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Chapter 23
“There’s nothing.”
Morae let out a sigh as she looked through the new requests registered with the Hunter Bureau.
There really were no requests these days—way too few. She figured she could scrape by on the money in her bank account until the end of this month, but next month was the problem.
“I guess I’ll have to sell the mandrake….”
She’d been holding off because of Suho, but it looked like she’d have to put it up at an item shop after all.
I should at least tell Gyeon Suho, right?
She was debating whether to send a text when her phone rang.
An unfamiliar number. Morae tilted her head, then answered.
“Hello?”
—You’ve been well, Morae-ssi?
“Who… Hunter Odoa?”
—You remember my voice? I’m so glad.
Odoa’s husky voice flowed through the phone. Startled, Morae asked,
“How did you get my number?”
—I asked that bastard. He didn’t want to give it to me, so I got seriously pissed off. Like, who the hell does he think he is?
“O-oh, I see.”
The unfiltered swearing was so blunt it was almost endearing. Morae held back a laugh.
“Is something wrong with Blue?”
—Blue?
“Aren’t you calling because of Blue?”
—Ah, right, that did happen. Our Blue has nephritis. They said it’ll be fine as long as we came to the hospital on time and he takes his meds.
“Wow, that’s a relief.”
—It’s thanks to you, Morae-ssi. Thank you.
The gratitude in her voice was unmistakable, and Morae smiled softly.
—But that’s not why I called. You haven’t sold the mandrake yet, right?
“I still have it, yes.”
—Sell it to me. I just got a request for it.
“If you’re buying it on purpose because of Blue—”
—I do want to get closer to you, Morae-ssi, but I don’t want to curry favor by lying.
“So you really did receive a request to make a poison item?”
—Mm, well, something like that.
There are really people who request that? What would they even do with an item they can’t use?
—I’ll pay three sheets.
“Three million won?”
—Oh my god, pffft—hahahahaha!
Odoa’s laughter boomed loudly through the phone.
What’s so funny? Morae waited quietly until Odoa stopped laughing.
—Morae-ssi, who sells a mandrake for three million? Of course it’s thirty million won.
“T-thirty million won?”
She didn’t know the exact price of a male mandrake, but it had to be much lower than a female’s.
“That sounds like too much.”
—In exchange, I do have one favor to ask.
“What kind of favor?”
—I’m not going into the Bureau these days; I work from home. I can’t leave the kids alone.
Odoa continued, explaining that she took in abandoned puppies and kittens whenever she found them. Since many of them weren’t in good health, she’d ended up working remotely.
—And now the Bureau’s saying they’re going to open a pet daycare.
“A pet daycare?”
—Hunters have been asking for it for ages. Sometimes we’re in dungeons for days during raids, and we worry about the kids. And then there’s the question of what happens to them if we die. Some people even refuse deployments because of their pets.
“I see….”
The Ability Bureau already ran daycare centers as part of its welfare program for awakened individuals with children. For pet owners, a pet daycare served a similar purpose.
But what does this have to do with me?
—Once the daycare opens, I’m planning to leave our kids there. Working from home has its limits.
“That’s good news.”
—But our kids are a bit… special, you know. Their temperaments are pretty aggressive. Honestly, since they lived on the streets, their socialization training isn’t great.
They’re nice, though….
“What can I help with?”
—Would you be willing to work at the pet daycare? If it were you, Morae-ssi, I think I could leave our kids there with peace of mind.
“Me? No, how could I….”
Why had she refused the offer to tame Gyeon Suho in the first place? Because of those damn lingering aftereffects, wasn’t it?
She’d barely managed to graduate from school—there was no way someone like her could work for a massive organization like the Ability Bureau.
She’d be lucky if she didn’t end up suffering panic attacks.
—I already talked to the Bureau, actually. I have that much pull. I just need your consent, Morae-ssi.
“I-I appreciate the offer, but… I don’t think I can. I’ll just sell the mandrake at an item shop.”
—I figured you’d refuse. The job’s kind of crappy for you, right?
“No! It’s not that I don’t like the job, it’s just—”
—Well, asking you to work in a department with only five or six people is pretty shameless. Still, they said the annual salary is high, so I thought maybe it’d be okay.
“Wait a second. Only five or six staff?”
—Too few, right? And apparently it’ll be run out of an annex far from the main building. Since it’s noisy and smelly, they’re shoving it off to the side. Wow, the more I talk, the worse it sounds. Sorry for asking you to work in a place like that.
Only five or six staff, and working in an annex far from the main building…
“That might actually be okay.”
—What did you just say, Morae-ssi?
“N-no, nothing. Um… I’m sorry for going back and forth like this, but could I think about it a bit?”
—Of course. Just decide by the end of this week and let me know. And even if you refuse, I’m buying the mandrake no matter what.
“Yes, I’ll definitely contact you.”
Morae hung up and opened her banking app.
After paying next month’s rent, the remaining balance was pitiful. If requests kept drying up like this, she might really end up starving.
“The salary is tempting.”
A life where you don’t know how much you’ll earn is deeply unsettling. With no fixed income, it’s hard to make plans. Loans are difficult, too.
She’d never even dreamed of joining a company before, but maybe this was a good opportunity?
They said the annual pay was decent, too.
Her greed slowly swelled. Morae bit her lip.
“No, what if I say yes and can’t endure it?”
The job itself was perfect—there was nothing she liked more. She’d never done it before, but she was confident she could do it well.
The problem was her condition. She had no idea how long she’d be able to hold out.
Wouldn’t it be better not to try at all than to quit after just a few days?
Every time she wanted to find a job, she’d end up giving up because of thoughts like this. The phobia was one thing, but she hated burdening other people even more.
“But if I take my meds… ah, what do I do?”
She was gripping her head in indecision when a text came in.
Is it Hunter Odoa? Morae quickly checked her phone—and her face hardened.
SMS
[Gang Min-uk]
Sunlight Bank 497521-22-410887 Gang Min-uk. Transfer it here. If you’re late, I’ll come find you.
Morae stared at the message for a long moment, then made a call. The line connected after a single ring.
“I’ll do it. That job.”
Odoa ended the call with a conflicted expression.
She’d sent so many signals that it wasn’t a job she had to take, that it was okay to refuse—but unfortunately, they hadn’t gotten through to Morae.
“She said yes.”
Suho, who had been watching Odoa with cold eyes, curled his lips into a crooked smile.
Anyone could tell his face was full of ulterior motives. Odoa shuddered.
“You know you’re really creepy right now, right?”
“So?”
At the shameless reply, Odoa let out a hollow laugh.
A few days earlier, after sending Morae off dejected because she couldn’t sell the mandrake, Suho had clearly said this:
“In a few days, buy the mandrake from Morae-ssi. I’ll cover the money.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
“In return, I’ll get the Bureau to make a pet daycare.”
The pet daycare was something Odoa had filed complaints about for years, only to be rejected every time.
Sure, it seemed like Suho had some scheme involving Morae-ssi. From the moment he’d started openly flirting, she’d had a bad feeling.
Still, she hadn’t expected him to actually pull off creating a pet daycare. Then again, if anyone could do something like that, it was Gyeon Suho.
And Suho’s bizarre behavior didn’t stop there. He even told her to coax Morae into working there.
She’d known this guy—whether bastard or human—for twenty years.
That was why Odoa and Suho were what you’d call ball friends—best friends since childhood.
Of course, in reality, they were practically sworn enemies. Still, in all those twenty years, this was the first time she’d seen Suho do something like this.
“So the Ability Bureau really got a daycare?”
“You said you’d quit working from home if there was a place to leave the kids. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“That’s exactly why it’s weird that you’re helping me! Be honest. What the hell are you thinking?”
“I want to help Morae-ssi.”
“Gyeon Suho wants to help someone? Who are you trying to sell drugs to?”
No matter how much she pressed him, Suho’s expression didn’t change. His dry face as he fiddled with his phone didn’t seem like a lie.
Is he serious?
“Then why didn’t you tell her yourself? Why make me do it?”
“If I said it, she’d think I had another motive.”
“So you really don’t have one?”
“Of course I do.”
“…What kind of bastard says that?”
Without answering, Suho stood up. The cats, who had been on high alert, scattered in all directions.
Suho, who had barged in whenever he pleased and left without a word, suddenly stopped at the door.
“Oh, and delete Kang Morae’s number.”
“Ridiculous. I’m telling Morae-ssi everything.”
“Then the daycare disappears too.”
“……”
After replying calmly, Suho left. Odoa glared after him, then roughly ran a hand through her hair.
She felt bad for Morae, but she didn’t think she could tell her the truth. If the pet daycare disappeared, she’d be the one regretting it.
“But seriously, what’s his deal?”
It wasn’t like Gyeon Suho at all. If it were anyone else, she’d think he’d fallen for Morae—but Suho wasn’t that kind of person.
She didn’t know the reason, but seeing him do things he never did before made it seem like his death day wasn’t far off.
“Hm….”
Thinking that way made her feel a little better
