# Chapter 59
Despite reports of delayed field schedules, the company’s operations were miraculously coordinated without gaps, proceeding like clockwork. Of course, since it was usually Support Teams 1 and 2 that collaborated with Assault Team 1, the impact on Lee Hwan’s team wasn’t that significant.
However, it seemed the criteria for prioritizing field schedules had somewhat changed. Lee Hwan felt puzzled as he examined the Assault Team’s field schedule, which he’d obtained through Kang Dongha.
‘This… there are three delayed Gates? And the Gates that replaced them are… A-2, 6, and 11?’
Even if he didn’t know everything, Lee Hwan was someone who retained his memories from before the regression intact. As he carefully reviewed the schedule, thinking about the field routines from his days in the Assault Team, the problem became clearly visible.
Lee Hwan noticed that all the replaced Gates had one thing in common—they were somewhat less profitable.
‘Hmm.’
He didn’t know how Gates were managed during this period. However, at least when Lee Hwan had joined, ‘safety’ was the top priority. Even if the indigenous plants inside the Gate hadn’t fully grown, even if mineral regeneration was far from complete, they would rotate through Gates according to monster regeneration timing.
But the schedule Lee Hwan was examining now was, how should he put it, different. Looking at the Gates assigned from next week, they all prioritized profit. Gates that couldn’t generate a certain level of income weren’t even on the list.
Of course, whether viewed broadly or narrowly, it wasn’t that serious an issue. Delaying monster cleanup wouldn’t immediately lead to disaster.
But the problem always lies in thinking “just this once is fine.” When casual attitudes accumulate and twist, even a large building can collapse in an instant. Especially with constantly unstable Gates—who knows what might happen?
‘This is too careless.’
Until about a dozen years ago, Gates that were ignored by corporations and taken over by the Hunter Association occasionally overflowed. The problem was entirely due to negligent management, and because of that, even now—after the Association had extorted donations to establish a proper system—people generally avoided the surrounding areas.
Lee Hwan somehow felt anxious that such a situation might happen again soon.
He furrowed his brow sharply and turned off his phone screen. The dense schedule disappeared with a swipe. In his mind, plausible scenarios and reluctant beliefs alternately surfaced and vanished.
Taesung probably hadn’t been directly involved in this schedule. Despite being part of the advance team, would he really have agreed to such an approach?
Taesung had always been clear and resolute on safety issues. He never compromised. He absolutely would not tolerate any risk factors related to Gates and monsters.
He proved the worth of any profit lost through maintaining a perfect safety record, and even recovered those losses later when he and Lee Hwan traveled through Gates together. Taesung’s advance team explored unopened Gates more safely and efficiently than anyone else.
But… if that were the case, the current Taesung should have been furious upon seeing this schedule, just like he would have been back then. This nonsense shouldn’t have been finalized and announced. Even for minor issues, such carelessness shouldn’t have been allowed.
‘This can’t be right.’
Kang Taesung wouldn’t do this. Lee Hwan chewed on his lip.
It was the weekend of that week when he felt that Taesung’s actions had clearly diverged from the past.
Since internal research institute matters were only known to those directly involved, Lee Hwan again felt the necessity of Kang Dongha. When Lee Hwan proposed sharing information biweekly, the guy readily agreed.
The Gates that Lee Hwan occasionally recommended still yielded plenty of mana stones. Because of this, Dongha seemed to view him as half golden goose/fake clairvoyant and half suicide bomber.
In a private room at a bar Kang Dongha frequented, Lee Hwan once again heard unexpected news.
“They’ve created a new task force team collaborating with the research wing. I don’t know the details…”
“What? What do you mean, why don’t you know the details?”
“It’s mainly conducted by Team 1, plus there’s no information leakage, so Team 3 is out of the loop. Must be that executive’s doing. Seems deliberate.”
“Your workplace is the research wing, why are you snooping around the Assault Team?”
“…It’s not under my jurisdiction yet. That place is harder to infiltrate.”
For a moment, Kang Dongha looked wounded in his pride. Still, his relaxed demeanor suggested that, while Kang Dongying’s pressuring was annoying, whatever this was, it probably wasn’t bad for him personally. Of course, his father claiming the throne would be a better path for his survival.
Lee Hwan suddenly recalled Kang Dongying scolding his brother in front of him. He resembled Kang Dongha somewhat, but was a completely different person—so different that it seemed unfair to say they looked alike. Though their personalities might be similar, he seemed like someone accustomed to dominating in all aspects.
Dongha probably judged that rather than trusting his brother, it was better to rely on vague denial.
“What do you know, roughly?”
“I can tell you that, but in exchange, I need you to understand something.”
“…Tell me what you know first.”
He was trying to sneak something in again. Still, when Lee Hwan pressed him, the answer came easily.
“I don’t know if it’s the semi-awakening project, something supplementary to it, or something completely different. But it looks like they’re trying to do something with the Gates.”
“What?”
“A new doctor I hadn’t seen before joined that executive’s team, and looking at his past papers, something like this came up.”
With a swipe, the tablet PC pushed forward displayed an English academic paper so dense it made Lee Hwan dizzy. After flipping through pages filled with numerous footnotes, he returned to the first page and scanned it.
[Analysis of Gate Circulation and Transformation from an Immunological Perspective]
“…!”
Though he wanted to read straight through the ominous title, he got stuck from the first paragraph. There were too many bizarre words that high school English couldn’t cover. Still, even without confirming the content, an ominous feeling spread from the introduction.
Lee Hwan couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen as he spoke.
“Send this to me.”
“Just take that. I bought it for this purpose.”
It was a brand-new device with the protective film still on its side.
Already shocked by the paper, Lee Hwan was so distracted by the tablet that he unconsciously bowed his head slightly, then realized his mistake as he was putting it into his bag, hearing a snickering sound. Lee Hwan belated frowned deeply.
‘How embarrassing.’
In fact, Lee Hwan knew that the semi-awakening experiment was related to the monster wave, and that’s why Kang Dongha was later beaten so badly his teeth fell out, but he didn’t understand how it was connected to the Gates.
Then suddenly, with this paper, it felt like the missing link had clicked into place.
“Stop nitpicking, this is really… well done. You did well bringing this. This… I’ll take care of ooaaack…”
“Could you either finish your sentence before eating, or finish eating before speaking? You’re not a teenager in a growth spurt…”
Lee Hwan, who had been trying to express gratitude with his mouth full, stopped speaking awkwardly.
Lately, he kept missing meals. When he strained his brain on an empty stomach while trying to maintain his robust physique, he often felt like his vital energy was being completely drained. Moreover, though he always consumed a lot of energy, even accounting for that, he was strangely feeling more and more drained.
Could there be a problem from gaining two new skills that weren’t there before? He needed to eat well, especially since he was about to enter a Gate alone.
Lee Hwan munched and swallowed bruschetta topped with octopus and salsa, then gulped down a blue-colored cocktail. Only after his mouth was clean did he speak again.
“I’ll read it and contact you. So, what do you need me to understand?”
Seeing him eat with such gusto, Kang Dongha picked up an appetizer himself, then put his hand back down as he answered.
“I couldn’t get that Gate.”
“What? Why?”
“I had set it aside in advance, but Team 1 specifically asked about that exact Gate, using schedule changes as an excuse.”
His appetite instantly vanished. Lee Hwan also put down his food and furrowed his brow.
“…How?”
“Kang Taesung has been keeping an eye on our Gate entry order extraction all along, so he’d know how to find out if he wanted to. We’re at a disadvantage, so rather than causing trouble and suffering losses, I cleanly gave up.”
This wasn’t something he could argue about, not just because Dongha had brought the paper. Lee Hwan briefly had an ominous thought.
‘Wait.’
What if Taesung completely blocked all Gate acquisitions through Team 3 from now on?
The Gates Lee Hwan would request in the future would mostly be places with strange aspects or remaining questions. Places where monsters suddenly overflowed causing civilian casualties, or places managed secretly for unknown reasons.
If he interfered with entry to all those Gates, not only would any benefits be lost, but accidents that could have been prevented would happen again just as before.
Wasn’t Gate C-17 exactly like that? Lee Hwan still felt like he could vividly see the wavering afterimages he’d witnessed in that cavity.
As Lee Hwan lightly tapped his fingers, he suddenly recalled Taesung’s eyes staring at him in the corridor a few days ago. Thinking about it now, those black eyes weren’t just fierce but also reflected deep stubbornness.
Perhaps that’s why his heart had fluttered when they faced each other. Because of the intuition that all his plans wouldn’t flow smoothly. That’s why his mouth had gone dry and he’d felt hot.
‘…’
At the same time, for no apparent reason, the memory of the day he was injured while exploring a Gate with Taesung also flashed before his eyes. The hot body temperature he felt in the wall crevice and the face that quickly stepped back to avoid his touch alternately appeared and faded in his mind.
He felt a vague discomfort at the emotion that couldn’t be precisely labeled as good or bad.
‘Is he… deliberately interfering with me?’
It was incomprehensible but not entirely unpleasant, which made him feel even more deeply anxious. Lee Hwan gulped down his cocktail. The strong scent of alcohol permeated beneath the artificial sweetness.
He was troubled that he wasn’t getting tipsy at all today. Lee Hwan kept his mouth tightly shut, fidgeting, and hugged the bag containing the tablet PC close.
If things continued this way, both finding the pieces of causality and preventing destruction would gradually go awry. And he already had so much to do.
He needed to prevent Kang Dongha’s rash actions, avoid Kang Dongying’s gaze, and investigate the research institute. He had to find the pieces of causality, prevent destruction, and also restore someone’s memories.
And now, perhaps, in addition to the already harsh life dealing with Dongha and Dongying, a strange new villain had appeared. One who was petty and mean, yet operated on a large scale—in some ways, a villain specifically targeting Lee Hwan personally.
‘Even games would be criticized for this level of difficulty.’
If he had to put a title on his post-regression life, it would have to be “Hell Fire Difficulty” or “Capsaicin Difficulty”—some filthy name like that.
Lee Hwan waved off Kang Dongha, who was snickering for some reason and trying to order more drinks, then frowned as he stuffed the remaining appetizers into his mouth and swallowed.
