Korea. The associations from both countries have already signed off on the paperwork.”

Jeong Oh-hoon, catching the tail end of the conversation, looked between the two of us.

“Wait, Adakawa Nanami? You mean Sumire’s partner?”

“You’ve heard of her?” I asked.

Jeong Oh-hoon nodded.

“In a fight, she manifests these feathered wings on her back, takes to the sky, and just rains down explosions of mana. She insists on calling herself a magical girl, and most hunters are too terrified to tell her otherwise.”

“A magical girl? How old is she supposed to be?”

“She’s 32.”

The lack of self-awareness was staggering. At 32, the ‘girl’ title was a bit of a stretch. After pulling up some combat footage of Adakawa Nanami, I rubbed my temples. It looked like those mana discharges were part of her innate psychic gifts.

It wasn’t the structured sorcery used by the traditional mages I’d encountered.

“She’s basically just a witch.”

Not true magic, certainly not a girl—so ‘witch’ felt like the more accurate label.

“I wouldn’t say that to her face,” Jeong Oh-hoon warned. “Some minor Japanese guild made a joke about her age once. She leveled their headquarters and put half their staff in the hospital.”

So, a volatile personality on top of everything else. Still, if Lee Se-eun was willing to vouch for her, I had to trust the skill set.

“What did the landlord do to deserve a demolished building?”

“Apparently, he was the guild leader.”

So, one accidental insult and she brings down the ceiling—a flamboyant loose cannon with a hair-trigger temper was joining our squad. I was already starting to get a headache.

A few days later, I encountered this unpredictable element in the training hall.

“Helloooo! Good morning everyone!”

As I pushed the door open, a high-pitched, bubbly voice greeted me. A woman practically glided into the center of the room.

She had a radiant, constant smile and a small beauty mark positioned just below her left eye. She was remarkably striking, possessing a sharp, professional elegance. She looked like she belonged in a corporate boardroom.

Then I looked at her clothes, and the illusion shattered. She was wearing a dizzying costume of white and pink, weighed down by an absurd amount of lace, frills, and ribbons.

“…Are you Adakawa? I’m Yoo Chan-seok.”

I’d seen plenty of bizarre things in my time, so I tried to keep my face neutral.

“In this moment, I am Fantasia Pink! This is my transformed state!”

She’s completely lost it. The thought was immediate.

“Are there… others?”

“Naturally! There are five others in the circle!”

I prayed they didn’t all walk around calling themselves Fantasia. Surely the entire Japanese hunter scene wasn’t this delusional.

It was baffling, but I could almost rationalize it. People who lived their lives on the razor’s edge often developed strange psychological cracks—or found bizarre ways to cope with the trauma.

Some did weird things in private; others became cold-blooded killers who still doted on stray animals.

In the grand scheme of things, those were almost normal. I’d met people who collected trophies from their kills in jars of brine.

Compared to that, playing dress-up as a magical girl was harmless. I could live with it.

Adakawa Nanami scanned the training area, her tone remaining sickeningly sweet.

“You’re the one planning to crack Jawun Valley, right? So, let’s talk business. Where are the investments coming from?”

“Investments?”

When I questioned her, Nanami’s bubbly mask slipped for a second. She sat down on a nearby bench, crossed her legs with a sharp movement, and began checking her manicure while letting out a heavy sigh.

“Se-eun told me you’d need a lot of guidance, and I see she was right. Honestly, a magical girl shouldn’t have to worry about pocket change. It ruins the aesthetic. De-transform.”

A soft glow enveloped her, and the ridiculous frilly outfit vanished, replaced by a set of sharp, sensible clothes.

“Jawun Valley is located within Changchun City, correct?”

“That’s right.”

With the wardrobe change, her voice transformed as well. The artificial cheer was gone, replaced by a tone as cold and sharp as a glacier.

“To pull this off, you need an operations team, supplies, high-end gear for the extra muscle, and logistical support. That costs a fortune. You don’t pay for that yourself; you bleed it out of the corporations.”

“Explain,” I prompted.

Nanami stood up, her aura completely different.

“There are massive conglomerates that would profit immensely if Jawun Valley in Changchun was cleared. You demand funding from them. Shipping companies, mining firms interested in the resources under Changchun—the list goes on.”

There were plenty of entities that wanted that zone gone for their bottom line.

“If you successfully neutralize a Rank-1 Erosion Core, these companies stand to make a killing. It’s only natural they front the operational costs.”

“And if we fail? We won’t be able to pay them back.”

Nanami gave a sharp, knowing smile.

“Any company that can’t tell the difference between a high-risk investment and a loan deserves to go bankrupt. They invest knowing they might lose it all, but they do it for the chance at the jackpot.”

Han Sang-ah nodded, following the logic.

“She has a point. As Adakawa mentioned, the economic benefits of clearing Jawun Valley are huge. Securing corporate backing shouldn’t be difficult if we pitch it right.”

Han Sang-ah looked toward me.

“Our reputation is already established. Finding interested parties won’t be a struggle.”

“Fair enough.”

To be honest, I’d planned to just handle the finances the traditional way. But after hearing Nanami’s perspective, there was no reason to go into debt or drain my own accounts to hire support staff and extra hunters.

“Love and hope! Let our hearts be one! Fantasia Pink, transform!”

We were in the middle of a serious strategy session when Nanami started shouting nonsense again. This time, a blinding light filled the room. When it cleared, the pink frills were back in all their glory.

“No more boring talk! Let’s do something fun!”

Her voice had snapped back to that sugary pitch.

“Something fun? Like what?”

Instead of a direct answer, Nanami summoned several glowing pink spheres that drifted through the air.

“We’re teammates now, right? Partners against the darkness! I need to see if your heart is strong enough!”

Essentially, she was challenging me to a duel.

“And I really want to test my magic! The great Yoo Chan-seok is supposed to be a legend, after all.”

What Nanami was doing wasn’t magic. It was the raw conversion of massive amounts of mana into kinetic force—pure, unadulterated destruction.

“If you want to see what I can do, wait for a real fight. I have things to attend to.”

Besides, thanks to her financial advice, my to-do list had actually grown longer.

“Things to do? Like what? If it’s not a crisis, it can wait!”

I shook my head.

“People died in the crossfire during my fight with Sohwi. I requested the names and addresses of the families from the Korea Hunter Association President.”

My statement caused Nanami’s enthusiastic expression to falter, her eyes losing their competitive spark.

“Why go through the trouble…?”

“I need to go and apologize. I couldn’t save them.”

The room went silent. Han Sang-ah, Jeong Oh-hoon, and even Nanami looked down. Why did the mood suddenly turn so heavy?

“Chan-seok, you did everything you could. Those people were already too far gone,” Han Sang-ah said softly.

“I’m aware of that.”

Even if I had turned back the clock a hundred times, those people infected by the bug-nests were in agony; ending it was a mercy. I didn’t regret the action.

My reason for visiting their families was entirely different.

The whole situation was suspicious.