Presence of an S-Rank Hunter

It’s quiet.

More than just quiet, the atmosphere in the Hunter Department over the last two days has been so calm it feels surreal.

“…….”

This stillness stems from the empty seat right next to mine—the absence of Kim Se-hyun. Staring at the vacant chair, I couldn’t help but let out a long sigh.

“Haa.”

Only a few days ago, he had been fixed in that spot like a piece of built-in furniture. Back then, when he was constantly taking photos and chattering away, I felt burdened. But now that he’s actually gone, the void he left behind is surprisingly large.

If he had simply stepped out, it might not feel this empty. If we were still exchanging our usual daily messages, I’d probably be fine.

I looked at my phone, which I’d placed right under my monitor to catch any incoming alerts, and reached out to pick it up.

“…….”

As expected, no new messages. My shoulders slumped as I opened our chat history.

[Se-hyun, are you bu—]

“…….”

Maybe he was caught up in something urgent, like that time he went to clear the S-Rank dungeon in Australia. I quickly deleted the half-written text.

“Still no word from the Slacker?”

Officer Kim asked, having caught me fidgeting with my phone. I turned and replied.

“No. It seems he’s very busy.”

“…That’s strange.”

“Absolutely bizarre.”

“Nothing special is showing up on the search portals either.”

“That’s why it’s weird.”

“…….”

The team spoke in unison, dismissing the idea of him simply being “busy.” Hearing that nothing showed up even after a search, I realized that no one in this room truly believed Kim Se-hyun was just out there performing normal duties.

“Could he be busy like he was with the Australian dungeon?”

“What?”

“…He spent most of his time here acting like a loafer, but even he must have a hectic schedule once in a while.”

After he cleared that Australian S-Rank dungeon single-handedly, there was no way the Association would leave him alone. The lack of dungeon news could just mean he was tied up in Association-related administrative affairs.

My theory seemed plausible for a moment, but the silence that followed made me look around.

“…….”

The team members were exchanging glances the moment our eyes met. They were nodding to each other as if they shared a secret understanding—one I wasn’t privy to.

“Don’t you think he’s up to some other scheme?”

“There are no reports of a dungeon large enough to require Kim Se-hyun’s personal deployment.”

“Maybe, against a million-to-one odds, he’s actually behaving like a normal person and handling internal Association schedules. He usually shows up in the media whenever he’s doing external activities.”

It felt like my opinion was being acknowledged, yet I felt strangely uneasy. It was that nagging sensation of being heard but not truly understood. I continued to listen, hoping to figure out the source of this feeling.

“The Deputy Team Leader is probably right. Or maybe there’s an embargo in place, so the articles haven’t hit the press yet.”

“If that’s the case, it’s a relief, but…”

The Team Leader glanced my way, hesitating before he finished his thought. Naturally, Kim Se-hyun’s heavy smile from a few days ago flashed through my mind.

“No matter how I look at it, what that Slacker said before he left was suspicious.”

“Oh, you mean that weird thing about ‘trying harder’?”

“Exactly. Effort? My foot!”

“Honestly, I get worried whenever Kim Se-hyun isn’t in my sight.”

“You too, Officer Han? Me too!”

“…At least when he’s here, we can keep track of what he’s doing.”

“We don’t have a valid reason to storm the Association right now. For now, turn on the TV. Let’s gather every scrap of info we can on that Slacker.”

“Yes, sir!”

I didn’t realize Kim Se-hyun’s presence—or rather, his absence—affected the entire team to this extent. I watched in silence as they moved with the same urgency they showed when a new dungeon appeared.

“Chick, you handle the TV check.”

“Yes.”

I picked up the remote as Officer Kim instructed.

“Right, the Chick monitors the TV. The rest of you, search for ‘The Slacker’ at intervals. Report any new updates immediately.”

Since I had finished my work for the day, I had plenty of time. I began flipping through channels, searching for any news related to Kim Se-hyun.

“Chick, check this for me if you have a moment.”

“Sure. Leave it to me.”

I spent my time reviewing documents for Officer Han while keeping one eye on the screen and the other on search portals.

After some time, just before I was about to hand the files back, I refreshed the search engine to give my eyes a break.

“Oh?”

What is that?

“Hmm? Something new?”

“…It seems so.”

I had intended to search for his name, but I didn’t even have to type it. Kim Se-hyun’s name was sitting right there on the real-time trending list. I clicked it immediately.

Only a few minutes ago, most articles were about Australia. Now, a flood of new headlines appeared. I checked the timestamp—the latest one was less than five minutes old.

“He must have had a scheduled event today. New articles are pouring in.”

“What kind of event?”

At the Team Leader’s question, I clicked the top article. I blinked at the massive mosaic blurring the center of the image.

“Uh….”

“What is it?”

The Team Leader pressed for an answer, but the words wouldn’t come out. I could only gape at the screen until a rough exclamation erupted from the desk next to me.

“…That crazy bastard, Kim Se-hyun.”

Officer Kim was already holding his forehead, having found the news himself. I stayed silent as similar reactions erupted around the office.

“What kind of post is it to get that reacti—… That crazy bastard?”

“Why is everyone calling him a crazy ba—… Huh?”

“…He really is a madman.”

“Wow, has he finally lost his mind?”

Normally, I would have felt the urge to defend him, but looking at the monitor, I found myself sympathizing with the team’s reaction. In the photo, Kim Se-hyun was standing next to the President of South Korea, a face every citizen knows.

“…….”

He was wearing the black mask he always wears for public appearances. Standing there in a matching black suit, he looked perfect. Or rather, he should have looked perfect.

Seeing the usually stylish, model-like Kim Se-hyun looking so disheveled made me speechless.

My eyes were glued to the source of the chaos: a large white rectangle—more accurately, a mysterious object covered in messy layers of blue duct tape.

“Ha.”

It would have been better if it were just a white board. But the sight of that duct-taped monstrosity, held up by ropes over his shoulders like a sandwich board, was so jarring it was impossible to look at anything else.

“…No way.”

Was he always a “fashion terrorist”? Was that why he usually stuck to simple black outfits?

Even if I tried to reach that conclusion, it didn’t make sense given his usual attire when visiting the department. This fashion choice was beyond tragic; it was a calamity. I stared at the white rectangle.

“The mosaic….”

The white object was a problem, but the mosaic was worse. What on earth was written there that required the entire thing to be blurred out, leaving only the duct-taped edges visible?

What could someone possibly carry on their shoulders while taking a photo with the President at the Blue House? While I was pondering this, Officer Park spoke up.

“That… that’s a picket sign, isn’t it?”

“So I’m not the only one seeing it.”

Yes, now that he mentioned it, it did look like a picket. The kind of double-sided sandwich board people wear for one-man protests. I looked at the monitor again, stunned.

“…If he’s going to the Blue House, he should just take a normal photo! Why is he wearing a picket sign?”

“Does the Blue House—no, wait—does security even allow that?”

“They allowed Kim Se-hyun in. Why wouldn’t they allow the sign?”

“Point taken.”

“…What did he write on it to make the mosaic that heavy?”

I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking, meeting the President like that. As I stared at the blurred sign, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.

“…….”

It was right on the tip of my tongue, an agonizingly familiar feeling. After a long moment of searching my memory, a sudden realization struck me like a lightning bolt.

“What’s wrong, Chick?”

“Ha-neul, did you find something?”

“A-ah, no. It’s nothing. Just… just a thought.”

It can’t be.

No, it was just a memory, a wild guess. It had to be.

I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud that I was reminded of Kim Se-hyun’s recent ramblings about “angels.” I tried to act calm, flipping through the documents in my hand back and forth.

“Did you remember something, Ha-neul?”

Despite my efforts to act natural, my acting must have been terrible. The Deputy Team Leader approached with a worried look, so I finally let the words slip.

“…It’s just… it reminded me of something.”

“Like what?”

“When the flower basket arrived. I remembered the card that was tucked between the flowers….”

“Oh, man!”

“Kim Se-hyun would absolutely do that!”

“Don’t tell me he wrote something about ‘angels’ or ‘ramyeon’ on that sign?”

“…Nah.”

“That’s going too far.”

“But… it’s not exactly implausible, is it?”

The office began to buzz. My expression likely mirrored the shifting faces of my colleagues. I touched my face and realized my muscles were twitching.

“The Blue House seems to have ordered the mosaic, so let’s just wait and see,” the Team Leader said.

“Understood!”

“But we should prepare for any fallout, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, sir!”

The team moved instantly. I watched them return to their desks to make calls, then I straightened my back.

“Whew.”

I looked at the photo one more time. Seeing Kim Se-hyun smiling with his eyes crinkled as if he were having the time of his life, I felt a strange mix of emotions.

He had already mentioned “ramyeon” and me back in Australia. Recalling that many people were still hunting for the identity of the “Hyung” he mentioned, I closed the browser.

“…….”

There was nothing I could do right now. I could only pray that the contents of that picket wouldn’t be leaked and that public interest would quickly fade.

Yes, I truly hoped that Kim Se-hyun’s latest stunt wouldn’t lead to any trouble.