Kim Bo-gum stood behind him, a quiet observer. He saw the confusion on the kid’s face in the glass.

"Here," Bo-gum said, his voice soft. He gently took the tie from Joo-in’s fumbling hands.

Joo-in stood still, watching in the mirror as Bo-gum’s capable fingers—more used to the heft of a spear—deftly looped and folded the black silk. In a few practiced motions, he created a perfect, snug knot against Joo-in’s collar.

"There." Bo-gum gave the tie a final, slight adjustment.

Joo-in stared. The suit was complete. He looked… official. Like a Hunter. But something was still missing.

As if reading his mind, Bo-gum produced the final piece from his pocket: the Hunter Brace. "Your left wrist."

Joo-in held out his arm. Bo-gum secured the Brace with a soft click. The moment it fastened, Joo-in felt a faint, familiar hum through his skin—the connection to his Mana Metal dagger and its Lightning Gem, now stored safely in the inventory.

The transformation was complete. The boy in the school uniform was gone. In the mirror stood a Half-Hunter of the Seoul Mining Team.

A wide, overwhelmed, and incredibly proud grin spread across Joo-in’s face. He turned from the mirror to look directly at Bo-gum, his eyes shining.

Bo-gum’s stern expression softened. He reached out, his hand finding its familiar, comforting place, and ruffled Joo-in’s hair.

"Is it too tight?"

"No, hyung, that's not it..." Joo-in’s expression shifted back to one of genuine, profound confusion. He pointed at the dress shirt, then the jacket, then the trousers. "Er... hyung. If the dress shirt, jacket, and pants are already covering the whole body..." He lifted the end of his tie, letting it dangle. "...then why is the tie added? I know it's the same silk, but it feels... unnecessary. The dress shirt already protects the neck. What does the tie actually protect?"

Bo-gum froze. His hand drifted to his own perfectly knotted tie. He opened his mouth, then closed it. In all his years—through countless gates, monster attacks, bloodstains, and acid burns—the question had never occurred to him. The tie was just part of the suit, as fundamental as gravity.

He stared into Joo-in’s utterly sincere, waiting eyes, his own mind a blank, whirring void.

That... is a good question, he thought, a sense of existential dread creeping in. What does it protect? It’s too narrow to stop a slash. It’s not long enough to be a tool. It’s just… there.

"W-well," Bo-gum began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. He cleared his throat, trying to summon his leader's authority. "Consider that our guild owner designed this as a formal suit..." He grasped for the only logical conclusion. "...Maybe she thinks it's for the suit's looks? A suit without a tie is... kind of... not proper?"

It came out as more of a question than a statement. Inwardly, his thoughts scrambled. Is that it? Is it really just for aesthetics? Has Yuna-nim sentenced us to a lifetime of properly accessorized near-death experiences for the sake of formality?

Joo-in’s face instantly cleared, the storm of confusion replaced by sunny acceptance. "Ah! So it's like that!" he declared, as if Bo-gum had revealed a great cosmic truth. He gave a firm, decisive nod, now seeing the tie as a vital component of "properness."

Bo-gum watched him, the hollow feeling in his chest widening into a chasm. He had maintained his composure, but internally, a fundamental pillar of his reality had been kicked out from under him. The confident facade crumbled, leaving a man who felt vaguely foolish for never questioning the strip of silk he'd nearly died in a dozen times.

His shoulders slumped. He touched his own tie, fingers fumbling as if feeling it for the first time. It felt... pointless. Ornamental. A noose of pure etiquette.

The "Leader Kim Bo-gum" mode in his brain flickered, glitched, and temporarily shut down.

"L-lets go..." he mumbled, cheeks and ears still flushed with a mixture of endearing embarrassment and existential dread. He shuffled out of the room, Joo-in following eagerly behind.

They walked into the small, cozy living room where Joo-in's grandparents were watching the news. Bo-gum, his composure slowly reassembling itself, called out, "Halmeoni, Harabeoji. We are leaving!"

Joo-in waved enthusiastically. "We're leaving!"

"Be safe, you two!" his grandmother called back, her voice full of warm concern.

Bo-gum's hand, almost instinctively, found its place on the teenager's shoulder. A silent, unshakable promise passed through the touch.

Yeah, he thought, the simple certainty cutting through his lingering confusion about formalwear. I will keep Joo-in safe.

Even if his ears were still faintly pink.

He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze, then ruffled Joo-in's hair one more time. The action made Joo-in laugh, a bright, happy sound that filled the apartment.

Seeing that smile, Bo-gum finally managed a small, genuine smile of his own. The world might contain inexplicable fashion choices, but it also contained this. And that was a truth simple enough to build a life on.