Chapter 1: My Status Window Has Gone on Strike (1)

“Lee Taejun, I’m saying this all for your own good, so listen carefully.”

I averted my gaze from the messy table littered with liquor bottles and fruit snacks.

Under the dim bar lights, I could see the face of my friend, thoroughly drunk.

“We’re former Hunters Den trainees and coworkers, so I’m genuinely worried about you. You know?”

Worried.

That wasn’t worry.

There was a more accurate term for someone saying that with bloodshot eyes and slurred speech, utterly plastered.

Nosiness.

“Yeah, whatever.”

I shrugged in response.

What else could I do?

The nosy friend sitting across from me, Choi Jinho, was a promising A-rank hunter who had risen to core member status in his guild at just twenty-seven.

Meanwhile, I was just a porter, having spent the last seven years taking care of the guild members’ needs.

“Hey, Taejun. How long have you been in this line of work?”

“The same amount of time as you.”

“Right, seven years. It’s already been seven years since we started in this industry. In just three more years, the landscape will change completely. And we’re already twenty-seven.”

“Wow, it’s already been that long.”

Choi Jinho stared at me with eyes glazed over by alcohol.

When did this guy get such dead eyes?

Until about two years ago, he had sparkling, bright eyes.

He used to say things like, Taejun, just wait. When I reach A-rank, I’ll start my own guild and scout you first. I don’t know why people don’t recognize how hard you work. You’re the kind of guy who’s destined to succeed, no matter what.

We were practically childhood friends, that close.

But now, Choi Jinho…

To be precise, ever since he ascended to A-rank hunter, something changed. He asked me this:

“So, what’s changed about you in seven years?”

”…”

“Did you get promoted from D-rank? Did you finally break free from being treated like a guild porter? Did you get scouted by another guild?”

I remained silent.

Instead, another person sitting diagonally across from Choi Jinho spoke up.

“Hey, Choi Jinho. Knock it off.”

The woman, who had neatly tied back her long hair, was Lee Seonah. Two years younger than us, she was a training camp classmate and a close friend we spoke casually with. She had obtained her A-rank license a year before Choi Jinho and had since become a key member of one of South Korea’s top three guilds.

“We didn’t gather here after all this time just to talk about that.”

But Lee Seonah was different. She wasn’t like some people who get drunk on money, fame, and public attention and change overnight.

I’d never been one to meddle in the affairs of my childhood friends anyway.

“I know. I know, but this guy just makes me feel suffocated. I’m dying of suffocation.”

Choi Jinho took a swig of his drink and continued,

“Lee Taejun, shouldn’t you be starting to realize it by now? This industry isn’t a place where you succeed through hard work alone.”

“Choi Jinho!”

“Ah, Seon-ah, keep it down. Taejun, just think about reality. You’re only twenty-seven; it’s not too late, is it?”

”…”

“Just close your eyes for a year and prepare for the civil service exam. If you want to see some monsters from time to time, you could join the Level 9 positions at the Alliance Headquarters. Or even enlist in the Defense Command.”

I already knew.

In the thirty years since the Great Cataclysm, words like monster, dungeon, gate, and hunter had become commonplace in a world where such things once belonged only to fantasy.

In this line of work, no one has ever succeeded through effort alone.

This was especially true for hunters, whose profession centered around hunting monsters.

When talent is combined with hard work, a success story is almost guaranteed.

Those with exceptional talent can achieve moderate success even without exerting much effort.

But without talent, no amount of effort can prevent certain failure.

In that sense, I was being stubborn.

Ever since my awakening, I’d shown no signs of progress.

My abilities were stubbornly stuck at the D-rank level.

“So, even now, if you followed my advice…”

“Thank you for the kind words, Jinhyuk.”

“Right. I’ll talk to the Guild Master about getting you a better severance package.”

“I still want to try for one more year.”

After coming this far, giving up now was impossible.

It had been seven years—seven years of chasing this dream.

I didn’t want to brand those years, dedicated to youth and passion, as wasted time.

“What?”

“As you said, twenty-seven isn’t too late. I’ll try one more year, working like hell.”

Of course, that sincerity was lost on my friend, who’d changed so much over time.

“Ha, seriously!”

Crash!

Choi Jinho swore as he swept the liquor table off the ground.

“You really want to die? A week ago, you barely managed being a baggage handler and broke your leg—and you still haven’t come to your senses? You’re the idiot who got a second-degree burn just from a little slime essence…!”

“It wasn’t slime essence. It was the neurotoxin from a Venom Spore. It happened when I saved a rookie hunter from getting drenched in it—he froze up.”

“And that rookie said that? He claimed you got injured acting like a hotshot in front of him!”

Of course he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Even though he was supposedly a C-rank, he’d rather die than admit he’d been saved by a D-rank porter.

“That’s the kind of fucked-up world we live in. Seven years of struggling as a D-rank porter, and you still get looked down on by some C-rank for a month. So unless you really want to die…!”

“Choi Jinho.”

Lee Seonah’s voice was icy as she called out his name.

Only then did Choi Jinho, who had been ranting uncontrollably, freeze as if he’d slammed on the brakes.

“I told you to stop.”

“Why have you always taken Lee Taejun’s side like this… Ugh, never mind.”

Choi Jinho twisted his face in disgust and stood up abruptly.

“Lee Taejun, get your head out of your ass. Quit now—whether it’s been a year or whatever. It’s the only thing that’ll save your life.”

With those final words, he stormed out of the bar.

And so, the space he’d left behind remained.

Lee Seonah and I sat awkwardly silent, a disastrously messy table between us.

After a moment of uneasy quiet, Lee Seonah spoke first.

“Are you okay?”

“Well, I figured this kind of conversation would come up eventually. I just didn’t expect it to explode so suddenly.”

Still, having vaguely anticipated it, I wasn’t too shaken.

That being said, our long-awaited reunion had been ruined by Choi Jinho’s departure, leaving things in disarray.

“Hmm… Want to go to a second round?”

After a moment’s thought, I shook my head.

“Let’s call it a night here.”

After Choi Jinho ruined the mood and stormed out like that, a second round seemed impossible.

But it wasn’t just that.

Being alone with Lee Seonah would only draw unwanted attention if we were seen together.

Especially since Lee Seonah, with her A-rank talent, striking beauty, and growing media presence, was steadily gaining popularity.

“Alright then.”

Lee Seonah nodded, a hint of disappointment on her face.

“Want me to drive you home? I’m sober, so I can.”

“No, thanks. The subway’s still running, so I’ll manage on my own. Thanks for offering.”

“Will your leg be alright?”

“It’s fine. It was just a graze. The doctor said it’ll heal in a month.”

“That’s a relief, seriously. I was going to ask, but that crazy bastard Choi Jinho started causing a scene the moment he got drunk, and I missed my chance.”

She answered with a bitter smile.

As she stood up, she pulled out her wallet.

“How much is it?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I took care of the bill when I went to answer my phone earlier.”

Her gaze swept over the wrecked table.

Even the empty liquor bottles rolling across the surface were easily worth over a million won each.

“Let me at least contribute something.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t even drink that much.”

You didn’t drink at all.

I’d drunk enough to feel quite tipsy.

But in the end, I had no choice but to put my wallet back in my pocket.

Earning 180 a month, I couldn’t afford even 10% of the bill at that table.

After leaving the bar, Lee Seonah, who had walked me to the subway station, spoke up:

“Don’t worry about what you heard earlier.”

“I know how hard you’re working. Your efforts will definitely pay off.”

I hesitated, wanting to thank her, but the words wouldn’t come.

Even though I knew Lee Seonah’s words were different from Choi Jinho’s, with no hidden agenda,

this pure encouragement made my lips feel as if they were glued shut, unable to move.

“Thanks,” I finally replied with a nod.

Exhausted by a world that rarely rewards effort,

it seemed I wasn’t twisted enough to reject such genuine support.

I stopped by the convenience store before heading home.

It was the chocolate bar I always grabbed when I was feeling down, and luckily, they were running a buy-one-get-one-free promotion.

Seeing the sign that read “1+1 for 1,000 won” cheered me up, at least a little.

“To think I was actually relieved by this one-plus-one promotion after hearing all that crap.”

Of course, by the time I left the convenience store, guilt had washed over me as I chewed on the chocolate bar and walked.

And to make matters worse, my thigh, where I’d been bitten by the monster’s neurotoxin, began to ache.

“Ah, my leg.”

In the end, I had no choice but to sit down for a short rest on a bench in the small park in front of my studio apartment.

I munched on the chocolate bar, swallowing it with the cold night air, and gazed up at the sky.

I let out a soft sigh toward the stars twinkling in the night sky.

“Life’s such a mess.”

Back when I first awakened, I never thought things would turn out like this.

But reality had turned out to be far from kind.

A blue holographic window materialized, obscuring the night sky.

“Not bad, I guess,” I muttered with a wry smile.

Pitiful stats, befitting my lowest-rank assessment.

For reference, the average stats for C-rank awakeners—one tier above me—are 50.

No wonder Choi Jinho was so patronizing.

But I feel a bit cheated.

“This is what’s keeping me hopeful,” I thought.

The only skill I gained upon awakening.

Even its name, Remarkable Growth, felt like a promise.

Normally, awakeners’ stats increase the more they hunt monsters

or the more consistently they train.

If I was lucky, I might even awaken a new skill.

How quickly those stats would rise…

My potential would be determined by how much they increased at once.

If I grew according to that potential, I’d be promoted to a C-rank, B-rank, or A-rank hunter, paving the way for a smooth and steady career.

In that case, “Remarkable Growth” deserved to be classified as an S-tier skill, the highest rank.

According to its description, it was a skill that directly influenced an Awakened One’s growth.

That’s why I held onto hope.

Even though I started small, my ending would be magnificent.

I etched that proverb into my heart and endured the past seven years at rock bottom.

I gained expedition experience through grueling porter work.

Except for injuries, I trained at the gym for five hours a day without a single day of rest.

Despite all that effort…

‘My stats didn’t budge at all.’

A newly acquired skill? Of course not.

After seven years of clawing my way up from the depths…

After pouring my heart and soul into it,

I hadn’t grown at all.

“Remarkable growth? What a joke.”

I suppose it was technically true, considering I’d failed so spectacularly to improve.

But then why mock me with skill descriptions that only offered false hope?

If only that damn Status Window hadn’t listed such pathetic skills.

No.

If only that cursed Status Window had never appeared before my eyes.

All this time, I’d been charging straight ahead.

In the end, this path was my choice from countless possibilities.

Better to push myself to the limit and quit without regrets than choose an easy path and spend a lifetime second-guessing myself.

I’d never regretted that decision.

But today,

No.

For the first time ever,

I regretted that decision.

Thud!

Unable to contain my emotions, I slammed my fist into the Status Window.

Only the owner of the Status Window can see it.

To anyone else, it would look like a madman flailing his hands in thin air.

Thud!

But the impact on his knuckles was unmistakable.

It felt like tapping a flat monitor with his bare hand.

Boom!

“Isn’t this a bit too much?”

He repeated this a few more times before finally speaking.

“If you’re going to give me a skill with this kind of name, and pair it with such an elaborate description, and make me work like a fool believing in it, shouldn’t it at least be slightly better?”

His words, a blend of tipsy frustration and fiery temper, sliced through the night air.

Of course, the Status Window remained unresponsive.

It simply floated there, displaying its pathetic stats as if nothing had happened.

Gazing at it, the heat rising in my head slowly cooled.

Well, what’s the point of getting angry about something like this?

I shook my head.

The Status Window was just another anomaly that had appeared with the Great Cataclysm, a system utterly devoid of reason or intelligence.

This was what it must be like to direct my anger at something undeserving.

Tomorrow, I should go to the guild’s training hall, at least.

My thighs hadn’t fully recovered yet, but it was still better than brooding alone like this.

Yes.

At least, that’s what I thought at the time.

”…What is this?”

Muttering such a complaint, I returned to my one-room apartment, fell asleep, and woke up this morning with a mild hangover.

That’s when I noticed it.