“Your location.”

[“America, my home. Want to visit?”]

If true, that would span an incredible distance. But with a Transcendant’s power, it wasn’t impossible.

“Cut to the chase: what exactly is the Puppeteer’s purpose?”

[“So cold. Shouldn’t you at least ask how I’m doing?”]

“I’m truly sorry you’re safe, Hwangrim.”

Hwangrim laughed, then surprisingly answered straightforwardly.

[“I’m just a messenger, so I don’t know all the details. But the reason I was told to bring the civil servant here is simply that he’s dangerous.”]

“Because he threatens Transcendants?”

[“Exactly. Like I said, if handled properly, one could even swallow a Transcendant. There aren’t many who know about the Eclipse, but those who do find it annoying.”]

I glanced at Song Taewon on the sofa. In this room were only those who knew the truth: Yuhyun, Seong Hyunjae, Gyeol—and me and Director Song. Yerim complained about being left out, but for now that couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her, but the parties involved had wanted it this way.

“Did you hear?”

“Yes.”

Song Taewon nodded slightly. Seong Hyunjae, seated beside him, looked thoroughly unimpressed. Yuhyun beside me glared at the phone. He clearly didn’t like Hwangrim on the other end. For the record, this line was thoroughly secured—any eavesdropper would be a disaster.

“Ask if he knows the precise method.”

“Understood. How can Director Song Taewon eliminate a Transcendant? Does the Puppeteer know the exact method?”

I relayed Song’s question, my chest tightening. Director Song didn’t even want this power—why him? It’d be unfair for anyone, but especially painful for him.

[“Isn’t that right? I’m not certain, but—”]

“If so… the Puppeteer could use Director Song to ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) destroy other Transcendants.”

I continued relaying Song’s question.

[“Oh, I’ve heard something on that. You can leverage the Eclipse. But if you’re careless, you might get swallowed instead. To use it safely, you’d have to layer Transcendant-level contracts over and over.”]

“So contracts are essential.”

Song Taewon allowed a faint look of relief. I too exhaled. If Transcendants could meddle easily, Director Song would never leave himself be vulnerable—he’d depart Korea, depart our side.

…I suddenly recalled Seong Hyunjae from the nightmare dungeon: when he failed to escape the crescent moon, lost even Song Taewon, and fled Korea.

[“Our civil servant seems anxious?”]

“None of your business.”

[“Had I known your temperament, I’d have met you in secret to persuade you with words. What a shame.”]

Hwangrim joked, and I got chills. If he’d done that, there’d have been no chance to detain Director Song. We’d now be frantic over his sudden disappearance. I reflexively stared at Director Song.

“I won’t vanish without a word.”

“What if you endanger those around you, even so?”

“…Unless time is critical, I’ll speak first.”

“Right, we’ll think together.”

[“You’re only cold to me—so unfair.”]

Hwangrim grumbled.

“Consider your own nature.”

[“Both inside and out, I’m excellent.”]

“A gilded fool, that’s you.”

[“Thank you, darling, for saying my appearance dazzles you.”]

…If I’d been S-Rank—or even mid—this handset would be broken by now. I wanted to sew this snake’s mouth shut. Even Seong Hyunjae’s barbs were gentlemanly compared to Hwangrim. Both were millennial serpents, yet Seong Hyunjae had refused ascension despite an invitation, remaining in the mortal world, whereas Hwangrim must have rotted black long before a century passed and been forbidden to ascend.

[“Why don’t you come visit me, just the two of us? I’ll show you the Statue of Liberty.”]

“Hey, you’re Chinese. Why are you talking like I should come tour your country?”

[“It’s the American Dream.”]

What nonsense. How had this bastard ever joined the military? I changed the subject.

“I don’t care about you. I want to speak with the Puppeteer directly—connect me. He said he’s very interested in us.”

[“That’s why I’m his errand boy. Also, after breaking into Xiaojin’s secret chamber, I’ve been hard to reach. I overstepped my bounds.”]

“When until?”

[“At least a week?”]

Not too long. To summarize: the Puppeteer’s overt purpose seems to be disposing of the Eclipse—which poses a threat to him—and handling Director Song. He may have other aims tied to the White Bird, but that was the gist.

‘He was born because he helped it… but maybe it grew stronger than expected.’

There had to be more. I wondered if the newcomers knew about the Puppeteer. I’d drop by after the party.

“I’ll call back in a week.”

[“Someone downstairs is lucky—should I swap?”]

“Tell him to clean his throat and wait.”

Even if Hwangrim stayed civil, Chohwaun must be dealt with next time. He wouldn’t stay idle around me. Hwangrim continued jabbering, but I hung up.

“We should keep Director Song’s involvement as hidden as possible. Otherwise other Transcendants might intervene.”

Once they learned of him, they’d surely either eliminate or seek contracts with him.

“For now only the Eclipse, the Puppeteer, the White Bird, and the Harmless King know about Director Song. And maybe the Elder suspects. The Harmless King is dead, the White Bird missing, and the Puppeteer silenced—only the Crescent Moon remains, but she can’t spread word easily, or her identity might be exposed.”

So we alone must guard our lips—for now.

“If we expel the Transcendants and protect the world, Seong Hyunjae will be safe, and then Director Song and the Eclipse can continue living as humans.”

Seong Hyunjae, the Crescent Moon, if he ceases to threaten the source, and Song Taewon, the Eclipse—they’d both survive. Two become one plus one.

The question remains: how to drive out the Transcendants?

“The Puppeteer can be reasoned with. The pressing threats are Chatterbox and the Crescent Moon. It’s daunting, but we have Transcendants on our side, too. With the Puppeteer, that’s three versus two.”

It seemed the newcomers were almost ours, and the Elder would help. But the Crescent Moon commanded many Transcendants… she was the greatest problem. I’d never even seen her face. Poor Seong Hyunjae, blamed by the Crescent Moon.

“You don’t recall your past memories at all? How did you live so as to be ensnared by a Transcendant?”

“I was myself even then.”

“I shouldn’t blame the victim, but…” I muttered.

For now, focusing on stopping Chatterbox seemed best. We knew too little of the Crescent Moon.

“We don’t know when the party begins, but we should meet Hwangrim and the Puppeteer beforehand.”

“I don’t like that man.”

—“Me neither, Dad.”

Yuhyun complained. Gyeol agreed.

—“Can’t Uncle just eliminate him?”

“You mustn’t say that. He hasn’t done anything so terribly wrong.”

Even a formal trial would send him to his death within years. Hwangrim’s a bystander—his client was Park Hayul, who wanted to prevent the Goblin King from falling into military hands. Hwangrim stood in a position easily weasel-like to slip away.

He still is. No accountability—just a middleman.

“He really is annoying.”

Even Seong Hyunjae voiced displeasure at Hwangrim. When he agreed, Gyeol narrowed his eyes—he didn’t like sharing Seong Hyunjae’s view. Maybe I should arrange for them to get acquainted.

“I thought Seong Hyunjae would ignore him. Even if he picks a fight, he doesn’t waver.”

He’d respond but not dwell—like swatting a fly and that’s the end. Seong Hyunjae turned his gaze in turn to me and Song Taewon.

“I don’t like losing what’s mine. Didn’t I say so?”

“Well, it wasn’t yours. You let Soyeong take Sesung’s share without complaint.”

“Would I quarrel over every handful of sand from the beach?”

…A handful of sand, really? Seong Hyunjae spread his arms slightly.

“If one measures property purely by personal value, I am the poorest—embracing only mountains of sand in this world.”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

But that is who he is. What use is clutching the world’s wealth? It leaves nothing—no memory even.

“And to try to snatch away the only two things of value I have—how cruel.”

Seong Hyunjae feigned sorrow, and it almost felt genuine.

“You’re the only one I have, hyung.”

—“Dad, me too! You’re the only one for me!”

“Thank you both.”

But that wasn’t wholly good. Yuhyun, by nature, couldn’t help it—but maybe Gyeol should go to kindergarten. He looks foreign; we could secure papers abroad and adopt him. Good kindergartens are competitive. Maybe we should open one? A private kindergarten for Awakened Teachers—could even extend through elementary, middle, high school, and university.

I snapped back from the tangent. If Gyeol reaches college age, he’ll be too much like Seong Hyunjae.

“Here are the Chatterbox party invitations. You can cancel or re-register at any time, so register for now, both of you.”

If Seong Hyunjae and Song Taewon teamed up, no one could match them. So them together was fine. Balance-wise they’d pair better with support classes, but for Director Song’s mental health, splitting final teams might be wise.

“Any preferred teammates?”

Song Taewon thought briefly and answered:

“Noah Hunter. Any combat hunter pairs well with Noah. Next, Park Yerim Hunter—she’d be a good teammate for anyone except Han Yuhyun.”

“That’s true. Properly speaking, only Yuhyun suits Noah. Noah can only support; he can’t use poison skills.”

“Except Peace, the one with gratitude, Han Yujin is optimal. If Evelyn Hunter participates, she’d gel with most hunters too.”

“Miller Hunter, though combat-oriented, can perfectly adapt to others.”

Seong Hyunjae agreed with Song Taewon’s picks. If he held them in high regard, Evelyn’s skills must be exceptional. Then Gyeol made a whimper, fluttered over to Seong Hyunjae, and offered a front paw.

—“Gyeol… team with me?”

“That’s unexpected.”

—“I want to go with Dad. But there are two per team. I don’t want to hinder others.”

The fairy trembled. Seong Hyunjae regarded Gyeol with keen interest.

“That means you expect me to take responsibility for an incapable teammate.”

—“Ugh…”

“In that case, a price is required.”

—“…What…?”

“Don’t torment the child!”

I scooped Gyeol back up. What was he going to demand from a toddler?

—“Dad, I’m fine!”

“Gyeol, you don’t need to. It’s not dangerous, really.”

“I didn’t intend anything extreme.”

“I’m sure it’d be a wicked demand. We’ll be back soon—play at home, okay?”

Gyeol pouted but stared at Seong Hyunjae determinedly. That child’s stubborn too.

Over the next two days, I leaked info on breeding Qìshōngs and stamina potion prototypes, and on hunter-grade firearms production. In the meantime, Moon Hyunah sealed several wine trade contracts.

Of course, I didn’t forget the party wager.

KABOOM! A bomb burst in brilliant display. This time it was a plains town, much like the first. Our team arrived first, planted the bomb, then retreated. When the other team entered, boom!

“That ended too easily.”

“Indeed—kind of dull.”

Moon Hyunah answered while astride a bicycle. The secret of the firearms remained, but word had spread that we continued the tradition, so no one wanted to fight an S-Rank team. I had to intervene every round—F-Ranks were easy prey.

“Only one team remains. They’ve refused to include me, and some teams didn’t even come.”

“Last is Director Song’s team?”

“Yes. Director Song hasn’t collected any coins yet.”

When with Yerim, he declined splitting coins. Then the message popped: two members each get one coin; one survivor gets three.

“This isn’t great.”

“Right. I’m worried about the party now—if I bring Yerim.”

She felt ominous. Hyunah leveled her rifle at me. I watched her quietly before speaking.

“If I don’t want to die, what will you do?”

“Huh? We just split them. Why, you don’t like that?”

“No. It’s nothing new at this point.”

Hyunah laughed at my words.

“Nothing new? Fear of death isn’t sudden. You’ll always hear, ‘Good idea!’”

“…But it’s not real. Just something I said—shoot if you want.”

“Even if it’s fake.”

Still gentle, Hyunah pulled the trigger.

Outside, after collecting Director Song’s final coin, the gathering ended.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep