Kim Geon's widened eyes trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.

For a moment, he was speechless. Then, glaring at Su-ho with venomous intensity, he growled.

“So, what now?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you going to report my brother as an unregistered player now? Fine, go ahead! You think I wanted to do this? You think I had a choice? My legs are paralyzed from an accident, my brother is a vegetable, and we have no parents or money. This was the only way for us to survive! What else could I do? Hell, maybe it’s for the best now—just report us both. At least in prison, we’d get some care!”

His voice was filled with bitter despair as he poured out his frustrations.

But everything he said was the truth.

Kim Geon had once been a decent Hunter, reaching level 50 and obtaining a personal trait. However, a gate raid left him severely injured and paralyzed from the waist down. To make matters worse, his younger brother—an ordinary person—was hit by a car in a hit-and-run accident, leaving him in a vegetative state.

The brothers’ lives had spiraled rapidly downward.

Having lost their parents in a gate-related incident years earlier, their savings quickly evaporated under the weight of hospital bills and daily expenses. Eventually, they were forced to move to the outskirts of the city, barely scraping by with irregular meals.

Then, when it seemed like all hope was lost, his brother awakened as a player—a miracle, but also their last and only chance.

For someone like Kim Geon, whose Possession trait only worked on players with lower overall stats, his brother’s awakening was a lifeline.

After that, he kept his brother’s awakening a secret, using his brother’s body to work part-time jobs and manage both his own incapacitated body and his brother’s vegetative state during the periods of possession.

Why keep it a secret?

There was no choice.

His brother, still technically a vegetative patient, was receiving disability benefits. If they reported the awakening, those benefits would be cut off. Furthermore, only he, with his Possession trait, could confirm the awakening. So, as long as he kept his mouth shut, no one would know.

They hadn’t done anything illegal apart from this.

Kim Geon had done everything in his power just to ensure the survival of both brothers.

As Kim Geon glared at Su-ho with eyes full of resentment, Su-ho responded calmly.

“Who said anything?”

“What…?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m here to help you two. So calm down, and hear me out. I don’t lie.”

Kim Geon was momentarily stunned by Su-ho’s composed tone. Then his brows furrowed again in suspicion as he asked cautiously.

“And why should I trust you?”

“I’ll stake my name on it.”

“Your name? Are you kidding me? Who the hell are you to think your name means anything?”

“It’s natural to think that. But if I lie, you’re free to report me to the press. That would hurt me too, wouldn’t it? By the way, my name is An Su-ho.”

“An Su-ho?”

“Yes. Haven’t heard of me? The Sword Saint, An Su-ho.”

“The Sword Saint, An Su-ho?”

Although Su-ho felt slightly embarrassed, he used his title as proof of identity—it was the clearest way to establish trust.

Moments later, recognition dawned on Kim Geon.

“The Sword Saint, An Su-ho?!”

His eyes widened in shock once more.

There’s no better tool for proving one’s identity and gaining someone’s trust than fame.

Su-ho didn’t bother hiding his renown and openly revealed everything to Kim Geon.

Eventually, Kim Geon accepted Su-ho’s sincerity and canceled his possession.

“Ugh…”

As the possession was released, Kim Gwon’s body slumped forward while the real Kim Geon, lying on the bed, let out a groan.

Slowly regaining consciousness, Kim Geon strained to push himself into a seated position.

Finally upright, he addressed Su-ho.

“…Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes, that’s all I needed to confirm.”

At Su-ho’s words, Kim Geon let out a deep sigh before using his arms to maneuver himself into a wheelchair parked beside the bed.

Watching him move with practiced ease, Su-ho remarked.

“You’re quite adept at this.”

“I’ve been living like this for years. Now, what exactly do you mean when you say you’ll help us? What’s your plan?”

Kim Geon’s voice was desperate. Even if the offer seemed too good to be true, his situation left him with no choice but to cling to any hope.

Su-ho nodded and said with a faint smile.

“There’s an old saying: ‘If you want to help a homeless person, don’t give them money; give them a job.’”

“…Are you calling me homeless?”

“No, Mr. Kim Geon. I’m saying I want to help you find a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes. How about resuming your work as a Hunter?”

“…What?”

Frowning, Kim Geon stared at Su-ho in disbelief.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“Do you see my legs?”

“I do.”

“And?”

“But your Hunter license is still valid, isn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me… Are you suggesting I use my brother’s body to raid gates?”

“Of course not. I’m suggesting you personally enter gates and resume Hunter activities.”

“…That’s absurd. Are you joking? If I could do that, I would’ve done it already. Besides, I’m over level 50. I can’t even access low-level gates anymore. How is that even possible?”

He wasn’t wrong. Even if he could enter lower-level gates, using long-range weapons to hunt rabbits or farm resources wasn’t an option due to the system’s restrictions on entry levels, commonly referred to as “farming caps.”

Su-ho, however, remained unperturbed.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a Partner Item?”

“A… Partner Item?”

“Yes. Every player has an item that perfectly complements their abilities. That’s what we call a Partner Item.”

“Oh… I’ve heard of it, but isn’t that basically like winning the lottery? Only a handful of players in the world have ever found one.”

Partner Items, also known as “Life Items” or “Companion Gear,” were rare items perfectly suited to a player’s unique traits. However, finding one was akin to winning the lottery—no one could predict which item would be their match.

“But I know,” Su-ho said confidently, “exactly what Partner Item suits someone with the Possession trait.”

“And how do you know that…?”

“Because in my previous life, Mr. Kim Geon, you used that very item to make a name for yourself.”

While it was true that his fame had been built on infamy, this time, Su-ho intended to rewrite that story.

He added with a reassuring smile, “I’d like to use this opportunity to give both of you a new lease on life.”

Kim Geon was speechless, a mix of emotion and disbelief crossing his face.

“Why…?” he finally asked.

“Why what?”

“Why now? After leaving us to fend for ourselves, why are you suddenly offering help? What’s in it for you?”

His skepticism was understandable. In the past, every time he’d sought help—from welfare centers to local organizations—he’d been met with cold indifference. Society had turned its back on a former Hunter reduced to a cripple.

Su-ho shook his head and replied softly.

“It’s not neglect.”

“…What?”

“I wasn’t neglecting you. I just hadn’t found a way to help you until now. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

With a warm smile, Su-ho bowed his head slightly.

“I’m sorry for being late. I should’ve helped you sooner. Please, let me make it up to you.”

It wasn’t just words—Su-ho’s apology was heartfelt.

While Su-ho wasn’t personally responsible for the systemic failures that had led to their suffering, as a civil servant of the state, he felt a deep sense of accountability.

Moved by Su-ho’s sincerity, Kim Geon eventually apologized for his earlier hostility, and Su-ho graciously accepted it.

“It’s all right. If I were in your shoes, I’d feel just as angry and overwhelmed.”

“…Thank you for understanding.”

“I’ll assist you with reporting your brother’s awakening,” Su-ho said reassuringly. “And of course, I’ll make sure that his disability benefits remain intact.”

“Really? Are you serious?” Kim Geon asked, his voice filled with cautious hope.

“Absolutely. I’ll handle it as a field-confirmed case, so you won’t even need to be involved. However, for your future Hunter activities, it might be a good idea to start wrapping up your current job at the PC café. But…”

“But?”

“Have you ever had issues with unpaid wages at the café?” Su-ho asked, just to be sure. It wasn’t uncommon for businesses like these to exploit their employees.

Kim Geon immediately waved his hands, strongly denying the suggestion.

“Oh, no, no! Not at all! The owner has been so kind to me. Thanks to them, we’ve been able to survive up to this point. Actually… I was wondering, if it’s all right, could I continue working there in my brother’s body until they find a replacement?”

Hmm. That was unexpected.

Most places like that would have at least some history of wage theft, but it seemed this wasn’t the case.

Su-ho nodded in agreement. “That’s fine. Suddenly quitting would be an inconvenience for the owner, so you can keep working there until they hire someone new. Oh, and for your Hunter activities, I’ll be introducing you to a guild. You should hear from them soon. The guild’s name is Nexus.”

“Nexus?!” Kim Geon repeated, shocked.

“Yes, it’s the only guild I’m personally connected to.”

“But Nexus? I’m not qualified to join such a place…”

“Don’t worry about that. Once you’ve started using the Partner Item I’ll be arranging for you, you’ll fit right in with Nexus.”

“What kind of Partner Item could possibly…”

“I’ll show you when it’s ready. For now, take a few days to rest. We’ll meet again soon.”

With that, Su-ho gave a polite bow and left Kim Geon’s home.

“This wraps up both the field evaluation and the Non-Awakened Division case,” Su-ho thought to himself as he stepped outside.

Filing the paperwork would be a simple task for him. In practical terms, the case was already closed.

Instead of heading back to the APA headquarters, Su-ho set his navigation system to the Nexus Guild’s main office.

“No one but me knows how much potential Kim Geon truly has,” he mused.

While Nexus would undoubtedly take care of Kim Geon out of respect for Su-ho’s influence, Su-ho felt that wouldn’t be enough.

“True redemption comes from rebuilding your life with your own strength.”

As Su-ho drove toward Nexus’s headquarters, he picked up his phone and called Kim I-gang, the guild’s secretary general.