Chapter 2: The Porter Regresses
The smartphone alarm blared mercilessly. It was clearly the same old morning routine, yet unlike yesterday, his body felt light and brimming with energy.
“Ugh.”
His arm slipped out from under the blanket, reaching instinctively for the ringing phone. Without even cracking open his eyelids, he flicked his thumb to silence it.
Seriously. Just five more minutes.
5. 4. Wait a sec.
And then it hit him!
His eyes snapped wide open. He shot upright in bed and ran a hand over his neck.
That vivid sensation of blood draining from his body. The horrifying sight of people dying around him—it hadn't been a dream.
“What the hell is this?”
He'd been stabbed to death by that filthy, grotesque goblin's blade. And right before dying, a window unlike any he'd seen had appeared. Could that be why?
Slowly, he rose and stood before the mirror. His face—so achingly familiar. But far more vibrant and youthful than before. Innocent, even.
Glancing around, nothing felt alien. If anything, it all felt profoundly nostalgic.
This interior, this layout—it wasn't his current place. Even the bed he'd just left was wrong. Far higher quality. Way fluffier.
Hold on. This is…!
“This is the house I shared with Mom when she was still alive.”
Had he really gone back in time?
Even as something straight out of a fantasy comic—like pure magic—unfolded, an unnatural calm settled over him. Composed.
Something had changed. Something pinpointable, yet elusive.
“Hello?”
“This is the Baldi Guild. Is this Lee Seojun?”
“Yes. That's me.”
“Yes. You applied for the porter position last time, right? A spot just opened up. It's urgent—can you come right now?”
The woman's voice was all business, laced with the certainty he'd show. No question.
The instant she spoke, he remembered the day. A long-buried memory surged up, eager.
Stunned, his lips froze, but he forced out the words.
“Yes. I'll head over.”
Porter gigs paid well enough to draw fierce competition. If you could handle the danger.
Back then, he'd applied to cover Mom's hospital bills. Rejected multiple times. Got in only when a no-show created an opening.
And that was today.
In other words, he'd rewound to his first porter day.
Problem: Baldi Guild was mid-tier but infamous for its toxicity.
But none of that mattered now.
Really back in the past? Then Mom's alive. Mom's… alive.
“Hospital bills.”
No money on him. Back then, he hadn't had any.
Never really did, truth be told.
He threw on clothes—outdated style, but clean and cared for. Wallet, phone in hand, he rushed to the dungeon entrance meetup.
Crowds packed the destination. Reporters and cops dotted the civilians. But hunters stole the show.
Hunters worldwide skewed heavily female.
Not higher odds for women. Just demographics.
Dungeons popped up overnight. Time passed before ‘Awakened’ emerged. Casualties mounted; civilization teetered.
Korea especially—conscripted men died in droves. Survivors? Mostly women. Hence female-heavy hunters.
Societal rifts—religion, ideology, gender, class, race—crumbled powerless before the ‘Great Calamity.’
Guns and blades? Toys to monsters, outclassed by Awakened powers. How long did they last?
Dad was one of the fallen.
Hunters' feats defied science. ‘God's gifts’? ‘Evolution’? Best guesses.
No wonder the reverence for monster-slayers.
“Hello. I'm Lee Seojun, sub porter for today.”
Eye contact with the gate checker.
The staffer eyed him wearily. “Made it, huh? Count your blessings. Sudden dropout—who'd guess.”
“…Yeah. Real lucky.”
Dismissed to hear the rest from others. Curt, but whatever. He shrugged it off, claimed his porter bag after quick hellos.
Commands barked, they filed into the rear.
Back in a dungeon. Post-death. His lifetime ‘first’—memories sharpened vivid.
Wolf-like beasts, he recalled.
How'd I even regress?
Marching load-bearing, thoughts wandered wild.
Last sight: Healer. Awakened? Healing hunter type?
Unsure. Heart hammered caffeine-crash style.
“Aw, kiddo, snack on this. Jerky I packed.”
“Hunters front—stay back. No gawking forward!!”
“Dungeon at your age? My kid's age. Poor thing, busting ass.”
Only young guy among porters. Rest middle-aged mix.
Pre-regression chill? Now, warm words, kind eyes.
Heavy pack, easy work.
This gig sparked his porter grind. Led to ex-wife meet.
Avoid. Priority one.
But something happened here. What…?
Ambush: lurking wolf beast struck hunters.
Mid-tier pros? Deft handling.
“Aaack! Kyaaah!!”
One exception—rookie newbie ahead, injured.
“…Ah. P-please… heal. My leg… won't move.”
Porters butchered corpses, cherry-picked loot for bags.
“No way. Waste on a newbie? Told you leave her. Why bring?!”
“Shit. One healer only. Save it. Freeloader.”
“Potion it. Scant blood. Faking? Heal outside.”
Voices boomed despite distance. Hunter vibes.
Stay out? But voice tugged familiar. Cautious approach.
Familiar face: jet-black long hair, ghost-pale skin. Budget gear, icy beauty vibe.
No. Why is she here?!
Ice Witch, Jeong Ye-na.
Her face triggered it: today's event.
First dungeon, she loses her leg.
Wolves low-threat. Rare glitch: untreated, amputation city.
Immediate healer mandatory. Visuals tricky—no bleed early.
Victim agony max.
Rare AF—went global later via her saga.
Rookie now. Bolts toxic guild via future ex-wife Kang Ga-young, corp guild boom, S-rank rise.
Golden hour missed: ice prosthetic leg.
Years on, mega-bucks foreign healer regens it.
Spiky rep sparked ‘personality’ drama mid-career/rehab.
She'd warmed to him once. Sis-like, ex's teammate.
Faded post-marriage.
Ex said she found him ‘burdensome.’ Stopped outreach. Done.
Ye-na now: crude potion drench, lip-biting. Limping worsening. Right before him.
“You okay?”
“…Huh?!”
Sudden? Tear-glazed stare. Headshake, cheek-slap.
Leg agony.
“Ah. Porter, huh. Tough gig. Ugly mess, sorry. Heh…”
“No worries.”
Pain screams. Ice Witch sweet to porters too. Early Ye-na: pure gold.
Flash: old chat. ‘Toughest era? Now.’
“Mind if I check the wound?”
“…Sure. What're you—?”
Leg spasmed, quivering. Dazed eyes locked on him.
Old potions meh; these? Junk-tier.
Plan: potion-soak bandage, secure leg. Ease pain till clear, then hospital/healer rush.
Secluded spot, sat her comfy. Bandage-hand to leg.
Would you like to use the Heal skill?
Eh. Bandage slipped from grip.
“…Hey. You good?”
Worried gaze—from her, in agony.
Heal. Do it.
Warm green glow bloomed from his hand, flowing to her leg. Holier, brighter than standard healer work.
Her face? Comedy gold. Shock widened to awe, then serene bliss.
Seconds flat: leg pristine.
Knew it, somehow.
Dazed Ye-na gawked, slack-jawed. Eyes flicked him-leg-him.
Pain? Vanished from her mug.
Her stare: puppy-dog devotion. Why that vibe?
“Secret, yeah? Shh.” Finger to lips, whisper.
Dreamy nod back.
Drugged her? Nah—pain that bad, reaction fits.
But key: I used Heal.
“What? Good as new? Told ya—faker.”
Blonde-dye hunter bellowed for ears. Ye-na? Ignored. Dismantled beasts smooth.
She's crushing. Always this good?
Ice arrows lanced wolf torsos.
Dungeon done quick.
“Yo, drinks? Been ages. Mandatory.”
Leader's pitch to guildies post-clear.
One hunter side-eyed him. “Porters too?”
“Fine. Change, text incoming.”
Off-balance. Mom's room called.
Hunters/porters peeled off, goodbyes.
“Gotta jet somewhere…”
“Then late's fine. Yeah?”
Ye-na popped up, voice pleading.
"Oppa, can't you skip some drinks?"
"Ga-young-ah. Not often—one a month. You party too."
"Work. Weird. Bet no friends."
Unwelcome memory stung. He rubbed his eyes, mustered a faint smile.
“Alright. Late it is.”
Ye-na's face bloomed radiant.