I've woken up.

Unless someone is exceptionally dense, they tend to notice when something feels off surprisingly quickly.

Even I, a person who would never lose a contest in sheer oblivion, realized it immediately. The very instant I opened my eyes, I knew something was profoundly wrong with my body.

"Uh…?"

My field of vision, my height, my center of gravity, the contours of my frame, and even the register of my voice—everything was misaligned, like puzzle pieces jammed forcefully into the wrong slots. Driven by an overwhelming urge to uncover the source of this bizarre discomfort, I rubbed my bleary eyes and bolted straight to the bathroom mirror.

"…Who…?"

Staring back at me from the glass was a completely unfamiliar, breathtakingly pretty young girl.

And the moment my eyes locked onto her reflection—

Flash!

A status window materialized out of thin air. That miraculous interface every Hunter was said to possess had appeared before my eyes.

In a life where living or dying had never carried much meaning, a massive turning point had arrived without warning.

They say opportunity favors the prepared, and fortune smiles upon the desperate. But luck is a fickle creature, prone to dropping its gifts into the laps of those who are neither desperate nor prepared in the slightest.

I happened to be that exact case.

I glanced at the status window. Then at the mirror. Then back to the window, and back to the mirror again.

After alternating my gaze for five straight minutes, denial was no longer an option. I had awakened. Overnight, out of nowhere.

I hadn't spent years spamming forums with desperate manifestos, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't eaten soil for thirty consecutive days, nor had I dropped a hairdryer into a running bathtub. Yet here I was.

Objectively speaking, it was great news. In an aimless life where I had simply floated along without caring what tomorrow brought, this was undeniably a life-altering windfall.

There were, however, two glaring issues.

The first and most immediate problem was my physical body.

"Small…"

I had turned into a teenage girl overnight. My build was delicate and frail. My height had shrunk by well over twenty centimeters. Every strand of hair on my body—from the crown of my head right down to my eyelashes—had turned pure white, and my irises, once dark brown, were now a brilliant, translucent azure. Anyone looking at me would easily mistake me for a foreigner.

Still, staring at the reflection long enough made me somewhat used to it. Visually, at least. She was pretty, incredibly cute, and undeniably striking. But actually living everyday life like this? Well… I would only find out by experiencing it firsthand.

The second problem was spelled out right there on my status window.

Among awakened Hunters, such cases occasionally cropped up. When an awakened ability or unique skill was disproportionately powerful, a severe penalty was imposed to balance the scales. It seemed I had drawn that exact short straw.

What did Simplification of Language mean in practice? When I checked the system details, it roughly translated to this—with only a slight touch of exaggeration:

Suppose my mind wanted to express: "I'm feeling rather hungry right now. However, there are no groceries in the refrigerator to cook dinner with. Because of that, I plan to take a trip down to the local supermarket."

I would try to say those exact words, syllable for syllable, but what came out was—

"Hungry. Fridge has no dinner. Going to store."

My verbal output was forcibly sheared down to telegraphic splinters, completely overriding my conscious will. Worse still, because the penalty specified 'speech or writing,' typed text on messengers and internet community boards suffered the exact same truncation. It made me sound like an absolute ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠toddler.

All right. Enough moping.

Dwelling on what was lost wouldn't help. It was time to catalog what I had gained. Pattering over to the desk beside my bed, I flipped open my notebook.

It was a planner I had maintained for years, primarily used to jot down schedules and track finances—closer to a utilitarian checklist than a diary. Yesterday evening, I had penciled in today's itinerary:

I picked up a pen and jotted down several new items beneath the list:

Inspecting skills after awakening was standard common sense, and registering as an official Hunter was mandatory. Failing to do so was an outright crime, at least under Korean law.

Wait… Glancing down at my oversized pajamas, a realization struck me. None of the clothes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my closet were going to fit this new body.

Priorities settled, I turned to my sole unique skill, Glass Butterfly. What kind of ability was it, exactly?

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the accommodating system prompt immediately displayed the skill description.

It had a skill level, meaning Glass Butterfly was a growth-type ability. When attached to an ally, it granted buffs; when attached to an enemy, it inflicted damage.

The variety of buffs packed into it was absurd: Attack, Durability, Recovery, Agility, lifesteal, and even mana conversion. While I couldn't see the exact numerical multipliers yet, the text alone made it blindingly obvious that this was a monstrously effective skill.

Yet one glaring question stood out.

Shatter attribute? What on earth is that?

From what little common knowledge I had gathered over the years, the elemental affinities used by Hunters were standard fantasy fare: fire, water, ice, lightning, earth, and the like. I had never once heard of a 'Shatter' attribute.

When in doubt, consult the internet. That was what search engines were for.

Let's see… Hunter forum… Ah, found it.

The Hunter Board, known casually as the Hunter Board. It was the premier online community frequented by virtually all domestic Hunters. If information on this attribute existed anywhere, it would be there. And if not, I could simply make a post and ask.

Bracing myself, I tapped the link, only for a prompt to block my screen.

Tripped up on the very first step.

I can't even lurk without certification? Having never browsed Hunter-exclusive forums before, I had no clue. Pulling my notebook closer, I amended the checklist:

Two stars added for urgency. Until I completed registration, I wouldn't even be able to browse the forums for answers.

That settled my immediate chain of tasks. To look up my abilities, I needed Hunter certification. To register as a Hunter, I had to step outside, which meant I had to buy clothes first. Yet the absolute highest priority was showing up for my final shift at the diner, because the Restaurant Boss had promised to hand over my final wages and severance pay upon clocking out.

And to go to work in this shrunken state, I had to buy clothes anyway.

What a dizzying loop.

Better get moving. My shift didn't start until eleven o'clock, giving me a modest window. I hurriedly slipped on the least absurdly oversized garments I could find and left the apartment. I needed to visit a physical retail store and grab whatever fit.

"Thank you for your purchase!"

I bought several plain, unbranded short-sleeved shirts and casual pants, immediately changing into one set inside the store's fitting room. Fortunately, the cash in my wallet barely covered the bill.

The entire time I had browsed the racks, the female clerk's gaze had been intensely uncomfortable. It was the sort of warm, patronizing look one gave a little girl bravely buying her own clothes for the first time without her parents. She had even eagerly recommended a few frilly, overtly feminine dresses, which I vehemently refused. Even if my body had turned female overnight, my mindset wasn't progressive enough to casually don frills and skirts.

"Good morning."

"Oh, Gyeoul. You're here."

After dropping off the shopping bags at my studio, I arrived at the restaurant on time. The Restaurant Boss acknowledged me with a brief nod and a casual wave. There was no bewildered gasp, no demands asking why my body had changed or who I was. Nothing.

I had half-expected this.

Before leaving the apartment earlier, I had checked the national identity card in my wallet. The photograph printed on the plastic was my new face, and the seventh digit of my resident registration number had shifted seamlessly from a 3 to a 4. It wasn't just that my body had transformed; it was as though the entire worldline had rewritten itself so that I had always been female from birth.

Pondering how such a reality-warping feat was possible would only give me a headache. Better to chalk it up to genre conventions and move on.

For the past eight years, I had reported to this humble neighborhood diner every single day except Sunday. And today would be my absolute last shift. It had nothing to do with my overnight awakening; the diner was simply going out of business due to financial difficulties.

True to form for its final day, the restaurant was deserted. Not a single customer in sight.

I sat down at an empty corner table and stared through the front window. The early summer sunlight blazing outside was blindingly bright.

Back before I had even graduated from elementary school, my parents were killed in a sudden Dungeon Break disaster. It was the Restaurant Boss who had stepped into that devastating void to keep me from drowning.

He had arranged a studio apartment for me—small and cramped, but warm and secure. He had paid down a substantial chunk of the predatory debt that corrupt relatives and loan sharks had tried to saddle onto a helpless orphan. He had given me under-the-table work when I was still an unemployable minor, and he had patiently taught me how to cook, clean, and look after myself.

And today marked our parting.

He was closing down the diner to travel abroad and study culinary arts from scratch, meaning I wouldn't be seeing his face for a very long time. I learned recently that he had originally planned to leave years ago, but had delayed his lifelong dream until I reached legal adulthood so I wouldn't be cast adrift. A profound wave of gratitude tightened my chest.

"Boss."

"Hm? Something on your mind?"

"…I awakened. This morning."

On an anonymous forum, revealing such news casually might invite dangerous scrutiny, but the Restaurant Boss was someone I could confide in without reservation.

"Is that right? …Congratulations." As always, his response was curt and unembellished. He paused, wiping down a stainless-steel counter with a cloth, before glancing up. "Gyeoul."

"Yes?"

"You just took a huge weight off my shoulders."

"How so?"

"I was worried sick about how you'd manage once I locked up and left the country. You're completely alone, and you still have a mountain of debt hanging over your head."

He was entirely right. Until yesterday, my immediate future looked like that of an unemployed youth with zero qualifications, destined to rot on a couch. But now, a clear and lucrative path had opened up.

"You planning on becoming a Hunter?"

"Yes. For now."

"If things don't work out, or if you realize you can't stomach the violence, call me immediately. Even if I have to badger every connection I have, I'll find you a decent job."

"…Thank you."

If I ever struck it rich as a Hunter, paying this man back tenfold was the very first thing I would do.

Time slipped by quickly, and my final shift drew to an end. We typically closed at ten in the evening, but because it was the last day, we wrapped up everything by three in the afternoon.

"Thank you for everything, Boss. You worked hard."

"Yeah, you too, Gyeoul. I transferred your final wages and severance pay earlier. Added as much extra as I could comfortably manage."

"Thank you. Sincerely."

I desperately wanted to offer a longer, more heartfelt expression of my gratitude, but the damn penalty locked my jaw, reducing my feelings to those few stiff syllables.

"Take care of yourself. Keep in touch once in a while."

"You too, Boss."

I bent at the waist, delivering a deep, ninety-degree bow before stepping out into the afternoon heat. Checking my banking app on the street corner, I immediately wired this month's principal and interest payment to the lender. That left me with roughly three million won.

Factoring in living expenses and future debt installments, it was enough capital to hold out for nearly two months. Feeling considerably lighter on my feet, I boarded the bus bound for the Korean Hunter Association Headquarters.

Stepping through revolving glass doors as grand as castle gates, I was greeted by the polished, expansive lobby of the Hunter Association. A pristine reception desk dominated the foyer.

However, the paper banner taped to the wall directly behind the counter caught my eye.

…What kind of atrocious machine translation was that?

Before my bafflement could linger, a female receptionist muttered under her breath, grumbling irritably as she peeled the absurd sign off the wall. She was sitting alone behind the counter, and given that she worked for the Association, the faint hum of mana around her confirmed she was an awakened Hunter as well.

"Hello."

At my clipped greeting, she turned around. "Oh my. Hello there! Are you here looking for your parents? If you give me their names and department, I can buzz the upper floors for you."

"No. Hunter registration."

"Pardon…?" Her eyes widened, taking in my pint-sized silhouette, before color rushed into her cheeks. "Ah! Oh, goodness! I am so sorry! Um, could I see your identification card, please?"

Her confusion was understandable. With my new body, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I looked like a middle-schooler at best—mid-teens if someone was being exceptionally generous.

"Here."

"Let's see… Ms. Jeong Gyeoul… Yes, identity verified. If you head up to the second floor, you'll see the Analysis Room right away. You can go straight inside."

Reaching the second floor, the Analysis Room sign was immediately visible. Were they going to run comprehensive combat evaluations right off the bat? A slight thrill of anticipation fluttered in my stomach.

"Right. Glass Butterfly… Unique grade, Summon-type, Growth-type skill… Confirmed. Your profile registration and electronic records will be fully processed by the end of today. You're free to go."

…Wait, that's it?

The name 'Analysis Room' was a complete misnomer. The registration process was over before it even began. The clerk simply asked for my basic info, my assigned class, and the name of my skill, scribbled a few notes on a clipboard, and called it a day. As a first-time registrant, my official rank was locked at E3 by default, and there was zero physical testing.

Was this really all there was to it?

"…Finished?"

"Yes. Did you require anything else?"

"No. The… testing? Evaluation? Don't do that?"

"……"

Instead of answering, the clerk stared at me in silence.

"……?"

"You're quite unusual, Ms. Jeong," he said with an amused smile. "Most awakened individuals go out of their way to hide their skills, especially from government institutions like us. They certainly don't volunteer for tests."

"I don't know my skill. Wanted to check."

If the government was offering to measure my powers for free, there was zero reason to decline. As the clerk led me down the hall toward the dedicated combat measurement chamber, I brought up the question that had been nagging at me all morning.

"Shatter attribute. What is it?"

"…Excuse me?"

"The attribute. Skill says Shatter attribute."

"I'm afraid I have no idea," he admitted, scratching his chin with an apologetic grin. "I've worked at the Association for ten years now, and this is the first time I've ever heard of a 'Shatter' attribute."

Unfortunate, but not surprising. I really would have to dig through the forums once my account was verified.

Stepping inside the reinforced chamber, a heavy metallic humanoid dummy mounted in the center of the room came into view.

"This is a combat measurement mannequin. Think of it like a training dummy in an online RPG."

"Should I attack?"

"Yes, please. Go ahead with full power; don't hold back. These models are reinforced with high-durability alloys and enchanted wards. They don't break easily, and even if you manage to damage it, the Association covers all maintenance fees."

The stage was set. But how was I supposed to trigger the skill?

From snippets I had overheard in the past, awakening magic relied on visualization and intent. Focusing inward, I pictured the ability—

"Ah."

Fzzzt!

The instant the command coalesced in my mind, a burst of pale luminescence ignited in the empty air. Out of the light emerged a single, delicate butterfly.

It's beautiful…

Living up to its name, the familiar appeared to be sculpted entirely from crystalline glass. Translucent, shimmering with an ethereal luster, and scattering faint specks of light with every flap of its wings, it possessed an otherworldly charm that instantly stole one's breath.

Now, I just attach it over there, right?

Following my mental guidance, the glass butterfly fluttered forward. It moved with startling, razor-sharp agility, darting across the room before landing gracefully upon the metallic mannequin's shoulder—as gently as a real butterfly settling onto a petal.

Its flight speed was far faster than its delicate appearance suggested. But what about its offensive power? Watching without much expectation, I waited for an elemental spark.

Craaack.

"Wait, what?" The clerk blinked, letting out a bewildered gasp.

Crack, cra-a-ack…!

Like ripples racing across the surface of disturbed water, or a spiderweb fracturing across an overstressed windowpane, geometric fissures exploded across the alloy mannequin.

So that's what 'Shatter' means! The mystery was instantly solved.

The fractures multiplied at a terrifying pace, devouring the reinforced metal until—

KRA-SHHH!

With a deafening crash, the high-durability training mannequin imploded, crumbling into hundreds of crystalline fragments that scattered across the reinforced floor.

Total silence swallowed the room.

Neither of us spoke for a long, suffocating moment.

"…Ms. Gyeoul. What did you say your combat class was again?"

"…Auxiliary mage."

"An auxiliary mage…" The clerk swallowed hard, staring at the glittering pile of scrap metal with hollow eyes. "…Are you absolutely certain about that?"

"Probably… yes."

After witnessing that absurd devastation, even I was beginning to doubt it. Though surely, the system status window wouldn't lie to me… right?