“Seoul Hunter Candidate Alliance? Is there such a thing?”

Meiling looked surprised, as if hearing about it for the first time.

I was walking down the streets of Yongsan with my squad.

Seo Yui had already bought the smartphone she needed. She’d paid for it with the money from selling the demon-world materials she’d collected back when she first joined us in the dungeon.

“Yeah. It’s a coalition of the student council presidents and vice presidents from the six academies in Seoul.”

“So basically, it’s not an alliance of candidates—it’s just a gathering of academy reps.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But hey, that was just the name in the game. Not my fault.

“So why’d they call you in?”

“They’re planning a campaign against the dungeon ban and want my help.”

“What? And what’s that got to do with you… Wait, don’t tell me—it’s because of that interview?”

I nodded.

“Then does that mean you’re going to become the leader of this movement?” Lumina asked, wide-eyed.

“Not the leader. More like a symbol.”

“A symbol… like a mascot?” Seo Yui added.

Meiling immediately snorted.

“Pffft! Hahaha! A mascot! They want Nam Yein to be a mascot! Hahaha!”

“Why not? You’re already like the mascot of Gwangcheon’s first-years.”

Her laughter died in an instant.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really don’t know? Among the students, they call you the ‘Little Princess of Darkness.’”

“WHAT!?”

Her face turned bright red.

Seeing her like that was oddly refreshing.

“Who came up with that nickname? Tell me, right now!”

“How should I know?”

“Grrr…”

Meiling ground her teeth furiously.

“But why exactly are the academy reps opposing the city’s measures?” Seo Yui asked calmly.

That single question drew everyone’s attention toward her.

“What do you mean?” Meiling asked, startled.

“Um? Am I wrong to ask?”

Seo Yui looked genuinely puzzled.

“People could die because of these transference incidents. Isn’t it natural to stop dungeon expeditions until there’s a solution?”

“Yeah, but why should the city get to decide that?” Meiling snapped.

“If someone values their life so much, they can just stay out of dungeons. Why stop the ones who want to go?”

“That’s why the city only banned candidates, not adult Hunters. The ones they’re trying to protect are students who aren’t yet strong enough to handle high-level monsters.”

Seo Yui’s expression turned serious.

“Life, once lost, never comes back.”

“Urgh… Lumina!”

“Huh!? Wh-what!?”

Startled by the sudden shout of her name, Lumina actually flinched.

“What do you think? Do you agree with the city’s decision?” Meiling demanded, leaning in close. It was half a question, half a threat.

“Uh, um, w-well, I… I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I think both sides make sense. Meiling’s right that we need the freedom to enter dungeons, but Seo Yui’s right too—life is more important than anything else…”

Sweat beaded on Lumina’s brow.

I finally spoke.

“To be honest, I think the same. Both sides have a point.”

“Huh?”

“What??”

Seo Yui and Meiling both turned on me.

“Yein, weren’t you against the city’s policy?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you say in the interview that banning us would only create new casualties?”

“More accurately, I said I opposed an indefinite dungeon ban. But I also think temporarily halting expeditions until the cause is identified and countermeasures are in place is inevitable. Like Seo Yui said, once life is lost, it’s gone forever.”

I looked at Seo Yui, then turned my eyes to Meiling.

“We exist in an in-between zone. Unlike ordinary people, we candidates can enter dungeons and fight monsters. But compared to adult Hunters, we’re still weak and inexperienced. In other words, we risk our lives—but only halfway.”

“Halfway?”

“What does that mean?”

Meiling and Seo Yui both frowned in confusion.

Even Lumina looked like she needed clarification.

“It means we’ve always faced the possibility of death during dungeon practice, even before these transference incidents began. Sure, the curriculum is designed to keep us in dungeons suited to our level. But deaths still happen every year. And once we graduate, we’ll be full-fledged Hunters—responsible for our lives, even if it costs us.

“There’s practically no difference between a third-year candidate and a brand-new graduate. But that graduation line alone means the city treats us differently. Until that day, we’re considered children who need protection. The very next day, we’re expendable adults.”

My throat was dry by the time I finished. I took a sip from my drink and continued.

“We Hunter candidates exist in that middle ground. We’re still young and vulnerable, yet already exposed to far more danger than ordinary people. That’s what makes this issue so complicated. Should we be protected? Or should we be given the chance to grow stronger? There’s no perfect answer—society never has one.”

The three of them stared at me in silence.

“But if candidates as a whole stage a large-scale protest, the city will have no choice but to act faster in finding a solution. That’s one of my main reasons for cooperating with the Alliance.”

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Meiling looked incredulous.

“So you joined the protest movement knowing full well the city won’t lift the ban?”

Of course not.

I wouldn’t act if there was no gain to be had.

But the gains I was after just lay in a different direction.

“Yein, you’re always thinking several steps ahead,” Seo Yui said softly, her expression dazed.

“I see now… we really are in the middle ground,” Lumina murmured, repeating my words, her head bowed.

Monday, after school.

I attended a video conference of the Seoul Hunter Candidate Alliance from my dorm room.

[Starting tomorrow, each academy will begin collecting signatures from candidates,] said Ao, the alliance’s representative.

[At the same time, we’ll recruit participants for Friday’s rally in front of city hall. When you collect signatures, make sure to provide them with information about the rally as well.]

[Got it.]

[Mhm.]

The others nodded one after another.

[At 3 p.m. Thursday, we’ll file the rally schedule with city hall. So by noon Thursday, I need each academy to report their participant numbers directly to my account.]

The meeting felt less like a discussion and more like Ao issuing orders.

Yet no one on-screen looked dissatisfied.

[Any questions so far?]

[None here.]

[Same here.]

No questions followed.

[Then that concludes today’s meeting. Thank you all.]

I was about to log out when—

[Ah, Yein, could you stay for a moment?]

“What is it?”

[I have a personal request related to the rally.]

Why not just say it during the meeting?

I glanced at the screen.

In that short time, everyone else had logged out—including Park Gwangah.

The speed at which they vanished was impressive.

“…So what is it you want me to do at the rally?”

With only Ao left, her face filled my entire screen, like a one-on-one call.

[I’d like you to give a speech on Friday.]

“A speech?”

[Yes. As the representative, I’ll be reading the formal statement. But I’d like you to deliver a short speech to inspire the participants.]

“You want me to boost morale.”

[Exactly.]

Ao smiled.

[No matter what, you’re the one who sparked this protest. If you speak, the participants will be all the more motivated.]

“Alright. I’ll prepare something.”

[Thank you so much. Have a good evening.]

With a bright smile, Ao logged out.

Staring at the now-empty meeting room, I finally closed the app as well.

“A speech, huh…”

I turned off my tablet and made a call through my smartwatch.

[Hello?]

“Eleanor. It’s me.”

[Oh. What’s up?]

“Just wanted to check if you placed that extra order with the rare-material Hunter we talked about.”

[Yeah, I did. But honestly, he didn’t seem too interested.]

“Really?”

[Yeah. He said stuff like, ‘Why bother me with materials this common?’]

“Tell him it’s because we trust him to deliver consistently.”

[I already said that. Then he agreed.]

As expected of Eleanor—ever the competent shop owner.

[He said he’ll have them by Wednesday since they’re not hard to find.]

“Good. I’ll stop by the shop then.”

Eleanor didn’t answer for a moment.

“Eleanor?”

[Not the shop—come to the workshop. I had the materials delivered there.]

“Got it. I’ll see you then.”

[Yeah.]

I hung up.

Wednesday, huh. With the rally on Friday, that gives me plenty of time.

Two days later, Wednesday noon.

I stood near the bulletin board in front of the main building.

In front of me was a desk and chair borrowed from the supply room.

On top of the desk sat a thick stack of papers.

“Thank you so much, Yein.”

Park Gwangah smiled brightly.

“Like I said yesterday, if you hadn’t helped, I would’ve been collecting all these signatures by myself.”

“Is the vice president skipping again today?”

At my question, Gwangah gave a bitter smile and nodded.

“She says she’s not feeling well.”

“That was her excuse yesterday too, wasn’t it?”

“…Yeah.”

“Doesn’t it make you want to snap at her?”

“If I did, I’d get socially buried—especially with the girls.”

“……”

I said nothing more.

So Zaza’s a girl.

“Thanks to you being here, we’ve collected far more signatures and rally participants than expected.”

I glanced again at the desk.

Over two days, we’d gathered about 120 signatures.

Among them, 38 had also signed up to attend the rally.

Some were angry at the city’s policy. Others just seemed to treat it like an outing.

“Let’s hope the rally passes without incident.”

“Don’t worry. With all the representatives gathered, we can handle anything that happens.”

True enough.

Iris and Toby, Ao and Jin Cheongryong, Zen and Rune—they were all strong and gifted in their own ways.

“Even if some hotheads get rowdy, it won’t be a problem.”

I nodded.

Adult Hunters might be another story, but student council presidents could easily subdue fellow candidates.

Even Park Gwangah, who didn’t look like much, had enough strength to be elected president. It was just that I’d never seen it fight.

That evening.

I headed to Eleanor’s workshop as promised.

From behind the closed door came the rhythmic clang of hammer on metal.

Even at this hour, she was still working.

I opened the door. At the anvil, Eleanor lifted her head to look at me.

“Ah, you’re here.”

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve.

I glanced at the metal on the anvil—broad sheets of plate.

“Making armor?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not. I kept working knowing you were coming.”

“The materials?”

“In the storage room.”

I nodded and headed over.

“There’s a red box by the door.”

“Found it.”

I picked up the small red inventory box and checked inside.

Good. Everything’s here.

With this, the materials were secured.

Now I just had to forge them into the key to solve this whole incident.

I left the storage room.

“Alright, I’ll be—”

“Wait.”

Eleanor reached toward me.

“What is it?”

“Um, well…”

Hmm?

She was hesitating—so unlike her.

Normally, Eleanor said whatever was on her mind without a second thought. In that way, she was like Iris… except Eleanor never made a habit of getting under my skin.

As I thought that, she finally spoke.

“…If you’re not busy, could you watch me work for a bit?”

“Watch your work?”

Eleanor nodded, her face stiff.

I see.

I understood what was going on.

She felt a craftsman’s rivalry toward me.

For someone like her to ask me to watch her process meant she was willing to swallow her pride just to learn.

That was why her expression was so stiff.

The problem was, my own item-making relied on my ability—not technique. I couldn’t really help.

“Just watching is fine. It’s okay, right…?”

As if she’d read my hesitation, Eleanor spoke again.

“If that’s all you want, then sure.”

“Good.”

I pulled over a chair and sat down.

Her face brightened immediately.

For about an hour, I sat there while she worked.

Eleanor hummed lightly as she heated and hammered metal, trimmed and shaped leather.

It was the kind of sight I could watch without getting bored.

“Phew.”

Finally, she put down her tools with a long sigh.

On the table lay sheets of plate, leather pieces, and various other materials.

“That’s enough for today.”

“Alright.”

I stood.

“Thanks for humoring me.”

“It wasn’t much trouble. I’ll head out, then.”

“Yeah. See you next time.”

She waved as I left.

Walking down the near-deserted main street of the Hunter Market, I suddenly stopped.

“…Wait a second.”

A strange thought hit me.

“If she didn’t want me to teach her, then why ask me to just watch?”

I stood there a moment, then found the answer.

Now I get it. She couldn’t bring herself to ask me directly to teach her. But if I watched, she expected I’d point out any mistakes she made.

Unfortunately, that was impossible for me. I was no craftsman.

If she asks again, I should probably refuse. Watching won’t help her anyway.

With that thought, I turned and walked toward the bus stop.

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