Morning came late in the winter.
Yoon Taesung woke up not to the sound of an alarm, but to the quiet murmur of the TV leaking through the walls. Someone was watching the news again probably the old man next door who always left it on like a background hum for his life.
Taesung blinked up at the ceiling for a while. The apartment ceiling wasn't interesting, but it was familiar. The same hairline crack running down the corner, the same brown spot that had been there since before he was tall enough to notice it. Sometimes it felt like nothing ever changed here. Sometimes he wished nothing would.
He got up slowly.
No messages from last night. Just the unread ones from his mom, waiting politely to be acknowledged. He didn't reply. He didn't want to lie again today, and saying nothing somehow felt kinder than pretending everything was okay.
The floor was cold under his feet. He stepped over a pile of clean laundry that hadn't been folded in three days and headed to the kitchen, where the fridge greeted him with the same dull hum as always.
Leftover rice. Half a carton of eggs. Kimchi that was probably still good.
He made breakfast in silence. Ate in silence.
There were days that felt like something might change.
Today wasn't one of them.
He caught the bus into the city around ten.
No reason to be early. No job to rush for. Just habit, maybe. The Evaluation was behind him, but life didn't stop just because your future got labeled "C." Rent still existed. So did bills. And his part-time shift at the supply store downtown was still waiting—barely above minimum wage, but consistent.
Consistent was something.
The bus rattled its way through the frostbitten streets, people bundled in coats and scarves, heads bowed as if the cold could take your pride too.
Taesung sat by the window, headphones in with nothing playing, just for the illusion of space. The buildings passed like scenery in someone else's story someone busier, someone more important. He watched them until the stoplight blinked red and they all froze like props on a stage.
At the stop near the intersection, two teenagers got on, laughing loud in that way only people with confidence could. One of them was talking about their Evaluation results A-rank, apparently. Fire control. "The guy said I could easily join a secondary guild if I wanted," he was saying. "Even one of the Breach scouts if I trained hard."
Taesung looked away.
The words didn't hurt exactly. Not like a slap. More like a bruise you forgot was there until someone pressed it.
He got off two stops early.
Just to breathe.
The store was half-basement, half-forgotten.
"Hunter Supply & Prep," the sign said, though they didn't really sell weapons just gear. Thermal packs, reinforced vests, field rations, med-patches, scanner clips. Cheap stuff. Stuff new recruits bought before they figured out what actually worked in the field.
"Morning," came a voice from the back.
Mr. Han.
He was in his forties, always looked vaguely disappointed at the world, but paid on time and didn't ask too many questions. That made him better than most.
"You're early," he said, not looking up from the inventory tablet.
"Bus was fast," Taesung replied.
"Nothing much to do this morning. You can start by restocking the thermal gloves. Box came in yesterday."
Taesung nodded, heading toward the storage shelf. Routine was good. Tasks were good. Things with clear endings and start points. Unlike life.
He was halfway through unpacking when the bell above the door jingled.
New customer.
Young guy. Maybe twenty. Looked twitchy. His eyes darted around like he expected someone to follow. Camo jacket, no visible badge. Probably not affiliated. Possibly desperate.
"Looking for anything in particular?" Mr. Han asked without enthusiasm.
The guy hesitated. "Uh. Anti-freeze coatings. For armor."
"Front left rack."
He wandered over.
Taesung kept working, but something about the guy didn't sit right. Not dangerous. Just... off. Like someone pretending to know what they were doing. The kind of person who read about hunting on forums but never actually stepped past a border gate.
"Hey," the guy said a moment later, turning to Taesung. "This brand—is it legit? Like, actually works?"
Taesung glanced over. "For minor exposure. Won't stop elemental bleed if the Rift's unstable."
The guy nodded like he understood, but he didn't.
Still, he bought two packs.
Paid in cash. Left quickly.
Mr. Han grunted once he was gone. "We'll see him on the news in a week. Or not at all."
Taesung didn't reply.
But he kept thinking about it.
About people like that. Eager. Unprepared. Maybe a little stupid. But at least trying.
After work, he stopped by the river again.
Different bench this time. Different wind. But the same weight in his chest that hadn't moved since the Evaluation.
He didn't know why he kept coming here. Maybe because it was quiet. Maybe because it felt like the only place where the rest of the world didn't demand answers from him.
He pulled out his phone.
Stared at the Skill line again.
[Skill: Null Read]
Still there. Still unexplained.
Some rare skills took time to surface. That's what they told people when the readings didn't make sense. But most of the time, it just meant the system didn't know what to make of you. Didn't see value.
Didn't see you.
He hadn't told anyone that part. Not even his mom.
She didn't need to worry more than she already did.
A flicker of motion caught his eye.
Down by the edge of the river, near one of the service tunnels, someone was standing. Still. Too still.
Taesung squinted.
Then stood.
His feet moved before his brain caught up.
By the time he got closer, the person turned.
It was the girl from before.
Harin.
She didn't look surprised to see him.
"You again," she said.
"You always hang out near danger zones?" he asked.
"I could say the same."
He joined her near the fence.
There was a faint hum in the air. Not loud. Not threatening. But strange. Like something underneath the world was waking up and hadn't decided whether it wanted to speak.
"You feel that?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Don't know."
That was the thing about Harin she didn't talk too much, didn't try to explain what she didn't understand. He appreciated that.
"Maybe it's nothing," he said.
"Maybe."
But neither of them believed it.
They stood there a while longer. Then she turned to him.
"You said your skill was unreadable?"
He nodded slowly.
"Do something for me."
"What?"
"Focus. Just… like you're about to use it."
"I don't know how."
"Try."
He frowned.
But he tried.
Closed his eyes. Reached inside, like he was touching a muscle he didn't know how to move. Something flickered. Faint. Like static behind the eyes. A brief shiver down his spine.
When he opened them again, Harin was staring.
"Your eyes changed," she said quietly.
"What?"
"Only for a second. Like like
a reflection behind them."
Taesung blinked.
He hadn't felt anything like that before.
"Maybe your skill isn't as null as they think," she said.
He looked at the river again. The faint hum was gone now.
Or maybe it just moved somewhere deeper.
He didn't know what any of it meant.
But for the first time since the Evaluation, he felt something that wasn't disappointment.
Not quite hope.
But close.