The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low

Chapter 299

There was no need to confirm the handwriting’s owner. It had to be Lee Sa-young. Who else would address Cha Uijae as “you” in such a formal way? Uijae rolled his eyes.

‘Now that I think about it….’

Lately, that bastard had stopped calling him hyung and started using you instead. Uijae ran his fingertips over the letters in the notebook. Obviously, there was no warmth to be felt from the ink, but still. He muttered awkwardly.

“…Your handwriting’s pretty neat.”

He had expected it to be as unreadable as Nam Woo-jin’s, but surprisingly, it wasn’t. Maybe Jeong Bin had even taught him how to write properly. Absurd thoughts crossed his mind as he rummaged through the messy desk for a pen. He was about to write a response in the notebook but hesitated.

‘…If I write in here, will it really get delivered?’

If it didn’t, he’d just end up looking like a lunatic writing messages in Nam Woo-jin’s research notebook. Then again, Lee Sa-young couldn’t have been certain that Uijae would see his message either. It was a shot in the dark. So, couldn’t Uijae take a shot too?

Uijae stared at Sa-young’s neat handwriting for a moment. Then, he unfolded one of the crumpled sheets of paper scattered around the lab and, of all things, started practicing his handwriting.

Watching.

He compared his sloppy scrawl next to the neatly written text in the notebook. Compared to Sa-young’s writing, his own looked like a pair of squirming worms.

“……”

Unacceptable!

Uijae took a deep breath and tried to write as neatly as possible. W-a-t-c-h-i—

Snap!

The pen cracked in half. All he had done was grip it a little tighter, yet it broke right at the double consonant, which somehow made it even more frustrating. He stared at the snapped pen in disbelief before shoving it into his pocket. Sorry, Nam Woo-jin.

Undeterred, he searched the lab for another pen and carefully wrote the letters again.

W-a-t-c-h-i—

Crack!

Snap!

After breaking three pens in a row, Uijae finally realized the truth.

Forcing his handwriting to look neat and weak pens were simply incompatible.

At the soup restaurant, he had always just scribbled things down carelessly with a marker, so he had never noticed this problem before.

“……”

Then, another realization hit him. That bastard’s already seen my handwriting a million times at the soup place. There was no reason to force himself to write neatly now. Uijae sighed as he absentmindedly fiddled with the broken pen in his hand.

‘Still….’

If he was going to write something, it might as well look nice.

He ruffled his hair in frustration. Thankfully, Nam Woo-jin’s lab was overflowing with supplies. There were enough pens here that breaking a few wouldn’t even be noticeable. Uijae continued writing the same phrase over and over again on the crumpled paper until he was finally satisfied with the result.

Watching.

Watching.

Watching….

Before he knew it, the paper was filled with the same phrase over and over again. Uijae finally stopped, realizing how creepy it looked.

‘…Did I overdo it?’

Scratching his temple with the back of the pen, he hesitated for a moment before writing a slightly different phrase in the corner of the paper.

Miss you.

The words felt painfully embarrassing.

“…Ah, fuck. What the hell am I doing.”

Uijae immediately crumpled up the paper. His fingertips tingled with discomfort. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. If anyone saw it, it’d be a disaster.

‘Nam Woo-jin would think he’s got a stalker or something.’

He hastily stuffed the crumpled paper into his inventory. What he had just done would definitely rank high on the list of stupidest things he had ever done.

At that moment, the notebook glowed brightly.

Uijae quickly flipped it open. Underneath Sa-young’s message, a new line had appeared, written in the same neat handwriting.

[It’s okay.]

It’s okay.

Uijae repeated the words in his head.

Who was saying that?

Was it Lee Sa-young? Or was it Cha Uijae?

A sentence without a subject carried too many meanings.

He knew the truth. Sa-young had written this to comfort him. Even though he had no idea whether the message would reach Uijae, he had written it anyway. Desperately.

But.

Uijae traced the letters with his finger and muttered under his breath.

“It’s not okay.”

Cha Uijae was—

“…Not okay at all.”

He was lonely. Because Lee Sa-young wasn’t here.

Uijae clenched the pen in his hand, staring at the notebook. Sa-young had waited for him for eight years with nothing but a pinky promise to hold on to. Uijae wanted to ask him—

How the hell did you endure it?

You had no guarantee I was coming back.

Even knowing you were alive makes me restless.

Part of him wanted to dump every curse, frustration, and raw emotion into the notebook. But he held it all back. Instead, he poured everything into one simple sentence—the last phrase he had practiced.

The tip of the pen touched the paper.

The black ink formed letters. The letters formed words.

Miss you.

Words he couldn’t say out loud.

As soon as he finished writing, Uijae snapped the notebook shut and rubbed his masked face furiously. Just one sentence, and his whole body felt itchy.

At that moment, he sensed someone approaching.

He jumped up from his chair just as the lab door burst open.

A cracked, sleep-deprived voice immediately shouted before the door had even fully opened.

“…Yeah, so the Director sent you? What now, another complaint? I swear, I’ve told you guys over a thousand times that rushing me won’t make it happen any faster! What, you want me to write a report or something? Should I issue a medical certificate? Fine, but the consultation fee starts at fifty million won!”

Bright light flooded through the open door. Uijae’s jaw dropped.

Pale skin, crooked glasses, haphazardly tied-up white hair, hollow cheeks, a baggy lab coat, hunched shoulders, loose old Crocs—

A walking corpse stood at the entrance.

The zombie took a deep breath, adjusted his lopsided glasses, and blinked burnt-out white eyes in confusion.

“…Wait, what the fuck? J? When did you get back?”

The young assistant beside him politely answered.

“He returned today, Master.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the visitor was J?”

“I did. You just heard ‘sent by the Director’ and assumed it was someone coming to nag you again, so you ignored it.”

“…I did?”

“Would you like me to repeat exactly what you said earlier, Master?”

“…Forget it. Just get me an energy drink.”

The zombie, Nam Woo-jin, chugged the mystery liquid handed to him in one gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked—

“It’s been a while. You were in the Corrosion Dungeon, right?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

“You must’ve seen some interesting things in there. And considering how long you were gone—?”

“…I guess?”

Nam Woo-jin suddenly grabbed Uijae’s shoulders. A strong scent of disinfectant and chemicals wafted through the air. His burnt-white eyes gleamed intensely—the eyes of a man who had completely lost it.

Then he roared—

“TELL ME EVERYTHING! FROM START TO FINISH!”

“…What?”

“Get the whiteboard ready! Set up the recorder! You, take notes! Get a table, chairs, water—move it!”

“Yes, Master.”

The assistant scrambled to prepare everything. Uijae was pushed forward, a whiteboard marker and eraser shoved into his hands.

Before he could even process what was happening, Nam Woo-jin was already sitting down with a recorder in hand, looking like a model student at the front row of a lecture hall.

“We begin now. From the moment you entered the dungeon to the moment you escaped—tell me everything in detail.”

“…What?”

“Hurry up! We don’t have time to waste!”

Behind him, a deadly aura radiated—an unspoken threat that if Uijae didn’t start talking right now, he’d be dissected with a scalpel.

Uijae popped the cap off the marker and regretted everything.

‘Fuck, I should’ve just run instead of wasting time practicing handwriting.’

But regrets always come too late.

As he helplessly began his lecture, he remained completely unaware that the notebook was glowing once again.

***

Drip. Drip. Drip. The IV fluid fell in slow, measured drops.

Gayeong roughly yanked aside the thin curtain surrounding the hospital bed. She turned to the man standing beside it and asked,

“Just asking in case, but… she’s still not awake?”

“Y-Yes… there’s no sign of her waking up.”

Gayeong glanced at the bed. Yoon Gaeul lay there, completely motionless, like a corpse. If not for the subtle rise and fall of her chest, she could have been mistaken for dead.

Hoo. Gayeong let out an exaggerated sigh, making sure the man heard it loud and clear. Then, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, grinding her teeth as she whispered,

“You idiot… just how much did you inject into her? How the hell does someone stay asleep for over a week? I told you to knock her out, not send her into a permanent coma, didn’t I? Huh?”

“I-I’m sorry….”

“Oh~ so you think saying sorry just fixes everything, huh? Must be nice! Meanwhile, they are already ahead of us! There’s only so much we can do with human trials on our followers!”

Gayeong shoved the man away with full force.

Thud—!

The man collapsed to the floor, scrambling to kneel as he bowed his head. Gayeong pressed her foot down on his knee. The man clenched his teeth in pain.

“Wake her up, one way or another. Got it? I don’t care if you have to kidnap another Awakener—we need whatever intel we can get.”

“Y-Yes! Understood!”

“And if you fail….”

Gayeong’s voice turned icy cold.

“Then I’ll use you as material instead.”

The man’s face turned deathly pale. He slammed his forehead against the floor, sobbing, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Gayeong ignored his pathetic cries and strode toward the door. A researcher waiting outside hesitantly spoke up.

“Miss Gayeong, should we consider asking the Seer for assistance—”

“The Seer? Hah.”

Gayeong scoffed. She casually picked at her ear as she replied,

“And why would I bother asking that useless bastard? All he does is run his mouth.”

“But, Miss Gayeong…! If someone hears you—”

“Everyone’s too busy singing hymns to notice. Let’s go. Another experiment is a much better use of time.”

In the distance, a low hum of voices echoed through the corridors. The so-called followers were gathered in prayer.

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Gayeong turned her back on their worship.

***

“…ul.”

“……”

“Yoon Gaeul!”

“Y-Yes?”

Gaeul jerked upright in shock. A strikingly beautiful woman was leaning in way too close to her face.

Eek! Gaeul let out a small squeal, flinching backward.

Honeybee chuckled, placing her hands on her hips.

“What’s got you so lost in thought? People are talking, you know.”

“Ah, um… I thought I heard something.”

“Heard what?”

“I don’t know… sorry….”

“You don’t have to apologize. How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“Uh… sorry.”

“Look at this one, completely spaced out. Here!”

Honeybee flicked something toward her.

Gaeul caught it skillfully and checked what it was—a key.

“What’s this?”

“What do you think? It’s a house key.”

“…House?”

“Yeah. J’s house key.”

“Ah….”

Gaeul trailed off.

Honeybee’s gaze shifted subtly behind her. Lee Sa-young stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His gloomy expression was downright murderous, like he was seconds away from killing someone.

Lowering her voice, Honeybee whispered into Gaeul’s ear.

“We made copies and shared them.”

“…Why?”

“To manage the place together.”