Split in Half and Die!

Dragging my slippers across the pavement, I slipped out of the building and pulled up the Gate Info app on my smartphone. Full of self-assurance though I was, a person only gets one life; diving blindly into any random dungeon was out of the question.

Gates were broadly categorized into two types: closed dungeons, where challengers were locked inside until the clear was complete, and open dungeons, which permitted free entry and exit. For a complete novice like me, an open Gate was ideal—the moment things went south, I could simply turn tail and sprint back to safety.

"Oh, look at that. An open F-Class Gate just a twenty-minute walk from here."

My feet were already blistering, but I could endure it just for today. All I needed was a brief taste of dungeon crawling before heading straight home to order the cheapest clothes and shoes I could find online. Even an F-Class magic stone went for around thirty thousand won; bag just one or two, and my desperate wardrobe crisis would be solved on the spot.

Setting off toward the nearest open Gate, my route took me right past that familiar convenience store once more.

"...Is he... doing okay in there...?"

To my immense relief, the store manager was perched calmly behind the register, idly scrolling on his phone. No police officers, no patrol cars—nothing out of the ordinary in sight.

"Whew. So I'm in the clear, right?"

What a blessing. It looked like no harm had come of it. So long as I didn't go spamming Charm on unsuspecting civilians and triggering a full-scale felony, I had nothing to worry about. Not that a natural-born macho man like me was ever sweating it in the first place!

Heart somewhat at ease, I nursed my aching feet with slow, deliberate steps until I finally reached my destination.

The site was an abandoned construction yard. The property owner who had once been erecting a high-rise here must have sold the parcel to the Hunter Association after the Gate tore through the foundation, negotiating a cut of the dungeon's ongoing profits. Otherwise, they would have posted a subjugation bounty to seal the rift once and for all. Perhaps the steady revenue of a harvestable Gate outperformed whatever rent a finished office building could yield. At the moment, however, the area was deserted.

Right in the center of the muddy lot sat a shimmering, pitch-black vortex. Stationed directly beside it was a cramped prefabricated booth—the outpost where Association clerks stood guard to regulate dungeon traffic. I shuffled closer and lightly rapped on the sliding glass window.

"Um, e-excuse me..."

No response.

Tap, tap.

"H-Hellooo...?"

"...Yeah?"

After a second series of knocks, the pane rattled open on a rusty track. A disheveled man with dark circles under his eyes peered down at me, looking as though he had been ripped straight from a nap.

"Ugh... Right. Looking to enter?"

"Uh... yes, sir..."

The clerk measured me from top to bottom, his brow furrowing.

"Er... Hunter registration card, please. Also, if you're under sixteen, you're required to have a legal guardian accompany you..."

An official Hunter license and an adult guardian. I possessed neither, of course, but I had a far better solution.

"Um, m-mister...?"

"Didn't your guardian come with—huh?"

Visualizing my intended command deep in my mind, I unleashed the mental trigger.

Charm!

"...Can't you just let me in anyway...?"

The clerk's glazed eyes flashed with a brief, crimson shimmer. In an instant, his posture snapped to attention.

"...Why, of course, young lady! Go right on through! If you ever need anything else, just holler anytime!"

His exhaustion vanished, replaced by radiant, overflowing enthusiasm.

"Th-Thank you..."

Heheh. Just as expected. With an utterly broken cheat skill like Charm, I'm practically invincible.

Slipping past the beaming employee, I trotted toward the swirling vortex, the corners of my lips curling into a grin I couldn't suppress.

Heh, isn't this ability ridiculously overpowered? No matter how I look at it, an F-Class rating is absurd. I have to be at least SSS-Class, right?

Riding that wave of giddy optimism, I paused just before the portal's threshold and brought up my status display.

After stuffing my face earlier, my Yokai Power had topped out at maximum. Burning one cast of Charm on the Association clerk had drained ten points, and one point had already trickled back. Natural recovery was noticeably swift—roughly one point every forty to fifty seconds. Allowing a comfortable margin of error, counting on one point per minute seemed like a safe baseline.

My historic dungeon debut was seconds away. The day's objective was simple: test how effectively Charm could pacify and handle dungeon monsters.

Serious grinding could wait until I had proper footwear and functional clothes. Today, I would keep my greed in check, dispatch exactly two targets, and get out. Step by step, I would accumulate Inheritance, unlock whatever cryptic evolution requirement remained, rank up, and climb all the way to SSS-Class! Yes, today marked the first stride of that grand ascent.

Here goes nothing!

Stepping forward with bold bravado, I crossed the barrier of the F-Class open Gate.

My vision warped with a gentle flutter. A faint twinge of motion sickness washed over me, and when my balance settled, the scenery had completely transformed.

True to the system prompt, the barren dirt lot had vanished, replaced by an imposing canopy of towering trees. Familiar yet nameless trunks soared overhead, wrapped in tangled undergrowth, while the droning buzz of strange insects resonated from every direction. Aside from the otherworldly density of the flora, it resembled an ordinary woodland.

For a name as grand as 'The Primeval Forest of Gestation'... this place looks awfully mundane.

Back in reality, the clock had passed four in the afternoon and the sun was sliding toward the horizon. Here, blazing sunlight poured straight down from zenith. Time flowed identically inside and outside a Gate, yet internal day-night cycles frequently operated on their own peculiar rules.

A gust swept through the branches, carrying a rank, sour odor on the breeze. Had I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still possessed my frail, unawakened body, the faint stench would have slipped past unnoticed. Now, however, every sense was excruciatingly heightened. It smelled crude, rotten, and stale...

"...The smell of a goblin."

According to dungeon reports, this zone hosted wandering packs of goblins led by a King Goblin boss. To maintain an open Gate as a commercial resource, however, hunters were strictly forbidden from eliminating the boss and collapsing the rift. The King Goblin was undoubtedly locked within an Association-grade containment cell, ensuring that only its low-grade underlings periodically respawned through the woods.

Underlings... precisely like the green creature creeping into view right before my eyes.

Kwee-ee-eeck—!

The guttural shriek sounded like someone violently retching. Goosebumps broke out across my arms in a cold rush as the creature's unadulterated killing intent washed directly over my bare skin.

"H-Heeek..."

An undignified squeak escaped my lips as I stumbled a pace backward. It was the first time in my life encountering an extraterrestrial monstrosity radiating pure, lethal malice.

This was... far worse than I had imagined.

I'm terrified!!

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was going on?! This was horrifying! It was only an F-Class dungeon, and goblins were supposed to be the bottom-feeding joke of every fantasy novel—so why were my knees trembling like dried reeds?!

There was only one of them. Mottled green skin, clutching a crude, knotty wooden club. It stood roughly at my height, hunched over with a filthy rag knotted around its waist. By every outward measure, it was a pathetic, scrawny runt. Yet standing face-to-face with murderous bloodlust for the first time elicited a suffocating dread that almost buckled my legs.

How on earth do real Hunters stare down things like this without flinching...?

Its eyes—the glowing violet hue shared by all corrupted gate creatures—bored into mine. It looked ready to lunge across the grass at any second and bash my skull in with that filthy weapon.

Kwee-kwee-eeck—!

The goblin snarled a rasping warning. We were locked on the razor's edge of combat, a single breath away from violence. In terms of raw physical prowess, my scrawny, barefoot frame was at a total disadvantage. I had to trigger the skill, immediately!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Just stay calm, pop the skill, and everything will be fine.

Clutching the hem of my oversized hoodie to my chest with trembling hands, I locked eyes with the monster, sucked in a desperate lungful of air, and screamed at the top of my lungs:

"Split in half and die—!!"

A resonant hum chimed in my skull.

Charm hit its mark cleanly.

The creature's violet pupils flickered with crimson luminescence. Poised to spring forward, the goblin froze, shuddering from head to toe in strange, twitching spasms.

The command was unambiguous: tear yourself down the middle and drop dead.

The die had been cast. Now, let's see the fireworks!

Gurk... Grrrk... Gwaaaargh!

"...Huh?"

Wait, what? The skill had clearly landed, hadn't it?

Yet as the seconds ticked past, the monster showed zero inclination toward ripping itself apart. Instead, it trembled violently as though locked in an agonizing mental tug-of-war, threw its head back in a harsh bellow, and dragged one heavy, clawed foot forward in my direction.

Those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deep violet eyes still burned with murderous intent.

Even for a low-intellect beast, was a command to violently tear its own body apart simply rejected by primal self-preservation instincts?

"N-No! Again! Charm!! This time, drop your weapon and surrender!!"

Another chime hummed through the air.

Grrrk... Gurk... Kyuuu-eeck!

Holy crap! Are you kidding me?!

It resisted again! How in the world did a bottom-tier piece of trash monster possess mental fortitude like this?!

The convenience store manager and the Association clerk had succumbed without the slightest struggle after a single whisper, so why was a puny goblin defying me?! Even if suicide was off the table, dropping a wooden stick and putting its hands up should have been child's play!

The distance between us shrank. Its face contorted in vicious rage, the goblin snarled and took another lumbering step.

"Charm! Charm! Charm! Charm!... Ugh!"

Kweeeee-aaargh—!!

A sharp, throbbing ache pierced through my temples. Firing the ability in frantic succession had evidently taken its toll. Yet the goblin kept coming—shivering and jerking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as if dragging an invisible iron weight, but stubbornly advancing step by agonizing step.

My reserves were completely dry. I couldn't cast another skill.

I... couldn't even defeat an F-Class monster.

On the penthouse floor of the Osung Group headquarters sat the chairman's executive suite.

Her silver-gray hair was swept up into an impeccable bun pinned behind a neat black hairnet. An icy, statuesque beauty who looked as though she wouldn't shed a drop of blood if pricked by a needle placed a thick document binder onto the mahogany desk.

"Here is the final review on the American subsidiary acquisition scheduled for tomorrow morning, Chairman. I detected two poison-pill clauses that the legal team overlooked and have revised them accordingly."

Browsing through the files, the white-haired chairman adjusted his spectacles and clicked his tongue in genuine admiration.

"Haha, exceptional work as always, Secretary Han. To think the executive board adjourned barely twenty minutes ago, and you've already combed through this mountain of data? You truly are remarkable."

"I merely fulfilled my duties. The minutes from the meeting have already been summarized and dispatched to your email, and the motorcade to escort you home is on standby."

The chairman slipped off his glasses and began tapping the documents straight.

"Osung Group retains its global standing solely because of an immensely capable chief of staff like you, yet the public credits an old man holding the chairman's title. It rather grieves me."

"The leader who charts the course of this conglomerate is you, Chairman. There is no cause to diminish your own worth."

It was, as ever, a mechanical and flawlessly polite response, devoid of even the slightest inflection.

Han Seolhwa. The true intellectual pillar of Osung Group and the very incarnation of perfectionism, she dipped her head in a crisp bow and turned toward the heavy suite doors.

Then—

Fzzzt!

"...!"

Her pristine, mirror-polished pumps froze mid-stride. Across her frosty features, those crimson irises flickered with a sudden tremor.

Th-This resonance...?

It was impossibly close. Had it lingered this nearby all along without her realizing? A mistake was out of the question.

Etched into the deepest recesses of her very soul, a faint, familiar aura surged violently. This presence was unmistakably...

"Is something the matter, Secretary Han?"

At the chairman's call, Seolhwa shut her eyes for a fleeting instant before opening them again. Masking herself behind her customary veil of cold detachment, she offered a poised, graceful bow.

"...It is nothing. I shall take my leave until tomorrow."

"Mm. Rest well."

The moment the executive door clicked shut behind her, Seolhwa's stride quickened with sharp urgency. Deep beneath that emotionless gaze, a tempest of burning fervor—suppressed across hundreds of years—began to wildly unfurl.