‘Do you know the Maestro?’

Dark eyes stared at the laptop screen. Eun Ha raised both hands above the keyboard as if mesmerized.

‘Senior, do you want to meet him?’

Tap tap.

Even with just typing ‘Maestro’ into the search bar, the autofill feature generated a long list of related searches.

Maestro’s visit to Korea

Maestro’s personality

Maestro’s candid shot

Maestro traitor

Maestro’s wealth

The hands above the keyboard paused.

Tick tock, after a few seconds passed, Eun Ha slowly lowered her hands.

‘……Let’s stop.’

Yes, I decided not to care.

Even if I met him again, I could not expect any positive effect. Above all…….

‘I can’t assume that Baek Yi Joon wishes for a reunion with me.’

If the one who was once my colleague is still alive, and has even reached a position where people acknowledge him, then that’s enough. Even though I know his weak temperament well, it would be cruel to specifically reopen wounds.

What exactly do I want to confirm by doing so?

Do I simply want to feel assured that my choice that day was not wrong? Or maybe, I was momentarily swayed by the vague thought of a reunion with the past.

Pressing the delete key firmly, Eun Ha, who erased even ‘Maestro’, flopped down onto the bed.

It’s selfish either way.

Today, as she stared at the unusually high ceiling, she slowly closed her eyelids.

The past no longer existed for her.

Long ago, when she saw her mother’s severed arm, Eun Ha’s own past was also sharply cut off. Only now did she feel emptiness about that fact.

‘But if, just if.’

As if being drawn somewhere, Eun Ha opened her tightly closed eyes.

In the dark room with the lights out, the dark gaze floated aimlessly on the ceiling.

If I really met him again, what should I say then?

I’m glad you’re alive?

Do you remember me?

Is William… dead?

‘……I don’t know.’

Eun Ha closed her eyes again.

The night deepened.

A dark night seemed to have come only for her.

(This is a time separator.)

Hunter Association’s top floor reception room.

All the windows were covered with blinds. It wasn’t to block sunlight, as it was approaching midnight.

Clink.

The sound of a glass teacup hitting the saucer slightly stirred the previously still indoor air.

“First, I must thank you.”

Yi Joon, putting down his teacup, spoke. Opposite him sat the current head of the Korean Hunter Association, Dae Yoon.

“Thanks to you, I could enter the country quietly.”

Although broadcasters and newspapers were buzzing about Maestro’s visit to Korea, the fact that he could comfortably get into the car at the airport was largely thanks to the Association.

“It’s only natural hospitality.”

Dae Yoon, with a satisfied smile, raised his head to look at the man opposite.

Baek Yi Joon. Even though he had moved to the United States, he was one of the surviving 1st generation Korean hunters, experiencing tumultuous times. At the same time, he was the first Sclass hunter from Korea.

Even if he doesn’t hold Korean nationality now, that fact doesn’t change.

“To think the day would come when I’d meet a living legend in person. It’s an honor for me too.”

“You flatter me.”

“The flattery is. Ah. I have prepared what you requested. Grandma Kim Yoonrye’s beef soup, was it?”

When Dae Yoon rang the bell on the table, a door soon opened. A female staff member, presumably from the Association, placed a large bag on the table.

“Here it is.”

And then, she stole a glance at Yi Joon.

‘This is the Maestro…….’

Golden hair shining brightly under fluorescent lights. Her eyes were drawn to his elegant features, even though he looked like a mixed race.

When their eyes met, his ashcolored pupils curved gently. Behind her, the coughing sound of Chairman Dae Yoon was heard.

“Hmm. Leave us now.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

The staff member, suddenly regaining her senses, quickly closed the door and left.
“It’s late, but if it’s fine, have a spoonful. It’s been heated, so it won’t be cold.”

“Thank you.”

Daeyoon directly tore the bag and lined the disposable containers on the desk.

“But it’s quite unexpected. I never thought you’d want to eat something like a hot pot. It seems you were missing the taste of Korea.”

Daeyoon chuckled and handed a spoon to Ijoon.

Past midnight, a time too late for a meal, but Ijoon picked up the spoon without hesitation.

“So this is the taste.”

Ijoon, having eaten the hot pot, muttered softly.

“Eh? What did you say?”

“It’s nothing. The taste is really good.”

“It’s from a famous restaurant, they say. I didn’t know about it either. Do you usually like hot pot?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Ah… Is that so?”

The ashcolored eyes looking down at the hot pot in the container seemed to lower somehow.

I don’t know why he said he wanted to eat it if he doesn’t particularly like it. But watching him eat spoonfuls until the bottom was visible, it made me wonder if he really didn’t like it.

With the hot pot container now completely empty in front of him, Daeyoon opened his mouth heavily.