Cha Uijae finally unlocked the door after an hour and thirty minutes. Sayoung had waited patiently the entire ti. Not that it required much patience—compared to how long he had already been waiting, this brief ti felt like nothing.
As he heard footsteps approaching the door, Sayoung lifted his head. Uijae poked his head out cautiously, narrowing his eyes.
“…What are you doing out here?”
“I was waiting for you, of course… until you ca out.”
Sayoung, resting his cheek on his arm draped over the back of the chair, smiled with a slight squint.
“Feeling a bit calr now?”
Uijae, still half-hiding behind the door, glared at Sayoung.
“This… this was the mackerels’ doing, wasn’t it?”
“Well, I’d assu so.”
“I saw the photos. They were taken with perfect precision—practically blackmail. Did you put them up to it?”
“Oh, so you saw the photos too? Well, I’m glad they turned out well, then….”
“Damn it… Those jerks need to be dealt with.”
Cursing under his breath, Uijae stord forward. His expression was nacing, as if he were ready to head to the fish market and take down every last mackerel. Sensing this, Sayoung tilted his head slightly, making sure the red marks on his neck were visible. As expected, Uijae’s fierce deanor softened a little.
“But thanks to that article, all the other issues have been covered up.”
Thinking to himself that it would be nice if the bruises lasted a bit longer, Sayoung briefly considered asking Uijae to strangle him again once the marks faded.
The thought made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. He reached out and gently grabbed Uijae’s sleeve as he approached.
“I’d say we’ve cald the public’s anxiety using our reputations.”
“…….”
“And doesn’t that make you feel a bit better?”
However, Uijae didn’t answer, his mouth pressed into a tight line. There was a subtle shadow cast over his face that Sayoung didn’t like.
Sayoung studied Uijae’s expression, trying to gauge his thoughts. Deciding that this conversation had gone far enough, he smoothly changed the subject.
“Aren’t you hungry? You’ve been sleeping this whole ti.”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Let’s go downstairs and eat. I’ll have so food sent to the Guild Leader’s office.”
“Do we have to? Can’t we just eat here?”
“Oh… you want to eat here? Just the two of us?”
Sayoung teased, slipping his fingers under Uijae’s sleeve. Uijae quickly grabbed Sayoung’s wrist and pulled his hand away.
“Hey, soone could see us. If we’re going to eat, I’ll have to take my mask off.”
“No one’s allowed into the Guild Leader’s office. Besides, I have a lot of work to catch up on too.”
“…….”
“If you’re really that worried… we can ask Minggijeok to stand guard outside the door.”
“No, that’s not necessary….”
Uijae’s expression soured slightly. It was clear that when he looked like that, it only made Sayoung want to ss with him more, though whether Uijae knew this or not was unclear. Sayoung got up from the chair and gestured toward the front door with a nod. Uijae, anwhile, fiddled with the loose buttons of his shirt and mumbled.
“Let change my clothes first. Where are they?”
“In the dressing room. Your mask is there too.”
Uijae headed toward the dressing room, moving with a sense of familiarity. Sayoung found it oddly satisfying to watch him navigate the room so naturally, as though it were his own. The sound of clothes rustling as Uijae changed filled the room. Sayoung folded his arms, listening closely. After a brief mont, Uijae reappeared, fully transford back into J.
It was impressive how the simple addition of a mask changed him completely. Gone was the laid-back, casual Cha Uijae. Now, with the mask on, his entire presence shifted, even though no one could see his facial expressions or features.
A few minutes later, the two of them stood side by side in the elevator. It hadn’t been that long since they last rode an elevator together, just a few months ago, but it already felt like a distant mory. Back then, Uijae had stuck to the corner, warily eyeing everything around him, but now he stood next to Sayoung, much more at ease.
Sayoung glanced at Uijae’s light gray hair and asked, “By the way, do your grandmother and Haeun know you’re J?”
“Huh? No, they don’t.”
Uijae responded quickly.
“I told them I closed the hangover soup restaurant… and that I’d be working for the Wave Guild from now on. They only know I’m a Hunter.”
“But that text earlier… it sounded like they knew.”
“…I doubt it.”
Uijae furrowed his brow, clearly puzzled.
Cha Uijae hadn’t revealed to his family that he was J. Not the day he showed up to their house for a bowl of soup, nor when he returned, asking to work there.
The elevator doors opened, and just as Sayoung had said, the hallway leading to the Guild Leader’s office was silent and empty.
Uijae walked, lost in thought, until sothing struck him. He abruptly stopped in his tracks.
“Oh.”
An old mory surfaced, freezing him in place. Sayoung, who had been walking beside him, turned around, confused.
“What is it?”
“They might know. Actually… I think they do know.”
Uijae absentmindedly rubbed the mask on his face. Beads of nervous sweat ford under the mask, and his voice, altered by the modulator, carried a hint of alarm.
“Now that I think about it… I showed up wearing the sa clothes as when I was active as J.”
As soon as Uijae had regained consciousness, he had instinctively followed the scent of food to the hangover soup restaurant. At the ti, a TV in the restaurant had been playing a docuntary commorating the 8th anniversary of the West Sea Rift, and on the screen was a photo of J in his mask. His grandmother had been sitting there, peeling garlic, while Uijae, wearing J’s torn-up battle suit, stood at the entrance.
‘No way… She couldn’t have noticed, right?’
Uijae spun around to face Sayoung.
“Hey, Sayoung. Did you ever watch that docuntary about J? The one where Hunter Song Joheon was interviewed?”
“…Hmm?”
“Did you watch it or not? Tell .”
Sayoung looked at Uijae and scoffed, the scoff turning into a full laugh. He narrowed his eyes playfully.
“How could I not? That docuntary was made by the Wave Guild.”
“…What?”
“Everything from the planning to the funding—our guild handled all of it. How could I not have seen it?”
“What?”
“Honestly… next ti, we should just slap the guild logo on everything, so there’s no confusion.”
Sayoung muttered the last part under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Had that really happened? Uijae’s mory had clearly been jumbled after so much ti had passed. Panicking, Uijae grabbed Sayoung’s shoulders.
“No, wait. I didn’t see the whole thing. I only caught the interview and part of the footage. Did it show in action?”
“Of course it did. They showed your fighting scenes, the interviews before you entered the rift… all of it.”
“…….”
“Why do you ask?”
A growing sense of dread crept over Uijae.
He hurriedly retraced his mories. What had his grandmother done back then?
He rembered eating his al, feeling awkward because he couldn’t pay for it, and his grandmother had handed him a navy jacket and a black cap.
‘You’ll get caught wandering around in that get-up. Put this on.’
At the ti, Uijae had sheepishly taken off his shredded jacket and put on the one she had given him, along with the cap. But why had she given him those items? To cover his injuries? No.
‘Was she worried about getting caught…?’
His face paled.
Looking back, Uijae had been completely out of it after erging from the West Sea Rift. He hadn’t even realized how recognizable his attire was, nor did it occur to him that he should be hiding his face. He had been too consud by his hunger to think straight.
If not for his grandmother’s kindness, he would have been exposed. His bare face, his survival, his decision to flee—it all could have been revealed.
Uijae covered his mouth. His voice trembled.
“Grandma must have figured it out… She was watching that docuntary, and she gave a cap….”
“Well, yeah, probably.”
“What?”
“You clearly don’t realize how much airti you got on TV, do you?”
Sayoung’s voice took on a colder tone as he stared at Uijae.
“For a whole day, they ran nonstop coverage about you. From debates about whether or not to send J into the rift, to showcasing all your achievents leading up to that point, to your final interview before entering the West Sea Rift… They milked it for all it was worth.”
His words were delivered in a matter-of-fact way, as if passing on a story he had heard secondhand. Back then, Say
oung had been in no position to watch TV or pay attention to the news, as he could barely move. Uijae, taken aback, asked abruptly:
“Who told you that?”
Sayoung quietly regarded Uijae for a mont, then shrugged.
“Jung Bin.”
“….”
“We spent so ti together a while back. Anyway.”
Sayoung crossed his arms, tapping his finger on his bicep.
“You were more famous than you thought. No one could have forgotten you.”
“….”
“Well… after they put up a morial for you, people slowly started to forget.”
It was only natural. Over ti, new and brighter Hunters would erge.
Just as sand covers more sand, people replaced old mories with new ones. No one would have rembered a Hunter who died trapped in so rift for very long. At best, they might occasionally recall, “Ah, there was a guy like that once.” But no one would have ever imagined that he had survived.
Even Uijae himself had been lost and wandering all that ti.
“There’s no way they would’ve just let it go.”
However…
“Who said they could forget all of that?”
Uijae stared blankly at Sayoung. Facing forward, Sayoung suddenly turned his head and locked eyes with him.
“But still….”
Their gazes t.
“At least the docuntary was worth the money we spent. If even so random hangover soup shop was playing it, I’d say it did its job.”
Sayoung smiled, the corners of his lips lifting in amusent.
“Don’t you think?”
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