They went to the GS25.
Nine people and three entities and one work bag with eyes in the front pocket.
The Friday evening clerk was a twenty year old university student named Cho Hyun who had been working the evening shift for three months and had developed what he privately called The System for managing the regular customer in the janitor uniform and his companions.
The System had three rules.
Rule one: Do not ask about the companions. Not the floating ones, not the ones with the red eyes, not the ones in the bag pocket, not the tall dramatic one in the expensive jacket who looked like he belonged on a poster and instead spent his evenings in a GS25 in Mapo-gu looking like he was processing something.
Rule two: Have the honey butter chips accessible. They always wanted honey butter chips.
Rule three: Ten thousand won minimum purchase. State this clearly. Move on.
The System had worked well for three months.
Tonight The System encountered a stress test.
Nine people walked in.
Cho Hyun looked at the nine people.
Then at the three entities.
Then at the bag pocket eyes.
Then at the wall behind his register.
He took a breath.
"Ten thousand won minimum purchase," he said.
"Nine of us," said Han-Ho.
"Per person minimum or—"
"Just the usual," said Han-Ho.
Cho Hyun looked at nine people fanning out through his store.
He updated The System.
Rule four: When there are nine of them just let it happen.
Yoo Chae-Won had never been in a GS25 for personal shopping.
She had been in GS25 locations for promotional events. She had a HUNTER CLEAN display in fourteen GS25 locations across the country. She had been photographed in a GS25 for a campaign that had tested well in the eighteen to thirty four demographic.
She had never just walked in and browsed.
She stood in the snack aisle.
Looked at the chips.
Looked at the honey butter chips that Kjor and Moru were already reaching for with the practiced efficiency of beings that have found something good and have committed to it.
She picked up the honey butter chips.
Looked at them.
"Are these actually good," she said, to Kjor.
"They are extraordinary," said Kjor.
"I have a snack brand deal."
"With what product."
"HUNTER CRUNCH. Protein chips. Very healthy. Slightly cardboard in texture."
Kjor looked at the honey butter chips.
Looked at Yoo Chae-Won.
"These are better," said Kjor, with the diplomatic honesty of something nine thousand years old.
"Than my brand deal product."
"Significantly."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at the honey butter chips.
Opened them.
Ate one.
Looked at the chip.
Looked at Kjor.
"That's," she said.
"I know," said Kjor.
"That's genuinely—"
"I know."
"Why is it so—"
"Honey butter does something to things," said Kjor. "Master says this. It is accurate."
Yoo Chae-Won ate another chip.
Looked at her phone.
Looked at the HUNTER CRUNCH brand deal contract in her mental filing system.
Made a decision she was going to have complicated feelings about later.
Bought two bags.
Baek Sung-Il and Oh Kyung-Soo stood at the refrigerated section.
Baek Sung-Il was looking at the triangle kimbap.
"Han-Ho gets the tuna mayo," said Oh Kyung-Soo.
"You know his order."
"I've been paying attention."
Baek Sung-Il picked up a tuna mayo triangle kimbap. Looked at it. Put it back. Picked up a different one.
"Sung-Il," said Oh Kyung-Soo.
"What."
"Are you going to eat the kimbap or are you going to have feelings at it."
"I'm deciding."
"It's triangle kimbap."
"I hit it with everything," said Baek Sung-Il, very quietly.
Oh Kyung-Soo looked at him.
"I know," said Oh Kyung-Soo.
"Full output. Dam-destroying output."
"I know."
"Ceiling fan."
"Sung-Il."
"I just need a moment with the kimbap."
Oh Kyung-Soo was quiet for a moment.
"The kimbap didn't judge you," he said.
"No," said Baek Sung-Il. "The kimbap has no opinion about my output."
"The kimbap is a safe space."
"Yes."
Oh Kyung-Soo picked up a tuna mayo for himself.
They stood at the refrigerated section in a comfortable professional silence that thirty years of shared Hunter history had made possible.
"Tomorrow morning," said Baek Sung-Il. "Seven AM. East bank access point."
"Yes."
"I'm going to help with the cleanup."
"I know."
"Not because it makes up for anything."
"No."
"Just because the work needs doing."
Oh Kyung-Soo looked at him.
"You've been listening," said Oh Kyung-Soo.
"I have," said Baek Sung-Il.
They took their kimbap to the register.
Lee Soo-Bin was in the candy aisle.
Not because he wanted candy. Because he needed a moment alone and the candy aisle was the emptiest section.
He was twenty six years old. He had Re-Awakened once at twenty two. He had the second highest mana output in Korea and forty three million followers and he had been behind a structural column tonight because his Hunter instincts had generated a response that had never appeared before which was simply: no.
And that was fine.
That was actually fine.
He had been behind the column and he had assessed the situation and his assessment had been accurate: he could not contribute here in the way he contributed to other situations. No. Not applicable. Stand down.
That was not failure.
That was information.
He understood that now.
He picked up a small bag of something without looking at what it was.
Walked to the register.
Placed it on the counter.
Cho Hyun scanned it.
"These are candles," said Cho Hyun.
Lee Soo-Bin looked at the bag.
It was candles.
He had picked up candles from the GS25 lifestyle section that existed in the corner near the register for reasons that probably made sense to someone.
"I know," said Lee Soo-Bin.
"Okay," said Cho Hyun.
Lee Soo-Bin paid for the candles.
Stood to the side while the others completed their purchases.
Jin Tae-Yang came to stand next to him.
Looked at the candles.
Looked at Lee Soo-Bin.
Said nothing.
Which was exactly correct.
"Tomorrow," said Lee Soo-Bin. "Seven AM."
"Seven AM," said Jin Tae-Yang.
Outside on the plastic stools.
Nine people and three entities arranged across the available seating and the overflow ground space with the organic efficiency of a group that has accepted its current composition and is no longer questioning the logistics.
Han-Ho ate his tuna mayo triangle kimbap.
Moru was on his shoulder watching him eat with the supervisory attention of something that has appointed itself responsible for Han-Ho's nutritional welfare.
"No vegetables," said Moru.
"I have a green onion situation scheduled for tomorrow," said Han-Ho.
"You have said this for nine days."
"I mean it more today."
"Master—"
"I'm going to buy a green onion tomorrow. Before the seven AM cleanup start. I'll stop at the GS25 on the way."
Moru looked at him.
"Promise," said Han-Ho.
Moru considered the weight of this.
"I will hold you to that," said Moru.
"I know you will."
Kjor, on the other shoulder, was on his second bag of honey butter chips and was showing no signs of stopping. Kjor had also acquired, at some point during the GS25 visit, a small plush phone charm in the shape of a bear which he had attached to Han-Ho's work bag strap without asking.
Han-Ho had noticed.
Had looked at it.
Had said nothing.
Because it was a small bear plush on a bag strap and some things were not worth the conversation.
River was on the table between the plastic stools eating a chip fragment that Kjor had broken off and passed down and looking at the evening city with the wide eyes of something that had been in the world for two weeks and found it consistently extraordinary.
"The city is very bright at night," said River.
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
"All the lights."
"Yes."
"Where do the lights come from."
"Electricity."
"What is electricity."
"Energy. Moving through wires. Powers the lights."
River thought about this.
"Like mana," said River.
"Similar yes."
"But for lights."
"And other things."
"Extraordinary," said River.
Han-Ho ate his kimbap.
The six S-Rank Hunters arranged around the GS25 exterior ate their respective purchases with the particular energy of people who have had a significant Friday and are processing it through snacks.
Oh Kyung-Soo ate his triangle kimbap.
Baek Sung-Il ate his triangle kimbap.
Yoo Chae-Won ate honey butter chips and was very quiet about how good they were because she had a brand deal situation to think through.
Jin Tae-Yang ate something.
Song Mi-Rae ate something.
Lee Soo-Bin had the candles. He had not addressed the candle situation yet. He was going to address it at home later when there was privacy.
Min-Seo sat next to Han-Ho.
He had a triangle kimbap. He was eating it. He was also looking at the city with the expression of a man who has been looking at the city from this specific perspective for nine days and has developed opinions about it.
Specifically about the way the city looks from a plastic stool outside a GS25 in the late evening when you have spent the day doing something significant and have arrived at the GS25 at the end of it.
It looked like a city that had no idea what had just happened to it.
Or rather it had a general idea — emergency alerts, evacuation zones, something large in Yeouido — but no specific understanding of the mechanism. No understanding of the man eating tuna mayo triangle kimbap on a plastic stool.
"Min-Seo," said Han-Ho.
"Yes."
"Your apartment."
"What about it."
"In Seocho. You have an apartment."
"Yes."
"You have been on my couch for nine days."
Min-Seo looked at his kimbap.
"Yes," he said.
"You have your own apartment."
"It's very quiet," said Min-Seo.
Han-Ho looked at him.
Min-Seo looked at his kimbap.
"The apartment is quiet," said Min-Seo. "It's a good apartment. Nice building. Good location. I've lived there for three years." He paused. "It's quiet."
"Quiet is good," said Han-Ho.
"Yes," said Min-Seo. "Quiet is good."
A pause.
"It's very quiet though," said Min-Seo.
Han-Ho looked at him.
Looked at the apartment building direction.
Looked back at his kimbap.
"The couch corner is Moru's," said Han-Ho. "You have the middle section."
"I know," said Min-Seo.
"Don't take Moru's corner."
"I never take Moru's corner."
"And the tofu goes on the left side of the second shelf."
"Left side. Second shelf. Yes."
"It stays colder there."
"I know."
Moru on Han-Ho's shoulder made the small sound that was technically not a smile.
Kjor made a similar sound.
River looked between Han-Ho and Min-Seo with enormous eyes and the clear understanding of something that has been in the world for two weeks and has already identified what this is even if the two humans involved are being very casual about it.
"Extraordinary," said River, very quietly, to no one in particular.
"Shut up River," said Min-Seo, without any heat.
"Okay," said River, cheerfully.
The city did its Friday evening things.
Somewhere across the city on a river bank in Yeouido the oldest entity in the world sat and existed and breathed the way things that predate breathing breathe.
It was not alone.
It was thinking about that.
Han-Ho finished his kimbap.
Folded the wrapper.
Put it in the bin.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Seven AM. East bank access point."
"Seven AM," said eight voices.
"And I'm getting the green onion," said Han-Ho.
"I'll believe it when I see it," said Moru.
"I mean it this time."
"You mean it every time."
"I mean it more this time."
Moru looked at him with ancient red eyes that had watched ten thousand years of existence and had never in all that time encountered anyone who meant things the way Han-Ho meant things.
"Okay," said Moru.
"Okay," said Han-Ho.
They went home.
Some Fridays were just like this.