The Chick Class Hunter is Being Filial

Gu Shinhoo shuddered and brushed his shoulders as if shaking off a chill.

‘Seriously now.’
Both On Suhyeong and On Jurim—had they eaten something bad? They were spinning around like they'd lost their minds.
For someone like Gu Shinhoo, who'd found a twisted sort of satisfaction in belittling Jurim and the Hyeonak Guild to soothe his own petty jealousy and pride, this change was anything but welcome.

‘Is that what happens when you bring home an adopted daughter? People start acting like this?’
The way those two On men were acting—like the child was Jurim’s own flesh and blood—was laughable.
His own child? That’s rich.

Jurim didn’t even have a wife.
‘……?’
Gu Shinhoo narrowed his eyes.

‘Is there something I’m missing?’
 
****

 
Suhyeong sat down beside Guru on the sofa and asked in a soft voice,
“Are you upset?”

“Moogie moogie……”
Guru stuck out her lower lip in a pout, but then her brows shot up again as her anger reignited, her voice rising with it.
“Moogie moogie moogie moogie!”

Suhyeong gave a warm chuckle, as though finding her adorable.
“There are a lot of people like that out there.”
“Gwuwu saw dem on YouTube too.”
Even in the videos, even in the comments—awful people everywhere.

“There’s no need to deal with every single one. There’s no end to it. That’s why you don’t need to carry each of them with you either.”
“But if Gwuwu gets weally weally mad?”
Suhyeong got down on one knee and met Guru’s eyes.

“Now’s the time to learn how to stay centered. Right now, even a light breeze might feel like a storm. But when you grow up, you’ll get used to it. It’ll get easier—to bow your head, to swallow it all down.”
“Becoming an aduwt sounds hawd.”
“It’s okay to be shaken for now. That’s how ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) you grow. And in the meantime, we’ll be here to help make sure you don’t get too sad.”

Guru gave a small nod.
Then, as if something funny occurred to him, Suhyeong chuckled.
“Jurim’s always had a knack for that kind of thing.”

“Did Guildmastuh act wike dat even when he was a kiddie?”
“There was a time I wondered if he was fully grown when he came out of the womb. Tiny little thing—but already an old man inside.”
The word old man inside made Guru burst into a giggle.

“Now dere’s a waugh!”
Guru smiled sheepishly, cheeks tinged pink.
“Actuawwy, Gwuwu wanted to come here wif Guildmastuh today, but it didn't wowk. I’m sowwy.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“It’s jus’…… Gwuwu hoped dat maybe Guildmastuh and Chaiwman couwd get awong bettew.”
“……”

“Gwuwu had a fight wif a fwiend befoh.”
“Oh? You did?”
“It made me weally sad and my heawt hurted a wot. I got mad too.”

Of all hardships, falling out with a friend hit the hardest. It was back then she’d learned—how the closer a relationship, the harder it was to be hated, and to hate.
“So Gwuwu fought!”
It was hard to imagine this gentle little girl fighting anyone, so Suhyeong’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“You fought?”
“Yup! Gwuwu went wike dis and got weally scawy and angwy!”
Guru raised both index fingers to lift the ends of her eyebrows.

“Why you bein’ mean to Gwuwu! Don’t buwwy me! And den, my fwiend stawted cwying.”
“What?”
“And den she cwyed and towd da twuf. She said since Gwuwu became a Hunter and got popuwah wif oder kids, I didn’t pway wif her as much. So she got jewous.”

“Ahh, yeah. That kind of thing happens.”
“Dis is a secwet, but Gwuwu didn’t wanna fowgive her at aww. I was so so so mad.”
Suhyeong nodded with a soft smile.

“That’s understandable.”
“But…… when I heawd her say it honestwy, my heawt got aww warm and mushy wike a mewted marshmawwow. It fewt wike magic.”
Maybe it was because she wanted to fix the friendship more than anything. That’s what Suhyeong thought, and he gave her an approving look.

“So! Gwuwu wanted Guildmastuh and Chaiwman to tawk honestwy too.”
“……I see.”
“But it didn’t wowk.”

Guru let out a deep sigh.
“Maybe it’s foh the best.”
“Yeh? Why?”

Suhyeong gave a self-deprecating smile.
“……?”
Some words—before you can speak them—have to pass through countless steps.

You weigh the timing. Worry if it’s already too late. Try to predict how the other person will take it. Prepare for the pain if it goes wrong.
And as you go through all of that, reasons to stay silent begin to pile up.
You find yourself hoping that the things you don’t want to face will stay buried.

You lean on the belief that time will wear down the negativity, and the blood tie of family will remain. You start to wish for the relationship to somehow mend itself—like magic.
Just then, Guru’s eyes widened as she looked straight ahead. Suhyeong turned to follow her gaze.
“Guildmastuh……”

“When are you gonna tawk honestwy and come hang out?”
The man standing there, arms crossed and leaning casually against the terrace doorway, looked utterly uninterested.
It was Jurim.

In an instant, Suhyeong stood up, and the expression vanished from his face. His whole body stiffened like ice.
Jurim didn’t spare Suhyeong so much as a glance. Instead, he held out his hand to Guru.
Guru hesitated, but Suhyeong gave her a small nod of reassurance.

Still looking a little sullen, Guru stood up and walked over to Jurim.
“How’ve you been? It’s been a while,” Suhyeong said.
Jurim let out a dry laugh.

“Hmm. I think the last time I saw you was when I blew up half the garden.”
They’d actually met a few times since then—but only formally, as the Guildmaster of Hyeonak and the Chairman of Doan Construction.
“……Yeah. You’re the one who smashed all the garden trees back then. It really has been a while.”

Suhyeong fell silent as he recalled that day—nearly four years and six months ago now.
It was during the time when every media outlet had something to say about Doan Construction.
A cold-hearted father who sold out his son for ambition.

What a laughably sensational headline that had been.
“Father. Answer me.”
But the reason Suhyeong hadn’t answered Jurim’s question properly back then had nothing to do with what the public believed.

At the time, it hadn’t even been half a year since his beloved eldest son had died.
Day and night, the endless coverage of “the tragic family history of the Doan Group and the On household” had driven him mad.
Rumors circulated: that his wife’s death had been orchestrated by Suhyeong himself, that it was to remarry Chairman Nam, whom she was going through a divorce with at the time.

That Doan had survived its near-bankruptcy by offering up its sons to the government—and that in the end, only one of them had come back. All, supposedly, because of a greedy father’s ambition.
Every media outlet spewed speculation. Reporters hounded him with intrusive questions day after day.
They said the grief of losing a spouse was like bones crumbling, gobunji-tong, and the grief of losing a child was like one’s name being severed from heaven, sangmyeongji-tong.

Those griefs—those were Suhyeong’s torments.
And yet the world dug them up and shoved them in his face daily.
He was so angry he could barely function. He hadn’t been in his right mind for a long time.

That’s why every word that came out of his mouth back then—none of it had been sincere.
“Is now really the time for answers? Would you even believe anything I said? Or do you just want to pin the guilt you feel for Ijo on me?”
And yet, words once spoken—why is it they can’t be taken back?

“That’s a sufficient answer, Father.”
After that, Jurim never asked for an answer again.
He simply demolished the garden his family had once loved—and vanished.

“Well then, I’ll be taking Guru now, Chairman.”
Even now, Suhyeong hesitated.
Jurim turned away without waiting for a reply and began to lead Guru back to the banquet hall.

Caught in the middle, Guru looked back at Suhyeong.
He wetted his dry lips. There were too many reasons—too many truths—that barred his mouth from opening.
And in that silence, Guru abruptly halted and tugged on Jurim’s hand.

“What.”
“You hafta wait.”
“For what.”

“Cuz Guildmastuh didn’t go to pwe-schoow, so you dun know.”
“……What?”
“When a fwiend is makin’ a speech, you wait nice an’ slow.”

Speaking up in difficult situations is never easy.
But if you just give someone a little more time, a little patience—then even the most hesitant child will find their voice.