LRAB Chapter 393: Inner Circle (2)
Chapter 393: Inner Circle (2)
“How should I correct it?”
“I thought and acted with this meeting in mind. At this point, a master who likes to repay debts is bound to arrange a seat like this at least once.”
“Can I take that to mean... you deliberately drew my interest?”
“You weren’t going to let it slide with empty words anyway, were you? From what I know, you’re very clear-cut about debts and grudges.”
“Heh. That’s unexpected. I didn’t think I’d hear something like this. Tch—maybe it’s because I hear nothing but cookie-cutter answers.”
Jang Si-hwan let out a small laugh.
Normally, when someone tried to express gratitude over something like this, the usual response was that they had only done what they were supposed to do.
Even if they did not seem like the type, they would still offer a nice-sounding excuse like, A life comes first.
But Kang-hoo’s answer, laying bare his motives without filtering, was different from everyone Jang Si-hwan had dealt with so far.‘He’ll have no choice but to create a reward even if there wasn’t one.’Because it was a calculated remark, Kang-hoo found Jang Si-hwan’s reaction amusing.
Jang Si-hwan cared more than anyone about the image he presented to the world.
Now that Kang-hoo had placed a frame on him—“You’re the type who repays debts no matter what”—he would not be able to pretend it never happened.
Even if his thoughts differed, the words coming out of his mouth would be the answer Kang-hoo wanted.
“Mr. Shin Kang-hoo, I really like how honest you are. For now, let’s discuss the reward step by step.”
He took another sip of tea.
After briefly pausing, Jang Si-hwan studied Kang-hoo’s face in detail, as if there was something he wanted to read.
When Kang-hoo met him with a blank expression, Jang Si-hwan seemed unable to endure the silence and continued.
“You’re right. I envy people like you, Mr. Shin Kang-hoo—those who can make cold, wise judgments without difficulty.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I’ve always thought you were an impressive person who has what I lack. That’s why I also thought... I wanted you with me.”
“If I can’t have it, I’ll keep it beside me—is that what you mean?”
“Hahaha! Not that kind of twisted possessiveness. I’m desperate for comrades who can fill my shortcomings.”
It did not sound like light pleasantry. Jang Si-hwan was not the type to offer false hope.
“I think ‘comrade’ is too generous a word.”
“Not at all! Ever since the day we met at the observatory, it’s been vivid in my mind. I don’t remember people I don’t need. I only remember those I truly need.”
“Why would you need me?”
At the question, Jang Si-hwan pressed his lips together and said nothing for a moment.
It was a habit that surfaced when he was strategically deciding what to say and what not to say. It often appeared in the original story, too.
Soon, having made up his mind, Jang Si-hwan smiled and continued.
“I’ve gathered information about you, Mr. Shin Kang-hoo, through various channels. And I was able to make an objective judgment. Based solely on your recent rate of growth, you’re unquestionably the most outstanding assassin in East Asia.”
Jang Si-hwan was not the type to spout baseless claims. What he had just said carried weight.
To say Kang-hoo’s growth was the best among East Asian assassins was something he could take at face value.
If it came from Jang Si-hwan’s intelligence network, its credibility was beyond doubt. It would have been the foundation of his confidence.
Even in the original story, Jang Si-hwan had always kept an eye on hunters with remarkable growth early on and recruited them.
Casey Rex was one such example—when he was still an ordinary guild member of Fortuna Guild, Jang Si-hwan had already recognized his true value.
Jang Si-hwan liked to invest early, seeing the future. And now he was placing that same bet on Kang-hoo.
“Information-gathering is something I do too, if I’m interested in a hunter. So what is it you want to say?”
“My desire to work with you is sincere. It was from the beginning. Can’t you consider it positively?”
“What matters more than sincerity are the terms. Make me an offer that moves my heart.”
Kang-hoo could feel Jang Si-hwan setting the concept around the keyword sincerity. It was the most effective tactic.
So Kang-hoo struck back from the opposite position. Spare him the sincerity—tempt his desire instead.
From the outside it might have looked heartwarming, but the battle of wits had already begun.
“There is an organization within the guild called ‘Sacred Flame.’ I will ensure you can operate there.”
Sacred Flame.
It was also a phrasing that unpacked Jeonghwa Guild’s “Purifying Fire.”
It was the guild’s inner circle, known like an open secret. It primarily included executives ranked within roughly the top fifty.
Of course, only executives approved by Jang Si-hwan could enter, so competition inside was fierce.
Jo Seok-hyeon, who had escorted Kang-hoo earlier, was not part of Sacred Flame.
That was why he was working hard not to fall out of favor, to stay within Jang Si-hwan’s good graces.
“And why is that an offer?”
At Kang-hoo’s sullen reaction, Jang Si-hwan tilted his head.
It was a precious offer that even Jeonghwa Guild executives struggled to receive, yet it did not seem to resonate with Kang-hoo at all.
“Could you repeat that?”
“You’re mistaken about one thing. I’m not someone who’s desperate to force my way into Jeonghwa Guild. Nor do I idolize an inner circle.”
“You’ll gain growth opportunities you’ve never experienced before. Sacred Flame is the starting point.”
In that phrase starting point, his thoughts about the destination—still unspoken—also seeped through.
If Kang-hoo pleased him and he judged his potential to be high, he would try to recruit him into The Thirteen Stars.
Sacred Flame might as well be seen as the ‘pre–Thirteen Stars.’
In the end, it was an organization that shared Jang Si-hwan’s fate—only differing in status.
Kang-hoo could sense it.
Jang Si-hwan wanted to have him, but he never wanted to lose the advantageous position.
If he truly wanted to show goodwill, if he truly wanted to win his heart, there were many ways he could accommodate him.
The insistence on pulling him into the inner circle ultimately tied back to a desire for control.
Like keeping a beautiful bird in a cage and watching with satisfaction—he wanted to ‘collect’ Kang-hoo.
“I appreciate that you’ve shown interest in a worthless hunter like me, and that you made an offer. But.”
“But?”
“I’m thoroughly selfish, and I hate any situation where I can’t lead at my own pace. So I won’t accept this offer. It’s an offer I won’t be able to endure.”
“Hm....”
“I won’t forget the sincerity you showed me. Separate from my twisted nature.”
The frame Kang-hoo had carefully planted in Jang Si-hwan’s mind was extreme selfishness.
A coldness that cared nothing for others’ feelings or circumstances, wanting only his own gain, as a bonus.
Within Justice as it currently existed—meaning The Thirteen Stars—there was already one similar figure.
Vincent Meyer.
Even in the original story, Jang Si-hwan had called Vincent a devil’s talent, precisely because he disrupted harmony.
Now Kang-hoo had made sure to plant the notion that he could carry a similar—or even stronger—stench.
Jang Si-hwan’s thoughts would become complicated. He would have to reconsider recruitment at least once.
And if Jang Si-hwan abandoned the idea by his own judgment, there would be no reason left for him to strategically suspect Kang-hoo.
“...All right. Then shall we step away from heavy topics for a moment? I’d like to talk about the reward.”
“Let’s do that.”
In the end, Jang Si-hwan backed down.
Either he judged that now was not the time, or he had decided to fold his interest once—for the moment.
Satisfied that things were flowing toward the outcome he wanted, Kang-hoo waited for Jang Si-hwan’s next words.Ten minutes later.
“......”
Jang Si-hwan looked down at Kang-hoo’s back as he left the building.
The discussion about the reward ended quickly.
It wasn’t a negotiation—Jang Si-hwan had to propose it unilaterally—so there was no room for the conversation to go off track.
He brought up several rewards, but the one that drew Kang-hoo’s strongest interest was a proposal related to North Korea.
Kang-hoo took a single raid license for “Dungeon No. 17” in Nampo Directly Governed City in North Korea.
It was unexpected.
Dungeon No. 17 was not widely known to the outside world. Nor was it a place with particularly unusual or rare rewards.
Yet among the multiple dungeon licenses Jang Si-hwan offered, Kang-hoo showed interest in only Nampo’s Dungeon No. 17.
As if he knew something. At that moment, his eyes had been completely different.
Of course, Jang Si-hwan’s thoughts only went that far.
No matter how he thought about it, he could not see anything in Dungeon No. 17 that Kang-hoo would be able to secure as something special.
Perhaps it was simple curiosity—an opportunity to raid a North Korean dungeon, something hard to obtain under normal circumstances.
Officially, without approval from the Public Safety Bureau, North Korean dungeons could not be raided, so that curiosity would make sense.
“What is he relying on to act so defiant? I have everything he doesn’t. And he doesn’t seem the least bit regretful?”
Arms crossed, Jang Si-hwan’s gaze kept trailing after Kang-hoo’s back as it grew more distant.
The lingering disappointment refused to fade. Was it because he had been rejected too coldly? Because his pride had been scratched?
Either way, to soothe the strange irritation, he found himself wanting to play a nasty little prank on Kang-hoo.
A small revenge, perhaps, for not being able to control Kang-hoo or seize the initiative in their conversation.
He made a call.
The other party picked up at once.
“Vincent. When are you actually coming into the country?”
The recipient was Vincent Meyer, the colleague Jang Si-hwan had long intended to use as a means to test Kang-hoo.
With his eyes gone wild for hidden skills, Vincent was the hottest card—one who could clash with Kang-hoo at any moment.
-I’m already in the final stage. Once this job’s done, I’m going to catch that bastard and beat him down, then strip his hidden skills.
“Sure you’re not just all talk?”
-Have you ever seen me say one thing and do another?
“You’ve been doing exactly that up to now.”
-I’ve got my own plans without you provoking me. You just watch the show. Wait. It won’t be long.
The call ended immediately.
Jang Si-hwan let out a small laugh.
Watching the show—true enough.
If Vincent fought Shin Kang-hoo and won, he would crush the upstart who had nothing but arrogance.
And if Vincent lost? Then Kang-hoo would have passed a test of sorts. It would be proof of his ability.
If the latter happened, the calculations would become complicated—but then there would be no reason to keep clinging to Vincent, either.
Either way, it seemed like a fun spectacle with no real downside, and a smile naturally spread across his face.
“Shin Kang-hoo... is it an illusion that looking at you feels like I’m facing the me inside?”
A question meant only for himself, one that could never be answered, vanished along with the fogged breath that briefly clouded the window.
For a long while after that.
Jang Si-hwan couldn’t take his eyes off Kang-hoo’s receding back.
Shin Kang-hoo—someone who had lived a completely separate life until their paths crossed, a perfect stranger.
Why did he feel such a strange sense of déjà vu whenever he looked at him?
That much, even Jang Si-hwan could not find an answer to.