The S-Classes That I Raised - Chapter 536: New York (2)

With the desire to leave this place, I felt an urge to sprint out and shout, “This guy is a monster”—a monster wearing the shell of a human.

On an individual level, Hunters could be saints or villains, but in any case, they protected the world. Yet here, in a place where others would drive them out, Chatterbox was being welcomed. Surely, some must resent him—but to me, he was unquestionably the enemy of this world.

“Show them something spectacular!”

“Party! Party!”

“Party!”

They shouted in unison, all excited. To them, it was merely an entertaining spectacle—a variety show with an astronomical budget. I couldn’t blame them; I was the same. You can’t demand people see beyond what’s in front of them. So.

I put down my bag and pressed my hardened lips with a finger. Flashing a bright smile, I stepped out of the car. Shoulders back, spine straight, I stood as proudly as I could beside Chatterbox. Instantly, gazes descended upon us. My smile was relaxed, with a hint of bashfulness. Then, I offered a polite greeting—thankfully, I’d learned how to conduct myself at events like this.

Appearing alongside the S-rank party host as an F-rank draw was enough to capture attention. But if it ended here, I’d merely be Chatterbox’s accessory.

“Chatterbox’s popularity is incredible.”

I said lightly, admiringly, and took a step forward. Then I turned to look up at him. After all, he’d given me a special invitation and even shared his car with me, so people would assume we were close.

It felt repulsive—but it played to my advantage.

“With so many fans.”

Meeting Chatterbox’s gaze, I reached out, my fingertip brushing the edge of his white mask.

“Why not show your face? Everyone’s curious!”

I teased, glancing around. It was rude, but they loved it. Even now, they—

“Show it!”

“Tear it off!”

Some shouted, the rest, caught up in the excitement, joined in. They were curious—and it was someone else’s business. They didn’t care why he wore a mask; their own amusement came first. Especially here, where no one even tried to stop it.

I smiled at the crowd. If Chatterbox used people, I could use them too.

“Han Yujin.”

A soft voice came from behind the mask. Chatterbox—whose name suggests a chatterer—portrayed a prophet and remained silent. It boosted his image. If he actually chattered, it’d be obvious and dull.

When he finally spoke, the crowd fell silent. His voice sounded sweeter than it had in the car—enticing, even knowing who he was. A strong voice alone easily wins favor.

Chatterbox gripped my wrist, which was holding the mask. He tugged it rather roughly, then bowed his head and placed the mask’s lips against the back of my hand. As courteous as could be, enough to send shivers down my spine.

“I wish to reveal my face only to you, my dear.”

…What a madman. His gesture and words felt stagey. I forced myself to keep smiling, though I wanted to slap him.

‘It’s fine, this isn’t bad.’

I could already imagine the rumors that would spread. At least this would stop any nonsense about my invitation. He’d essentially announced that Chatterbox was giving me special treatment.

“This is an honor.”

I withdrew my hand smoothly and turned away.

“Shall we go in, then?”

As I moved forward, voices calling my name erupted. I smiled until my face froze. Yes—this F-rank might be the lead actor. After the male lead, I might even become the female lead’s understudy. If I were the King of Invulnerability, I’d grab Chatterbox by the collar and complain.

Inside, the noise from outside faded. The air was damp with calm. The lobby ceiling towered overhead, and staff stood silently like mannequins. Chatterbox, wielding an antique cane, passed me and walked on. I hesitated, then followed.

“I don’t understand why you’d go so far.”

If it were me, I’d have drawn a knife and attacked. Riding in that car, walking beside the man who killed my brother? He must be insane. The more I saw of Chatterbox’s antics, the more I regretted falling in with this madman.

“Such a funeral, King of Invulnerability…”

“Isn’t it delightful?”

A voice without humor replied.

“In your world, the dead are dressed splendidly. The higher the nobility, the more elaborate. Massive pyramids, multitudes entombed alongside.”

“Quite archaic, aren’t you?”

It felt like centuries-old history.

“I merely throw a festival for the funeral. Saving the world, destroying the world—it sounds like a grand purpose. But it’s—”

At the ornate doors, Chatterbox paused.

—personal. Some filial zealots perform duties mechanically, like weary salarymen.”

That made it sound banal—like clicking a mouse in front of a “system,” then stepping out for a smoke. Honestly, I’d come this far for my brother too.

“Then just invite a few acquaintances, shed some tears, and end it.”

“Trivial? A single world and you.”

Screech—doors opened. Chatterbox retreated inside, whispering so his face stayed hidden.

“The protagonist is Han Yujin.”

His figure vanished. The doors swung wide, revealing a vast banquet hall with tables, chairs, and simple food. Ten or so people waited.

S-rank and A-rank Hunters—none familiar to me. Someone approached.

“This is being broadcast live. If you prefer not to be, please leave.”

It sounded like a choice, but it wasn’t. They’d shown me the moment the door opened. Walking out now? I’d be a joke. “Backed out, huh?” Many would jeer. “They threw an F-rank among top Hunters! Must watch.” If I left, they’d cancel the show.

Recalling Chatterbox’s terms, I stepped in. All eyes on me.

“Hello.”

I casually greeted the Hunter I faced. Where were the others? I’d stowed my phone and bag. I’d grab some food, kill time, then leave. Cameras tracked my every move—my presence alone was entertainment.

I picked up a long, thin cookie. Palatable. Sweetness eased my tension. Was that pudding? It looked overly sweet, but I picked up the tiny spoon. I was a bit hungry.

“A fraud.”

Someone murmured. I’d heard that often. Ignoring them, I spooned the pudding. Too sweet, as expected. I heard hushed comments. Fine—let them talk.

“Shouldn’t we force him to hand it over?”

A loud voice approached. This would be interesting for viewers—popcorn-worthy.

“Hey, F-rank.”

“Officially I’m B-rank. Your news is slow.”

I looked up at the man standing before me. No refined high-rankers here; they wouldn’t start a fight. These frontline brutes were all the same—rude. I sighed.

“Show me your invitation.”

He snapped.

“And gold coins.”

“Mafia, huh? Sounds too refined. Back-alley thug, are you?”

He reached for me, grabbed my collar, and—

Crash!

He swept me off the table. Jellies splattered across the floor. Glass and dishes shattered on marble.

Not a care for the mess. Quite refined, indeed. My back stung—no favor used, just bruised. If I got hurt, it’d be that madman’s fault.

He stepped forward to where I lay. I sat up amid the wreckage and glared.

“Behave—”

“Pff.”

I covered my mouth, laughed, then burst out. He stared as if I’d gone mad.

“It’s just too funny. Hey, Mr. Fool, what were you going to threaten me with?”

“…What?”

“My family? All S-rank, they’d finish you in a minute. My business? S-ranks line up to assassinate. And my body—”

I tsked and tapped my ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) chest.

“As a high-ranking Hunter, you’re late to the news. Let me kindly inform you: did you think I’ve lived protected, unharmed?”

He probably knew—word had spread in China. I’d announced on the broadcast that my leg was so badly injured no potion could heal it. Smiling, I continued.

“You couldn’t touch my life. At most some violence. But I’ve faced whatever your empty head could imagine—greenhouse flower.”

He snorted.

“A greenhouse flower? Facing an S-rank dungeon–!”

“Sure, risk of death—but compare S-ranks tackling S-rank dungeons and F-ranks on E and D. Who risked more?”

S-rank dungeons are deadlier, sure. But it’s like asking soldiers in tanks to catch a tiger versus a child with a knife chasing a wolf. Tigers are stronger. But S-rank dungeons aren’t dangerous for S-rank Hunters—they’re in a bed of flowers unless a giant toad jumps out.

They have their struggles: pre-awakening hardships, underestimations like Yuhyun’s. But this guy showed no signs. Overconfident, reckless, thinking he was the best—a rookie S-rank.

“Oh, yes. Born into a good family, grew up strong, played captain all life, became S-rank, pampered to the point your brain has no wrinkles.”

I’d heard he was famous—naturally, a pampered fool would act rashly. Smart villains provoke subtly from behind, watching. Because fools like him exist.

“…This bastard.”

Predictable. I used a bit of Enjha—just enough to avoid serious harm. He grabbed me again and threw me like luggage.

Crash!

The table shattered, skidding back. The cloth draped over me. Splinters pricked my skin—no major injuries.

“A dispute among party guests requires only that you stay alive, so—”

Bang!

“Ugh!”

Under the cloth, I pulled the trigger. He was unguarded and took the shot. His feet scraped the marble—

Thud!

He slammed into the wall. The force wasn’t huge but enough for an unguarded S-rank. I stowed the pistol and stood, dusting off splinters.

“Gold Forge standard—multipurpose firearms accepting pre-orders next month~ F-rank stats, quasi-civilians taking down S-ranks!”

I beamed at the camera. Though it was a wildcat pistol, it packed B-rank power. Maybe Myungwoo will craft B-rank guns soon. Even so, civilians lack mana to use them. Sorry for the hype.

“This—”

“Further internal damage is dangerous.”

Two Hunters, tasked with Chatterbox’s security, blocked the furious man. Inside a building, it could get risky. I shrugged and turned away. Ouch, my body aches. Outside, hotel staff handed me my bag and room key.

“The elevator is this way.”

I pulled out my phone and headed there. Seeing the messages and missed calls, my forced smile softened. I was glad, but almost teary. It’d be a rough time.

I joined the group chat Yerim made before I left Korea.

[Hyung!]

[Sir, are you okay?]

[Brother!]

[Dad!]

[Yujin, are you okay?]

[Mr. Yujin!]

Yerim was the fastest, as always—despite the character difference. Meanwhile, Noah struggled with the Korean keyboard. A genuine smile returned.

[Yes, I’m okay.]

I sent the reply and stepped into the elevator.

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