The final approval needed for the North Korean reclamation plan came through.

Permission had been granted to construct a large-scale tunnel through the Wooden Palisade near Cheorwon.

Chairman’s Office. Ho-jong spoke.

“Good work. You actually managed to get Grandma’s permission.”

“We got lucky. And I’m grateful for it.”

“…How was she doing?”

The question carried a trace of hesitation.

Jung-woo recalled how Ho-jong had behaved on the way to visit Soon-ae—as if he, personally, could not make the trip.

He still didn’t know the details, but he’d venture a guess: a sense of indebtedness.

As Chun Jun-ho’s closest friend and subordinate, perhaps the guilt of failing to protect him had kept Ho-jong from going himself.

“She treated us well. Aside from the workers suffering every lunchtime, that is.”

“Grandma’s portions are still as generous as ever, I see.”

Ho-jong let out a wry laugh.

Jung-woo laughed awkwardly as well.

From their very first meeting, Jung-woo had tried to avoid eating Soon-ae’s food. Only now did the reason become clear.

The problem was that Soon-ae’s hand was simply too generous.

What she brought out as a light refreshment was enough for hundreds, yet the workers numbered only a few dozen.

How could ordinary laborers refuse a meal prepared by an S-Rank hunter grandmother?

They’d eat until they were ready to burst, and still the refills wouldn’t stop—leading to incidents where some ended up crying out in pain.

Anyway, barring such minor hiccups, everything had been smooth sailing.

Jung-woo looked over the approved documents and spoke.

“Less than two weeks left now.”

“Yeah, summer’ll be over soon.”

The long preparations for the North Korea expedition were racing toward the finish line.

Corporate supplies and exploration preparations were nearly complete, and with the route secured, all that remained was setting foot in North Korea.

It was just one season, yet the sheer pace at which everything had churned forward drew a hollow laugh from him.

Still, there was a sense of fulfillment in knowing they were making steady progress—and that was welcome indeed.

“The press release is ready too. Starting tomorrow, articles will probably be circulating in earnest.”

“Our Mr. Jung-woo is quite thorough about these things. Like a corporate man.”

Coming from the corporate world, his work capabilities were bound to shine in the branding department.

“We’re the group that brought down the Management Bureau and seized its place. We need to look good. Neglect this kind of thing and public opinion management becomes an uphill battle.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m grateful everyone’s working so hard.”

“Now it seems like only the Chairman needs to work hard.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who clocks out on the dot every single day.”

“I still finish my work before I leave, though.”

After saying that, Jung-woo held out one more document.

“Oh, and I won’t be coming in to work tomorrow.”

“Already want time off? Where are you off to this time?”

To that question, Jung-woo replied with a bittersweet smile.

“I’m not going to have fun.”

“Hm?”

Right—this could hardly be called a vacation.

“I’m going to see my kid’s mom.”

In that instant, Ho-jong’s hand stopped.

A brief silence hung in the air.

Then, Ho-jong spoke.

“You mean Se-gi’s mom…”

“Yes.”

Jung-woo’s smile grew more bittersweet still.

“Her death anniversary is coming up.”

The time when summer ends.

It was the death anniversary of Se-gi’s mother—and Jung-woo’s first love.

Jung-woo became a father at eighteen.

It was an unexpected mistake of reckless youth, and a premarital pregnancy was inherently the result of two people’s intertwined failures, not just one.

Such was the case with Jung-woo.

Ji Eun-ha. A nineteen-year-old student, one year older than Jung-woo. Like him, she was an orphan with no close friends, and in many ways, they had clicked naturally.

Most likely, theirs was a relationship of licking each other’s wounds.

Eun-ha had been fragile in a certain way, but she was deeply affectionate and had cherished Jung-woo dearly. Jung-woo, in turn, had gradually opened his heart to her, to the girl who always tried to stay by his side.

Two directionless youths with no one to lean on, uncertain about how to live going forward, found each other and sparks flew.

And in the midst of it all, a child was conceived.

Jung-woo had thought about taking responsibility, but Eun-ha couldn’t do the same.

At an age when she could barely take care of herself, becoming someone’s mother was too frightening for her.

He didn’t think she was wrong for it.

They were simply different.

The realization came too late to even discuss abortion.

Left with no choice but to give birth, Jung-woo took the child on entirely, and within days, Eun-ha vanished like a mirage.

At first, he couldn’t even think to look for her.

Rather than dwelling on Eun-ha’s departure, he was consumed with raising Se-gi, who wasn’t even weaned yet.

He ran himself ragged just to make sure his child wouldn’t go hungry today.

And then, he awakened as a hunter.

It was around that time—when work had overwhelmed him so thoroughly that time to care for Se-gi grew tight—that he thought of her again.

Let’s get back together. Things are more comfortable now, so let’s figure it out together.

It wasn’t even that ambitious a thought.

It was simply a request: when he was too busy, couldn’t she at least spend some time with the child?

That was when he searched around and learned.

That his beautiful first love from his memories—always fragile as if she might shatter, timid but equally affectionate—had already become a guest who would never return.

“It’s been a while.”

A columbarium on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.

In the photograph, Eun-ha smiled with a face slightly more mature than Jung-woo remembered from life.

He studied that face carefully.

Se-gi resembled him more than Eun-ha, but there were times like this—looking at the photo—when Eun-ha’s and Se-gi’s faces seemed to overlap.

“This is my first time living this life…you wouldn’t know even if I told you, right?”

He had voiced the fact of his regression for the first time.

It felt awkward, as if he were saying something incredibly strange.

So he laughed self-consciously, then parted his lips and added.

“I’m sorry. For finding out too late.”

Eun-ha had died three years before even this point in time.

In other words, the year Se-gi had just turned two.

According to what the detective agency uncovered, Eun-ha had headed to the outer reaches of Gyeonggi Province and was working as a day laborer in logistics when she was killed—attacked by a monster that emerged from a nighttime gate management breach.

With no next of kin, the funeral was held without anyone to mourn her, and she ended up here.

The kind of death that could happen to anyone—and that made it all the more tragic.

Jung-woo felt his heart grow heavy for a moment, then spoke.

“Se-gi’s doing well. These days she’s getting nearly perfect scores on her dictation tests, and she’s getting along great with her friends at daycare.”

Whether she would want to hear such news, he didn’t know—but still, Se-gi was the child she had carried in her womb.

Besides, this was the only place Jung-woo had to pour out such stories like grievances.

Even before the regression, he would visit the columbarium on this day and talk about Se-gi.

He had told Se-gi about her mother when she was twelve.

This time, Jung-woo planned to do the same.

“Making her accept that her mother died at such a young age didn’t seem like a good idea. Rather than that, I didn’t want the child to accept that her wish could never come true.”

The first time—the night he had brought Se-gi to Eun-ha’s columbarium before the regression.

Muffled crying had come from Se-gi’s room.

It had sounded so heartbreaking that his chest ached as if his heart were being gouged out.

In Jung-woo’s mind, it was his own karma.

Because her father wasn’t reliable enough. Because a father alone couldn’t ease her loneliness.

So she had yearned for her mother—and with no mother either, the reality of being left all alone must have hit her that much harder.

This time would be different.

He would make sure she never felt alone, so that someday, even when Se-gi saw the photo at this columbarium, she wouldn’t spend the night in tears.

He planned to raise her so she could calmly accept what she vaguely knew.

“Two people’s share. Turns out it’s harder than I thought. But I plan to give it my best shot.”

He smiled as he spoke.

“There’s a big undertaking coming up soon, but even during that, I’ve found a way to not leave Se-gi alone. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

He shared personal stories.

Like a confession, or like shouting into the void.

Before he knew it, time had slipped by.

“I should get going. It’s time to pick up Se-gi from daycare. I’ll come back around this time next year and tell you about everything that’s happened. Take care.”

Jung-woo turned away.

Stepping out of the columbarium, the reality that summer was truly retreating sank in.

The oppressive humidity that had clung damply to his chest had lifted.

It was still weather suited for short sleeves, but that sticky, clinging feeling in the air had retreated far away, bringing peace.

He drew a deep breath and let it out.

The quiet mountain columbarium had a way of calming the mind.

He got in the car and headed back to Seoul.

And so he came to pick up Se-gi.

“Whoa! Daddy’s not wearing a suit today!”

“Yeah, I went somewhere else today.”

“Grandma?”

“No, to see an old friend of Daddy’s.”

Se-gi’s eyes went wide as saucers.

“Mr. Ho-jong!”

“I have other friends besides him, you know.”

“…Liar.”

“…”

How exactly did Se-gi perceive her father’s social life?

At her skeptical gaze—which now made him feel like he’d need to fabricate a fake friend just to prove her wrong—Jung-woo burst into a hearty laugh.

“Let’s go home. Should we have your favorite Salisbury steak today?”

“Yay! Se-gi wants to cook too!”

“Oh, how reliable.”

“Hehe…”

Se-gi smiled.

That smile, which never grew tiresome no matter how many times he saw it, brought a wave of relief to his heart.

The peaceful end of summer.

The road to autumn.

It was one of those final days of leisure.

[Hunter Shin Jung-woo! Do you remember me! This is Pyo Min-hyuk of Gangneung Haeparang!]

“Ah, yes. Mr. Min-hyuk.”

[The thing is, the refinement of that seagull bastard’s Magic Stone you subjugated back then is finally done! I apologize for the delay! The creature’s ability was so unusual, you see…!]

Right on cue, the item he’d been waiting for had arrived.

The magic stone of the A-Rank Champion Trickster was delivered to Jung-woo’s home.

True to Korea’s reputation as the nation of delivery, it arrived at six in the morning, the very day after he’d taken the call.

Up early, Jung-woo received the magic stone that hunters from Gangneung had escorted in a steel case, completed the receipt confirmation, and opened it.

The deep blue magic stone was a perfect sphere about the size of Se-gi’s head.

The elegantly engraved patterns on its smooth surface were especially welcome—because he knew all too well how special this magic stone was.

“Mmm…”

“Ah, Se-gi’s awake? Good job getting up on your own.”

“Hehe…”

He scooped up Se-gi, who had unusually woken up on her own today, and first finished preparing her for daycare.

As always—wash, feed, change clothes, and off to daycare.

By then it was 8:15.

Forty-five minutes before work. Normally, he would have been flooring the accelerator by now, racing to the Association.

But not today.

“Sea Otter.”

Ppok!

Jung-woo had come home, not to the Association.

He summoned Sea Otter and handed it the Trickster’s magic stone.

Ppo, ppoborok!?

Sea Otter bounded into the air and clutched the new special magic stone to its chest as if someone might steal it.

Perhaps mesmerized by its radiant glow, it sniffed the stone, rubbed it against its cheek, and then began struggling to slot it into its shell.

“That’s right, you’d better treasure that.”

Jung-woo smiled with satisfaction.

The Phase Shift magic stone.

Why was this necessary?

If asked, it was because this was the very core item that would let him juggle parenting and work simultaneously during the upcoming North Korea expedition.

“Shark.”

Ppok!

“Send an avatar to my spot at the Association.”

Ppok!

Seureureuk—Shark summoned its shadow and shot out of the house at blistering speed.

The avatar, already remarkably fast to begin with, must have reached the office in under ten minutes, as Shark tapped Jung-woo’s thigh with ppokppok sounds, signaling completion.

That was when it happened.

“Sea Otter, can you swap my position with the Shark Avatar?”

This was it.

Heading to North Korea meant inevitably working in that distant land. Even if he went during the day and returned at night, he wouldn’t be able to care for Se-gi the way he used to.

Beyond that, if he tried to maintain his commute schedule, he wouldn’t be able to respond immediately to emergencies that arose in North Korean territory—where anything could happen at any time.

Phase Shift could erase that worry.

As long as he set the pinpoints, he could freely move between the Association, home, and North Korea at any time—essentially adding a utility function for instant travel.

The range of Phase Shift covered targets designated as allies.

Jung-woo, the dolls, and the Shark Avatar were all bound under the category of the [Perfect Caregiver (L)] ability, so this condition was satisfied.

He had already verified Sea Otter’s ability control to the point of exhaustion, so he had not the slightest anxiety on that front.

This was the first test run to get accustomed to it.

Sea Otter slotted the magic stone into its shell, and Jung-woo watched the creature intently, brimming with anticipation.

It happened immediately after.

Ppok!

Kkeureureung!

When Sea Otter struck the ground with the shell holding the magic stone, a small bolt of lightning crackled and Jung-woo’s vision warped.

Wiiiiing!

The ringing in his ears was fleeting.

He squeezed his eyes shut against it, and the moment he opened them—

“C-Chief!?”

“Ah, Ms. Da-ye.”

“W-w-w-what’s going on all of a sudden…”

Jung-woo realized he was at the office.

The department staff, including Da-ye, were staring at him with their mouths hanging open.

‘Success.’

It worked.

He’d need to figure out the exact range, but with this setup, he could station Shark Avatars at key locations in advance, set pinpoints, and move between them in real time to provide feedback—not a difficult feat at all.

“Chief, seriously, what was that!?”

To Da-ye’s question, Jung-woo replied with a smile.

“Well, shall we say it’s roughly the ability to teleport to and from work?”

They didn’t seem to fully understand, but something still registered.

“…What is it? That perfect ability?”

Jung-woo read naked envy in his staff’s eyes.

It was, without a doubt, an ability that no office worker in the world could possibly resent.

It had been a few days since Jung-woo acquired his commute teleportation ability.

In other words, less than a week remained before the first step of the North Korean reclamation.

[The Korean Hunter community’s second expedition to North Korea is just around the corner!]

The media, which had been gradually warming its engines, now uniformly began covering the Association’s North Korean reclamation operation.