A nation without guns. A nation without drugs.
Once proudly lauded for their impeccable public safety, many countries were forced to undergo drastic changes after the emergence of Dungeons and Awakened.
It was an era when no one understood even the basics—like the fact that Dungeons had to be regularly cleared to remain stable—and the powers of Awakened varied wildly, often defying expectation.
Though most countries had finally returned to some semblance of normalcy after countless trials and errors, the aftermath still lingered, affecting people’s lives in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.
The “Awakened Registration Act.”
It was said to have caused serious turmoil in many nations.
Fortunately, South Korea was a relatively small country where most citizens were already used to registering biometric data and being assigned a resident registration number, so the confusion died down relatively quickly.
While minor incidents involving Unregistered Awakened still occurred every year, they were mostly low-tier cases where the individual had no malicious intent and had simply delayed registration.
As society regained stability, real estate prices began to shift as well.
Land in areas without Dungeons saw an increase in value. Districts that were already expensive saw further rises thanks to heavy security and regulation.
Conversely, uniquely Korean-style slums began to form in regions notorious for poor safety.
“Huff—huff—hahhh! Haaah…!”
On a dark night, a man dashed through the alleyways, struggling to suppress the pounding of his heart that felt like it might burst.
His neighborhood was already full of vacant houses, and once the sun went down, not a soul would dare step outside—no one would come to help even if someone screamed.
He knew this fact all too well, and that knowledge alone was enough to drive him to tears from fear.
“How the hell did someone who’s not even a Hunter take out three people like that? I’m telling you, that guy’s an Awakened!”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re E-rank and F-rank, so he’s gotta be stronger than that. No way he’s registered. If a Hunter who looked like that existed, we’d already know about him!”
“Screw this, I’m out!”
“Don’t drag me into this. That’s a warning.”
Not long ago, the man and his friends had ended up in the hospital. One with an 8-week recovery, another with 12 weeks, and the last with 2.
The man had walked away with only minor bruises that could be treated at a regular clinic, but his low-ranked Hunter friends had been hospitalized and suffered for quite some time.
The one responsible? Some arrogant car owner they’d run into on the expressway.
This group of troublemakers, who’d always relied on the man—a non-Awakened civilian—to pick fights for them, had planned to “teach a lesson” to some punk blocking their path in a beat-up car.
“Grahh—mmf! Mmm! Ugh!”
“You really shouldn’t scream. What if I get startled and snap your neck?”
When he came to after being knocked unconscious, the man found himself sprawled out in the woods near a highway rest stop.
His friends were hanging like overripe fruit from the trees, completely battered, and even in a half-conscious state they’d muttered to him: Don’t report it. Whatever you do, don’t report it.
Were they worried about Awakened laws? Maybe. Considering all the shit they’d pulled over the years, fear was understandable.
The sight of bloodied bodies dangling from trees was disturbing enough, and with his friends begging him not to snitch—and with him being the least injured—he’d tried to let it go, seething with rage.
But then, as he rushed to the hospital in a panic, he noticed something. His pants pocket was bulging.
Inside was a thick, tightly wound roll of 50,000-won bills, packed solid like a roll of tape.
“You think it’s normal for someone to carry that much cash around? He’s rich and hiding something. If we play this right, we could live easy for a while.”
“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t…! Ugh, whatever. You don’t get it, dumbass. We already got our treatment money, so just drop it.”
As the only non-Awakened among them, the man had always carried a chip on his shoulder. With their votes split 2-to-1 against him, and their taunts hitting right where it hurt, his fury exploded.
He was in the perfect position to win—legally, assaulting a civilian was a guaranteed loss for the other guy. In a law-abiding country, what better leverage could there be? So why the hell were his friends backing off after getting their asses kicked?
They’d said the guy had gone through their wallets and checked all their personal info… But so what? He could just try and see how things went. If it got weird, he’d run to the cops.
And hey, going solo meant he wouldn’t have to split anything. Ignoring their pleas, the man dug into what had happened that day.
He spent what little money he had tracking the driver down. After countless hurdles, all that was left was to collect.
“…This is getting annoying. Let’s wrap this up.”
“Huff, huff…!”
“I still need to text my girlfriend.”
In one of the most remote, shadowy corners of the slum, the man was now the hunted.
He’d known halfway through that he’d taken a wrong turn, but no exits were in sight.
Eventually, he hit a dead end and turned around in terror.
Click.
A flashlight lit up his face—held by the very man he’d been chasing. A tall figure with brown hair, finally revealing himself.
That chillingly handsome, cold face seemed to silently ask, You recognize me, right?
His pale eyes caught the light and gleamed golden.
He didn’t even seem human, and the man couldn’t tear his eyes away. His jaw trembled uncontrollably.
He could tell right away—this was not the same man they’d run into before. Just meeting his gaze felt like a noose tightening around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs.
Should he scream anyway? Maybe catch the guy off guard?
But the moment that man raised a finger to his lips and softly went “shh,” the thought vanished.
It felt like running into a tiger while climbing a mountain—his limbs froze, his mind went blank.
“Everyone else got the message just fine. Maybe you’re too dull since you’re Unawakened.”
Even when poking a sore spot, the man didn’t feel resentment. All he felt was fear as the figure slowly took one step, then another, closing the distance.
“This is my first time using this, so… if anything pops up, tell me immediately. It’ll hurt less that way.”
A slender, long-fingered hand gripped his shoulder. The androgynous voice, devoid of emotion, made his heart drop.
“If you move, I might stab something important.”
Slice! A razor-sharp blade slashed his arm.
***
“Yes, Assemblyman. I got your message. I was just making an offhand comment, but you actually took it seriously—I don’t even know how to thank you.”
Clad in a bathrobe, Cha Eui-sung stepped out of the bathroom, cracking a joke.
The provided bath product was to his liking, and for the third or fourth time, he lifted his wrist to take in the scent.
“Of course. Back then, sure, I didn’t seem trustworthy, so we signed that contract. But as I told you—you won’t regret it. Hm? Well, I say we keep that contract between us as a memento. No one’s gonna break it anyway.”
He nailed it down with a smooth tone, and forced laughter echoed through the receiver. Eui-sung laughed along half-heartedly, offered a quick goodbye, and abruptly hung up.
“Why’s he suddenly groveling like some sewer rat? Pissing me off.”
Muttering to himself, he tightened his robe. Behind him, the glittering city nightscape shimmered through the window. For once, he was out of Cheongseri and leisurely taking in the lights of the city below.
Two days ago, Cha Eui-sung had returned to Seoul to take care of a few things. It had been about a month since his trip to Incheon.
During that time, he’d spent his days in a strange mix of unease and calm, waiting for the System’s ticking time bomb to go off—but nothing happened.
“I’ll bring back something delicious.”
“How long will you be gone this time?”
“Four days. It won’t take long.”
“Good to hear.”
He’d grown quite comfortable loafing around at Moon Tae-young’s place. Every time Tae-young was home, Eui-sung dropped by with the attitude of “do your thing, I’ll just be here,” sprawling out like he owned the place.
Somewhere along the way, that empty living room had gained a rug, then a floor chair, and even a blanket. He didn’t know when any of it had been added, but it was funny enough that sometimes he wrapped himself up in the blanket even when it wasn’t cold.
Draped in that purple blanket, he’d shoot off emails and browse industry news. And whenever his eyes met Tae-young’s across the room, the man always wore a look of quiet satisfaction.
“Isn’t that a bit small to be doing that in?”
“If you knew that, you should’ve given me a bigger one.”
Their Savior Gauge had skyrocketed, and something new had clearly started between them—but their daily routine didn’t change all that much.
Just like before, one would drop by the other’s place, spend some time, and go home when it got late.
Still… he doesn’t ignore me anymore.
The mood between them shifted bit by bit each time they met. The way they spent time together also grew more varied. Slowly, he found himself building routines with Tae-young.
They even tried preparing meals together—fumbling around in the cramped kitchen with knives and chopping boards. Eui-sung would also doodle nonsense while watching Tae-young work on his lesson materials.
“Don’t draw there.”
“Ah, too late.”
“…”
“Well? Doesn’t it look like a cat?”
“A cat standing on two legs holding a machete?”
At some point, holding hands and hugging became second nature. His arms were strangely comfortable, and Eui-sung often let himself go limp like a ragdoll, leaning into him.
Sometimes, when an odd feeling welled up inside, he’d squeeze him tight. And before he knew it, they were kissing—though there was no particular reason to.
When those lips, wet from nibbling and sucking, wandered down toward his neck or below his ear, Eui-sung would get a little dizzy, a tight ache blooming in his lower abdomen.
Occasionally, he found himself wishing those hands would slip under his clothes like before—and the moment he realized it, he’d jolt with panic.
It’s for the Gauge. It’s for the Gauge, he reminded himself. That usually helped calm the chaos inside.
“Moon Tae-young, you’ve got a surprisingly big chest.”
“I… honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that.”
They’d met under strange circumstances and grown close in unusual ways, but by now, it almost felt like they were a normal couple. Just like how they’d grown close without much talk, their time together had become quiet, comfortable.
The actual Savior Gauge hadn’t changed much, but the way it felt between them had. Sometimes, Eui-sung even dreamed of Tae-young—dreams he couldn’t quite remember.
He’s still a bit stiff though. Is that just his personality?
He had his complaints, sure. But honestly, if it weren’t for the mission, Eui-sung wouldn’t have done any of this sappy crap in the first place. It wasn’t beyond comprehension.
[See you soon. Kinda nice not having anyone annoying around, right?]
[Yes. Safe travels.]
[Really nice? For real?]
Tae-young’s dry replies were infuriatingly smug—but also somehow endearing.
“Anyway… got those two handled?”
When he first got to Seoul, Eui-sung made it a point to meet Kim Nocha. He probed the guy for info while chatting casually—trying to get a read on the mood inside the Hunter Association and whether anything sketchy was brewing.
The guy had tried dragging him into a sleazy bar alley while pretending to be drunk—which was absolute bullshit—but credit where it’s due: the bastard was good at keeping his mouth shut, despite being Association staff. That night, though, for the first time, he spilled a little state secret.
“You know Oh Se-dan, right? Of course you do—he’s famous, one of ours. I’m actually working with him right now. Big-time stuff. Real high-level, you know?”
❤️