The news on the living room television had been covering Ho-jong-related stories all day long.

[The hero’s will does not fade. Just as there are those who remember and those who carry on the legacy, there were those who stood guard. Countermeasure Bureau Director Jin Ho-jong…]

[All terrorist masterminds have been taken into custody. Public attention is now focused on what sentences they will receive before the tribunal of law…]

[With the election now half a year away, political movements are more agile than ever.]

Setting the trap that ensnared both the Hogukdang and the Management Bureau in one fell swoop was already yesterday’s news.

Now in the cleanup phase, the news cycle was ablaze with speculation about what would happen next.

Jung-woo watched the news while folding laundry.

Or more precisely, he was watching the back of Se-gi’s round head, her mouth hanging open in a slack “Heh…” as she sat riveted before the television.

He had tied her hair into twin braids, and though he had only done it a handful of times, the flesh-toned parting lines running across the back of her head looked remarkably neat—a fact that filled him with quiet pride.

It was then that a smile crept onto Jung-woo’s lips.

The reason Se-gi was so uncharacteristically absorbed in the news materialized on screen.

“Dad’s friend is on again!”

“So he is. The Director uncle became a really famous person, didn’t he?”

“Yeah! Se-gi talked to the uncle, and he said~ Dad is the best!”

“Really? Then Dad should treat the uncle even better.”

“Yeah! You have to stay good friends!”

Se-gi waited only for the moments Ho-jong appeared on the news, lighting up with excitement each time he surfaced on screen.

It must have started after Ho-jong provided personal protection for her.

The concept of “Dad’s friend” was apparently so novel and entertaining to Se-gi that she would bring him up from time to time, and she became positively delighted whenever she heard news about him.

Perhaps he was surprisingly good with children—Se-gi and all the kids at the daycare seemed to adore Ho-jong.

‘Well, just hearing about it, I get it.’

Just from what Jung-woo could recall, Ho-jong was the one who had first introduced the “Tyrannosaurus vs. Mammoth” debate that had the boys at the daycare at each other’s throats for days.

Then there was the incident where the daycare teacher had tearfully bowed her head to Ho-jong, among other things.

From an adult’s perspective, it was rather exasperating—but to the children, wouldn’t it be fascinating and hilarious?

‘He really is a fascinating person.’

At any rate, as long as Se-gi liked him, that was good enough.

Thanks to Ho-jong being so kind to her, Jung-woo had also scored an easy Quest Stack, so it was a win all around.

That was enough about Ho-jong.

Now, back to the present.

Jung-woo sensed it was about time to change the subject.

It was a judgment born largely from hard-won experience.

“Se-gi. How about we stop watching the news and watch Biniping…”

Subject change: failed.

“But Dad, don’t you go hang out with your friends?”

Se-gi asked with sparkling eyes brimming with expectation.

A question about why, if he was friends with Ho-jong, they didn’t hang out together.

“Friends have to hang out together! If you don’t hang out, you’re not friends!”

If you’re real friends, then go hang out right now.

That was what she sounded like she was saying—and she was actually right.

Se-gi was, quite obligingly, taking a profound interest in Jung-woo’s social life.

She didn’t have to, but she prodded him with heart-piercing remarks like “If you don’t have friends, you’ll end up being bullied,” or “The teacher said only people who don’t cherish their friends grow up to play all by themselves.”

As if that wasn’t enough, she added that with Teddy Bear and Sea Otter watching the house, he could go hang out with his friend—but he had to come back and tell her everything they did.

Shin Jung-woo, age twenty-three.

Orphan. Unmarried father.

And, though he would summon every excuse in the book and refuse to fully acknowledge it: friendless.

So at times like this, Jung-woo inevitably found himself at a loss for words.

The truth was, Ho-jong wasn’t a friend but his boss.

And beyond that, how could he possibly explain to a child that even if two ajusshis hung out, the most they’d do was drink and commiserate about their lot in life?

Innocence, at times, could become a more terrible malice than anything else.

Once again today, Jung-woo was subjected to the public execution of his flimsy social life, and offered a pathetic excuse.

“Uncle Ho-jong is really busy. Being on TV means he doesn’t have time to play.”

“Can’t he play after being on TV?”

“That time is for Dad to play with Se-gi.”

“Se-gi is okay with it though? Dad can go play.”

“…Dad wants to play with Se-gi.”

“Really!? Then what should we play!?!?!?”

Se-gi sprang to her feet, her bottom bouncing excitedly, her cheeks flushing bright pink.

The second attack came flying in right after he had dodged the first.

A child’s stamina was a fuel tank with a full gauge, plain and simple.

Jung-woo was doing his utmost to be the best father he could be for Se-gi, but with this pattern persisting for days, the current status was firmly set to ‘not easy.’

A drastic remedy was needed.

“Want to play house?”

“Yeah!”

“You guys.”

Pang!

Teddy Bear and Sea Otter appeared.

The two still didn’t get along, but they behaved themselves in front of Se-gi, staring blankly at Jung-woo.

Jung-woo said to Se-gi.

“Alright, let’s assign roles. Dad will be the servant who does the housework.”

“Gasp! The servant isn’t fun though?”

“Mmm… since Dad is the grown-up, he should take the least fun role.”

“Dad is so grown-up—!”

“Of course~ That’s right.”

“Got it! Then today we’re playing Legendary Hero! Se-gi is the Hero, and Teddy Bear and Sea Otter are…!”

The game of house had begun.

Normally he would have joined in himself, but today he had a bad feeling about it—this was an evasive maneuver executed on instinct.

To state the conclusion first… yes, Jung-woo’s instinct was dead on.

Se-gi’s game of house was an endeavor whose difficulty scaled exponentially with her energy level.

On a day like today when she was especially fired up, the entire house transformed into a space brimming with unknown adventures.

The Hero and companions… no, the Hero’s companions had to overcome every conceivable hardship and adversity.

Ppok!

Nine in the evening. The time when Se-gi, her energy completely spent, finally fell asleep.

Jung-woo, covered in crayon scribbles from head to toe, looked at the two dolls sprawled on the floor in a disheveled state.

The reason those two pairs of button-like eyes seemed to harbor deep resentment was probably not his imagination.

But humans were a species insensitive to the suffering of others, and Jung-woo, satisfied that he had survived another day in one piece, gracefully ignored the dolls’ resentment.

Jung-woo smiled quietly.

“Good work.”

Pang!

The dolls were unsummoned.

He felt no guilt.

Of course not. How could he?

There was visible proof, wasn’t there?

Ttiring!

【”The child has completed the adventure!” Fierce friendship with companions! The reward after hardship and adversity! It was the greatest moment! Playing house is fun no matter when you do it! [Great Caregiver (3/10)] *Collect stickers to unlock skills!*】

The Quest Stack’s approval was Se-gi’s approval.

Anything Se-gi enjoyed was worth doing as many times as it took.

‘Should do this regularly.’

Playing house with the dolls.

Jung-woo had discovered an excellent recurring activity.

What was the busiest public institution in all of South Korea at this very moment?

If someone asked, one would answer without a shred of doubt: the Abnormal Disaster Countermeasure Bureau.

The Countermeasure Bureau was the organization that had exposed every last one of the Management Bureau’s misdeeds, pushed for its dissolution, and taken over all of its former duties to investigate and categorize them.

So what institution could possibly be busier than this one, which was somehow digesting a workload far beyond its designated capacity?

The Countermeasure Bureau employees were being worked to death.

Work-life balance at the Bureau was a thing of the past. Day after day, they carved out fragments of sleep to process matters that would doom the nation if left unattended that day, and the moment they finished one task, the next came rolling in—reducing them to groaning, living corpses.

It was during such a time, when everyone was swamped.

“Director, here are the documents you need to approve.”

“Well, what an honor. Our Clock-out Fairy bringing me documents.”

“You don’t work more than an hour of overtime either, Director.”

“I’m the Director.”

“I’m Born S-Rank.”

“So you’re going to bleed this old man dry for the rest of his life?”

“You’re in your fifties. That’s prime.”

Ho-jong grumbled as he took the documents.

Ever since that day when he came down from the mountain peak and was swarmed by reporters, Ho-jong had been in this state.

Perhaps he had planned to step down from all his positions and rest, just as he had before the regression—but once an inescapable board had been laid out before him, the man had become thoroughly haggard.

But what could be done?

For Jung-woo, it was unavoidable.

‘Beyond the organizational structure of the new group, the advantage of having the top decision-maker on my side is simply too great.’

Jung-woo had no intention of becoming the top decision-maker himself.

He was the type who found it far more appealing to occupy a position where he could freely avail himself of infrastructure while being guaranteed independent operation.

That was why Ho-jong had to remain the top decision-maker of the new organization, both on the day the Zero Gate crisis ended and long after.

Even setting that aside, it held true.

“Cheer up. What can you do. There’s no one else with the right aptitude to head the next organization besides you, Director.”

“Sigh…”

“It’s not like hunter-hunting aptitudes are common.”

The biggest reason the public was currently training their scopes on Ho-jong was his aptitude.

Taboo Code.

The overwhelming restriction ability that reduced all hunters of equal or lower rank within his domain to ordinary civilians had given citizens a sense of security—a failsafe against the very real threats of superhuman terrorism and superhuman crime.

The symbolism provided by the head of an organization wielding such power could not be ignored.

“Jung-woo, you’re going to hell when you die. Definitely.”

“If I told you I’d already been, would you believe me?”

“Go one more time. You can afford it.”

“That’s too much.”

Right after exchanging such banter.

Ho-jong let out a deep sigh and pressed his temples as he asked.

“So, are the preparations going well?”

“For what?”

“The launch of the new organization.”

Jung-woo nodded.

Officially, the national civil service system known as the Hunter Management Bureau had come to an end.

Its side effects had erupted in an incident that nearly overthrew the nation, so it could hardly have been maintained.

As the old saying goes, new wine should be poured into new wineskins—it was time for a new organization.

There was no disagreement on this point.

Ho-jong, too, had an alternative in mind from the moment he had first aimed to overthrow the Management Bureau.

‘A gate oversight body completely independent of political interests.’

From this point forward, hunters would be completely separated from the political sphere.

Beyond that, they would be separated from the national civil service system as well, transforming into a body that managed and analyzed gates according to legal principles through internal regulations.

However, since that was not a measure without side effects.

A failsafe had been put in place for the stability of the system.

That was the new organization currently being prepared.

Whether before the regression or now, this flow alone remained unchanged.

“In three days, was it?”

“Yes.”

Jung-woo’s smile deepened.

“In three days, the general assembly of major guilds. Everything will be decided that day.”

The board that would allow them to dig into gates in earnest was about to open.

The former Hunter Management Bureau headquarters in Yeouido.

Now stripped of its institutional function, with only the building remaining and journalists covering its downfall lingering about, today the streets were packed with crowds.

“The former Hunter Management Bureau headquarters is packed with a sea of people! Today’s nationwide major guild summit, convened by the Abnormal Disaster Countermeasure Bureau, is planned as an open-ended long-term meeting starting from 14:00 with no set closing time…!”

“Guild leaders are currently gathering at their seats! The owner of Busan’s Haemu Guild has just entered the building!”

The era of the Management Bureau had ended, but the era of hunters had not.

The world still groaned under the weight of gates, and throughout all those incidents, guilds had continued to manage gates and prevent civilian casualties.

So now was the time to put the past behind and look to what came next.

To determine that course, the owners of South Korea’s representative guilds.

And Jung-woo and the Countermeasure Bureau, who had taken the lead in stopping all the corruption and terrorism, were gathering in one place.

As this was the gathering that would determine Korea’s new hunter order, the media’s attention was hotter than ever.

Commentary programs analyzing who would attend the meeting and what agendas they would pursue had already been scheduled by each broadcast network.

At the very center of such intense scrutiny.

The owners of major guilds began entering the conference room one by one.

And they came face to face.

『Please take your designated seats and wait.』

Wearing a placard around its neck and standing bravely on the conference room podium was none other than Korea’s most famous teddy bear—Jung-woo’s summon.

One of the entering guild leaders tilted their head.

“Huh? Was that bear’s body always like that?”

For some reason, traces as though magic had been wiped clean were pitifully visible all over the bear’s body.

A struggle no one would ever appreciate.

They were the remnants of surrogate parenting.