That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”.....”

The atmosphere in the spacious office suddenly grew suffocating. Gun-Hee felt a profound sense of existential dread wash over him, anchored entirely by the sheer weight of Minjun’s non-answer.

What the hell had actually happened inside that dungeon?

Minjun didn’t elaborate, but his silence spoke volumes. It was abundantly clear that whatever lurked in the dark was something the Chairman was better off not knowing. If the strongest Archer in Korea—and arguably the world—looked at a threat and decided it was better left unspoken, what could a dying, mortal old man possibly do to solve it?

”How about we talk about something else?” Minjun suggested casually, effortlessly shattering the suffocating tension.

”...What do you want to ask?” Gun-Hee sighed, his heart feeling incredibly heavy. He knew it was impossible for him to retire. A Hunter only stopped fighting when they died, and digging too deeply into the Double Dungeon incident felt like a fast track to an early grave.

Minjun took a casual sip of his cold barley tea and looked the Chairman dead in the eye.

”Jeju Island. Can I buy it?”

”...”

Gun-Hee stared at the young man in an absolute, bewildered daze.

”Why are you looking at me like that?” Minjun asked lightly.

”...Why?” Gun-Hee echoed, his voice strained. He genuinely wondered if Minjun had lost his mind. ”Why on earth would you want to buy that worthless island?”

Yes, worthless.

Gun-Hee knew the word might sound incredibly harsh or unpatriotic, but it was the undeniable truth. Jeju Island possessed absolutely zero economic, residential, or strategic value. Why? Because the entire landmass was completely overrun by a colony of S-Rank mutated ants. No human could ever step foot on it and survive.

Decades ago, the island had been a treasured gem of Korea, vital for both tourism and national defense. Now, it was a parasitic burden. The government had to hemorrhage massive amounts of the national budget just to maintain a naval blockade around it—money that could have been spent on vital infrastructure or supporting the families of deceased Hunters. If the military ever stopped watching that island...

Let’s stop thinking about that, Gun-Hee thought, rubbing his temples. If he kept stressing over the Jeju Island crisis, he was going to die of a stress-induced heart attack before his mana core gave out.

”...But, seriously? You actually want to buy Jeju Island?”

”Yes,” Minjun nodded. ”I know it’s an incredibly unconventional request, but legally, it should be possible, right?”

”...I don’t know the exact legal precedent, but why? That place is a death trap. Countless elite Hunters have already died over there. The monsters on that island aren’t something you can just casually swat away.”

Gun-Hee looked at Minjun with a stern, solemn expression. The young man was talking about purchasing an apocalyptic warzone with the same casual whim someone might use to buy instant ramen at a convenience store.

”I am just asking,” Minjun shrugged. ”If the government refuses to sell it, then there’s no problem. But since you just asked me a highly classified question... shouldn’t you owe me a favor, Chairman?”

Minjun knew exactly what he was doing. In a world where entire cities could be wiped off the map by a single dungeon break, traditional fiat currency was losing its ultimate value. But land? Land was still precious.

Jeju Island might be a worthless, monster-infested nightmare right now, but in the future?

If Minjun could secure Jeju Island now, it would become his ultimate private sanctuary. He had just confessed to two women. Building a life with both Jin-Ah and Hae-In in the middle of Seoul would invite endless, exhausting public scrutiny and media harassment. But what if they had their own private island? It would be perfect.

And Minjun knew it was only a matter of time before those ants were exterminated.

He just needed to be patient and wait for the canon timeline to progress. He possessed the power to go to Jeju Island and slaughter the colony right now, but he purposely held back. If he cleared the island first, the government would immediately reclaim the territory and refuse to sell it at any price.

But right now? While the island was completely occupied and considered a hopeless, bleeding liability?

If the government realized they could instantly offload their biggest financial nightmare, gain a massive influx of cash, and—most importantly—secure the permanent goodwill and loyalty of one of the strongest Hunters in the world... they would be fools to refuse. Furthermore, selling it to Minjun inherently meant he would be the one forced to deal with the ants if they ever tried to leave the island.

The political pros vastly outweighed the cons, and Gun-Hee’s sharp mind slowly began to realize it.

”I will... discuss it with the top brass in the government,” Gun-Hee finally sighed.

It was a staggering request, but historically, it wasn’t impossible. Nations had sold off massive territories before when they became too difficult to manage. Russia had sold Alaska to the United States; France had sold the Louisiana Territory. Selling an uncontrollable monster hive to a demigod wasn’t completely off the table.

”Excellent. Then, I will take my leave,” Minjun said, standing up and stretching his arms. He had no desire to waste any more daylight.

”So early?!”

”There isn’t anything else productive for us to talk about anyway,” Minjun stated pragmatically. ”The only pressing existential threats to this country are the Northern border and Jeju Island. The rest? It isn’t that important.”

Minjun had absolutely no intention of warning the Chairman about the incoming, apocalyptic war between the Rulers and the Monarchs, or the fact that Sung Jin-Woo was currently incubating the power of the Shadow Monarch.

The best thing the Association could do for Jin-Woo right now was to simply leave him alone. Given enough time to level up, Jin-Woo would protect this world even if no one asked him to, even if it meant sacrificing his own humanity to do so.

What a headache... Minjun thought.

If Jin-Woo were just a random Hunter, Minjun wouldn’t care. But given their newly established relationship, Jin-Woo was practically his brother-in-law. If Jin-Woo vanished into the dimensional gap to fight an eternal war, Jin-Ah would be utterly devastated. Because of that, Minjun was fully committed to protecting Jin-Woo’s growth. The future Shadow Monarch was incredibly sharp in combat, but he was painfully naive when it came to politics, corporate influence, and the ruthless manipulation required to rule.

”I need to squeeze in a run through another dungeon before the day ends,” Minjun said, turning toward the door.

”Thank you for your hard work, Minjun,” Gun-Hee said earnestly.

”It’s fine. It pays the bills. See you later, Chairman.”

As the door clicked shut behind Minjun, Gun-Hee remained seated in his quiet office. He reached for a cigar, his mind echoing with Minjun’s earlier, evasive words about the Double Dungeon. Minjun had tried to make it sound like nothing catastrophic had happened, but Gun-Hee was a veteran. He knew there were forces moving in the shadows that completely transcended mortal comprehension.

As a mere mortal, what could he do? Nothing but wait for the mercy or the judgment of beings entirely outside of his control.

”Really... sometimes it is a blessing to remain ignorant,” Gun-Hee muttered, massaging his aching temples.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to carry the burden of protecting Korea entirely alone anymore. Despite his casual, detached demeanor, Gun-Hee knew Minjun was carrying an even heavier burden on his shoulders. The absolute best thing the Chairman could do was offer his unwavering support.

Jeju Island, right? Gun-Hee thought, pulling out a heavily encrypted phone. It’s going to be a nightmare, but it should be possible.

Meanwhile, Minjun had no idea what political gears the Chairman was turning. He didn’t have time to care.

As soon as he stepped into a secluded alleyway, he pulled a glowing, magical key from his inventory and seamlessly unlocked a distortion in the air—a gateway to an instant, private dimension.

What was he doing?

It was incredibly simple. He was going to grind. He needed to level up, raise his stats, and push his physical limits as far as absolutely possible.

Naturally, Sung Jin-Woo was currently doing the exact same thing somewhere else in the city, using the System to rapidly grow stronger.

And across the vast, infinite expanse of the multiverse, the other versions of Suzuki were doing the exact same thing. Even if their individual circumstances, universes, and motivations were vastly different, they all shared one undeniable, unifying drive.

An impending doom was approaching them all. And when that doom finally arrived, not a single one of them was willing to be a helpless side character standing in the corner, praying for a main protagonist to save them.

Because of that shared, burning resolve, in a completely different universe where the sun had barely crested the horizon... Suzuki in the world of Naruto had already awakened. His muscles screamed in protest as he relentlessly practiced his brutal swordsmanship katas, preparing his body for another grueling day of studying highly advanced Medical Ninjutsu under the terrifying, heavy-handed tutelage of Tsunade’s care.