Two days had passed since the dungeon ban on Hunter candidates had been announced.

That Sunday morning, I was browsing the internet.

“As expected, things turned out like this.”

It was chaos online.

To be precise, the communities of Hunters and Hunter candidates were blazing with activity.

The hot topic, of course, was the dungeon ban.

XX: Doesn’t this mean we Hunters won’t be able to enter dungeons either?

└ Can’t you read? It’s only for candidates.

XX: Yeah, but they’ll probably start with the kids, then eventually ban low-level Hunters too.

└ Those checkpoints at dungeon entrances? The mayor set them up. Back in the day, anyone could enter dungeons as long as they weren’t powerless.

Adult Hunters’ forums were filled with worries that they too might end up facing restrictions.

Meanwhile, Hunter candidate communities were overflowing with curses aimed at the mayor.

OO: That bastard Chun Jiwon should worry about his own piss leaking before he bans dungeon entry.

Amid the insults, there were also posts trying to analyze or predict the situation.

OO: The announcement said the first reported transference happened two months ago.

└ So the city just sat on its hands for two months?

└ And now they suddenly ban dungeons? Idiots.

OO: They’ll lift the restrictions as soon as they identify the cause and come up with a solution.

└ Then why didn’t they work on that earlier?

└ And will they even find a solution?

└ Demonology scholars say it might be some kind of sign of change, like when Gates first started leading into dungeons.

And the current top post on the community board was a video.

When I played it, my own face appeared.

[“…If dungeon access is completely banned until this is resolved, then we Hunter candidates will be deprived of the chance to grow strong enough to face monsters.”]

It was the clip from my PBC interview yesterday.

└ This is exactly right. Calling it ‘protection’ just strips us of the chance to become Hunters.

└ Yeah, instead of banning us outright, they should figure out how to let us enter while preparing for transferences.

└ The kid in the interview talks well.

└ But were there really such strong students at Gwangcheon?

└ Isn’t Gwangcheon known as the worst academy in Seoul, both in education and facilities?

└ Maybe the monsters in that dungeon were just low level.

Let’s see how far this little snowball rolls.

That was when I heard a knock at the door.

I quickly turned off my tablet and opened it.

“Hello.”

The person standing there made me blink.

A delicate, pretty face that most would mistake for a girl’s, long blue hair tied in a ribbon, narrow fox-like eyes, and a playful V-shaped smile.

“…What brings the student council president to my room?”

“I wanted to consult with you about something.”

It was Park Gwangah, Gwangcheon Academy’s student council president, smiling lightly.

“May I come in?”

I nodded and stepped aside.

After closing the door, Park Gwangah looked at me.

“Nam Yein. I saw you on the news yesterday.”

“Is there some problem with that?”

“No, no problem at all. The school approved the interview anyway. Like I said, I came for a consultation.”

“What kind of consultation?”

“Have you ever heard of the Seoul Hunter Candidate Alliance?”

“That’s the coalition of student representatives from the six academies in Seoul, isn’t it?”

“You’re well-informed.”

Gwangah widened one eye in amusement.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Because of the transfer incident, Hunter candidates have been banned from dungeons, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, the Candidate Alliance decided to issue a statement opposing the ban. A measure with no countermeasures in place is nothing but depriving candidates of opportunities. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“…That’s what I said in my interview.”

“Exactly.”

Gwangah nodded with a grin.

“The alliance representative called me earlier, asking if I could bring you to today’s meeting.”

I see. So that’s what this is about.

“If you don’t mind, would you come with me to attend the meeting?”

“…Alright. I’ll go.”

“Really? Thanks! Then let’s meet at the dorm entrance at two-thirty.”

Humming happily, Park Gwangah left my room.

“…Never thought I’d be going to a Candidate Alliance meeting while at Gwangcheon.”

In the original Gwangcheon scenario, the academy had little connection to the alliance.

Among the six Seoul academies, Gwangcheon’s students had the lowest average level, so their voices carried almost no weight.

The ones with influence in the alliance were the presidents of prestigious schools like Crystal, Martial God, and Magica.

Which means… I’ll have to see that person again.

A headache was already coming on.

A few hours later—

In the main building’s conference room, the presidents and vice presidents of the six academies gathered.

All familiar faces.

The pair in modified martial arts uniforms were Jin Cheongryong and Ao from Martial God Academy.

The twins in hooded cloaks were Zen and Rune from Magica Academy.

There were also representatives from Ucheon Academy and Daeo Academy.

And lastly, in pristine white uniforms, stood Crystal’s vice president Toby and…

“I oppose this!”

Even before the meeting officially began, a loud voice rang out—belonging to none other than Iris, Crystal’s student council president.

“Bringing that shady guy here won’t benefit us at all!”

“Iris, keep your voice down. If you keep shouting like that, every window in Gwangcheon will shatter. Not like this place has the money to replace them.”

Toby, sitting beside her, covered his ears and grimaced.

“Oh? So Iris already knows Nam Yein?”

Jin Cheongryong crossed his thick, muscular arms and asked, his massive biceps impossible to ignore.

“I didn’t want to, but yes.”

Iris scowled and glared daggers at me.

“I was only invited here. If it bothers you, I can leave.”

“W-Wait…!”

As I started to rise, Park Gwangah looked panicked.

“Please wait.”

A clear, melodious voice carried across the room.

I froze without meaning to.

“I’m the one who asked for you to be here.”

The girl sitting beside Jin Cheongryong stood and looked straight at me.

Her sky-blue hair swayed gently, catching my eye.

“I am Kobayakawa Ao, student council president of Martial God Academy and representative of the Seoul Hunter Candidate Alliance.”

With her hands clasped politely, Ao radiated the refined air of a well-bred young lady—very different from Chen Meiling or Eleanor.

Her straight-cut bangs and the long sword at her waist were exactly as I remembered from the game.

“The reason I invited you to this meeting was because I saw your interview on the news yesterday. As Gwangah likely explained, the Seoul Candidate Alliance is firmly against the city’s dungeon ban on Hunter candidates. That’s why we wish to borrow your strength, Nam Yein.”

“What do you mean by ‘strength’?”

“Are you aware that your interview clip is spreading rapidly across Hunter candidate communities online?”

“Is that so?”

I feigned ignorance.

“The discussions rejecting the ban are spreading quickly. And it would not be an exaggeration to say that your interview is the driving force. The opposition will only grow stronger. Which is why the Alliance wishes to use you as the rallying point for our movement.”

I understood.

In short, they wanted to make me the symbol of their resistance.

Using the fame I had gained online would no doubt help them attract even more supporters.

To be honest, the situation was unfolding in a far better direction than I had expected.

“Still, I don’t believe the city will change its policy just because of a protest movement.”

At my words, the expressions of the student council presidents and vice presidents shifted.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You say one thing in your interview, and now you don’t even plan to act?”

Iris spoke sharply, practically picking a fight.

“I’m talking about how we act.”

I met her gaze without flinching.

“Mayor Chun Jiwon was one of the Seven Pioneers. Think about how he lost his comrades—then you’ll understand the meaning behind the policy the city has enacted this time.”

“!”

Iris’s eyes widened.

The others reacted in much the same way.

“I see. So that’s it.”

Jin Cheongryong of Martial God Academy nodded, still with his arms crossed.

“Five of the Seven Pioneers disappeared after venturing inside a Gate. He probably doesn’t want a repeat of that, triggered by transference incidents.”

“That does sound convincing,” said Rune, the red-haired twin from Magica.

“So that’s why the city came down so harshly,” added Zen, the blue-haired twin.

For the record, Rune was the sister and Zen the brother, though their faces were so alike it was hard to believe they weren’t identical twins.

“Then, Nam Yein, are you suggesting you have another idea to change the mayor’s mind?”

Ao looked at me.

“Rather than simple opposition, I believe we must propose a solution or compromise that the city will find reasonable.”

“You don’t mean that ‘escort bodyguards’ nonsense you mentioned in the interview, do you?” Iris sneered.

“Even if we wanted that, the city doesn’t have the manpower. The only way would be supplementing from outside, and the cost would be enormous.”

Her tone irritated me, but she wasn’t wrong.

“Seoul City doesn’t need to shoulder the entire burden,” another voice said.

It was Toby, seated beside Iris.

“That’s what our tuition fees to the academies are for, isn’t it? To cover times like this.”

“So the city and the academies would split the cost,” Jin Cheongryong murmured.

“Exactly. Though whether Gwangcheon could manage its share is questionable,” Toby added, casting me a glance.

“Of course, what I said in the interview is only one possible measure.”

I swept my gaze across the room.

“That’s why we should first come up with a list of feasible measures we can demand from the city. The more convincing our proposals are, the more the public will support us, and the harder it will be for the city to dismiss us.”

“Then are you saying you’ll stand with us, Nam Yein?” Ao asked, as if seeking confirmation.

I nodded.

“Ohhh!”

“Now that’s reassuring.”

“Didn’t know Gwangcheon had someone this dependable.”

“Haha…”

Park Gwangah let out a dry laugh.

After that, the alliance meeting brainstormed three more measures, and together we drafted a protest statement that included all our demands.

“Then we’ll move forward with our campaign based on this statement.”

Ao rose to her feet, setting the tablet with the document down on the table.

“That concludes today’s meeting. I’d like to thank Gwangah for providing the venue, and Yein for so readily agreeing to support us.”

The presidents and vice presidents applauded.

Iris alone averted her head, arms crossed, refusing to clap.

A few minutes later, after the students from the other academies had left, Park Gwangah turned to me with a bright smile.

“Thank you so much. Thanks to you, I managed to save face as part of the alliance.”

“Glad I could help. But I have one question.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“All the other academies brought both their president and vice president, but I didn’t see ours.”

“Ah…”

The smile faded from Gwangah’s face.

“Well… Zaza went out.”

“…Excuse me?”

“She said she couldn’t waste her weekend at some meeting, so she left early this morning. She’s probably at karaoke right now. Hahaha.”

The same dry laugh from earlier slipped out again.

So the name is Zaza, huh.

In the game, Gwangcheon Academy’s vice president was nothing more than a MacGuffin.

She dumped all her work on Park Gwangah, was always off playing somewhere, and practically never appeared. Her name and grade weren’t even revealed—she didn’t even have a model or illustration.

But now that this world is real, I’ll meet her sooner or later. At least I’ve learned her name.

Not that knowing her name or face changes anything. True to her MacGuffin role, she was irrelevant to the scenario.

Still, for a gamer who loved Latesai, uncovering information the game never revealed was exhilarating.

“If our protest gains traction, maybe Gwangcheon will finally have some influence in the alliance.”

Gwangah gave a wry smile.

Unfortunately, that’s impossible. Chun Jiwon won’t overturn his decision over something that small.

The proposals we agreed on today were logical, yes—but they wouldn’t sway Chun Jiwon.

This situation was something that never existed in the game. A bug, so to speak.

And bugs don’t have strategy guides.

But just because there’s no guide doesn’t mean I don’t know the key.

What mattered was setting the stage so that the key could actually be used.

Just then, my smartwatch buzzed.

A call from Meiling.

[Where are you?]

“In the main building conference room.”

[What? Why are you there?]

“I had something to take care of. What do you want?”

[Seo Yui doesn’t have a phone, so I’m taking her to buy one. You’re coming with us.]

Was that an order? I thought wryly, but I didn’t have any plans left for the day anyway.

“Alright. I’ll meet you at the front gate.”

As I ended the call, Park Gwangah, who had been watching, waved a hand as if to say I’ll go on ahead.

I dipped my head slightly in reply.

(End of Chapter)

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