Chapter 129

“Hey, look at this—”

The beast froze mid-run, snapping its head toward the mana stone in Jae-i’s hand. Its eyes sparkled, and its slightly parted lips grew damp. A thin line of drool slid down one corner, which it wiped away clumsily with the back of its hand before turning its whole body toward him. It hesitated, inching closer, unsure whether to approach or retreat. Watching its awkward dithering, Jae-i suddenly recalled the old Dohwa.

“…….”

That memory alone was enough to instantly drain every ounce of combativeness from him. As if he had never glared in the first place, he walked to the table and took out a tissue, spreading it neatly on the floor. Then, without ceremony, he poured a handful of mana stones onto it.

Huk—

The beast swallowed audibly, but Jae-i pretended not to hear and spoke in an indifferent voice.

“Come eat.”

Then he stepped away toward the window. As soon as he moved, the beast scuttled forward, dropped to its knees, and picked up a bright golden mana stone. Even in the dimness, the gem radiated with vivid brilliance. It stared at it for a long moment, mesmerized, then plopped it straight into its mouth. As the crunching sound echoed, Jae-i let out a brief sigh.

At this rate, he might end up keeping the creature indefinitely. A beast outside a gate was supposed to be exterminated on sight. But the wealthy and powerful often exploited loopholes in the law. In Saudi Arabia, some royal family members kept beasts as exotic pets. One royal had even been killed by her own beast—but the practice continued. They still brought beasts to parties and events, flaunting them.

Jae-i’s stance on this had always been consistent: “That’s insanity.”

Yet Dohwa lavished unusual attention on this particular beast. Why? Because its humanoid form resembled him? Or—

“…….”

Staring absently out at the sea, Jae-i turned around. The beast was sitting firmly on its knees, clutching mana stones in both hands, crunching on them with single-minded devotion.

“Was the dream I had earlier something you showed me?”

“…….”

He asked, though he knew it made no sense. The beast continued chewing—then froze. Its jaw stopped mid-motion. Only its eyes lifted, staring straight at him.

The final scene from that dream flashed in Jae-i’s mind: Dohwa being dragged away by a rough hand. Dohwa’s head lowering helplessly. The soft jaw going slack as the child lost strength.

That same suffocating dread clenched his chest again.

Passing silently by the beast, he returned to the adjoining room next to the guildmaster’s office. He closed the door behind him and climbed onto the bed. Though he moved as carefully as he could, the mattress must have shifted slightly, for Dohwa stirred with a soft “mm…,” trying to open his eyes. Jae-i gently covered them with his large hand and exhaled a faint, soothing breath.

It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.

The meaning seemed to reach him; Dohwa shifted closer, draping an arm over Jae-i’s waist. Jae-i pulled him securely into his arms and rested his head on the pillow.

“…….”

Still clumsy, but better than before—he patted Dohwa’s back with slow, measured strokes. Only once Dohwa’s breathing deepened did he withdraw his hand.

When Dohwa first came to him, he had inadvertently seen his back. No scars remained now, but back then the marks were stark—long, sharp wounds carved across the skin. Dohwa’s past life had clearly been anything but kind. So who had carved those scars into him? Was that bastard still alive? If so, Jae-i would kill him—slowly, painfully, relentlessly.

At that moment, Dohwa’s hand—resting over Jae-i’s waist—slid lightly across his back.

“…Go back to sleep.”

Half-slurred with drowsiness, the voice barely carried. Jae-i answered softly, “Mm.”

Hearing that, Dohwa stroked his back two or three more times before finally drifting off again.

The new location of the Jae-i Guild was near Odo Port in Pohang.

Because of recent redevelopment projects, most coastal villages had been cleared to make space for new buildings. But this particular area still had remaining homes.

Indeed, this was the place Jae-i and Dohwa had visited earlier to see the ocean—and where they had become entangled in trouble, eventually helping the residents.

With the sudden media attack afterward, the villagers had unfairly been labeled thugs and exploiters. Jae-i sometimes wondered if helping them had been a mistake. And now, a 30-story building had appeared out of nowhere, towering over the tiny village. Surely, it must be causing them discomfort.

When asked in advance to cooperate, the villagers had responded positively. But seeing the massive structure in person could easily change their minds. In this area, even a three-story building was rare. As people flocked to large cities, rural constructions were often torn down entirely.

Typically, building preparations took at least four days. But their guildmaster had insisted:

“Three hours. Make it happen.”

If they delayed, the move would lose its impact. They needed to strike the government and the Association while the iron was hot.

Understanding his intent, Ahn Yuna had agreed.

It wasn’t impossible—just expensive. Hire engineers at outrageously high rates, flood the process with special effects, and the job would be done. Moving an entire building wasn’t unheard of. In France, after a corporate heir couple divorced, the furious wife had claimed partial ownership and literally sliced their building near the Eiffel Tower in half—clean from top to bottom—and took her half away. It had since become a tourist attraction.

The Jae-i Guild would be much the same. For a moment, Ahn Yuna even considered sticking a sign in the empty lot—“The Jae-i Guild once stood here.” But that felt too provocative, so she refrained.

As the guildmaster requested, the three-hour emergency relocation was executed cleanly without major issues. And because the move was so sudden, dawn brought chaos to the guild. Even though she had delayed reporting time on purpose, employees still arrived on schedule—and their faces were brighter than expected. Standing in the lobby to observe their condition, Ahn Yuna finally relaxed.

“So they’re not cursing him out.”

“What would be the point? They’re probably relieved. The guildmaster’s been harassed nonstop over nonsense these past years. They’ll think he finally blew everything up at once.”

Standing beside her, Seowon sipped green tea, relaxed. Ahn Yuna glanced sideways at him.

“You’ll be living apart from your family for a while. Are you okay with that?”

Her question was for Seowon, but truly, she was asking about the well-being of every hunter in the guild.

With the base moved, the Seoul commuters were definitely inconvenienced. They could stay in the building’s dormitory short-term, but they were suddenly separated from their families.

“In this day and age, how far is Seoul from here, really? They can commute after work if they want. Or treat this like a short getaway. It’s not like they’ll be living here forever.”

“…….”

“…Will they be living here forever?”

He asked cautiously. Ahn Yuna shrugged.

“No idea. I’m not inside the guildmaster’s head.”

Hwang Jae-i had moved the guild to strike the biggest blow possible against the government and the Association. Their intentions were too obvious to ignore.

“I can’t predict what he’ll do.”

“Then he might stay longer than expected.”

Seowon took another sip of tea.

“That’s fine. I’ve always opposed the idea of all major guilds being clustered in Seoul. I hope this sets a precedent.”

Of course, that could only happen if they held strong to the end. Most guilds wanted to avoid friction with the Association, the government, and large corporations—so they settled in the capital region. Fortunately, their guildmaster had never cared about staying on friendly terms with those entities. He would handle this wisely—or bulldoze his way through.

Just then, Seowon made a soft “oh” and pointed outside.

“Chief Ahn, you should check on those kids.”

“What kids?”

Ahn Yuna raised a brow. Beyond the glass wall at the entrance stood a cluster of children, pressed close together. The nearby village must have sent them. They didn’t seem suspicious—probably just curious about the building.

Watching employees arrive, the children’s eyes sparkled—until they noticed Ahn Yuna approaching. One bolted, the others scattered after him. She hadn’t intended to chase them away, but their reaction was strangely embarrassing.

Yet one child stayed.

Holding a sheet of paper.

Ahn Yuna approached, crouching down before the child.