Jihoon lay on the stiff cot, the ache in his side a dull throb under the bandages. The hunter medical center was too clean, its polished floors and sterile white walls a jarring shift from the slums' grit and rust. City lights glittered through the window, casting soft glows across the room, a reminder he was just over the line from home, in a place meant for heroes. The air smelled of antiseptic, sharp and cold, and monitors beeped faintly down the hall. He wasn't a hero, not really, but Seoyoon's hack had put him in their system as a B-Rank hunter. The thought made his stomach twist, a mix of gratitude and nerves. He didn't belong here, not in this pristine room, not with his useless power.
The door swung open, and Seoyoon slipped in, balancing a tray of food—steaming rice, grilled fish, and a can of soda, the kind of meal he hadn't seen in months. Her short black hair was tucked behind her ears, her cracked tablet tucked under her arm. She didn't say a word, just set the tray on the bedside table and nudged his shoulder. "Sit up, Jihoon. You need to eat, not mope."
He winced, easing himself upright, the pain in his ribs flaring. "You didn't have to get all this," he said, voice rough. The fish smelled savory, making his stomach growl despite himself.
She rolled her eyes, scooping rice with a spoon and holding it out. "Open your mouth, dummy. I'm not letting you starve because you're too stubborn to move." Her tone was sharp, but her eyes were soft, watching him carefully as he took the bite. The rice was warm, fluffy, nothing like the stale scraps they scrounged in the slums. She kept feeding him, steady and practiced, like she'd done this a hundred times.
Jihoon chewed, his gaze drifting to the window. The city skyline sparkled, all towers and neon, a world that didn't care about the slums just a few streets away. He thought of his mother, safe now with the medicine Seoyoon had gotten her. That was enough, for now. But the slums' broken streets, the kids dodging beasts, the fires from the dungeon break—they haunted him. He wanted more than survival.
Seoyoon set the spoon down, cracking open the soda and handing it to him. "Alright, spill," she said, leaning back in the chair, her tablet on her lap. "Your hitbox thing. How's it work? I saw you out there with that mantis, dodging like you weren't even real. What's the trick?"
He took a sip, the fizz sharp on his tongue, and shrugged. "It's hard to explain. I just… focus on not getting hit. Like, I picture myself untouchable, and somehow, I am. The beast's claws went right through me, like I wasn't there." He paused, frowning. "But it's not perfect. I got sloppy, lost focus, and that's why I'm here."
Seoyoon's eyes lit up, a grin tugging at her lips. "That's wild, Jihoon. You're basically a ghost. If you ever go hunter, that's your name, hands down—Ghost. Imagine the stories: 'Ghost, the untouchable B-Rank, phasing through danger.'" She laughed, but there was no mockery in it, just excitement. "Think about it. Dodging attacks like that? You could slip through a dungeon without a scratch. Mess with enemies' heads, maybe even sneak past traps."
He blinked, her words stirring something in his chest. She saw potential where he saw failure. "You really think it's that good?" he asked, voice quiet. "They called it useless at the ceremony. F-Rank, remember?"
She snorted, tapping her tablet. "F-Rank's just a number some suit slapped on you. I put you as B-Rank for a reason. That power's got uses—evasion, scouting, maybe even tricking beasts into missing. You just need practice." Her grin faded, her tone turning serious. "What do you want to do with it, Jihoon? What's the plan?"
He leaned back, the cot creaking. His mother's frail smile flashed in his mind, the way she'd looked at him like he could be more than a slum kid. The streets outside their apartment, littered with broken glass and fear, needed more too. "I want to be a hunter," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Not just for the money, though that'd help Mom. I want to make the slums better. Fix the streets, keep kids safe, make it so people don't have to run from beasts. I know it sounds stupid, but—"
"It's not stupid," Seoyoon cut in, her voice firm. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "It's big, Jihoon. Really big. But being a hunter's no joke. Training's brutal, guilds are cutthroat, and dungeons don't care about your dreams. You'll have to get stronger, push that power of yours to the limit. You up for it?"
He swallowed, doubt creeping in, but her eyes held his, steady and sure. "Yeah," he said, voice stronger. "I'm up for it. I have to be."
She smiled, a real one, not her usual smirk. "Good. You'll be fine, Ghost. I've got your back."
The door creaked open, and a broad-shouldered figure limped in—Choi Kwangsoo, the ex-hunter who'd saved them. His scarred face was set in a scowl, but his eyes were kind, scanning Jihoon like he was sizing him up. His torn jacket hung loose, and a faint bruise marked his jaw, a reminder of the dungeon break. Jihoon tried to stand, pain flaring in his side, but Kwangsoo raised a hand. "Stay down, kid. You're in no shape to play polite."
Jihoon sank back, his face warm. "I just… I wanted to thank you. For saving us. That mantis would've killed me."
Kwangsoo grunted, leaning against the wall, his limp more noticeable now. "Don't thank me. You're the one who stood up to a D-Rank with nothing but a pipe and some guts. Not everyone's got that in them." He crossed his arms, his voice rough but steady. "You've got potential, Jihoon. That hitbox trick of yours, it's not flashy, but it's something. Saved you, saved that girl, saved a kid. That's more than most do."
Jihoon's chest tightened, the word potential hitting harder than he expected. He'd spent so long feeling like nothing, a slum rat with a useless power. "You really think so?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Kwangsoo nodded, his scowl softening. "I've seen a lot of hunters come and go. Most don't have half your nerve. I've got buddies still in the game, low-rank hunters but good ones. They could write you a recommendation, get you into the system for real. Not that fake B-Rank nonsense your friend cooked up." He glanced at Seoyoon, who smirked but didn't deny it.
Jihoon's eyes widened. A recommendation? That could mean a real shot, a chance to train, to prove himself. "You're okay, right?" he asked, gesturing to Kwangsoo's bruise. "You looked… I mean, you took on that beast like it was nothing."
Kwangsoo's laugh was short, bitter. "Nothing? Kid, I'm lucky I walked away. D-Ranks, I can handle, but that's about it these days. This leg of mine," he tapped his thigh, wincing slightly, "got torn up a couple years back. Body's not what it used to be, neither's my power. I can protect my corner of the slums, keep my people safe, but the field? That's done for me."
Jihoon frowned, guilt settling in. Kwangsoo had risked everything for them. "I'm sorry," he said, voice soft. "You still saved us."
The ex-hunter waved it off, his expression gruff but not unkind. "Save the apologies. You want that recommendation or not? My buddies don't hand 'em out easy, but I'll put in a word if you're serious."
Jihoon's heart raced. A real hunter's path, not just Seoyoon's hack. He thought of his mother, the slums, the kids who needed someone to fight for them. "I'm serious," he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his side. "I want it."
Kwangsoo nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "Good. I'll make some calls. Rest up, kid. You'll need it." He turned, limping toward the door, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside.
Seoyoon watched him go, then turned back to Jihoon, her grin returning. "Told you, Ghost. You're on your way." She scooped another bite of fish, holding it out. "Eat up. Can't be a hunter on an empty stomach."
Jihoon took the bite, the savory flavor grounding him. They ate in silence for a while, the tray emptying as the city's glow deepened outside. Seoyoon set the tray aside, brushing her hands on her jeans. "I'll check on your mom tomorrow," she said, standing. "You sleep. You look like you're about to pass out."
He nodded, his eyelids heavy. "Thanks, Seoyoon. For everything."
She leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, her lips warm and soft. "Get some rest, hero," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She grabbed her tablet and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.
Jihoon lay back, the cot creaking under him. His side still ached, but it felt distant now, overshadowed by something new—hope. He stared out the window, the night sky a canvas of stars and city lights, the skyline stretching beyond the slums. A real hunter. A chance to change things. The thought carried him as his eyes drifted shut, the world fading to a quiet, dreamless sleep.