TSOT#1 Chapter 25

Seo Joo-ah hurried somewhere early in the morning, with urgent steps.

 

Soon, the familiar entrance of a hospital came into view, but the area was crowded with dozens of police cars and reporters.

 

“How on earth did Hunter Kwon Eun-young go missing? Is there any progress in the investigation?”

 

In response to the reporter’s question, a police officer guarding the hospital entrance replied stiffly.

 

“We are still investigating. However, aside from the fact that all the CCTV cameras were destroyed, there’s little evidence to go on, which is delaying the investigation. Please refrain from making premature assumptions or spreading baseless rumors.”

 

Watching the scene silently, Joo-ah quickly entered the hospital. Passing through the familiar lobby, she stepped into the elevator.

 

Her expression was tense as she watched the elevator numbers climb.

 

[The Anonymous Constellation is outraged, demanding to know what kind of lunatic dared to take your body.]

 

Joo-ah glanced at the system message floating in mid-air but said nothing, her anxiety palpable. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest.

 

Since dawn, the dormitory had been abuzz with the sound of police sirens.

 

The news that Kwon Eun-young, who had been in the ICU for three years, had suddenly disappeared had caused an uproar.

 

Some speculated that she might have awakened from her coma, but the fact that all the hospital’s CCTV cameras had been destroyed suggested foul play.

 

When the elevator doors opened, Joo-ah quickly made her way to the room where her body had been lying.

 

However, entering the room seemed impossible.

 

“Nobody is allowed inside at the moment.”

 

A police officer guarding the door blocked her way.

 

Joo-ah looked up at the officer and pulled out her Special Awakener Association membership card from her pocket.

 

“I’ve met Hunter Kwon Eun-young before. When I heard the news, I became worried and came here.”

 

The officer glanced at her card but replied firmly.

 

“Only Hunter Kwon Eun-young’s family and team members are allowed inside at this time.”

 

“Can I at least take a quick look inside the room? I just want to confirm if it’s true that she’s gone.”

 

Joo-ah tried to reason her way inside, but the officer firmly stopped her every time.

 

Though she knew there was no legitimate reason for her to enter, she couldn’t stop herself from trying. She needed to see it with her own eyes to believe it.

 

The idea that her body, which had remained in the same place for three years, was now missing was incomprehensible.

 

“If you continue to insist, it will cause problems.”

 

The officer’s stern voice forced Joo-ah to give up reluctantly.

 

She stared helplessly at the tightly shut door.

 

Through the small rectangular window on the door, she could see the inside of the room.

 

Her eyes widened.

 

Her parents were inside, talking to each other.

 

Joo-ah’s expression softened with longing.

 

But it didn’t last long.

 

“…Why?”

 

As she gazed at her parents sorrowfully, a hollow whisper escaped her lips.

 

“Why are they… acting like nothing happened?”

 

Her parents’ expressions were dry. Amid the barren atmosphere, they exchanged words and even yawned as if bored.

 

Shaking her head in disbelief, Joo-ah took a step back.

 

She had assumed they would be crying uncontrollably. After all, their only child had vanished without a trace. She thought their hearts would be breaking.

 

But the sight of her parents seemed unbearably detached.

 

As she backed away, she bumped into someone behind her.

 

Before she could turn to see who it was, a voice spoke.

 

“Are you the person who visited Eun-young before?”

 

The speaker, who steadied Joo-ah by her shoulders, was Min Chae-rin.

 

Turning to face her, Joo-ah nodded weakly.

 

“We meet again. It’s nice to see you.”

 

Chae-rin smiled warmly, but Joo-ah couldn’t respond. She simply stared at her, searching for any clues about Eun-young’s whereabouts.

 

Chae-rin, noticing this, glanced at the hospital room door before gesturing toward a corridor on the other side.

 

“If you don’t mind, would you like to chat at the café?”

 

“…Sure.”

 

At Joo-ah’s soft response, Chae-rin turned and walked ahead.

 

Joo-ah, her face filled with sorrow, cast one last glance at the closed door.

 

Through the glass window, she could still see her indifferent parents.

 

Balling her hands into fists, Joo-ah hesitated for a moment before following Chae-rin.

 

The café Chae-rin led her to was a small one in the hospital lobby.

 

After ordering two drinks at the counter, they sat by the window. Soon, iced Americanos were placed on the table.

 

“I just realized we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”

 

Chae-rin smiled brightly as she spoke.

 

“I’m Min Chae-rin. I’m with the Special Awakener Association and used to be on the same team as Eun-young.”

 

Hearing this, a bitter smile crept onto Joo-ah’s lips.

 

Having to feign ignorance in front of an old teammate felt unbearably cruel.

 

“I’m Seo Joo-ah. As you probably already know, I’m with the Special Awakener Association.”

 

Her Hunter uniform already made her identity clear.

 

Chae-rin nodded before asking with a hint of curiosity.

 

“Did you know that your photo was posted on the community forums yesterday?”

 

“What?”

 

Joo-ah frowned, puzzled by the question.

 

Chae-rin shrugged lightly as she explained.

 

“It wasn’t anything major. It seems someone spotted the Chairman and ended up seeing you too.”

 

Tae-jun’s photos often circulated online, thanks to his striking looks.

 

Stirring her Americano with a straw, Chae-rin asked calmly.

 

“You came here because of the news about Eun-young’s disappearance, didn’t you?”

 

Her tone suggested she already knew why Joo-ah had been loitering near the hospital room.

 

Joo-ah hesitated before responding cautiously.

 

“Is it true that Hunter Kwon Eun-young is missing?”

 

Chae-rin’s gaze shifted from her drink to meet Joo-ah’s desperate eyes.

 

“It’s true. Eun-young, who had been in the ICU all this time, has vanished without a trace.”

 

Joo-ah’s face fell as the words confirmed her worst fears.

 

“What could have happened…? Do you have any idea?”

 

Chae-rin, who had been closest to Eun-young, didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she scrutinized Joo-ah thoughtfully.

 

When she finally spoke, her tone was blunt.

 

“I have my suspicions, but I don’t intend to share them with you.”

 

It made sense. They had only met twice.

 

Chae-rin couldn’t know what kind of influence Joo-ah might have on Eun-young.

 

Clenching her trembling hands, Joo-ah looked down at the table.

 

It was frustrating.

 

To know nothing about her own body’s whereabouts or who might be responsible.

 

Chae-rin’s calm voice broke the silence.

 

“But if my guess is correct, Eun-young should be safe.”

 

Joo-ah lifted her head, meeting Chae-rin’s reassuring gaze.

 

“I brought you here to tell you that. You looked so distressed earlier.”

 

Chae-rin glanced aside as if recalling something, her expression tinged with disbelief.

 

“It might even be the work of someone who loves Eun-young the most. As absurd as that sounds.”

 

Joo-ah’s brown eyes widened slightly.

 

Somehow, she had a feeling she knew exactly who Chae-rin was referring to.

 

Joo-ah and her team later visited the Special Awakener Association to meet Tae-jun.

 

Ordinary Hunters wouldn’t have such easy access to the Chairman, but it was different for the upper-ranked group.

 

“What brings you here during such a busy time?”

 

Tae-jun asked indifferently, his desk piled with printed news articles, most of them about Kwon Eun-young’s disappearance.

 

“We’re here to request a reassignment for Seo Joo-ah.”

 

Jae-rim’s composed voice made Tae-jun’s face subtly twist.

 

“You mean Seo Joo-ah’s reassignment?”

 

His voice was low as Jae-rim replied without hesitation.

 

“Yes, Chairman. Seo Joo-ah, a D-rank Hunter, is not suitable for our team. If we ascend the tower as things are, we’ll be too busy protecting her to focus on fighting, and she will face increasing dangers on each floor.”

 

Tae-jun listened with folded arms before turning his gaze to Yeon-joo and Chan-hee.

 

“Do the rest of you feel the same?”

 

Chan-hee nodded without hesitation. Yeon-joo glanced at Joo-ah briefly before answering cautiously.

 

“I think it would be safer for everyone if Seo Joo-ah were placed on a more suitable team.”

 

Finally, Tae-jun’s eyes landed on Joo-ah.

 

“What about you, Seo Joo-ah? What do you think?”

 

Having kept her gaze lowered since entering the room, Joo-ah slowly looked up. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

 

Meeting Tae-jun’s neutral gaze, she opened her mouth after a brief pause.

 

“I think the same.”