VSP 73

But this was the first time he’d been called out so directly. After a long silence, Ryu Sehyun finally sighed and replied.

-Why do I need a reason to like someone?

“Ah.”

It was a perfect answer to a silly question.

The conversation ended as blandly as it had begun. After the call disconnected, she listened to the static-filled connection resume. Her gaze drifted to the street, where the midday heat still lingered, and she smiled faintly.

“It’s the season of love.”

It was the beginning of an intriguing and sizzling summer.

•••

Cha Dogyeong had a lot on his plate. Those who knew him often rolled their eyes, suggesting he was practically a minor celebrity who needed an agency and manager to handle his schedule. But Cha Dogyeong didn’t think it had reached that point.

He figured having people tag along would just be tiring, and given his position, where he inevitably became the topic of conversation, he didn’t want to give anyone unnecessary ammunition to criticize him for “celebrity syndrome” or similar nonsense.

Most importantly, he didn’t feel it was truly necessary. He preferred driving himself, and while not an official manager, Ryu Sehyun was there to filter out the schedules he needed to decline.

That day, unusually, he had a schedule with someone else. Another S-class Hunter, Choi Yerin. Since they weren’t uncomfortable around each other, the day’s schedule seemed to be wrapping up smoothly.

“Good work today.”

“You worked hard~”

The moment the job ended, Cha Dogyeong loosened the tie choking his neck and let out a sigh.

“You worked hard.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Cha Dogyeong and Choi Yerin weren’t exactly on bad terms. Though Choi Yerin, at twenty-five, was a year older than the twenty-four-year-old Cha Dogyeong, they were comfortable enough to chat without dwelling on such details.

“How about grabbing a bite?”

“Like some tabloid’s gonna jump on it.”

Cha Dogyeong shook his head at Choi Yerin’s suggestion.

Given how the media couldn’t resist injecting romantic tension into any male-female pairing, today’s two-shot alone would inevitably spawn articles about how well-matched they were, calling them a handsome man and a beautiful woman. There was no need to feed them any more fodder.

Choi Yerin shrugged her shoulders as if she felt no particular disappointment. While she and Cha Dogyeong weren’t exactly on bad terms, they weren’t particularly close either. Cha Dogyeong was the type to keep his distance from everyone, so there was no reason for her to feel hurt.

The event concluded on the second floor of a large commercial building. Since the parking garage was in the basement, Cha Dogyeong and Choi Yerin naturally took the stairs down to the first floor, feeling no need for the elevator. Upon reaching the ground level, a flashy neon sign suddenly caught Dogyeong’s eye, drawing his gaze toward it.

It was a claw machine arcade. Though such shops had proliferated exponentially in recent times, this wasn’t the first Dogyeong had seen.

His gaze initially lingered indifferently over the rows of machines, now far more colorful and sleek than he remembered.

“These things take cards now, huh?”

His eyes skimmed the “Cards Accepted” sign plastered on the shop’s glass wall. With a lighthearted thought, he was about to turn back toward the stairs when something familiar caught his eye. It was just as he was pulling his gaze away, ready to head back up.

A cute black doll with a wicked expression.

Inside the claw machine, it was the only doll filling the entire space, and it had caught his eye.

Where had he seen it before? He soon recalled it was the character he’d spotted in Seo Sejun’s car.

Ku… What was it again? It started with Ku.

“KuXmine.”

As if solving Dogyeong’s puzzle, Choi Yerin, who had also stopped to watch him pause, gave him the answer.

Cha Dogyeong turned his head around.

“You know it?”

“Of course. It’s famous. Though personally, I prefer ShiXMoX over that one.”

Choi Yerin’s preferences were beyond Cha Dogyeong’s concern. He didn’t even know what that Shi-something was in the first place.

“……”

Dogyeong hesitated briefly, but his deliberation was short-lived.

After a moment of thought, stroking his chin, Cha Dogyeong halted his steps toward the stairs and walked into the claw machine arcade. Though they hadn’t arrived in the same car, Choi Yerin saw no reason to lag behind and followed him with a puzzled “Huh?”

He opened the door and stepped inside, positioning himself before a machine he’d been eyeing. It was filled with Kuxmi dolls.

“How do you even play this thing?”

“What? You wanna try?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t the news say they made these impossible to win?”

“If you keep trying, you’ll get one eventually.”

Though his expression remained indifferent, Cha Dogyeong pulled his wallet from his pocket. Taking out a black card, he proceeded with the payment, a process surprisingly straightforward considering he’d just asked Choi Yerin for instructions.

He had truly begun playing the game. Choi Yerin stared, bewildered by the situation.

His imposing stature and distinctive face drew attention anywhere. Dressed immaculately in a tailored suit for the event, coupled with his immense celebrity status, people quickly gathered around him. And with the equally famous Choi Yerin standing beside him, the crowd swelled rapidly.

“It’s Cha Dogyeong!”, “Choi Yerin’s here too!”, “What are they drawing for?”, “They’re drawing for KuXmi… Cha Dogyeong…? Why?”

It was impossible not to hear the murmurs, but Cha Dogyeong paid them no mind.

The onlookers seemed to have concluded on their own that he was probably picking out a gift for his girlfriend. After all, logically speaking, that was the only plausible reason for Cha Dogyeong to be doing this.

Of course, as a fellow S-rank Hunter who frequently crossed paths with Cha Dogyeong, Choi Yerin knew it had been quite some time since he’d attempted a new romance.

Whenever the claw machine flashed noisily, its arm plunging majestically toward a prize doll only to weakly scrape its back before retreating, sighs of disappointment rippled through the crowd.

Cha Dogyeong paid no heed, relentlessly swiping his card again and again with each attempt. His retries showed no cooldown or hesitation whatsoever.

As if his sole objective were that single Kuxmi doll.

“Huh.”

Watching this spectacle, Choi Yerin shook her head in disbelief.

The Cha Dogyeong she knew despised being reduced to a mere spectator like this.

Yet here he was, utterly oblivious to the crowd watching him, completely absorbed in his mission. He kept feeding money into the machine, relentlessly trying to win that doll.

To cut to the chase, Cha Dogyeong ended up donating a whopping 50,000 won to the claw machine before finally pulling the doll out.

When he succeeded, the crowd that had gathered around erupted with cheers and applause. Of course, Cha Dogyeong didn’t even bother with a thank-you for the support; he just walked away.

In his hand, he clutched the doll he’d finally managed to win. It wasn’t even that big of a doll, so 50,000 won was clearly an excessive amount.

“With that money, I could’ve bought five if I’d just bought them outright.”

She knew money was just something that rotted away anyway, so she didn’t feel particularly sorry about it, but Choi Yerin clicked her tongue and remarked.

Of course, claw machines were fundamentally about that momentary dopamine rush, but Cha Dogyeong hadn’t exactly felt any dopamine; it had seemed closer to impulse.

The real question was why he’d suddenly felt that urge.

“Why would you need something like that?”

“I don’t need it.”

“Then why did you play? For a girlfriend?”

She knew he didn’t have a girlfriend, but she asked anyway, wondering if he’d gotten one since they last met. Cha Dogyeong shook his head.

“No girlfriend.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know.”

His response was half-hearted. She hadn’t expected a serious answer, but his lack of effort made Yerin choke up.

“Why did I pick it up?”

His tone genuinely conveyed confusion about why he’d chosen this, and Yerin stared at Cha Dogyeong suddenly surprised. What a crazy bastard. That was the look in her eyes, but Cha Dogyeong didn’t even notice Yerin’s gaze.

Dogyeong was sincere. Why did he pick this?

“If you don’t need it, give it to me.”

“No.”

He flatly refused her request to take it, so Yerin just pouted. What the hell does he want?

In the end, the problematic doll remained clutched in Cha Dogyeong’s hand the entire time they pushed through the crowd into the underground parking lot and parted ways in their separate cars.

“……”

Once in his car, Dogyeong stared at the doll he’d been holding the whole time before casually placing it on the passenger seat.

The doll, which had cost 50,000 won despite its size, sat quietly in the passenger seat as they headed toward Dogyeong’s home.

•••

Sejun’s mana had reached 170 since the last sub-mission.

Starting at 120, that meant a whopping 50-point increase. Of course, summoning Hoya alone consumed 100 mana, so comfortable management remained impossible. But it gave him a tiny, tiny bit more breathing room.

[A truly, truly tiny bit, mind you.]

“Shut up.”

Fundamentally, every single one of Hoya’s movements consumed enormous amounts of mana, making substantial action difficult.

If it could just reach around 300, the average for an S-rank Hunter, things would probably work out somehow. Then he could just chug high-grade mana potions, reducing the frequency of potion consumption and alleviating the potion addiction…