Return of the Sword God-Rank Civil Servant

An Su-ho stood quietly in the spotlight as the scripted press conference unfolded before him.

“We deeply regret the recent incident and extend our sincere apologies on behalf of the Grand Hunter Association...”

The speech was painfully predictable.

Regret for the incident. Acknowledgment of the hardships endured by affiliated hunters. A pledge to eradicate the remnants of outdated practices moving forward.

Jang Kyung-hwan, the speaker and Vice President of the Grand Hunter Association, paused as his aide handed him a mana stone. It was a first-star-grade mana stone obtained from the Dark Canyon—a boss monster's core, secured by Su-ho during the recent operation.

“...To demonstrate our commitment beyond mere words, I hereby grant this first-star-grade mana stone, obtained from the sealed gate campaign, to Officer An Su-ho.”

Upon hearing his name, Su-ho stepped forward, maintaining his composed demeanor. Cameras flashed incessantly as he accepted the mana stone, his movements measured and deliberate.

The scene resembled an award ceremony, almost comical in its theatrics. Something Su-ho was entitled to by merit was being presented as a grand gesture. But he showed no outward reaction, merely accepting the mana stone and retreating to his previous position.

Jang Kyung-hwan resumed the speech, his delivery polished but devoid of sincerity.

“We also pledge active support for retired national hunters injured in the line of duty...”

The script, unsurprisingly, was one Su-ho had crafted himself and passed along to Jang Kyung-hwan through Park Gyu-min. It was straightforward—essentially a blueprint of the reforms Su-ho knew the association would eventually adopt in his previous life.

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As the speech concluded, reporters raised their hands, their questions sharp and pointed.

“How exactly will these care measures be implemented?”

“Isn’t this just a one-time show of returning spoils to create a false impression?”

“How could the association claim ignorance of the national hunters’ struggles all this time?”

The barrage of questions was relentless. Reporters weren’t here to console or sympathize—they were here to attack.

Jang Kyung-hwan fielded the questions as best he could, but his patience soon waned. With a glance toward the moderator, he signaled for an end to the Q&A. The moderator, catching the cue, hastily took the microphone.

“We will now conclude the question session. To wrap up, Officer An Su-ho will share a few words.”

When cornered, there’s nothing better than hiding behind a shield. And for Jang Kyung-hwan, Su-ho was that shield.

It was finally Su-ho’s turn. As Jang Kyung-hwan stepped aside, Su-ho approached the microphone. The room, already buzzing with the sound of camera shutters, grew even louder.

After all, Su-ho was the centerpiece of the entire ordeal.

Before speaking, he scanned the room, briefly locking eyes with Jo Jin-hwi, a journalist from PBS. Then, he began.

“First, I’d like to express my gratitude for the interest you’ve all shown...”

Su-ho’s remarks were as formulaic as expected.

He hadn’t anticipated the situation would escalate to this degree.

Still, he expressed gratitude for the attention, stating that it brought hope for addressing the association’s shortcomings. Everything was framed as a collective achievement, crediting those who had shown interest.

Finally, Su-ho lifted the first-star-grade mana stone he had received and declared his intention to donate it.

“I will auction this mana stone through an open bidding process, and the proceeds will be dedicated to supporting retired national hunters who continue to endure hardships.”

The camera flashes erupted like fireworks, capturing the moment.

A perfect conclusion.

Despite having earned the mana stone through his own efforts, Su-ho’s decision to dedicate it to injured, retired hunters painted him as both selfless and honorable.

It wasn’t long before the reporters began clamoring to ask him questions.

All hands were raised, including Jo Jin-hwi’s—who had refrained from asking any earlier.

Their gazes met once again, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Su-ho was allotted three questions. He began by selecting two reporters whose questions were of little consequence.

“How did you manage to conquer the Dark Canyon?”

“Did you intentionally bring so many swords along?”

Inconsequential questions were easier to answer. And that suited Su-ho just fine.

Finally, when it came to the last question, Su-ho gestured toward Jo Jin-hwi. His selection appeared almost incidental, as though by chance.

Jo Jin-hwi stood slowly, introducing himself.

“This is Jo Jin-hwi from PBS.”

A simple introduction.

Yet no one in the room thought of him as just another reporter. Everyone knew Jo Jin-hwi was the journalist behind the special feature that had made waves recently.

The room fell silent, anticipation thick in the air.

If Su-ho was the one who lit the match, then Jo Jin-hwi had been the one to fan the flames.

Su-ho smiled as he spoke.

“Yes, Reporter Jo Jin-hwi. I read your special feature with great interest. It was immensely helpful.”

"It's nothing. I simply did what a journalist ought to do," Jo Jin-hwi replied with a polite smile before proceeding. "Now, let me ask you a question, Hunter An Su-ho. If the association fails to change even after this press conference, what will you do then?"

The question hung in the air, drawing everyone's attention. The room grew tense as the audience fixed their gaze on Su-ho. Some swallowed nervously, anticipating his response.

The conference had followed a predictable script so far—standard apologies, routine gratitude, and a carefully orchestrated show of goodwill. Yet, no one seemed overly dissatisfied. After all, the Vice President of the Grand Hunter Association had publicly apologized, Su-ho had expressed his gratitude, and he’d even pledged to donate the mana stone on the spot. On top of that, Jo Jin-hwi’s recent exposé had brought long-overdue attention to the plight of retired hunters.

The issue, it seemed, was already nearing its conclusion. It had run its course, and no one expected it to persist much longer.

But Su-ho had set up this scenario deliberately. His intent was clear: to plant the seed for lasting change—not through his own words, but through the voice of a journalist perceived as an incorruptible "true reporter."

"I can’t speak out myself just yet—I don’t have enough influence for that."

Su-ho had attended countless press conferences in his past life and learned one crucial lesson: words spoken without power behind them were nothing but bravado. Worse, unprepared statements had a way of turning into a poison that could come back to haunt you.

But Su-ho wasn’t one to merely lay low. He knew too much to sit idly by.

He surveyed the room, glancing at the faces turned toward him. Then, with a calm smile, he began his response.

"In a previous interview, I once said that my dream is the eradication of all Gates. That’s the reason I chose to join the Grand Hunter Association. While there are guilds and private organizations, I believe it is ultimately the government’s responsibility to protect its people."

After a brief pause, Su-ho scanned the room again, his gaze growing sharper as he continued.

"I will continue striving to eradicate every Gate in existence. However, no one can change the world alone. That’s why I joined the Grand Hunter Association, but I firmly believe that the support of the public is just as crucial. Now, I’m not asking for you to join us in clearing Gates yourselves."

His voice grew firmer, carrying an undeniable sincerity.

"What I ask is for you to continue showing interest and offering your support. By doing so, you enable me and other national hunters to take pride in our duty—to protect and defend. Your interest gives us the strength to carry on. Only awakened hunters can face the Gates, and it’s your attention that motivates us to keep fighting in the most dangerous and lowest places in this country. We’ll endure, and we’ll persevere. But we need you to stand with us."

With those final words, Su-ho stepped away from the podium. Standing beside it, he bowed deeply, his head lowered to reveal the crown of his head. The camera shutters clicked furiously, capturing the moment.

He had said all he needed to. Now, all that remained was to quietly fulfill his promises with steadfast determination.

After several seconds, Su-ho straightened, his composed demeanor unshaken. And then, a sound broke the silence.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The applause was unexpected.

All eyes turned toward the source of the sound. It was none other than Jo Jin-hwi, the journalist who had posed the difficult question. His applause was not something Su-ho had orchestrated—it was a genuine response to the speech he had just heard.

The solitary applause spread like wildfire, as other reporters joined in.

It was a rare and extraordinary sight: journalists, who were supposed to maintain neutrality and critical detachment, were applauding during a press conference.

Even Su-ho had never witnessed such a thing before. He couldn’t help but smile, his expression tinged with a hint of embarrassment. With a short nod of acknowledgment, he quietly left the room.

The aftermath unfolded as expected. Articles flooded the media, and public opinion surged with interest.