Han Maru walked slightly behind, his fingers nervously tracing the loosened knot of his tie. His eyes, sharp behind his glasses, didn’t see the progress. He saw the prioritization. The advanced tech was all for defense. For the fight. Mana Metal was too precious for civil projects; every gram was allocated to weapons, armor, and the Hunter Braces on their wrists. Comfort was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

It was all thanks to the Weapon Armory Guild’s relentless R&D. They’d synthesized Spider-Silk from the Elemental Tula, engineered mana firearms, pioneered the slotting of Elemental Gems… all in collaboration with some obscenely wealthy family. Which one was it again? He scrunched his brow. The one with the… right. The one the Azure Dragon himself worked for.

He mentally grasped for the name.Lee? Park? Seo? It was on the tip of his tongue, maybe Jung? A sudden, absurd image flashed in his mind: their Jung, the Metalizard, squeezed into a tiny business suit, sitting at a boardroom table. He shook his head to clear the ridiculous thought. He shook his head, giving up. He didn't actually know. It was just... 'that one family.' He was just glad he’d only thought it and not muttered it aloud. Si-eun would never let him hear the end of it—‘You don’t know the name of the group that built the Brace on your wrist? You idiot!’—and he got enough teasing about his tie already.

The Azure Dragon. The title was a weight on his shoulders. One of the Four Heavenly Kings of Korea.

Just like the White Tiger.

The memory was a physical ache. Baek Suho. His best friend. Now a national icon, a figure of unimaginable power. And he, Han Maru, had been the weak, anxious shadow, the “parasite” clinging to his coattails. The whispers had been a poison he’d drunk willingly, until the only escape was to run from the only people who had ever truly known him.

He missed them. Suho’s easy, booming laugh. Yoo Seol’s calm, silent strength. The promise they’d made.

‘We’ll always have each other.’ He’d been the one to break it. The guilt was a cold stone in his gut. The dog tag hidden under his collar felt like a brand of that betrayal.

He could only cling to the desperate hope that Yoo Seol was out there, safe and happy, living her dream as a veterinarian. She deserved that peace. She deserved a world far from Hunters and the friend who had shattered under the pressure. 

He was so lost in the self-recrimination that he didn't notice the gap widening between him and his team. He just stared at the ground, watching his own dusty shoes take slower and slower steps until they finally stopped.

“Hey, Maru!” Si-eun’s voice was sharper now, laced with a mix of annoyance and concern. It cut through the fog in his head. “You planning to move today?”

Maru flinched, blinking rapidly. “S-sorry!” he stammered, lurching forward into a clumsy jog to close the distance. He forced a weak smile for his teammate, the loneliness a familiar chill he tried to shrug off.

This is my team now, he thought, the realization a small, steadying warmth. My friends. Kim Bo-gum, their steadfast leader. Bae Si-eun, the protective older brother. Bae Onjo, their gentle-hearted healer, Jung their team mascot, and Woo Joo-In, who currenly in high school and their member who half hunter. After he’d burned his old life down, they were the ones who had given him a place. They were all on the bottom rung together.

Their destination loomed ahead: the Weapon Armory Guild, a citadel of steel and polished glass. As they approached the main entrance, another group arrived simultaneously.

It was their raid team. They looked immaculate, their custom-tailored gear already cleaned of any dungeon grime. They moved with the relaxed confidence of a job well done.

The contrast was stark. The raiders were a display of individual wealth and power. The miners were a uniform column of dust and fatigue.

The Raid Leader’s eyes found them. A flicker of recognition, then a slightly sheepish, apologetic wince. He offered a short, respectful nod. It was a professional acknowledgment. They had done their job; his team had simply failed to give adequate warning before the gate collapsed in the heat of the final moment.

One of the raiders, a woman with a sleek bow strapped to her back, offered Onjo a genuine, warm smile. "Good haul down there?"

Onjo, flustered, nodded quickly, her ears flushing pink.

Si-eun let out a quiet grunt. "A little more warning next time," he mumbled.

Kim Bo-gum’s face was neutral. He returned the nod with a curt one of his own. "The boss is dead. The gate is closed. The job is done." He turned, leading his team not towards the gleaming main hall, but down a side corridor marked ‘Resource Acquisition & Maintenance.’ The prestige of the guild gave way to the hum of industrial machinery.

As they reached a fork in the hallway, Onjo slowed to a stop. "I'll... see you at the counter," she said softly, offering a shy wave before turning towards a door marked with the universal symbol for women's facilities.

The men gave acknowledging nods. "Don't take too long, dongsaeng! Payday awaits!" Si-eun called after her with a grin before leading the others through a different door into the men's communal dressing room—a practical, tiled space of lockers and benches.

"Alright, switch out," Bo-gum ordered, his voice echoing slightly. "We can't hand in ore looking like we lost a fight with a gravel truck. And these need patching anyway." He gestured to a small tear on his own sleeve.

It was part of the Association’s three-suit system: one to wear, one in the inventory as a spare, and one always at maintenance being repaired or cleaned. A Hunter was never meant to be caught unprotected.

Taps on Hunter Braces summoned flashes of soft light. Clean, identical suits appeared in their hands. They began the practiced ritual of changing. Dress shirts were buttoned, suit jackets shrugged on, and the official, protective spider-silk ties were knotted with practiced efficiency.

Si-eun finished smoothing down his own clean tie before turning his attention to his partner. Jung stood patiently, the simple, store-bought tie around his scaly neck now looking dusty and grimy from the mine.

"Alright, big guy, your turn,” Si-eun said, his voice soft. He carefully loosened the dirty tie and slipped it off. He didn't add it to the pile for guild maintenance—Jung's tie was normal fabric, not precious, self-repairing Elemental Tula silk. A quick tap on his Hunter Brace, and the soiled tie vanished into his personal inventory space for him to deal with later.

He then pulled a clean, identical normal tie from his locker—Jung’s designated “spare”—and held it up.

The logic was simple, and had nothing to do with armor or orders: Jung was part of the team. And if the team wore ties, then so did he. Never mind that the 250-centimeter-tall Metalizard was naturally more durable than the three F-Rank Earth Awakeners combined. This was about belonging.

“C’mere,” he said. The massive lizard obediently lowered its head, its sheer height making the process a comical spectacle of devotion. With a focused expression, Si-eun stood on his toes, carefully tying the fresh, clean tie around Jung’s thick, scaly neck. It was a ritual. A promise.

“There,” he said finally, giving the lopsided knot a pat. He had to crane his neck to look up at his partner. “Handsomest guy in the guild.”

Jung preened, a deep, rumbling sound of contentment vibrating in his chest. He expressed his happiness the only way he knew how: through physical affection. The massive, 250-centimeter-tall, ton-weight lizard ducked his head and gave Si-eun an affectionate, gentle nudge.

It was the equivalent of being lightly tapped by a speeding car.

"W-oah?!"

Si-eun's eyes went wide a split second before the impact. There was no resisting it. The force lifted him clean off his feet, and he was sent sprawling backwards onto the tiled locker room floor with a grunt, skidding slightly in his clean suit.

Jung let out a concerned chirp, immediately leaning over him, his big head blocking the ceiling lights.

From his spot on the floor, Si-eun just laughed, the sound a little breathless. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay, you big lug. I love you too." He reached up and gave the concerned snout a reassuring scratch.

Once they were all in clean, pressed uniforms (and one lizard was properly, if conventionally, accessorized), Bo-gum gathered the folded piles of their dusty spider-silk gear. "I'll drop these at maintenance. You two, head to the ore counter. Onjo will probably already be there waiting."

With a firm nod, he headed towards a hatch labeled ‘Gear Maintenance.’

Si-eun clapped his hands together, a sharp sound in the functional space. "Alright! Payday! Let's go see how much our sweat is worth today."

Han Maru adjusted his clean tie, the fabric feeling strange and stiff against his neck. He followed Si-eun, and Jung towards the heavy scales and sorting tables of the resource counter, ready to transform a day of danger into a meager paycheck.