The Shop He Wandered Into

A small house on the outskirts of Seoul.

Park Sang-chul had been invited to a housewarming party thrown by his close younger friend.

With the couple's coworkers and acquaintances all gathered under one roof, the place was pleasantly noisy — but that changed the moment his friend's wife introduced him. Everyone seemed to find ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it hard to strike up a conversation with a mountain of a man whose face looked like it had been carved for intimidation.

"Actually, this gentleman here is a Hunter."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. My husband looks up to him like an older brother, and he took time out of his busy schedule to be here today. Ho ho."

At once, every eye at the table swung toward Park Sang-chul.

Ordinary people don't get many chances to meet a Hunter face to face. Awakenings were rare enough, but among those who awakened, only a fraction gained combat-class abilities and actually became Hunters.

The number of active Hunters in the country hovered around ten thousand. Considering Korea had some hundred and forty thousand doctors, it was fair to call it a genuinely rare profession.

So naturally, the conversation at the table drifted his way.

"If you're a Hunter, what rank are you?"

Park Sang-chul swallowed what was in his mouth and set down his chopsticks.

"Nothing special. C-minus."

C-minus.

Among Hunters it was a thoroughly common rank, but to civilians with no insider knowledge of the industry, it apparently sounded impressive enough. Admiration erupted from all corners of the table.

"Wow, C-rank is pretty high, isn't it?"

"You go into the Tower yourself, right?"

"At that level you must be making serious money."

"Do you work alongside the Hunters we see on TV?"

When the questions came flooding at once, Park Sang-chul waved his hands awkwardly.

"Oh no, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no. Those people are far greater Hunters than I am."

"Still, you're C-rank. Your salary must be well into the hundreds of millions of won."

"...Well, I make enough to get by."

He'd meant the answer as a mumble, but they took it as a yes, and murmurs of envy rose around the table. His friend's wife, emboldened, chimed in.

"He might even make it into an even higher raid team this time."

At those words, the glass Park Sang-chul was raising to his lips ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stopped for a beat.

"......?"

At first he wondered what his sister-in-law was on about, then it clicked.

Ah. She's talking about the main tank evaluation.

Apparently she'd mistaken it for a promotion review. In reality, it was an assessment of whether he could even keep his current spot — but there was no need to explain that and kill the mood.

"Ha ha... well, I hope it goes well."

With that smooth deflection, Park Sang-chul raised his glass again.

By the time the meal wound down and people began carrying plates of fruit into the living room, Park Sang-chul slipped outside with his friend for a smoke.

The late-autumn wind that met them had a real bite to it.

"My wife absolutely loves the lights you picked out, hyung."

"Good to hear. That sofa of yours suited a warm, soft white much better than daylight bulbs."

His friend nodded, pulled out his cigarette pack, handed one over, and took one for himself. Then he just fiddled with the pack for a while.

"You didn't say a word back there."

"About what?"

"Yejin's wife saying you might move up to a higher raid team."

Park Sang-chul brushed it off.

"She wanted to brag a little. Was I supposed to puncture that?"

"They're saying if you fail the next evaluation, you get demoted to the second team."

Park Sang-chul lit his cigarette.

"I haven't failed yet."

"They say the new tanker is no joke."

"That's why I'm going to face him, isn't it?"

"Come on, hyung. You don't even have a proper tanker skill."

Park Sang-chul didn't answer. He just drew slowly on the cigarette between his lips and let the smoke out in a long, thin stream.

"...I'm sorry. It's this damn mana."

His awakened ability was B-rank Iron Knight.

It was a high enough rank to be proud of, and when the ability assessment first came back, Park Sang-chul had genuinely believed his future was bright. In truth, his Vitality was so far above other Hunters of the same rank that comparison felt almost unfair.

Thanks to that, he'd even made it into a guild whose name anyone would recognize.

The problem was mana.

Truly, his body rejected mana like nothing anyone had seen. He trained several times harder than anyone else, and still only his Vitality climbed while his mana stat refused to budge.

"Did the elixir you bought this time help at all?"

"It helped."

"How much did you gain?"

"About point one."

His friend turned to look at him, cigarette still in his mouth.

"How much was that one again?"

"Don't ask."

Since becoming a Hunter, he had poured his salary and every performance bonus into anything rumored to be good for mana — he had genuinely tried nearly all of it. And after all that desperate struggling, his current mana sat at a grand total of barely 8.

So this was simply his ceiling.

"Can't you just push Vitality all the way to the end instead?"

"You think a tank just needs a tough body? What good is being tough alone when the monsters won't hit me in the first place?"

It was, without question, a problem a single proper taunt skill would solve. That was what made him feel like he was losing his mind.

But nearly every worthwhile area taunt of C-rank or higher required at least 10 mana. B-rank skills with added defense enhancement demanded even more.

His friend went quiet for a moment, then asked hesitantly, "...Should I lend you some money?"

"Go pay off your newlywed mortgage. This is no time to worry about me."

"I could lend you a bill or two without Yejin knowing. I looked into it — there's another elixir this time that..."

"Let's head in."

Park Sang-chul ground out his cigarette and turned away. His friend watched his broad back go and simply let out a long, heavy sigh.

After the party ended, Park Sang-chul was walking down an alley toward the main road.

His car had broken down and was in the shop, so he'd taken the subway today.

That was when a sign at the edge of the alley caught his eye.

Huh. People still put their own names on their shops these days?

He was about to walk past when, out of idle habit, he glanced through the window — and slowed his steps.

The interior he could see through the round window looked surprisingly respectable. For all his fearsome looks, Park Sang-chul had a soft spot for pretty trinkets and cozy spaces.

He stood outside for a long while, studying the window frame and the arrangement of the lights, until finally — just to have a quick look around — he pushed the door open.

Ding-a-ling. Ding-a-ling.

"Welcome."

A young man at the counter greeted him without looking up.

It's a neighborhood shop, but that's one unfriendly owner.

He gave a vague nod and looked around the store. Inside was even nicer than it had seemed from the street. The wooden shelves were rounded and sanded smooth to the very edges, and the little ornaments tucked between them were genuinely charming. With the warm lighting layered on top, the whole place felt like a tearoom out of a storybook.

For a moment, he seriously wondered if he'd misread the sign.

And no wonder — the only skill books in the entire shop were the four displayed in a glass case. Even those wore not a single certification band guaranteeing their quality.

Pretty, sure. But in the end, just another neighborhood shop.

There wasn't much else to browse. Worse, the owner's gaze was getting on his nerves. The man had been staring wordlessly at him this whole time, and even when their eyes met, he didn't look away — enough to make Park Sang-chul wonder if he'd made a mistake coming in just to gawk.

He was turning back toward the door when—

"Are you perhaps looking for a taunt-type skill?"

The owner spoke up out of nowhere. His tone was as flat as ever, but the content itself was impossible to brush past.

...How did he know?

Park Sang-chul suppressed his unease and answered, a beat too late.

"...I am looking, but my conditions are pretty strict. Don't worry about it."

"Strict how?"

"A C-rank or B-rank area taunt. The Vitality requirement can be high, but the mana has to be low."

"How low?"

"8. It has to be learnable at 8 or below."

Truthfully, having been asked directly, he'd just answered — but he wasn't holding out any hope. He had scoured skill book marketplaces endlessly searching for an area taunt he could learn under these conditions. Every time word spread of new stock and he rushed to check, it was always the mana requirement that tripped him at the finish line.

Yet the owner, without a moment's deliberation, pointed to one side of the display case.

"Oh. Then that one should work for you."

"...Sorry?"

"You can learn it at 7 mana."

Park Sang-chul's eyes flicked between the owner's face and the book he was pointing at.

Is he messing with me?

Or maybe he'd misheard him say B-rank as D-rank. That would make sense. There were skills like Mockery or Commotion that got classified as area taunts, but only managed to briefly irritate the nerves of nearby monsters. Surely that was what the man meant.

But he didn't bother to ask. He'd know what the confusion was about the moment he laid eyes on the book.

He opened the glass case and rested his hand on the book the owner had indicated.

"......"

The hand resting on the book froze in place.

The skill book that would change his life was sitting right here.