Awakening Snail Husband and the First Secret Quest

Snail Husband? Not even Snail Bride, what the hell...

"..."

Finally awakening after all that longing was great. An S-Rank, the highest known grade, and a unique ability at that? Undeniably insane luck had come my way.

But that name felt suspicious as hell.

"Snail Husband? Not even Snail Bride, what the..."

Snail Bride. Or Snail Girl. The protagonist from a classic Korean folktale—a snail that turns into a human, secretly helps a man, and eventually marries him.

...Take the abilities hunters usually awaken: stuff like 'Flame Magic' or 'Strength Enhancement.' Snail Husband just screams Snail Bride from the folktale. A name that instantly makes you doubt if it'll help in combat.

Of course, not all abilities are combat-focused, but still.

Instead of blindly worrying, it was time to check it out myself.

"Status Window."

I uttered the phrase I'd practiced endlessly while dreaming of awakening. A surge of overwhelming emotion hit me—this single command finally meant something—as a blue window popped up in my vision.

...?

Ah, must be seeing things since I just woke up.

Rub rub. Let me rub my eyes and look again.

"Fuck? What the hell is this?!"

I tried denying reality, washed my face and scrubbed my eyes over and over, but the trash-tier status window was all I saw.

"Even a D-Rank awakening wouldn't give stats this shitty."

What kind of S-Rank doesn't even grant base stats? All F's, mana and skills marked with a big fat 'None'—it was like a zero-percent report card. Shocked as I was, I hadn't read the ability description yet.

Surely an S-Rank has something else going for it. With my mood sinking, I tried to check the description.

Ding!

"Aha!"

Right. An S-Rank unique ability couldn't be this pathetic. These notifications meant there was more beyond the trash stats.

The description was pretty simple: [Unique] - Complete quests to maximize your growth or that of others.

Better to check the remaining content than overthink it. I opened the exclusive status window first.

"..."

The window had turned green, but the stats were still the same—right as I was about to rage again, I spotted the difference from before.

"Quests!"

The term from the notifications and description. Something I'd only seen in games, but I firmly believed—and prayed—this was the true power of my S-Rank unique ability.

...Huh?

Breaking and entering?

* * *

My place is Room 306. Which means the 305 in the quest is probably my next-door neighbor.

"This is insane."

And the task is to break in and clean the floor? Talk about a dilemma.

"Kidney removal on failure—what kind of status window threatens you like that?"

With the timer ticking down to about 30 minutes and that risk, no way I could ignore it. Breaking in to clean vs. mysterious kidney extraction? If this were a balance game, the devs need psychiatric help.

Plus, they threw in a temporary A-Rank skill called Phasing to help with the intrusion. No real choice there.

Getting an A-Rank skill at all was absurd.

A cheat skill blatantly encouraging B&E, but the task is cleaning. "Total Snail Bride vibes."

The reward boosting 'Han Choyeun's' focus meant she was the neighbor. Secretly cleaning and powering her up? Straight out of the folktale.

...Hope I don't turn into a snail myself.

Sigh. I glanced toward Room 305.

This one-room's soundproofing was A4-paper thin, but no noise from 305, so maybe she was out. Clinging to hope that the quest wouldn't land me in prison, I grabbed a household dustpan and headed to the wall.

No time like the present—only 28 minutes left now.

'Sorry. Just cleaning and I'll be out.'

'Phasing.'

A floating sensation washed over me as I naturally passed through the wall. I'd never used a skill before, but instinct kicked in.

"...Phew."

Thank god, no one in 305. A faint fabric softener scent filled the air as the room came into view. Soft sunlight filtered into the quiet space.

Not exactly tidy, but lived-in. I knew a woman lived here from the awful soundproofing, but never imagined I'd end up inside.

"Right, time to start."

Snapping out of it, I crouched on the floor. Luckily, Phasing let my clothes and dustpan come through too—no streaking.

And so, I swept the narrow one-room floor with my household dustpan.

* * *

"Hoo..."

Not a big room, but cleaning ate up time fast.

Dust everywhere in the corners, even fallen leaves now and then. Blame the five plants crammed in this tiny space.

Ding!

The awaited notification appeared, so I Phased back to my room.

"Ah... Fucking exhausting."

Cleaning in a hunched position sucked, but the skill drained my energy hard, doubling the fatigue.

But look at that shiny ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠addition. Acquired an A-Rank skill in under 30 minutes of cleaning... Mind-blowing.

I'd always envied awakeners and hunters, so I knew the basics: skills only came from endless grind post-awakening, and bad luck meant no dice.

Still in disbelief, I toggled the status window a few times—then the door lock beeped.

Beep beep beep beep beep—click!

Not my door, but 305, freshly cleaned.

'Dodged a bullet by not slacking.'

Tension gripped me; I held my breath, frozen. No need, but my body reacted first.

'Wait a sec.'

No real reason to panic. No CCTV in 305. I didn't touch the door lock or pick it—just phased through the wall.

'Even if she notices something off...'

A spotless floor? No one suspects wall-phasing cleaners. She'd probably think she forgot her own cleaning or spaced on the morning sweep. People overestimate their memories and rarely doubt them.

"Ha..."

Short exhale. Heart racing for nothing—logically, I was ironclad safe. Even if the landlord checked, locked door, no damage. No evidence, no witnesses. No crime established.

...Is it even a crime? Gaon shook his head after a moment's thought.

"Just cleaned, that's all."

For rewards, sure. Anyway.

Listening to faint footsteps next door, Gaon flopped onto his bed. No immediate worries.

* * *

Click.

Door shut, Han Choyeun kicked off her shoes haphazardly and shuffled in.

"Ahh..."

Long sigh as she dropped her bag on the floor. Exhausted again today. Undid her coat buttons, slowly crossing the living room-cum-bedroom.

Familiar space, faint fabric softener scent.

"...?"

Her gaze flicked to the floor. Spotless. She wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a slob, but not this shiny.

Tilted her head, but fatigue overrode curiosity.

"Did I clean it...?"

Mumbled, then dismissed it. Flopped onto the bed; mattress sank.

"Ughhh..."

Arms stretched skyward in a yawn. Thin knit rode up, exposing her waist. Stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes slowly closing.

The place was quiet. Quiet, and weirdly tidy.

* * *

Next day. Home from work, door open—her eyes went to the potted plant.

"...Huh?"

Monstera leaves by the window gleamed. Wilted that morning. Soil perfectly moist. No memory of watering.

Reached out, touched the stem. As a C-Rank plant manipulator—wood affinity, precisely—she sensed plants intuitively.

Healthy. Even... happy?

"Did I water it...?"

Brushed it off.

* * *

"......"

This time, certain. 'Nephrons,' a mana-sensitive plant needing daily water. She'd skipped it deliberately that morning—a test for the growing déjà vu.

Evening: soil moist again.

Han Choyeun's eyes narrowed. Entrance, windows, balcony—no signs of entry. Door lock log clean.

She knelt quietly by the pot, palm on soil.

"...Who touched it."

Faint biometric mana trace lingered. As a nature awaken-er, she knew someone had handled the plant.

But it wasn't hostile. The plant felt stable, even cheerful. That made it weirder.

She resolved: 'Just check.'

Pulled a small pot from her bag. Bought en route home, freshly planted sapling. Shallow roots, but split leaves evoked a fairytale sprout.

Mana gathered at fingertips. Faint green glow.

"Bud eye."

Basic C-Rank summon—barely a spirit, a plant surveillance drone.

Part of her wanted to report the intruder, but nothing stolen, just cleaned each time? Temporary measure it was.

One leaf quivered, sensing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠air currents. No full vision share, but it'd record brief footage of anyone entering the tiny room.

"Just for today..."

Set it by the window. Deliberately left everything messy—soil untouched, leaves bent.

Last glance back as she left.

"...Whoever you are."

This time, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠maybe she'd find out.